Apologies for the rant you are about to behold, I find myself feeling a little bit sorry tonight.
I want to roll out of bed in the morning, struggle out of my clothing, shower, flatten the hair, struggle back into my pyjamas and pack myself with pillows on the couch and not move all day. Well, only to eat the dozen times I seem to want to, and visit the toilet the hundred times I seem to need to.
I want to pack my responsibilities into a little compact powder puff case and slip them neatly into my handbag and forget about them. Into the zippered secret pocket on the inside, just in case some of the more urgent ones try to slip out through the cracks. I was supposed to begin my ‘leave’ last Friday, but customers keep changing the rules on me. They say they’re in the area to drop their item off next Thursday to be completed for them. I reply that i’m in hospital GIVING BIRTH on the Thursday and they reply with- I’ll just leave it on your door then?
I do try to take it in my stride that customers are simply like that, selfish. Even the nicest ones who you swear truly have a halo over their heads, they still live in a ‘me’ box most of the time, and I find that it’s always the one’s that ‘understand’ the most because they’ve ‘been there’ that need the urgent hobby craft item completed before the end of the day even though it may have taken them 20 years to complete the item in the first place.
I don’t miss working for a boss until such a time arrives that I am ill need a holiday or, well, pregnant!
Next rant- Feeling like a crap Mummy at the moment. I’m propping myself and little chicken in front of the television more and more, I have trouble cleaning up after her and finding the energy to organise things to do while it storms and blusters outside. She loves to paint… for about five minutes then i’m on hands and knees helping her to clean it all up. Then it’s Play Doh for another five minutes and we’re back at it again, picking up pieces of smooshed Doh from the catcher sheet. Cooking? If i’m in the mood to scrape up a dropped egg or overly enthusiastic flour mixture mixing debris. The park? Either sopping wet or i’m needed to “Push harder Mummy!” on the swing while my stomach muscles threaten to tear themselves from whatever insides they stick to currently, which is most likely my massive baby bubble. Poor little girl doesn’t understand. 😦
The main title rant is the gradually increasing painful places popping up like Berwick houses all over my body. Not contractions or anything wrong (I don’t think). The little guy is long, so he’s diving downwards which causes some bone grinding, and kicking upwards which has one of my ribs feeling a little less painless than it should, as though he’s testing out it’s flexibility. A mystery spot on my middle back pounds with pain all day also, i’m thinking another rib? Who knows. Poor miserable pregger chick. I would love someone to play with Sienna for me all day, but that would likely make my stupid brain feel worse, and some painkillers other than panadol would be JUUUUUST PEACHY!
I guess I should add the car-less situation to that list, but honestly, I don’t think i’m leaving this house much until the big day anyway.
Let’s go little boy, only a week to go! (Gawd help me..)