(no subject)
I don't feel good. Knowing that it was related to hunger, because I'm like an eating machine, I came downstairs to heat up some of the LOADS of orange chicken I made for Daniel earlier tonight (well, technically yesterday evening, but really...). I was feeling especially glad that I'd motivated myself to actually make the chicken, and threw a small container of it in the microwave. Pulled it out, walked to the counter, and promptly dropped it all over my bare feet. Which hurt like a b**** right now. So now there's orange chicken all over my kitchen floor and I'm sitting with a bag of ice cubes laying across both feet, trying to cool down. Yes, I did get the molten hot sugar-cornstarch mixture off of my feet as soon as possible; no, that did not help me to avoid some pretty bad pain.
Also, I cursed pretty bad. And through all of this my husband is sleeping like a baby upstairs. I feel so bad for leaving him alone (I know I would freak if I woke up alone and didn't know why), but I seriously can't go up there like this yet. And I'm hungry still, damma. And I still feel sick. Oh, also, my son has decided that he likes to turn his shoulder out so that it juts out of my tummy. At least, I'm guessing it's his shoulder. It's bony, and shoulder-shaped as far as I can tell. It's unpleasant, too.
I know that I only blog on this anymore when I have monumental news or am feeling especially crappy. It makes me feel better, though.
Ugh, I do not feel good at all. And also, I'm dizzy. And tired. And the whole combination makes me cranky.
And then part of me wonders if this could be "it" and sometime tomorrow morning/afternoon, I could be dragging Daniel into the hospital. But then I drag myself down to a normal, sane plane of existence and I realize that without contractions that get longer, stronger and closer together, I have nothing. Why am I suddenly so ready to have this baby? Because it is suddenly becoming a reality to me? Is it a biological thing, my body clicking on and saying "time to go soon"?
Honestly, I think it's most likely my brain saying "I have X amount of days to have this baby" (consequently, as of Tuesday that 5th, X=10)... After the 15th, I will have relatives in town and need to be a competent, capable mommy. With a clean house. And a happy baby. Who doesn't spill boiling hot orange chicken on herself at 1:30 in the morning. And who doesn't have a gigantic bulbous belly making her entirely uncoordinated.
Okay, enough of this. I'm starving and there's a mess on the kitchen floor of very sticky food in which the cats seem to have no interest, so I'm going to go take care of that and my hunger and then hopefully get some sleep (with any luck!).... hasta.
Also, I cursed pretty bad. And through all of this my husband is sleeping like a baby upstairs. I feel so bad for leaving him alone (I know I would freak if I woke up alone and didn't know why), but I seriously can't go up there like this yet. And I'm hungry still, damma. And I still feel sick. Oh, also, my son has decided that he likes to turn his shoulder out so that it juts out of my tummy. At least, I'm guessing it's his shoulder. It's bony, and shoulder-shaped as far as I can tell. It's unpleasant, too.
I know that I only blog on this anymore when I have monumental news or am feeling especially crappy. It makes me feel better, though.
Ugh, I do not feel good at all. And also, I'm dizzy. And tired. And the whole combination makes me cranky.
And then part of me wonders if this could be "it" and sometime tomorrow morning/afternoon, I could be dragging Daniel into the hospital. But then I drag myself down to a normal, sane plane of existence and I realize that without contractions that get longer, stronger and closer together, I have nothing. Why am I suddenly so ready to have this baby? Because it is suddenly becoming a reality to me? Is it a biological thing, my body clicking on and saying "time to go soon"?
Honestly, I think it's most likely my brain saying "I have X amount of days to have this baby" (consequently, as of Tuesday that 5th, X=10)... After the 15th, I will have relatives in town and need to be a competent, capable mommy. With a clean house. And a happy baby. Who doesn't spill boiling hot orange chicken on herself at 1:30 in the morning. And who doesn't have a gigantic bulbous belly making her entirely uncoordinated.
Okay, enough of this. I'm starving and there's a mess on the kitchen floor of very sticky food in which the cats seem to have no interest, so I'm going to go take care of that and my hunger and then hopefully get some sleep (with any luck!).... hasta.