Get Her Ooooooouuuuuuut!

Helloooo....

This is Jennifer. The one who can't breathe, can barely move, hurts all over, and can't stop running to the bathroom.

I am increasingly hostile. My hormones are playing a leading role in my life. I know this because I almost cried when I put the bassinet in my FINALLY finished nursery last week. It's not like I hadn't seen it before. I don't know why moving it from the living room to the nursery was so emotional, but it was. After that, I yelled for the rest of the week and continue to do so.

Ironman can do nothing right. He's practically making me taste his food before he'll eat it because poisoning him sounds like one of the most rational things I could do right now.

I am constantly reminding my children that it's not their fault that mommy is cranky. Then I snap at them for the very next thing they do.

It's surface of the sun hot here. All week it's supposed to be over 100 degrees. Factor in the heat index, and I'm sure we'll be hovering around 110.

I would like to yell at strangers.

Curse words are my friends.

I'm afraid I'll kill someone when I have to go to WalMart tonight.

If I have to bend over to pick up one more sock, toy, crumb, shoe, or scooter, I'll scream--- as soon as I can stand back up and catch my breath.

I feel like I could go into labor at any time now which makes me feel like I should be more worried about how clean I'll be leaving my house while I'm in the hospital for five days recovering from a c-section. I know that makes no sense. I should be resting while I have the chance. But out of town guests may or may not be coming. THANKS FOR THE HEADS UP, POSSIBLE OUT OF TOWN GUESTS!!! My house may or may not have dirty underwear in between the sheets where you may or may not be sleeping.

The other night we were even timing contractions. At the time, I was so grateful they eventually slowed down. Now I'm praying that I'll go into my OB's office on Tuesday and that she'll tell me she'd rather do the c-section early than risk me going into labor. PALEEEEEZ! PALEEEEEEEEEZ!!!!! Take her now!

After all, I've done the really crucial stuff. Baby clothes are all washed AND pressed (never going to happen again) AND put away. Bedding and blankies are clean. BPA-free bottles and pacis have been bought, sterilized, and are ready to use. Formula is lying in wait. Newborn diapers, creams, meds, wipes, lotions, and soaps have all been purchased. My bag is basically packed minus the toiletries and items I can't live without like my sleep mask. My kitchen and bathrooms are clean--at least for the moment. I'm caring less and less that my children's rooms are covered in toys or that my bedroom is filled with boxes of baby items that are for older babies--I have no idea what to do with that crap.

See, I'm having a very uncomfortable contraction as I type this.

CUT ME OPEN AND GET 'ER OUT!

I would like for you all to know that I'm sparing you some really gruesome details of this pregnancy because we're in mixed company. Merle would have a heart attack if I gave details, and his grandchildren are too precious to be without their fantastic grandfather.

And while we're mentioning fellow bloggers, I'd like to say that I have a draft in my email box from March 5th addressed to Ched. That poor little guy. He writes me the best emails, and I am terrible about replying. He hates WalMart and has a CRAZY person stalking his blog. I started to reply and was interrupted. It's been months, and I'm beginning to think I'm never going to finish that email. Ched, if you read this, thanks for the great emails that I'll never get around to responding to.

To all of you great people who emailed me responding to the breastfeeding Nazis, THANK YOU! I just attempted to send out a group thank you letter. I hope I didn't skip anyone. If I did, thank you so much for taking the time to share your story, humor, and/or advice. It made me feel a ton better about my decision.

If you don't hear from me for a while, it could be that I went into labor early. More than likely it means I'm laying around like a beached whale cursing at the door jams for being so insensitive and annoying.

If you read all the way to here, you rock. Thanks for letting me vent. That is all.