Went to bed at 9 last night. We were all tired - Crichton had school, his first T-Ball game, Karate. The dog escaped while Cri was at Karate (and by escaped, I mean, Canon tried to go out the front door and as I was wrangling him back, dog slipped out) and took us on a long walk (though I took my walk in the van). At 7, there was no dinner on the table, Greg felt extraordinarily flexible, so off we went to McDonald's for the boys, Taco Time for mom and I (gosh I like those crispy burritos), and Greg ended up with a banana at home.
Canon likes to wake up around 12:30 lately, he requires an hour or so of snuggles, then I beg-nag Greg until poor man puts the kid back. Canon had a cough last night; I think he's got allergies and I really should take him to the doctor. Sigh.
After half and hour of baby waking me with his coughing, I asked Greg to see if there was any cough medicine in the drug box. "Where's the drug box?" It was in the same place it's been for MONTHS, but with out an ounce of sarcasm or spite, I politely told him where the box was. He located a Triamenic Thin Strip for cough and cold (I highly highly recommend the Triamenic thins strips, super easy, no mess, seems to be pretty darn effective!!) One of my arms was trapped under sick kid's head - I asked Greg if he could open it for me. However, his big fat sleepy man fingers had no dexterity, so he handed it back to me unopened. Without getting gripey, I adjusted a little and opened it, folded the strip in fourths and Canon happily swollowed it down. A few swollows of water and he laid down. (Now that I think about it, I think a whole strip is a double dose ... hmmm. Well, that could explain why he woke up at 8 instead of 6:45.)
A couple more hours of snuggling my overdosed, kicking and twitching kid, and exhausted big fat pregnant me woke up daddy (again) to take kiddo back to bed. Lately, I've been trying to count after I ask people to do something. Not to see how long it takes before they respond, but to keep myself from asking again every two seconds, with exponentially increasing grumpiness. It takes poor tired husband an exquisitly long time to wake up. When I don't have a 20 pound watermelon strapped to my tummy, I jump up, wide awake, and do what needs to be done; with said watermelon, I am at the mercy of my sleepy zombie's kind, if slow, help. When I got to 37, I was about to ask him again, in case he'd fallen back to sleep, but he sat up. 13 more seconds and he scooped kiddo up and took him away.
Anyway, that may seem normal and boring, but USUALLY I am a horrible whiney sarcastic spiteful wench in the middle of the night, and not just when I'm very pregnant. USUALLY, I tell Greg to put kid back, wait 1 second, then firmly tell him to put the kid away, wait one second, then yell and ask him why he NEVER HELPS WITH ANYTHING AROUND THE HOUSE EVER!!!!! At which point, I wake up baby, baby cries, and Greg gets obstinant and refuses to help anymore, thus fulfilling my proclamation and making me even madder. SO I cry for a while, thinking about how horrible he is, vowing to leave him or cause him bodily harm, eventually putting kid away myself, and going to sleep grumpy. Greg USED to stay up for hours, talking it out, but we're getting to old for all that - and self-imposed sleep deprivation is just 17 days away ANYWAY! Plus, at this point in our marriage, we realize that I go crazy, realize I went crazy, then, later, apologize for going crazy and life goes on until I go crazy again.
As long as my sweet brilliant, amazing husband stubbornly refuses to leave me, as long as he is able to ride through my craqzyness, knowing it is temporary, I think we'll be okay. Let me plug Dr. Laura's Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands and Stop Whining, Start Living. I'm also interested in Bad Childhood, Good Life. Mostly, you choose to be happy or sad, to make yourself and others happy or miserable. It's all up to you to move past the past, to aim for the best possible future, and to control your thoughts, behaviors, and even your emotions. AND practice makes it easier.
Must be off to the grocery store ... my maternity pants won't stay up ... this shirt makes me look like a pink stripy blimp ... either very frugal groceries or no eating out at all! Budget budget budget. Sacrifice now for an easier tomorrow... Gotta get check city off our backs ... 17 days til my mini vacation, ha ha, off to the hospital where people will wait on me hand and foot ... I'll have to have a catheder, but who wants to get up an pee anyway?! And sure, blood will pour out of me like Niagra Falls for several weeks and my tummy will have a huge gaping healing hole and Canon likes nothing better than to crawl up on me .... BUT I'll have refillable pain prescriptions. And my mom and greg will be around, i hope, to respond to every whim. And perhaps my boobs will cause me excruciating pain, but they'll toughen up. now, to the store ...after a menu and a list. GET OFF THE COMPUTER!!!
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