I am going to be really unfair today. I'm sorry, but i have to. I guess I could write down all of my problems with today in a personal journal so no one else can read it, but hey, its the 21st century!
I wish I could say this has been a really great week. I mean, I'm not homeless, my family is alive, I've got a wonderful husband... Why can't I just be happy with that? But, I'm going to write about all the terrible things that have happened this week just to self-justify my whining.
#1 - I got my hair dyed (good) and it looks great, but since my hair is so darn thick (bad) the hair salon decides to charge me three times the normal amount because they had to use extra dye. Then, because I'm a sucker, I ended up buying the expensive shampoo I know I can't afford just so my dye doesn't come out of my hair prematurely. So, over 200 dollars later, I've got slightly darker hair and no split ends... doesn't seem like a fair trade.
#2 - Our car started to overheat last weekend so we have resorted to the old fashioned way of getting from point A to point B - walking. Walking is wonderful. I love an excuse to be outside, and I'm hoping extended periods of walking gets this baby to come soon, but my laundry basket is full and I'm not about to carry it a couple miles to wash clothes, and I feel so bad asking friends and family to cart me around to run errands.
#3 - Husband decides to take the car in to the shop on Monday, but, as fate would have it, he got in a car accident on the way there... what are the odds? The insurance company has yet to determine whether to fix it or call it totaled, so we very well may be having to buy a car. Thankfully, James is perfectly fine, but imagine the horrible thoughts that would go through your head if your husband got in a car accident two weeks before your baby is due. Two weeks! I don't even want to think about it. And I spent all that time installing the car seat for no good reason! And how am I supposed to get to the hospital if I go into labor tonight? And how am I supposed to get baby Claire home from the hospital if I make it there?
#4 - Week 38 of pregnancy is not faring well for the Alexander household. Walking has become an incredibly difficult chore, and speaking of chores, I attempted to clean the house today and was rewarded with a newly discovered stretch mark, among other unspeakable physical ailments. I won't even get into that. Plus side is, I haven't gained any weight in the past two weeks... it's sad that NOT gaining weight has become the new standard for celebration. Plus, I just want to meet this little girl growing inside of me. I want to hold her and feed her. Even changing her diaper and staying up all night sounds like complete happiness to me. I am getting more and more anxious for labor and delivery as well. I am not afraid of the actual event, I am just afraid that the doctors will try to induce me if I don't go into labor a week after my due date. And in my family, our babies stay in there for a while. For a mother who wants to birth her child without an epidural, getting induced is the very last thing I want to happen. As much as I don't want to be pregnant anymore, I want this baby to come when she is ready, not on my or my doctor's schedule.
#5 - The whole "everyone thinks they have a right to touch my belly" thing is something I could care less about. I'm totally fine with total strangers touching my belly. It's kind of fun, and I like seeing the joy in other's faces when they acknowledge the miracle of pregnancy and child birth. One thing I cannot stand, however, is the people who think they have the right to offer advice whenever they want. If I get one more person telling me "Oh, just wait until that baby is born, then you will REALLY be tired" or "You'll be begging for that epidural" or the worst one "You'll never have the body you want ever again" I think I'll.. I don't know what. But it would be something bad. Can't you say something like, "Babies are a joy" or "More power to you for a natural birth" or "If you put your mind to it, you can get your body back in shape". This is not the time to tell me I can't do something. What good are you doing by telling me that? I already cry in the shower daily when I look at my ruined and disfigured body. Don't get on your soap box and use me to make you feel better about yourself. Wow. That was really harsh. But I don't think I will erase that sentence. I wish I could just blow off their remarks, but all I can think is that I will NEVER tell anyone they can't do something or discourage them from achieving their goals.
#6 - My sister called me and said that her sweet boyfriend had surprised her by taking her to the beach. I should be happy for her, right? Well, of course I was happy for her. But then, I started thinking about the beach, and thinking how I'm stuck in a place with no beach. In fact, the sun just barely decided to come out this week since October of 2010. Add to the mix an extremely emotional and very pregnant woman, and you've got an emotional breakdown on your hands. My poor husband. He probably thinks he has lost his wife to mad cow disease. I'm honestly going crazy. Then again, I've always been this crazy, I'm just an intensified version of my former self. (It's OK mom, go ahead and laugh) Once this is read by my mother, I 'm going to get a phone call from her asking me why on earth I put this garbage on the internet for the whole world to see. She is much wiser than I am, but I'm going to behave like a four-year-old for a little longer and I'm not going to feel bad about it until tomorrow morning.
Well, I think I should stop here before I make a fool of myself more than I already have (not that more than a handful of people will read this anyway). In the end, all of this crum will be over in a matter of weeks, maybe even days, and then I'll feel so ridiculous for ever getting worked up about it. Things ALWAYS work out in the end. Really though. I'm not just saying that. Getting a traffic ticket, loosing your wallet, loosing a family member, worrying about your rebellious son, getting old, even getting toothpaste on your shirt (which happens to me just about every day); all of these things will pass. You'll go to traffic school, you'll cancel all of your credit cards and buy another wallet, you'll welcome the wrinkles and creaky joints, you'll rub your toothpasted shirt with a wet towel only to discover an hour later that it didn't take the stain out (it never does) ... you'll look at your Dad for the last time before they close the casket... and then you will go to bed, wake up in the morning, eat breakfast and start another day. Hopefully that day will be better than yesterday. And if it's not, maybe the next day will. One day, you'll find yourself laughing at a joke. The stain on your shirt never came out, so how could you possibly be happy? I don't know. It just happens.