argh
I guess I can chalk my recent mood up to the pregnancy hormones, or the fact that almost every minute of my life is filled with stress-inducing tasks with the occasional law courtesy of Murphy thrown in.
Sigh.
I’m a little uncomfortable now. Last night the husband and I took Charlie for a walk and as I ambled slowly behind them I reflected on how this appeared to be the first time the pregnancy had an impact on my walking. This made me grumpy. Husband kept looking back at me and giving me the squinty “sorry you are so uncomfortable but we both know there is nothing I can do about it” face. I planted my hands on my lower back and glowered at the ground for the rest of the walk. Before we left for the walk, one of the renovation companies called to say they would be arriving to give us a quote on taping our basement (we put up the drywall but you can forget it if you think we’re doing the taping ourselves) around 6pm. We assumed this would give us ample time to walk Chucky, who had been in the kennel all day save for the 10 minutes I race home during my lunch hour to let him pee. (Luckily this only has to happen 4 days of the month when hubby is on day shift). Suffice it to say, Chucky was a little bit spastic.
We returned from the walk to find the renovation company there early, the guy glaring at us as we walked up to meet him. Chucky, predictably, began to spaz the fuck out, and the next 10 minutes was bedlam as we tried to get him in the house and kenneled so the nice Arabic man could come and save us from our unfinished basement hell.
After the guy left, I attempted to make some fajitas for dinner. I burned my hand twice and when the wraps I was using tore while I tried to put them together, I finally lost it. I think I yelled at the fajitas and, teary-eyed, turned around to my husband to announce to him that “nothing works”. After he calmed me down, we ate our ripped fajitas. Charlie was El Terrible for the rest of the night – eating the curtains, jumping up on the counters, refusing to settle down.
After retiring for the night, I woke up 4 times to pee, stepping on the cat one of those times and waking everyone up. On my last venture back to the bed I managed to get punched in the eye as my husband lifted his arm to allow me to crawl back into the bed. I smashed my head right into his hand. I actually saw sparkles explode out of my eye and fall onto the bed, extinguishing themselves once they hit the sheets. Ouch.
This morning I woke up in a fairly bad mood, chased Chucky around the house while I tried to get ready and husband showered upstairs, managed to knock over a HUGE glass of juice that I had just poured to slake my undying pregnancy thirst, and gave up and let Charlie help me clean up the mess by licking the juice up from the floor.
Note to self: stop buying cheap, non-absorbent brand of paper towels simply because they are cheap.
On the way to work I was cut off by a bald man in a fancy car and suit talking on his cell phone. If he has a blog, he is currently writing about his morning, in which a crazy, pregnant lady in a giant minivan took advantage of the fact that his driver side window was rolled down and screamed at him that he was a “bald-headed retard incapable of multi-taking so he should just hang up his mother fucking cell phone whilst driving”, or something to that effect.
With my blood pressure sufficiently elevated, I made it to my desk in time to get teary eyed from the guilt I felt for having raised my blood pressure and the effect that it must be having on poor Avery.
What could make this day better? How about a trip to the dentist this afternoon so he can figure out why my tooth is still hurting even though he did a root canal on it a few months ago.
Mmm, yes, let’s do that shall we?
Sigh.
I’m a little uncomfortable now. Last night the husband and I took Charlie for a walk and as I ambled slowly behind them I reflected on how this appeared to be the first time the pregnancy had an impact on my walking. This made me grumpy. Husband kept looking back at me and giving me the squinty “sorry you are so uncomfortable but we both know there is nothing I can do about it” face. I planted my hands on my lower back and glowered at the ground for the rest of the walk. Before we left for the walk, one of the renovation companies called to say they would be arriving to give us a quote on taping our basement (we put up the drywall but you can forget it if you think we’re doing the taping ourselves) around 6pm. We assumed this would give us ample time to walk Chucky, who had been in the kennel all day save for the 10 minutes I race home during my lunch hour to let him pee. (Luckily this only has to happen 4 days of the month when hubby is on day shift). Suffice it to say, Chucky was a little bit spastic.
We returned from the walk to find the renovation company there early, the guy glaring at us as we walked up to meet him. Chucky, predictably, began to spaz the fuck out, and the next 10 minutes was bedlam as we tried to get him in the house and kenneled so the nice Arabic man could come and save us from our unfinished basement hell.
After the guy left, I attempted to make some fajitas for dinner. I burned my hand twice and when the wraps I was using tore while I tried to put them together, I finally lost it. I think I yelled at the fajitas and, teary-eyed, turned around to my husband to announce to him that “nothing works”. After he calmed me down, we ate our ripped fajitas. Charlie was El Terrible for the rest of the night – eating the curtains, jumping up on the counters, refusing to settle down.
After retiring for the night, I woke up 4 times to pee, stepping on the cat one of those times and waking everyone up. On my last venture back to the bed I managed to get punched in the eye as my husband lifted his arm to allow me to crawl back into the bed. I smashed my head right into his hand. I actually saw sparkles explode out of my eye and fall onto the bed, extinguishing themselves once they hit the sheets. Ouch.
This morning I woke up in a fairly bad mood, chased Chucky around the house while I tried to get ready and husband showered upstairs, managed to knock over a HUGE glass of juice that I had just poured to slake my undying pregnancy thirst, and gave up and let Charlie help me clean up the mess by licking the juice up from the floor.
Note to self: stop buying cheap, non-absorbent brand of paper towels simply because they are cheap.
On the way to work I was cut off by a bald man in a fancy car and suit talking on his cell phone. If he has a blog, he is currently writing about his morning, in which a crazy, pregnant lady in a giant minivan took advantage of the fact that his driver side window was rolled down and screamed at him that he was a “bald-headed retard incapable of multi-taking so he should just hang up his mother fucking cell phone whilst driving”, or something to that effect.
With my blood pressure sufficiently elevated, I made it to my desk in time to get teary eyed from the guilt I felt for having raised my blood pressure and the effect that it must be having on poor Avery.
What could make this day better? How about a trip to the dentist this afternoon so he can figure out why my tooth is still hurting even though he did a root canal on it a few months ago.
Mmm, yes, let’s do that shall we?
Labels: Pregnancy
posted by vegan mum at 11:33 AM
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