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Okay. So I'm feeling a little bit better today.
Pregnancy hormones are a bitch, huh?
Yesterday, everything just sort-of piled up on me. I hit a point where the fact that not one piece of my life is grounded caught up with me, and I stopped being able to pretend I have the least little bit of control. I really, really hate that.
First off, I am having serious constipation issues. Yes, gentle reader, you now know the truth--Jenistar is full of shit, in the most literal sense of the phrase! This past Friday, it got so bad that I became ridiculously nauseous. I'd been going on the theory that there's only so much room in there, and eventually something would have to come out. I've now revised that theory. True, there's only so much room in there, but when it's full, it just won't let anything else come down! Took me--no joke--three days, about five gallons of water and 24 Citrucel pills to get past it even the least little bit. Not a good time.
Seven and a half weeks to my due date. For the first time, I saw that as a good thing.
Then, there's the Condo. Which is on the market. Had been for about a week and a half, with nary a nibble. Which I know in the real estate scheme of things is no time at all, but I'd been led to believe by the Husband and his mother that she was going to be fending off buyers left and right, based on the sale history in the building. Betsy held another open house here yesterday, and left no indication of how things went. The Husband was gone for the day, off to NASCAR at Louden with his friend Robie (a different part of my annoyance altogtether--I know they made these plans forever ago, but he never told me the ticket was NINETY FIVE FREAKING DOLLARS!!! He didn't dare, obviously!!!), and Betsy doesn't think she should discuss the sale of the condo with me, since my name isn't on the deed or the mortgage. Listen, bitch--I MARRIED YOUR SON! GET OVER IT! OR I MAY NEVER LET YOU HOLD YOUR GRANDSON! Man, it's wonderful to have a bargaining chip. Just kidding on that part. Mostly.
Anyway, so I left her a message, inquiring about what had happened. She left him a message instead of calling me back. Like I said--I don't rate.
Then, there's my mom's house. She has a potential buyer--they're in negotiations. But they don't want to close until January (they have a house of their own to sell). Which would mean holding off on the New House closing until November 30, which the P&S gives us the option to do, but which means that we're moving with a three-week-old or so infant. No one seems to understand why I think this is a horrific idea.
It's all up in the air. And totally out of my control.
Then, of course, we can't forget the Husband's job situation. He's sending out resumes left and right, but...the job market sucks. And there's a great potential that Halloween will be both our last days at work. And he's so non-communicative about everything, that it seems it doesn't bother him at all. Which I know isn't true, but...I try to talk to him about it and he clams up, which of course just makes me more frustrated. Not a good time. And the Evil Deb is behaving oddly, telling him to "work from home" for the rest of the week (which translates into "just don't come in"), which I totally don't trust. Somehow, I know this is going to come back and haunt him. But I can't convince him of that...
And I know, as I'm typing this, that it could be SO much worse. That outside of my elevated stress level and my increasingly frequent Braxton Hicks contractions (oh, and the inability to poop), that I'm healthy, and the baby is healthy, and so are all the other members of my family, both given and chosen. And we aren't in danger of ending up without anywhere to live at all, and the Husband has a couple short-term employment options, even if they aren't my favorite choices (does anyone actually WANT their husbands to sell cars?). I know all of that. Really--I do. In the scheme of things, I'm pretty lucky. And most of the time I remember that.
But every once in a while, I just get really, really overwhelmed.
I saw a sign the other day that pretty much summed it up for me. It read,
"I know God won't give me more than I can handle. I just wish He didn't trust me so much."
And there it is, folks. I told my mom that. She told me not to get all weirdly religious on her. Somehow I think she missed the point.
So thanks for your kind words in my guestbook, and the good thoughts that have come my way. I do feel better today. In about half an hour, I'm going to go watch the season premieres of Seventh Heaven and Everwood, eat some ice cream and snuggle with a guinea pig or two. Somewhere in there, the Husband will come home, and we'll go out of our ways to be nice to eachother until we really mean it, and I'll crawl into bed early, thankful for what I do have. Because I'm a very lucky girl.
I just need to remind myself of that every once in a while.
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