Psychosis

I've been avoiding the blog. I did so well for a week or so, and then I didn't have it in me to post, because my mother always said 'if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.' Oh, hell, my mother never said that, she pretty much always said 'do whatever. Get away from me. I'm on the phone.'

But someone at some point told me that I shouldn't be an asshole or a whiner. But again, this is my space, and if I want to be an asshole, so be it. I am crabby, crabby, crabby. I could blame hormones or fatigue. It really doesn't matter. It's probably a little of both. I'm really not all that sleep deprived, but I feel like I am. The 7-8 hours of sleep I get a night just isn't cutting it. To be fair to me, those 7-8 hours are very restless and I wake up all the time and I'm never comfortable, blah blah blah, bitch bitch bitch. So maybe I really am sleep deprived. But I just have this feeling like I could sleep for about 13 hours a night, and then I'd feel much better. But the gross creases in my big belly would probably get really nasty, since they're gross and uncomfortable after only a couple hours on one side. (I have to flip through the night, a couple of hours on each side at a time, and occasional 15-minute sessions on my back, just letting my sides regain shape. It's kind of like grilling kabobs.) And then there are the hormones. I think that would be why I cry. But I usually only cry if I'm so tired I want to pass out. So I cry when Mike makes me get out of bed in the morning, and I cry when I get home since dinner has to be made and dishes have to be done and there's good tv to watch but I just don't have it in me. (Exhibit A: I didn't see one second of American Idol this week.) And Mike has been a saint (except for the making me get out of bed part... asshole), because I can't remember the last time I did dishes. I tend to half-heartedly contribute to making a half-hearted dinner, and then I veg on the couch until I pass out, while he does dishes. Anyhow, these must be the 3rd trimester blues.

And work sucks. It just sucks. I have so much to do, but since half the people I schedule don't even show up for their phone calls (usually 1-hour long interviews), I don't know how my days get so full. And I don't know how my coworkers don't have anything to do. Oh well.

Tomorrow is a vacation day for me, so today is my Friday. Thank God. Tomorrow I get to sleep in a little, pick up groceries for a family weekend, and then relax until the in-laws get here. Okay, okay, I might run the vacuum upstairs, but that's it. Any other mess is there to stay. I'm also pretty excited because this weekend is my baby shower, and I am just so so so so so excited to have baby stuff. It sounds so terrible and selfish, and it's not like I'm excited to get presents. It really isn't. It has always made me feel uncomfortable to receive a lot of things that I don't feel I deserve for any particular reason, and I am perfectly happy to get my own things for myself. But, I have not been allowed to buy anything for the baby. Nothing. We got our crib and other nursery furniture as hand-me-downs, so that was great, and I got the indulgence of having something baby-related in the house. And we've also gotten a couple bags of hand-me-down baby clothes that I love to touch and fold and unfold. But nothing else. We have a sprinkling of items that have been gifts and other hand-me-downs, like a used Baby Bjorn (carrier) and a couple of crib sheets (no mattress yet, so not taken out of package yet), and stuff like that. But I just want to go to Babies R Us or wherever and go nuts buying everything we'll need! But of course, that would be stupid with a shower on the way. I know that our very very very generous families will help to provide us with everything we could ever need, so we won't have to buy much. And I am so hugely grateful for that. I mean seriously. How can one ever really make up for things like that, or appropriately thank someone? I suppose you do it by providing the same kind of support and generosity when it's another family member going through their own huge change.

In the meantime, I am just so so so excited that this weekend, I will have baby stuff to play with and clean and set up! I feel like a little girl with a new dollhouse, and I want to move the furniture over and over, rearranging it this way and then that way, until it's just perfect. I want to wash and fold and unfold and refold all the clothes, over and over, and stack them in the drawers in the nursery, and arrange them until it's just right. I want to have the changing table stocked with diapers and lotions, and the baby tub hanging in our tub. (Aside: we registered for the coolest baby tub ever, and cheap, cheap, cheap! Instead of a big hard plastic tub, since our bathroom barely has room for the two of us to brush our teeth at the same time, we chose a round pillow kind of thing that floats, about the size of a boppy, that has a mesh hammock-y net over the hole in the middle, so you just plop baby on that, and fill your own tub with a couple inches of water. And since it floats (if it really turns out to be bouyant enough), I dream of taking a bath with baby! Wouldn't that be great? And then we can just hang it on a hook in our shower, and it won't take up much room. Cool, huh?)

Okay, I feel better now, dreaming of all the baby stuff that will be around the house. This will make it so much more real. And sleep would be nice, too.