Something Good

The first week of Matthew going back to work is almost over and I have survived, as has the child and the husband. Although, Matthew and I have been fighting almost every day over the stupidest crap. This seems to be our way during transitions. We still have not mastered the art of being kind to each other when we're going through stressful periods. Not to mention I cannot keep perspective on things when I am pregnant. It's so much harder. Everything seems heightened for me and there is not a chance I can talk myself down before something really bitchy comes out of my mouth. Not that Matthew doesn't deserve it. I swear the first article of our divorce proceedings will be: "Leaves socks on the floor. The livingroom floor." Of course I kid, he doesn't deserve it. Neither of us do. But these dynamics are hard to break when it feels like the world will end if he doesn't wring out the goddamn sponge at the end of the day. It doesn't help that the house is an ungodly mess and I can't get up the energy to clean it or escape it. I don't have a car during the day when Matthew is at work. I can walk of course but the pelvis aches and the complete exhaustion after just a usual trip out with the stroller are not making that very appealing. We're probably just going to have go ahead and get a second car (dammit, dammit, dammit) but for now I am pretty much housebound. Luckily we have our neighborhood friends who are next door or up the street so all is not lost. Just wish the playground wasn't so far away.

I am tired of complaining about being pregnant. I am sorry. Hmmm. What do I love about pregnancy? Um. Okay. Let me think. Think, think, think. Oh wait! I got one: I am enjoying the raging libido. Has not let up at all lo these many months, although it's technically getting much more difficult at this point. I will miss it because when it's gone, oh man is it gone. What else? Ummmmm. I like the kind looks and smiles from strangers. That's nice. And the groovy kind of buzzed feeling I get from time to time when I am not enraged or weeping. I really like looking at all the girl baby stuff too. I keep forgetting that I can go there now and when I do it is truly a whole new world. The shoes alone! Oh my god, the shoes. I'll try to think of more things. You know, accentuate the positive and all that crap.

The transition to the big boy bed has been a smashing success, by the way. We talked about it with Lowell a lot before we made the switch and he really did seem ready. To the point of trying to push the crib out of the room himself, muttering as he strained "It's... for... my... baby... sister." (We never told him the crib was going to his sister - all the advice we got said that was the kiss of death. But he just made the connection himself and then really wanted nothing to do with it). So we set up the toddler bed, put on the truck sheets and voila! He got right in and went to sleep (albeit with his head at the foot of the bed, but you know, pick your battles). It's been like that ever since, including naptime. I'm not sure what I did to deserve this but (music cue) somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something gooooood.

Comments

[juliloquy]

So much of this is sounding familiar. So I'm imagining the dialog in your house: "I hate you and your stupid socks! Now do me."

Big cheers for Lowell and the big boy bed transition!

[wordgirl]

Lowell's going to be a wonderful big brother.

[BOSSY]

Bossy is often that brand of bitchy minus the Pregnancy.