Pair of threes
Tomorrow marks my 33rd week of gestating this child and true to my word, I told people I would be so over it by now and I am. Don't get me wrong -- I am not asking for a NICU baby and I don't want to be in labor in any way, shape or form -- but this is the point where I throw up the white flag and cry for amnesty.
I can't bend over, from the waist or at the knees, making toy clean-up either nonexistent or the domain of Josh. Because you know my two children ain't doing shit when I announce it's time to clean up and start singing that annoying Barney song. Emmie thinks that's the cue to start taking more toys out of the toybox and Jack starts protesting he's too tired to pick up toys. Oh yeah? Well let me know anytime you want to start waking up later than 5 a.m., buddy. Until then, get your ass in gear and pick up those legoes.
The exhaustion has also returned to first-trimester levels. For a few days I was concerned I might be narcoleptic, but then I remembered I am 33 weeks pregnant and I get up at 5 a.m. every day and I chase a toddler and preschooler and I go to bed every night at 11 p.m. I would be falling asleep even if I wasn't pregnant. So when I find myself drooling on the couch cushions with the kids sticking their faces in my face asking, "Mommy? Mommy, are you sleeping?" and poking me in the eye, I don't feel so bad. It's not like I am leaving them unattended -- I am just resting my eyes for a few minutes.
Then there's the general crabassiness of just being fat and sick of my clothes and wishing I could just give up my damn pride and wear yoga pants all day, every day. Because seriously, when I change into yoga pants at night after the kids go to bed, I want to weep with joy over how comfortable I am. Instead, I soldier on, wearing uncomfortable, yet stylish, maternity jeans so the other moms at school pickup don't judge me.
Additionally, my remodeling is STILL ongoing and making me crazy because it looks like a tornado hit our storage area and deposited all our crap all over the house. Case in point: our bedroom contains a set of shelves that came with our cabinets, but that we elected not to install because we went with a lazy susan instead. The shelves are sitting on top of our snowboards. Because clearly, we're going to use our freaking snowboards in the next few weeks. You know, while I am pregnant. So while the shelves and the snowboards take up valuable real estate in the bedroom, the bassinet is sitting in the dining room. Right between the dining room table, where the kids fling food around like it's confetti, and the back door, where we track in who knows how much dirt and grime. I'm sure the new baby won't mind some squash mixed with drywall dust on its mattress.
Clearly I am the poster child for a serene pregnancy. I know you are all jealous and want to pop three kids of your own out. I make it look so easy don't I?
I can't bend over, from the waist or at the knees, making toy clean-up either nonexistent or the domain of Josh. Because you know my two children ain't doing shit when I announce it's time to clean up and start singing that annoying Barney song. Emmie thinks that's the cue to start taking more toys out of the toybox and Jack starts protesting he's too tired to pick up toys. Oh yeah? Well let me know anytime you want to start waking up later than 5 a.m., buddy. Until then, get your ass in gear and pick up those legoes.
The exhaustion has also returned to first-trimester levels. For a few days I was concerned I might be narcoleptic, but then I remembered I am 33 weeks pregnant and I get up at 5 a.m. every day and I chase a toddler and preschooler and I go to bed every night at 11 p.m. I would be falling asleep even if I wasn't pregnant. So when I find myself drooling on the couch cushions with the kids sticking their faces in my face asking, "Mommy? Mommy, are you sleeping?" and poking me in the eye, I don't feel so bad. It's not like I am leaving them unattended -- I am just resting my eyes for a few minutes.
Then there's the general crabassiness of just being fat and sick of my clothes and wishing I could just give up my damn pride and wear yoga pants all day, every day. Because seriously, when I change into yoga pants at night after the kids go to bed, I want to weep with joy over how comfortable I am. Instead, I soldier on, wearing uncomfortable, yet stylish, maternity jeans so the other moms at school pickup don't judge me.
Additionally, my remodeling is STILL ongoing and making me crazy because it looks like a tornado hit our storage area and deposited all our crap all over the house. Case in point: our bedroom contains a set of shelves that came with our cabinets, but that we elected not to install because we went with a lazy susan instead. The shelves are sitting on top of our snowboards. Because clearly, we're going to use our freaking snowboards in the next few weeks. You know, while I am pregnant. So while the shelves and the snowboards take up valuable real estate in the bedroom, the bassinet is sitting in the dining room. Right between the dining room table, where the kids fling food around like it's confetti, and the back door, where we track in who knows how much dirt and grime. I'm sure the new baby won't mind some squash mixed with drywall dust on its mattress.
Clearly I am the poster child for a serene pregnancy. I know you are all jealous and want to pop three kids of your own out. I make it look so easy don't I?
Labels: Pregnancy
posted by Amy at
7:45 PM
3 Comments:
I'm sending you quiet peaceful vibes! I know they are imaginary but maybe if you close your eyes you can find them for just a minute!
I actually am 96.5% sure I DO want a third child, and I am depending on you to KEEP IT REAL for me.
I remember being pregnant with jack and falling asleep-- sometimes for a kind of alarming length of time-- while Harry was awake and roaming the upstairs. It's exhausting. But don't worry, soon you'll have a baby and you'll get, um, tons of sleep.
Next to eating, sleeping is my hobby. Oh how I feel for you.
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