Bleck. Bleck bleck bleck. I am sick of being pregnant. That is mean, but I am. I want this child out, I want to hold him and cuddle him and dress him and nurse him and even change his tiny little poop diapers. Anything but LUG HIM AROUND ON MY BLADDER for another four months!
Maybe I am just feeling eager because I finally bought boy bedding, and I want to set up his nursery and then bring him home and show it to him. Preferably in the next week. Instead, I have to wait until all the room switcheroo-ing is done, which will involve much painting and rearranging and bed assembling. And, oh yeah, I have to wait until after I get done having my knee cut up and then put through rehab.
Oh well. I am bored with feeling sorry for myself, although it is certainly comforting at times. Really, what is there to say? I am fat and uncomfortable and get heartburn every time I eat and my knee hurts and my toddler yells and throws food and sometimes the days are lonely. None of these are tragedies. It's just the dailiness. If only life were not so daily...
Oh, but guess what? I found that little frog outfit! The one from Old Navy that Devan's new baby was pictured in! (Sorry, too sleepy to link right now.) And it was on sale! This made me actually exclaim out loud in the middle of the store, I was so excited. The only fly in the ointment was that I found the matching hat, but only in an eighteen month size. It was worse than not finding the hat at all. But still... The outfit cheered me up. And now I'm going to bed. With a plate of cheese and crackers.
P.S. My surgery will be next Friday. It was then or a MONTH from now. I was like, "What? You tell me it's urgent and then casually suggest walking around in pain for a month? If I'm doing it, let's DO it already!" Also, why is my surgeon's assistant so freaking hard to get a hold of? It is her job to answer the phone. Why do I need to call three times before I get called back?
Oh, whoops. I'm bored with self pity, I forgot.