I am almost through the first trimester of Ninja Baby #4. I thought in light of the positive response I received from several of my posts while baking my Doodle Bug Boy, I'd continue sharing this time around.
With that in mind today begins a new series of Mommy to be related posts, called "What Did You Expect?...Not This?" Wherein I will expound on the not so glamorous and often kinda weird as shit things that go along with being an incubator.
Today our topic is: Murderous Rage at only vaguely upsetting things
This morning. I woke up to a severely messy house. I wasn't in the office yesterday so in between working from home I took Doodle to his one year check up, took Sunshine for her pre-kindergarten screening and then took Pumpkin to a girl scout meeting. Needless to say, not much in the way of straightening happened in my life yesterday. Right? My own fault, Messy house, kinda my doing. This morning I woke up unrealistically pissed that no magic fairies had come and cleaned up my house while I was sleeping. I mean, if anybody in the history of the world deserved helpful cleaning elves, it's this bitch. I was so angry that I had to stop myself from waking my daughters up and making them clean the house with threats akin to those made by Colombian drug lords. (I was in their room, ready to yell when I had the realization that this course of action might potentially create mental health damage for my sleeping children.)
Earlier this week some thing happened at work that was out of my control, and had to be dealt with. The problem was that it was not well communicated to me and took me by surprise. I had to leave work for an hour and clenched my teeth so hard that I gave myself a migraine because, "NOBODY FUCKING THOUGHT TO SEND ME AN EMAIL" (not a very appropriate response)
Last week I bought myself some Chinese food for dinner, and I got the big size so I'd have leftovers. Then my leftovers disappeared. I was so angry I threw a glass (which broke) and yelled at my poor husband for 10 minutes About CHINESE LEFTOVERS. Then I cried like an emotionally disturbed child and curled up on the freshly swept (thanks to broken glass) floor of my kitchen.
Can I just say, being pregnant is a gift (albeit one you cannot exchange) and I appreciate that my body is healthy and strong enough to make babies...however, I'm getting real tired of this shit.