August 25th, 2005

A Pocket Full of Murder


I was fine until a couple of days ago, really. Aside from the swollen ankles, I was feeling good and really not at all distressed by the idea of carrying this baby to term or even, if necessary, a bit beyond. I mean, sure it would be nice if the kid decided to come a bit early, but no big deal one way or the other.

In the meantime, however, the baby dropped some more, and threw my mental and physical balance right off. I feel heavy and uncomfortable and tired, with all kinds of mysterious pings and pops and cramps (especially at night) that don't actually add up to anything. I'd like to get things done around the house -- it'd be nice to have some casseroles put away in the freezer for after the baby comes, for instance, and there are the usual cleaning tasks and whatnot -- but neither my brain nor my body really want to cooperate. And although it would be good to get out of the house and I know that walking is supposed to be helpful exercise pre-labour, the thought of waddling around town on swollen, aching feet doesn't exactly thrill me. On the whole, I just wish the baby would come already and give me something to do.

Basically I'm just a big suck right now, can you tell?
A Pocket Full of Murder

Now with added snivelling!

I regret to say that only a couple of hours later, I have passed well beyond the sucky stage and am feeling thoroughly, abjectly, and fatuously sorry for myself. My children are driving me nuts and they're not even in the house at the moment, which shows how irrational I am. I am currently eating Second Lunch (the first was leftover chicken stir-fry with rice, this is leftover beef stew) for no particular reason. Indeed, I find that basically I just want to eat everything in the house and then lie down in a dark place somewhere and declare the following deathless soliloquy:

Boo hoo
Boo, hoo, hoo.

I believed I'd slept pretty well last night (five or six trips to the bathroom notwithstanding), but I must be a lot more tired than I'd thought.

P.S. to Kizmet: Alas, the nearest pool is -- well, not really near; it is also fantastically overcrowded at the best of times; and I would also have to bring both the kids and resign myself to having both of them hanging on me the whole time since neither can swim. Unfortunately I suspect the excursion would not be very relaxing.

P.P.S. to Laura: Have book. Have A/C. Is not helping. Suspect I may have Dementors breeding somewhere in the ductwork. Wonder what my Patronus is?

P.P.P.S. to Naomi: My mother-in-law has given me enormous quantities of lovely fresh tomatoes and cucumbers from her garden. Have no idea what to do with them. Any suggestions?