Yes, here it is.  The entry that the guys will run screaming from.  I'm going to blog about my hormones...

I am constantly on edge anymore.  I go from zero to mega-bitch in under five seconds.  I try to keep it in check.  If I feel it coming, I close my eyes and take deep breaths.  That's working not-so-much anymore...  I have a theory... I'm premenopausal.  But it's useless to go to the doctor.  He/She will say I'm too young (which, in my mid-thirties, I think hardly applies) or they're normal solution to every ailment I have:  lose weight.  Urinary tract infection?  Lose weight!  Pharyngitis?  Lose weight!  Toe nail fungus?  Lose weight!  But I also don't want to resort to medication.  Women have been going through this for hundreds of years and there have to be other methods than medicate.

And I become annoyed.  Oh so very, very, very annoyed.  And there is no choice but to walk away.  Or hide.  Or go to the gym and work out until I hurt.  You'd think the extra oomph I'm putting in at the gym would help my ba-dunka-dunk.  But it doesn't.  And that sucks.

I could have clawed the eyes out of the one guy in the play (for this entry, I'll call him PITA).  And I knew this.  So I went elsewhere in the theatre so I could chill and someone followed me into that room.  So I went somewhere else backstage, and more people showed up.  I finally resorted to sitting in the stairwell.  Going over my lines, plotting the blocking in my head, when who should appear but PITA.  He whaps my leg, but I ignore it, close my eyes, deep breath... and find somewhere else to go.  At the end of the show PITA and I are in the closet (cupboard) together and I'm staring at the ceiling... deep breathes... PITA says "what's wrong?" and I just shake my head because INSIDE my head, there's a little voice screaming "JAB HIS EYES OUT!  JAB HIS EYES OUT!"  If there was any way I could have been more aggressive to get it out of my system, say, shove him to the ground, I may have felt better.  I do think I kissed him a little violently, but it still wasn't enough to quell the high-tension irritation coursing through my veins.  When rehearsal was finally over, PITA mentioned he hates surprises.  Oh, thank you, Lord.  I've been able to appease the irritation with mental scenarios of evil surprise plots, including my favorite of when he says the line to me about "making mad, passionate, love" my response of "Not tonight, PITA, I have a headache." and walking off stage.

Oh.  So.  Satisfying.

I have more to get off my chest, but I'm sorta out of time here at work, so...

TO BE CONTINUED...

Well, at least that's MY humble opinion, I being his favorite auntie, and he being my favorite nephew.

He's now 16 months old--and the smartest little guy ever!  He said his first word--CAT--only he whispers it and draws it out--CAAATTT.  Like he's unsure of the way it sounds coming out of his mouth.  He signs--he knows HAT, MORE, EAT, POTTY, VIDEO, BABY, PLAY, and can point out his nose, mouth, eyes, ears, and tummy.  When he points out his tummy, he pats it like he's full.  And he doesn't point to his eyes, he does this fast little flutter with his eyes like he's flirting with you.  He has those "Your Baby Can Read" flashcards and the one day I was watching him, he brought a card over to me.  It had a picture of a clock, so I held it up to him and said "Clock" and he pointed over my head and I turned around... and he was pointing to the clock above my head.  So smart!!! He blows kisses, he waves, and you have to watch exposed skin because he loves blowing raspberries on you then giggles about it.  And, oh boy, does he wave!  He waves every time they're in public, and 95% of the time people will wave back and smile at him because he's so freaking adorable you can't help but smile.  And to those 5% that ignore him... SHAME ON YOU!

He walks and runs like a holy terror--my sister says he gets a second wind at around 8 PM, his bed time.  At least the second wind tires him out so he sleeps through the night.  I simply adore this little guy!

He was a lion for Halloween, even though he doesn't eat candy yet, but he came to our house for trick-or-treat night and waved at all the other children in costume.  Next year!  Next year he'll be able to go door-to-door.

Mr. Wyatt with his grandparents (my parents).  Does my dad look familiar?  I'll give you a hint... for the past two years he's played Santa Claus.  Oops!  No hint, I just outright told you!  *HEE HEE*