Because whining is what 38-almost-39-week-pregnant ladies do best. Some of you out there may have been patient, glowing pillars of motherhood during the tail end of your pregnancies and kept the bitching and moaning to a minimum. If that was you, please tell me what drugs you were on because I'd like to get some, and I'm sure my friends and family want me to take them, too. I know I should focus on the positives: I'm pretty healthy, the baby's healthy and kicking like a mad rabbit, I'm not on bed rest, my house isn't being threatened by wildfires, I've got clean water and an abudance of food, I have some really soft clothes and blankets for the baby, and I have a pretty cute firefighter husband who will rub my shoulders whenever I want, and also stop touching me immediately when I demand that he do so because I'm too hot or prickly or cranky. And, on top of all of that, I have nice, shiny hair. Really, I like my hair.
Yeah, well, I'm not that good of a person, and I can't think about all of those blessings when I have to get up every 20 minutes to pee and concentrate on walking so that I don't waddle because, if I waddle, someone who I work with will no doubt comment on it and then I will have to stab that person in the eye with a pencil, and I just don't want to resort to violence or end up sitting on a hard, uncomfortable prison bench with my back aching. I'd love to sleep for more than two hours at a time - and please, please don't tell me to sleep now while I can, because I would be sleeping if I could be sleeping but the baby keeps on kicking my bladder and constant pee breaks are not that much more conducive to sleep than a crying baby.
It's getting harder to heave myself up flights of stairs, since it feels like a flock of fatty little trolls cling to my calves to slow my progress. The same trolls take each bite of food after I swallow and run it back up my esophagus and deposit it into the back of my throat, leaving me with an almost-constant, chunky, throat-pile-up feeling that abates briefly to allow for waves of frantic hunger - until, of course, the trolls get their energy back and start messing with my stomach some more. Those little bastards.
And, in case I needed another reason to whine - we're still living out of bags in my parents' house, and the home remodel/addition isn't done yet. These people had better be done by November 1st, because I will be coming home from the hospital with the baby to my own house, and there will not be any sort of banging or dust-creating around my tiny baby. I've never been a firearm kind of girl, but I'm seriously considering getting myself a shotgun so that, if any dawdling construction workers decide to show up post November 1, I can stand at the door, covered in baby drool with my previously shiny hair a mess, with the baby on one hip and the shotgun on the other and tell them that, since they were so late, any tools that they have left and want to retrieve are now considered gifts for the baby and will never be returned. Perhaps the shotgun might be more useful now, to keep the remodelers moving at a brisk pace.
When did I get so violent and angry? I used to be a nice, cheerful, mostly happy person. Please don't be scared of me, dear readers. It's just all those nasty little pregnancy trolls and back pain that bring out the worst in me. I haven't gone to any gun shows yet; I've never even fired a gun. Perhaps they require mandatory waiting periods for hormonal pregnant ladies looking to buy firearms. I need to simmer down. Hopefully, by the next time I post, I'll be in a less-whiny, less-aggro place, and no one will feel the need to hide when they see me coming.
