It is 6:30 am on Saturday, and I am already having a day. I seem to have reached the phase of pregnancy where I am sleeping poorly. I don’t really remember when this happened last time, but it culminated in me being incapable of working a full day without a nap, and ultimately getting my membranes stripped five days shy of 40 weeks because I was falling apart. While I will possibly feel guilty about for the rest of eternity (I took the baby out of the oven before it was done cooking! AHHH! Everything bad that ever happens to her is my fault!).
Sleep is my thing. I mean, obviously, it is sort of important to me. I’m not saying that it’s more important for me than it is for you or you or you, but maybe yes I am. Kevin, god bless the man, seems to understand this fully, and does his best to send me to bed early even if there are chores he’ll have to do alone because of it. But early is getting ridiculous over here – I think the responsible thing for me to do, now, is to push my bed time back to 8. EIGHT. That is not cool. I know I didn’t take such drastic measures last time, though it is plausible I should have. I hate going to bed so early – I don’t get any fun evening time to hang out with my husband (or anyone else), I can’t do anything much productive.
And it feels like an awful waste, because I’m not sleeping well. I know that is WHY I should go to bed early, but ugh. Last night I was up completely for three hours (1-4), and slept fitfully otherwise, and actually punched Kevin for BREATHING too loud. Yes, he snored kind of quietly for a few minutes, but after that he was really just breathing. And I totally punched him. And then I threw something at the cat for purring. Because I hate joy, and I hate other people sleeping successfully when I am not.
And that’s the thing – when I’m not sleeping well, I end up in a negativity spiral (also this) and everything is terrible, so here are the things I am freaking out about this morning, that are all either irrational or unproductive to freak out about, and I know this, but I cannot stop, because I AM TIRED HULK SMASH.
1. Our favorite cat will not stop peeing on the carpet. In the living room. In my closet. Multiple times a day. She does not have any medical issues. She is doing it for fun (read: probably because Eliza stresses her the fuck out). I am starting to struggle with cleaning the carpet often/thoroughly enough (because: shaped like a bowling ball, I do not bend well). Kevin’s schnozz/sinus situation means he can’t smell it, therefore not a good candidate for cleaning it up. My house is starting to smell like cat pee. I cancelled on having friends for dinner on Sunday because my house SMELLS, someone just shoot me.
2. Running is getting really hard – I had to run/walk at the gym this week, and OF COURSE it was the week I finally run into coworkers there, and there I am flailing on the treadmill, WHATEVER – and so I am, obviously, convinced I will now gain another 20-30 pounds in the remaining three months (less than! holy shit!) of this pregnancy, and never lose it, and oh god everything will be terrible. EVEN THOUGH last time that didn’t happen, and last time I didn’t even bother running or anything else, and I can still do other stuff, and whatever – YOU try to maintain rational thought in the face of upper arm cellulite. JUST TRY. It doesn’t work.
3. Work is a rollercoaster – I’m going to get hired soon! But only part time so it’s a financial wash or even hit! But woo, flexible schedule and correct valuation of my time/worth! But wait, sequestration means I might get “furloughed” for a month and half holy shit instead of getting hired anytime soon! Oh but we found a little extra money so it should be fine, just delay actually hiring me! GAH. Things should be fine. Our grant will get funded, of this I am sure, it’s just the timing is all effed up and unnecessarily stressful, thank you congress. But it is making shit hard – I’m not sure I’ll be able to get students this summer, I’m not sure I’ll get officially hired before the baby comes (which means I’m not sure I’ll get maternity leave, but screw you world, I’m taking maternity leave this time, I don’t even care what you say slash pay me for).
4. Our wonderful, fantastic nanny will NOT STOP buying shit for our kid. We have asked her not to, from multiple angles, and yet. I understand, I do – I impulse buy stuff for E sometimes. Clothes, toys, I get it. But, oh. We have too much stuff. I feel bad when I want to get rid of stuff and some of it was purchased by my nanny, my nanny who I am perfectly aware doesn’t make much money because we are constantly trying to re-budget so we can pay her more (but oh god, see #3). So she is spending her hard earned cash on stuff for my kid. Stuff my kid does not need. Sometimes stuff we don’t like. And really, all that aside, we are starting to get to that point where we are worried about spoiling E, about E growing up always having everything she wants immediately, and even stuff she doesn’t want. We have PLENTY of toys, PLENTY of clothes. We don’t need anything else. I mean there are toys all over this house, and she doesn’t play with half of them. Once the newness wears off, it gets chucked in a corner and she is back to her old standbys – balls, the mailing tube, the dish towels. Ugh so anyways, I don’t want to hurt our nanny’s feelings, but how how HOW do we get this to stop?
5. When should our parents come visit? I’m due June 19th. They will be road tripping. Should they show up early to hang out with Eliza before her world gets flipped upside down? Should they show up once the baby is here? Last time mom and MIL were in the delivery room, which was surprisingly a) fine with me, and b) actually kind of nice, and also c) I think they found it meaningful/cool, so I wouldn’t necessarily mind doing that again. But baby timing! Is so mysterious! I am too type A for trying to schedule a mysterious event that could theoretically occur sometime in a five week window omg!
6. Our yard needs a team of professionals to deal with the weeds and put down new weed guard and oh my god I am not mature enough to own a house. Also, I’m just sure that the roof will cave in or some major appliance will explode/stop working at a critical juncture in the next several months, because obviously. My money is on the refrigerator. No, the air conditioner. I can’t pick.
7. I’ll save you this part, but insert a bunch of increasingly absurd things to worry about, like whether we are ruining our child with electronics, or how we will deal with it when she starts texting and using social media, or if we are saving enough for college, or retirement, or AHHH NEGATIVITY SPIRAL SAVE ME.