Sooooo it's been seven months since I last blogged. Not good, I realize that. Why did I stop? Oh yeah. It's been a helluva roller coaster. Some things get so bad, I can't even put thoughts to font. But I hope they get better soon. Because in about three weeks, I will have another furless creature to care for. Yep, we've spawned again, despite all my insistence there would never be another.
Instinct and hormones are extremely persuasive when it comes to reproduction. The urge to procreate is on par with insanity, I am convinced. However this round, things have not gone as smoothly. Things have been life changing and not all in a good way. I don't want to get into it though. The fucked up sequence of events has, believe it or not, pushed me into an even more emo/cynical/distrustful/hermit-like state of existence. Maybe some day I will come out of this and be less scary to strangers.
(PSSSSSST. There is a GIANT spider on our 12 foot tall ceilings and I can't stop glancing furtively up at it. I mean, the thing looks huge from down here. This does not bode well.)
So what's different about a second pregnancy? Well despite the fact it's been a fucked up ride, psychologically, it has been a lot harder. I believe part of that is age and part of that is the Toddler Tornado that zips throughout the house on a regular basis. She's a combination of sweet, fascinating, threatening, and hilarious sticky goodness. I love her to death but sometimes I want to invent some kind of breathable duct tape in order to stem the screams and shrieks emanating from her soul, often without warning. I can actually feel my ear drums cracking. Little kids can sure scream.
(Where the fuck is that spider?? I spaced out and I can't find him now. Show yourself, thine enemy! SHIT.)
So here are a few things about subsequent pregnancies I've learned in the last 36 weeks:
1. Hemorrhoids are so much worse. Seriously, if you can feel their presence, it's bad. I swear, it's like cherry tomatoes hanging off your ass.
2. You don't have a cute little belly this time. You start showing early and if you are "blessed" with certain genes, you will become a ginormous, angry, pregnant woman. I won't even measure myself around this time.
3. The smell of a poopy diaper can and will result in violent vomiting. If you are lucky and still don't have complete bladder control from your first pregnancy, then you can enjoy pissing yourself while projectile puking. Being a stay at home mom, I was often the only person home and those diapers fell onto me to change. Oh dear Christ. And my silly, happy little girl didn't understand why mommy was running out of the room, making strange and guttural sounds, during diaper changes.
I honestly can't think of any more nuggets/dingleberries of wisdom. I am so unbelievably tired and I won't get any sleep, ever, until all the kids move out. Or I die. Whichever comes first.
It's time to close this post. I promise to write more often during all the fabulous down time I'm about to have. HAHAHAHHAAAA. Anyways, pray for an early delivery please. I have tickets to Paul McCartney six days after my induction date and I plan on going even if I'm stoned on percocet and sitting on a doughnut cushion. Thanks for tuning in. Until next time...
(There he is, that mother fucker. I think I hear him laughing at me.)
