Hormone Explosion 2008

It's been a crazy week and to top it off, yesterday I experience what I am now calling, "Hormone Explosion 2008" or HE08 . . . at work. Hormones and work are clearly not a good combo.

Last night at 5:30 was the kids' first Open House at their school. I've been swamped at work, but I thought there might be a chance of breaking away to go visit the school and see my little angels/devils at school. So at 6:15 (already late) I ask Bossman 1 if all is well and he says "sure, go on home." I go to drop something off in another conference room and see Bossman 2 who says, "We need to work on this. It is a little more complicated than originally thought." So, I sit down (even though I'm late) and wait for him to explain what is going on and then I ask, "So what kind of deadline do we have on this because we keep having things come up?" He looks soberly at me and says, "The client wants us to figure it out tonight." My eyes widened and I feel myself beginning to lose control of my hormones, as my eyes turn glassy and I say hesitantly, "Okay." I take a deep breath, Bossman 2 catches sight of the watery eyes and asks, "Do you have somewhere you need to be?" (A simple, innocuous question, particularly since I have no trouble staying late to work usually.) I nod slightly trying to quickly gather my emotions which have separated from the rational thoughts circulating in my head. (I hate that being pregnant can cause you to completely and utterly lose control of emotional reactions - it is so freakin' frustrating.) Bossman 2 asks, "Where do you need to be?" I squeak out, "My kids' open house," as I continue to spiral downward out of control and feel the tear ducts increase water production. Inside, I'm groaning and totally pissed off that I can't get my emotions under control. I feel so stupid! Normally, I'd just adjust my testicles and say, "Yeah, I didn't want to go to that anyway." But instead, here I am looking like a man's worst nightmare of what it is like to work with a woman. Bossman 2 responds, "Well you need to go to that." Me, "No, no, it's no big deal" - a real tear falls (Ugh! I'm mortified at this point). "Really it's not a big deal." Bossman 2, "You need to go to that. I'll stay and get this ready and you can analyze it in the morning." Me (fully out of control at this point although not sobbing), "I'm so sorry about this, it's got to be the hormones, because this really isn't a big deal. It's not like my Mom's in the hospital or something." Bossman 2, "This only happens once a year. You need to go. I'll take care of this." Me, "I'm sorry, I hate being a chick! I'm so sorry." Bossman 2 (now looking thoroughly scared and feeling awkward), "Stop. You don't need to apologize. Go to the open house." More apologies and stupidity.

I proceed to leave the conference room and the tears fully begin to flow at a ridiculous pace. To my horror, I run into yet another attorney (this time a female associate) and she asks, "What is wrong?" Me, "nothing, nothing" sniffle, gasp, tear drips. More embarrassment, more ridiculousness as my mind processes that this is simply the stupidest thing to cry about, because the Open House is pretty much over already anyway, and the kids don't care whether I'm there or not, and finally, Chuck is there so it's not like they're orphans. Stupid.

I get to my office, gather my stuff, wipe my face with a tissue and try to gather my control, but my hormones are totally in control of all my bodily functions even though my mind is processing the entire event in a calm, rational manner. Hormones suck!

I get to the open house. Most everyone is gone. There are some parents and teachers. The tears haven't completely dried up, my face is splotchy red, I have a damp tissue in my hand, and my nose keeps sniffling. Teachers repeatedly come up to me, "Are you okay?" Me, "I'm fine, I'm fine, really" as I wave my nasty tissue in their direction and they back up in response. More teachers approach as I enter each room desparately looking for my children. The teachers also inquire as to whether everything is okay. I repeat over and over, "no, no I'm fine. I swear. Just ignore me. Have you seen my kids?" I finally find my children and my husband upstairs mingling with other parents from the school. The parents we are close to again ask me what is wrong, and I say, "Just don't ask or I'll start crying again." Of course, I don't get all the words out when tears burst forth from my overworked tear ducts yet again and I bury my runny nose into my soaking tissue. Still embarrassed and still totally pissed that my body has run amuck from my completely rational mind.

About 45 minutes after the first teary-eyed response to Bossman 2, the tears finally dried up after Chuck and the kids made me laugh for about five minutes. God bless them. Chuck lined up Luke, Evie and friend Savannah to see which one was the tallest and proceeded to ask them silly questions to determine who was the tallest. Who smells the tallest? - He sniffs each head and determines that Evie smells the tallest. Who sounds the tallest? He put his ear to each kid's head and determines that Savannah sounds the tallest. (all kids giggling the whole time). Who has the tallest shoulders? - they all raise their shoulders as high as they can almost touching their ears. I crack up. You get the picture.

This morning, I'm still embarrassed and hope desparately, that I won't lose control of my emotions again. I'm the first one to actually get pregnant and have a baby at the firm, and I know they're all thinking, "Oh, my God, what did we get ourselves into by hiring a person with a uterus?!" I continue to work and just hope that my hormones will turn back into bitchy hormones instead of emotional hormones. Bitchy hormones are much more conducive to my job as an attorney.