One nice thing about being pregnant—or so I’m learning—is that you suddenly have an excuse for acting kind of crazy. For most people, this probably isn’t such a big deal, but if you’re normally really neurotic like me, it’s a real bonus. When, in the past, people would sigh and say, “What is your problem?” or “What are you, NUTS?” now, when I find myself feeling kind of unhinged, they say, “It’s okay, you’re pregnant,” thereby giving me the pleasant surprise of unexpected sympathy. It’s so nice! I think it will be hard to give up, actually, once the baby is here. Better enjoy it while it lasts.
Case in point? Recently, I had a breakdown over my gas cap. (I know, I know. “What are you, nuts?” But I’m pregnant! See how that works?) Anyway, in my car, I have a little button I push to open the door to my gas cap. It’s right by my driver’s seat, and it’s always worked just fine, until the other day, when I was driving and my gas light came on. Now, I’m neurotic about my gas light. I KNOW you still have a lot of gas when it comes on, but I always immediately panic and think I’m about to sputter to a stop at right that second. So I pull into the nearest gas station, reach down and hit my gas cap button and…nothing happens. The door doesn’t open. I try again: same thing. Jiggle the button, lift it up then down, and on and on…nothing. I tried to pry the little door open (no luck) and then, since someone was waiting for the pump, I had to pull away, with the light still on, and no gas.
This is when I started to panic. I mean, how am I supposed to fill up if I can’t open the little door to the tank? Meanwhile, I’m driving, thereby using MORE gas, running the tank down even further. I felt so completely helpless, then crazy (pregnant!) and not sure what to do. I thought I could drive home and try again to pry the door open, maybe using better equipment that my fingernails and blind hope, but again, that was using more gas. I was totally flipping out until I realized that I was somewhat near my mechanic’s shop, so I headed over there. Luckily, he was there, and even though I seemed totally unhinged (pregnant!) he calmly examined the button, discovered the cable leading to the cap was broken, and got it open anyway. (He also used this opportunity to again tell me about the superiority of European cars, which apparently have latches in the trunk for just this purpose, but he’s always on me to trade up my car, so I guess this was to be expected.) At any rate, within twenty minutes I was on my way, gas light still on, but I made it to the pump in time. All in all, not such a big deal, but of course in the interest of honestly I must confess I was actually, at one point, near tears.
Say it with me: I’m pregnant. See? Not crazy. Just hormonal. For at least a few more months, anyway…
PS. Oh, and I know I promised not to make this blog all about pregnancy, but I know some moms read this, so…if you can recommend a good all-purpose pregnancy/babycare book that is NOT What to Expect When You’re Expecting or The Girlfriends Guide to Pregnancy, can you let me know about it? I need another resource! Thanks.