Not now!

Talofa Lava all,

especially to those pregnant women who I can safely assume are sharpening their claws as they read...
I am a proud nail-biter so I cannot claim to own a fabulous set of talons (all the better to reach over and scratch you with my dear...) but when the moment calls for it, they do leave their mark on my intended victim!

Today's intend victim, (intended, because were it not for the door in front of him, and my being in an awkward position, he would most definitely have felt the fury of my stubby nails) was my dear brother.
18 years old, but with the mind of an innocent child (most of the time), I suffer fluctuations in my mood around him ranging from "oh, you are such a good person, I should be more like you" to " you idiot! Do you have a brain in that head of yours?" all within the space of 5 minutes, and that was before I got pregnant.

Today, however, I feel justified in my emotions.
Let me start by reminding you that during one's pregnancy, one will start to make frequent trips to the toilet. I basically live in that bathroom. I wouldn't be surprised if I had a permanent crescent-shaped mark on my bottom and thighs from the amount of time spent in there, but anyway that's TMI...
Back to the story - today, as the phone rang, I felt the urge to go...and so hurried to the bathroom and of course enjoyed the relief that we all can associate with that sanctioned white bowl-seat thingy.
Whilst in my mode of blissful ignorance of all other happenings in the world going on at that very moment in time, a horribly rude rap on the door brought me tumbling back to earth.
"Yes?" I asked, making an effort to keep my voice calm in case the knocks came with good reason.
"The phone," my brother replied. "It's for you."
Pause. A million and one murderous thoughts and feelings rushed through my body and mind as I considered the effort and time it would take to get my butt of the shiny white bowl, pull my pants up of course, waddle to the door with closed legs (not having finished my business), opening the door and releasing my wrath on that boy (quietly, since he would have the phone there, with the other person on the line listening to the struggle) etc ...
"Can you see that I am busy? Can't you tell them to call back in ten minutes or leave a message?" I struggled to say with a firm voice while letting all that bottled rage out into my system and swearing to myself that he must have been adopted. Surely I could not share anything in common with such a person!
"Oh. Sure." he said.

Oh. Sure. YOU MINDLESS GIT! I wanted to yell. Where is that brain of yours! My mind screamed with frustration as I sought to regain the bliss I had been enjoying a few moments earlier.

Surely, such rage can only be experienced by a pregnant woman on the toilet seat.
And seeing as this happened an hour ago, I am willing to bet that only a woman can hold onto something this long. I am almost too ashamed to tell my husband why I am feeling so enraged.

I think I'll just settle for sharing this with an audience who don't know me.