Estrogen and why it sucks

I have been having some "female troubles" as of late. So I went to my OB/GYN. He declared me devoid of estrogen and put me on a temporary hormone replacement therapy. Let me tell you about the devil called estrogen and why it sucks.
For the last fourteen months or so I have only suffered from normal worries: Pollution, the ozone eroding, the looming election, the ever rising cost of gas etc etc... I can handle all of these and file them away in the not so important to keep me up at night category. But now, no now I have a whole new host of things to keep me up at night.
I have a sweet life. I have a husband who loves me, two kids who are as perfect as any God has ever created and a life the queen of England would envy. But estrogen is ruining everything. I hate being overly emotional. For two days now I have gotten my daughter out of bed from nap and been almost in tears for an hour. She is so sweet and perfect. Every inch of her oozes sweetness. This is not new to me, but it's never knocked me over quite like this. My son wakes up and is my ever present companion from 6 a.m. to 8p.m. He was in bed tonight when I noticed the magnets on my picture board. He had pulled all of them off today. I saw him in the act and told him I wished he hadn't done that, then went on about my business. Well low and behold I look up after he is in bed and notice that every picture is put back in close to it's original place. Now folks, this isn't a small board, there are thirty pics up there and he put everything back the way I had it. So what happens? I tear up while watching my Tivoed Eli Stone episode like a big baby. He wanted to make me happy and put everything back the way he found it, can you say perfect son?
Once my husband gets home, life is only more complicated. My hormones soar at the mere sight of him. I'm always happy to see him but the past week has been ridiculous. He walks in and I swear birds sing and he twinkles, yes he actually sparkles in the late afternoon sun. My children run up to him and he is a fairy tale in motion. He helps set the table, gets the kids ready to eat and I fall hopelessly to the floor in a puddle of mush. Now mind you that I stay composed, I go on about my routines like nothing is different. We eat supper and I am amazed the whole time that I have found someone who I share 90% of my political views with. Then it's off to the bedtime races. We go upstairs and Brad bathes my children. He hugs Tate and gives her undivided attention before she is put to bed. She hangs on his every word and kisses everyone goodnight. Then Brad and Turner leave me to have a bath by myself, what a luxury. After my bath they come upstairs and Brad reads a bedtime story. I love this part of the day. Brad, Turner and I lay in my bed and read together. Then for thirty minutes Turner and Brad wrestle. It is hilarious if you are not reeling from the effects of the Satan spawn that is called estrogen. I used to just laugh and think is was funny to watch Brad and Turner wrestle. Not this week. This week I think of all the children in the world who don't have a Papa like Turner does. This week I think of all the children in the world who can't defend themselves from evil pedophiles. This week I think how unfair it is for any child to be born with out a man like Brad to look up to. How do I keep a straight face and then smile at the two most wonderful men in the world?
Then my husband and I go down stairs and watch TV. Well there is not a damned thing good on TV these days. But I sit every night with my head in Brad's lap trying to act like a normal human being and not the slobbering weeping mess that I am inside. We go to bed at nine and the most wonderful man in the world hugs me. Now my usual routine is to fall asleep laying on Brad's arm. I usually feel safe and happy and warm. This week I feel hot, full of anxiety and self doubt. Did I do enough today that Brad Turner and Tate know how much they mean to me? If I pray hard enough will all the sweet babies in the world be taken care of? Can I protect everything in my world if I lock all the doors and buckle all of the seat belts? If I never let them eat anything bad can I keep everyone I love alive forever? No, I can't. My logical mind knows this and accepts it. My estrogen poisoned mind reels all night long thinking of ways to protect all that is mine: The husband you read about, the kids you pray to have, the parents who you want to talk to every day, and all the best kinds of friends who get me through each day.
I can't take the worry. I know it's there, but usually I can let got of it long enough to breathe. Estrogen make me feel like I am treading water holding a fifty pound weight. The last time I felt like this I had a miscarriage. I swam through that without drowning, but barely. That was a loss I wish for no one. But these damned hormones make me feel that emotional again. I have two more days of this blue pill induced torture. Then hopefully my body will return to normal and I will be able to breathe without worrying. It would be good if I could get my hormones balanced. But given the choice, I would take no estrogen and female troubles over being overly emotional and teary any day. So if my eyes water tomorrow when you tell me about your dry cleaning that wasn't ready on time ignore me, my body has turned traitor and I can't help my tears. Check back in a week and I may tell you to suck it up you big sissy, it's just a damned pair of pants and you can live without them.

Indulge me

My little baby girl isn't a baby any more. Sad, but true. She's now 16 months old and considered a toddler. But every once in a while I get a moment with her where she's still a baby. One of those moments happened tonight, my heart is full.
Tate and I have the same routine for her bed time every night. Read a book, brush her teeth, let her hug and kiss the boys, and then off to bed. I always ask for about eight more kisses and then I put her in bed. Tonight I was hugging her and heard air roll around in her belly. I began patting her on the back just like I've done so many times before. But before she was a baby and it was just another part of eating- getting the burp out. Tonight she laid her head on me like she remembered being held like a baby. She burped but we just sat in the middle of her floor and rocked and patted each others backs.
Tate is so busy that I rarely get to hold her. It's not because I don't try, she is just too busy to stop and be held. In the mornings she snuggles for a couple minutes after the oatmeal is eaten. She sits and finishes waking up, but it's never enough for me.
Tonight she indulged me. Maybe she was just stalling to postpone bed time as long as possible. I don't care the reason. I will never out grow wanting to hold my children, even when they are bigger than me. I know they will start to shy away from the hugging and sitting in my lap all too soon, so I am soaking up every second that I can. I'll breathe in as much of their scent as I can. I'll keep these memories for when they won't just sit with me.
I am thankful for my children. Thankful they show me what fun is. Thankful they show me what in life is really important. Thankful they show me everything good that's in my husband. Thankful that they have made me slow down and realize how truly wonderful our life is. Thanks for indulging me kiddos, you'll never understand how much you mean to me.