Pregnant misfit

Attention Deficit Disorder. Social Anxiety Disorder. Bi-polar Disorder. Eating Disorder.

These are all symptoms of pregnancy that the books don't tell you about. I am suffering from each one; sometimes all at once. I can't seem to focus on one task long enough to finish it or have one complete thought come out of my mouth (or on paper). I am constantly out of breath these days. It has nothing to do with the sheer size of my belly, or pregnancy-induced asthma. No! It is the actual speed at which my brain is working that is revving up my breathing and causing smoke to literally puff from my ears. I have so damn much to say but I can't get it all out!

Sample dialogue in my head:

"Max is coming in 94 days."
"Did you remember to switch the laundry to the dryer?"
"My God, I'm hungry."
"What was that noise? Where is Sam?"
"Should I make a cheese tray for Sam's baptism party"
"What should I wear to the baptism party?"
"Could I use the same outfit for Colleen's wedding? Will I even want to go considering I'll be 6 days away from delivering and will likely take up two seats and that is head-count for her people and that means more money!"
"When is it dinner time?"
"Is my face swollen?"
"I wonder if my blood pressure is rising. Please don't let me get preeclampsia again."
"I have to go through Max's clothes."
"Have I said I'm hungry?"

Please, let me stop there. Mind you, these thoughts all happen in a span of, say, 5 seconds. I could really go on forever with this kind of nonsense.

The social anxiety disorder is heightened in me as well. I'm not normally a person who embarrasses easily. Hell, with my dry sense of humor and often ill-timed jokes, I can't afford to be! But once my uterus swells, I turn 40 shades of crimson at the smallest mishaps. Sam seems to be fascinated with deepening cleavage and while I hold him, he finds it amusing to stretch the collar of my shirt 12 inches from my chest while he plunges his chubby fist in between my boobs. This happened to me the other day in the grocery store line and I was mortified beyond belief. Especially when Sam followed it up with a jubilant "Boobies!"

The Bi-polar disorder goes without saying. I'm sure Rob would gladly attest to my severe mood swings, but I probably threatened to cut him if he complains about me, all while lovingly holding his hand while he drives the car.

Eating disorder? Hell yeah! First I start off hating everything but mashed potatoes and now I can't shove food in my mouth fast enough. Where is the chocolate? Salami sandwich, anyone? Oooh, peanut butter! Diet coke?

See, this is where the ADD kicks in again and I have no idea where I was going with this post. I can't wrap up smoothly to save my life. Oh well, it's snack time anyway.