Done. I’m so done. Right?

I’m done. I am 35 weeks pregnant as of tomorrow, and if an OB came in here with some gas and a scalpel, I wouldn’t kick him out. I would boil some water and fetch him some clean towels. My Ikea sheets are blood red already. We would make it work.
That sounds horrible. Of course I don’t want a premature baby delivered by a designer scheduled csection, but shit, these last couple of weeks have been trying. Today has especially tested my will to stay pregnant AND a mother.
I am so tired. I don’t sleep more than 3 or 4 hours a night due to my hips aching and my brain deciding the best time to be both awake and ready for action is from 11 pm until whenever the fuck. I wake up to pee a minimum of 3 times a night. I have to wake up completely in order to flip over. I am a fucking zombie during the day.
My feet are swollen 24/7. Even when I am not on them for a long time, they are swollen. I wake up with boats attached to my cankles.
As you can imagine, being this exhausted while having 2 other kids to tend to has complicated nesting a bit. There is still so much to do. I am so overwhelmed. The thought of it all makes me want to cry, honestly. I do cry. By Thursday, I am usually so exhausted and flustered that I can’t hold it in before 7 am. The house is a mess. I finally get Vance and Deven to help me out on Sunday, but it doesn’t stay that way for more than a couple of days. And then I struggle to scrape together the energy to complete one task a day.
I feel like a failure. I signed up to be the Stay At Home Mom of 3, so I should be able to clean the house, help the kid with homework, keep on track with the budget right? I try to give myself some slack because I’m pregnant and super uncomfortable, but I can’t stand looking around at my surroundings. And then I get frustrated, the other fucking adult in the house acts like I am asking him to give up his left kidney if I ask him to do some dishes, cook one meal a week, or fold a load of fucking laundry. On top of just the every day shit that keeps building up under my feet, I still need to get the car cleaned inside and outside, shampoo the carpet, wash and set up the baby stuff, buy the additional baby things. I am supposed to do these things. Me. Because no one else gives a fuck.
My kids are evil and they know that mommy is exhausted and about to reach the end of her rope, so they are extra obstinate and obnoxious lately. Really, they’re just bored. Great, so I am supposed to take them to the park or something now? FUCK.
I did not mean to turn this into an all-out attack the spouse and kids bitch fest, really I didn’t. I promise I usually try to leave them out of my insanity. I just don’t know what I am going to do. I am not going to suddenly become comfortable and less tired and sore before the baby comes, so what am I supposed to do? Hire someone? Can I do that? I will seriously do that if it is something that I can afford.
Just…if I ever talk about wanting to get pregnant again, have me go back and read this post.

