Today was not great. For the last week I have been propped in various angles on my bed with five or more pillows due to morning sickness and occasionally icky braxton hicks. I get it, I'm pregnant - this what pregnancy is. To complain would be... ungrateful.
I have been a bit ungrateful. I broke down to my man, "frack this positive thinking BS - I feel like hell - this sucks." Then I felt immensely guilty for the moment of weakness. Sure I feel sick most the time, I dry heave, my back hurts, my side hurts, my boobs are large enough to feed an army of starving babies and I no longer feel like I need a bra, but maybe an air balloon to hold them up, and sleep is practically nonexistent without my nausea meds. However, that was all in the making a baby bible (i.e. What To Expect When You Are Expecting). I was warned! And what is worse - I have been here before - twice! Someone smack me, because I have failed to take the magic of pregnancy and carry it gracefully.
So, I start over - I take courage from friends and realize that I am carrying a wonderful baby boy and he kicks and rolls AND he is totally worth all of this. I can already tell he will be as awesome as his sisters and with a great deal of maffeoberries personality. Thus, I carry on with my day...
The second I got home with my children I told my lovelies that they must play together quietly without fighting (which does not happen often - because we are not a perfect family). I gave them some overly sugary yogurts and cheese for a snack. Then I went over the rules - do not open the front door, do not open the back door, do not go into the yard without telling me. Do not, do not, do not get anything from the kitchen without telling me. (This might seem weird, except that I have introduced my kids to cooking and I do not put it past them to turn on a stove or get out a sharp knife while balancing on a kitchen chair to test their independence). Then I rested.
For an hour and half it was nice, with minimal fighting, no jumping out bedroom windows or playing with fire in the kitchen. In fact, the only fight that broke out made me proud. Ramona was insisting that there could be two girls in their pretend game, instead of one. Go Ramona! All to often she plays whatever part her big sister hands her. I even heard Beezus agree. Way to go Beezus! Compromising is not always easy!
We picked my man up, who - though not pregnant happens to be great at sympathy pains - was very tired. My man and I apathetically, in a drone like states, made dinner together. Turned out great. Yeah for leftovers!
Then everyone, except me, passed out. Ha! I watched the recent episode to Glee and found out baby boy likes disco. I worried a bit about his musical taste.
I took a shower and as I was walking by my bedroom mirror (my five dollar, full length mirror from target which conveniently bends) I noticed how my legs have suffered in the last six months - embarrassingly so. I felt the old perfectionist rising up, but I quickly thwarted her... I just leaned that mirror at a much sharper angle agaist the wall. Presto!
Damn, look at that woman, she is a pregnant rock start!
Proving yet again, it is all about perspective.
Tomorrow I will go back to work and try my damnedest to be positive and productive.
Happy Wednesday!
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