A Case of the Grump Bugs

I am not a morning person. If it is anytime before noon, I'm grumpy, and if you get too close to me, you'll find out why Oscar the Grouch is my favorite Sesame Street character. You'll also find out that I have a stunning right hook.

My mother, on the other hand, has the dubious distinction of being one of "those" people. You've met the type - perpetually bubbly and happy. When you want to pull the covers back over your head, this is the person who stands by your bedside, cheering you on like the leader of the pep squad. Now that I'm older, I recognize this phenomenon as brain damage brought on by years of caffeine over-consumption. (I write this with all affection - my mother is truly an incredible woman, and I love her with all my heart. She's just overly cheerful sometimes, and I...am not.)

When I was little, my mother's response to my cranky, anti-social behavior was to swat away all of the "grump bugs" that only she could see swarming in my air space. She would wander around, smacking her hands together as if she had caught a fly, and exclaim, "Got one! Oh - wait - got another one!" (In the interests of full disclosure, I must admit that I recently pulled this stunt on C. Suffice to say, it didn't go over well. But that didn't stop me from smacking the air with glee, killing off all the grump bugs...)

I need someone to swat away my grump bugs today. It's 3:09 PM, well after noon, and I am in a bad mood. Maybe it's because I just had to explain to my boss that confidential pay rate information needs to be password-protected if it's stored in a place that others can access. (Um, hello? Did you really think that was ok?)

Realistically, though - it probably has more to do with pregnancy hormones, and my frustration over having to wait another week until I get to see A and B again. I haven't seen them since last Monday, and I've fallen off the high of watching them move and knowing that they're okay into the deep abyss of fear and the land of what if. I just read about another blogger who lost one of her IVF twins recently. I don't have any words for that. It is my worst fear.

So, now that I don't have any tears left to cry, I am reminding myself that my babies are in the Hands of the Most High God - and whatever happens, good or bad, He is in control. And between those reminders (and the occasional muttering about my boss), I'm swatting away the grump bugs with my own favorite remedy: pictures of A and B. (Check out the close-up of A's brain! Cool!)