Grumpy Air

*important note about this post. I need one of those air sprayer thingees to clean out my keyboard because my "d" and "t" keys are being annoyingly difficult to press. So from here on out I am not going to redo the word if the keys do not work, making an otherwise whiney post possibly slightly enteraining (see, it's fun alreay isn't it?).

I am so overwhelmingly tired.

Nothing is working for sleep again.

I have forgotten to take care of a few HUGE things.

I have some huge things on the horizon.

I am huge.

I nee to call Abby's school lunch people to tell them I put the wrong teacher name on the thingee. And to somehow reeem my overpayment from summer school.

I nee to clean clean clean.

Clean.

Clean.

I'm lethargic at this point...

and defeated...

and stuck...

I'm not sitting around antsy waiting for labor or something - it's not that sort of impatience - it's more - I actually forget that there will be an en. That this is shor lived and should be reasured an blah blah blah like that. It is to be treasured, really it is - because what I am still very worried abou is Jack. I am so sad for the little heartbreaks hat are bound to be coming his way these next few months. Still, that's not the message my brain is giving me.

The messages floating through my brain are about just being huge an uncomfortable and not liking the way I look or the way I tire or how very hard it is just to keep a positive attituue through the ay - it would be so much easier to just lay in bed and whine an cry an be ouwardly grumpy at everyone everyay. Bu no, of course I try - I ry very very hard to do well, o feel goo, no o outwardly boher everyone with my general low opinion of how I feel at the moment. An of course when I fail even at that I feel lower - like great - not only o I feel blah I've just blahed out the day for my kids.

I'm not depressed about all this exactly - just like - I sort of feel like I just must be really really failing at the diet or the housework or parenhood or something like that. It's this nagging feeling of issatisfaction.

I try to just plug along an do all the small things I can, hoping that the small things will help with the big things as time goes on - but they all seem to buil on each other. I've done more ishes this week than in a month but there are STILL iry ishes. I've cooked more in order to save money an time an of course that makes the more ishes. I make lists before going to the store - still I'm there everyday. Then heres the launry - just mocking me. Especially since fewer tops are covering my belly, fewer bottoms look decent, I'm noticing more an more stains everywhere so my maternity wardrobe is dwinling along with my time being in maternity clothes. Thank God. But I don't want to pack anything up or throw TOO many things away because no one's going to notice this tiny stain my shouler of my comfiest shirts when I've got twelve ounces of spit up on me anyway. An I'm not going to be in my NORMAL clothes for a few months....so... that leaves... stuck in maternity never never lan. ifferen piles of clothes in ifferent bins in an orer only I unerstan.

But - hey - on the positive. I am really excited now to have a new baby. I have less panic about having a third child to worry about and keep safe and more just happy to have him.

I still don't have any clue how I'm going to survive through the day once he is out of the CONSTANT baby-wearing phase (i.e. when he is going to want to play and be let own now and then), but I guess we'll cross that brige when we come to it.

p.s. Steve's car has ANOTHER thing wrong with it. We have already paid this year more than we will probably get for trading it in - but with the whole construction project we don't want to be irresponsible and add a payment to our monthly life (Subaru is paid off). But if its inevitable anyway we don't want to keep throwing money into a bottomless pit either. It's so funny, when we were eciding beween getting a car or the construction I thought Steve was crazy to even be suggesting car. Ha. See? Even when he's wanting a new car he always ens up righ. Such a pain to be married to Mr. Right.