One of their songs that has been playing in my head this afternoon is the "Little Bit Country/Little Bit Rock-n-Roll" . . . the past several days have been hard physically with the pregnancy. I tried successfully to take it in stride until today. I just feel like crap-ola. The nags of daily living like bills seem overwhelming, online transactions completed to minimize the stress of getting out aren't going as planned, and all small things seem humongous. You know those days.The BHing is getting very annoying and draining, this baby is putting so much pressure on my cervix--every time I stand up I swear I'll see a head poking out if I look down, headache, overall moodiness, and just a bit of some irritation or frustration with how hard each step seems to be fuels bubbling anger that this overextended childbearing phase of my life has been so hard when it seems others just get pregnant by magic in their perky mid-twenties and are able to work/shop/play until they have their baby, on time. Yeah, some self-pity in that run-on sentence, okay maybe a lot.
I just keep thinking that another mountain will have been climbed if I can make it to the sonogram next week. If I were to go in whining to the doctor today, I would either 1) pay a bunch of money for the doctor to tell me to suck it up and keep going because pregnancy just sucks or 2) be put on bedrest. Neither would help me feel better. So, I am taking it easy, allowing Everett more Clifford than usual.
So the song, "Little Bit Country/Little Bit Rock-n-Roll" in my pregnant mind is reminding me that both sides are needed. To swallow the not so good in order to reap the reward of having another member of our family join us. I know that isn't what the song is about, and I do like country and rock-n-roll, but in my mind, that balance is what it is about right now. I know that after the weekend I'll feel better.
The headache is compounded with the peppery pungent odor from the rub we used on the about a-bajillion pounds of meat sitting in our fridges ready to be grilled tomorrow for the church Fajita Feast. My hallways are cluttered with Feast-y preparations. My expansive kitchen is filled with chips, tortillas, and I can't find the yogurt behind all the sour cream. After the weekend, I'll be able to see more of my house and not get frustrated because I shouldn't move any of it myself.
The spider paranoia I've had with this pregnancy had really gone away--until I saw a large spider in the bathroom again a couple of hours ago. Irrationally, I'm convinced that he'll hurt Everett. Part of me knows that it is totally ridiculous, part of me is genuinely concerned that if I try to kill it, it will attack and kill me, and then I couldn't be around to save Everett. For now, since Erik isn't here to kill it, I've BARRICADED the door shut. Cause, the spider is going to turn the doorknob, right, and he couldn't just squeeze through the opening at the bottom of the door? Crap, that could happen; I've got to put a towel there.
Rational thought, wherefore art thou? [and yes, I have misused that quote because Juliet is actually asking Romeo WHY he is a Montague rather than where the darn he is, but this is my blog.]
So, if I could get past the tears, I would probably laugh hysterically. For the moment, I'm listening to The Monkey's hit, Daydream Believer, on Pandora. And, no, I don't understand the lyrics right now, but it is a happy tune. Which was just followed by The Bangles "Eternal Flame" . . . starting to feel better.
I need comfort food now to balance it all out. Does The Cracker Barrel deliver? oooo--and it just started to rain AND I think Everett may actually take a nap despite the past 2 hours of nap refusal. Maybe things are starting to get better before Monday.