Sort of about how weird weather brings out the worst in people

We are in the middle of a remarkable weather phenomenon here in Central Texas. Its not weird in the sense that it never happens, its just weird in that it hasn’t happened in such a long time.
Today it was extremely rainy and chilly outside. It is September, nearing the end of a surprisingly mild, yet very dry summer. If you know anything about Texas, you know “summer” tends to last into the early parts of October. Our “autumn” is more like a mild summer, and the “winters” run from the end of December until sometimes mid-February, March at the latest. The Spring here is delightfully colorful and mild and sneeze-inducing, making it the highlight of the weather year in Texas.
Anyway, it hasn’t rained much at all this summer, and not nearly enough in the last few years. We are in the middle of an ugly drought, but after today, I want to say, in a hopeful tone, that maybe the misery we suffered through just today alone will make some kind of impact.
It rained. And it rained and it rained, and then it rained some more. People made plans for today that the rain couldn’t stop, and people made plans for today that I am sure they were upset about having to cancel because of the intense rain. People had a hard time getting out of bed this morning. Peoples’ moods were shot from the lack of sunshine. People weren’t afraid to be dicks to those around them, mostly because they wanted to stay home or be doing something other than going to the grocery store on a rainy Saturday afternoon. The rain inconvenienced everyone.
So Deven’s 7th birthday celebration is this weekend. His grandmother (my mother-in-law) is in town, as she typically is for these events. This morning we discussed our plans for this weekend since we’re not technically celebrating until tomorrow. We had made plans to go out to lunch with the kids, and then to take them to the mall for some Build A Bear action. First we needed to cover some essentials at the grocery store.
I grocery shop once a week, usually during the day while Deven is at school and the number of other shoppers is at a minimum. I don’t go near the grocery store during the weekend, unless there is something I absolutely need. The reason being because everyone who works during the week puts off grocery shopping until the weekend. Everyone in the town I live in, and then all of the people in Austin who hate shopping in Austin because they don’t want to haul around their own reusable grocery bags.
Yeah. Because of the disposable plastic bag ban in Austin, people think they are being slick and smart when they go to the smaller surrounding towns to do their grocery shopping, when really, they are just being assholes to the people in the small towns. I don’t even care about what is going into the landfills, I care about how over-crowded my neighborhood grocery store has become.
So it is pouring rain and assholes at the grocery store. Deven is aware of the plans for the weekend, and is aware that at some point today, he is going to get to open the presents from his “Neenah” (the grandmother name given to Vance’s mom.) He is being all sorts of demanding and persistent, and is refusing to listen to anything anyone has to say unless it is something along the lines of, “yes, Deven, you can do that thing that you want to do, whatever it is, no one cares.” That may happen when Neenah is the only one around, but when Mom is around, be ready to hear “NO” a lot, and be ready for the fight you are about to lose. Right off the bat, Deven wants a driving cart that is wet from sitting out in the rain, and then he wants to throw a fit about not being allowed to ride in the regular cart inside the store. Vance’s mom just wants everyone to be happy, and I just want to get my stuff and simultaneously get my stubborn kid to shut the hell up. The difference is that my method comes with lessons and doesn’t have much room for compromise.
We get about 20 feet in the produce section of the store, and Deven tries to climb into the cart over by the bagged oranges. The cart is pulled over and I have got him by the hand telling him he needs to lay off or he and I will be waiting in the car and then going home. Mind you, there is about 4-6 feet of walking space open to the public between our cart and the apple display to the right of us. That does not stop some grumpy asshole with his own teenager trailing behind him from having the (what I can only assume are shriveled up and poorly functioning – think ground cherries that have been on the ground for too long) testicles to say something to the affect of, “You think you guys can do this some other time.” Because, you know, he still had 4 feet of space to walk through, which he by the way did as I shot him the ugliest look I could muster. And then I flipped him off. Seriously asshole? Seriously?
My Mother-In-Law and I were stunned beyond words. I wanted to cuss the fucker out in the middle of the store, possibly insult his penis size and his mothers’ looks, but it was over before I could even find the fucker again.
I have Social Anxiety problems. The kind where every single interpersonal interaction stays with me forever and affects whether or not I want to leave my house for fear of having to talk to someone again. The kind where I have a bad interaction and go home and stew over it for days afterward. I cry. I take it to mean there is probably something wrong with me. I have a good interaction and it makes me afraid that the next experience will have to be even better or else I will have failed. I replay it in my mind. I refuse to accept that I can successfully talk to strangers.
You know how people get nervous in large crowds? Some people just get overwhelmed by all the people and the people energy and the talking, I get nervous because I see aaaaallll of the potential for small-talk. I get itchy.
You would think that it stopped there, but while we were attempting to peruse the baking aisle, yet another despicable piece of shit had something to say about all of the people in the aisle holding his attempted escape while they tried to, you know, shop. I was there to get cake mix for my kids birthday cupcakes. But I’m sorry that we and these 20 other people are also having to deal with the hoards of other shoppers while trying to make selections of our own. I am sorry you are having such a hard time dealing with life today. I am. Please try to be civil and keep your shitty attitude to yourself. You might end up pissing off the wrong person and getting punched in the face. That person may be an anxious, upset pregnant woman with a grudge.
We ended up getting everything we needed from the store with blood-free hands, and then cancelling the rest of our plans for the day. I have never felt so slighted by weather in my life. You could just feel the energy in that grocery store, which I would describe as fatigued and hostile. I am sure no one knew the weather was going to be as ugly as it was going to be. No one knew that it was going to make them feel like they just dragged their bodies out of bed after 4 hours of a sleep riddled by nightmares and overactive bladders. I HATE these kinds of days. I am sure scientists or psychologists or some other killer of faith and creativity would probably say that there is no link between weather and mass grumpiness, but I will continue to say that is fucking bullshit, and that will be my religion from that moment on.
And to think tomorrow we will be taking Deven to Chuck E Cheese. Because I love misery, and misery loves breaking out in hives from the small talk with strangers.

The Big, but totally unsurprising announcement

I have not been around these parts much in the last several months. My last entry was a somber tale about the loss of a distant loved one, intend to memorialize and to encourage people to take the opportunity to catch up with old friends at reunions. It was just a few months ago that I was writing here regularly about the chaos of our lives, but eventually I had to step away. Things really started to pick up, and I couldn’t keep with with everything and muster the energy to write about it at the end of the week.

So I thought I owe an explanation. Or at least a worthy update.

Its summer here, meaning that school is out and I am home taking care of two little boys who want nothing more than to eat all of the sugar in the house and go swimming every single day. I don’t really like swimming, especially with two little ones who can’t swim. I’m not sure I am a strong enough swimmer to rescue 2 little ones if the need arises. I am trying to restrict their sugar intake, but it is not always easy, especially when they won’t eat much else. The good news is that in one month I’ll be back on my original schedule of waking up entirely too early to get my  big boy to school, and having most of the day to try and manage the house with just one needy toddler, who still needs potty training and to learn to sleep in his own bed. That arrangement won’t last through the end of the year because…

We’re having another baby!


Yes, it’s another boy, and he is due November 27th, which is Thanksgiving here in the US. If his last ultrasound is any indication, he will come out a little butterball just like his older brother Archer and his daddy. Hopefully he won’t stay in there roasting and fattening up for too long after his due date, because Mama is planning a med-free delivery at a free-standing birth center. Please little Bean Bun, cooperate and make things easy on me!

After having gone through 2 losses, I feel very blessed to have this little one growing and thriving inside of me. It wasn’t easy in the beginning, as I was pretty sick starting from the end of week 4 until almost week 12, by far the longest time I have been sick during a pregnancy. Sure, I might have thought “wouldn’t it be great if it were a girl this time?” but it really doesn’t matter. I’m blessed to have been able to make three beautiful little babies. Besides, I have known since I found out about this little bean that it was more than likely a boy. I make boys. Vance, with his giant, glorious, red beard, makes boys. We make amazingly sweet, devastatingly handsome, charming boys. Somebody has to, right?

I am now 5 1/2 months into this pregnancy, and I am mostly just exhausted. That can be at least partially attributed to the other 2 little ones I chase after all day long. Right now we’re doing our best to ready the house for the new addition by repairing holes left in the walls by rambunctious little boys, and painting the walls in their bedroom and playroom. We aren’t decorating a nursery. We have learned from the last 2 babies that co-sleeping and breastfeeding work best for us, so having everything available right next to our bed is the way to go here. We aren’t even bothering with a crib, but with a pack n play, and some small pieces like a rock n play, a swing, and a travel system. We have obviously not needed to buy much in the way of clothes, as I am an expert in the ways of organizing and storing potential hand-me-downs. He is pretty much set for his first 6 months of life.

There is so much more to talk about besides just the excitement of waiting for our newest addition, like how Deven blew through kindergarten like it was nothing, and will officially be a first grader in a month! And then a couple of weeks after that, he’ll be turning 7 years old.   He finished a season of baseball earlier this year, and is now hoping to attempt basketball in the fall. As we await the arrival of a new boy, we watch another continue to grow. Its completely bittersweet. Honestly, I worry about how I’ll feel watching my youngest grow. I am not sure I’ll ever not want to have a baby either on the way or in my arms. Eventually I’ll have to stop, but for now, I’m in the moment, enjoying my fertility.