I try not to complain about anything. Note the word, try. I find that people who complain are boring. I want to live my life with gratitude. Because if you aren't grateful for the blessings in life you won't find happiness. My mom was a great example of this. She had every right to complain about many things in her life, including cancer. But I never heard her complain about anything. I also never heard her say an unkind word about a single soul. Even when someone did her wrong. I miss her. Especially when I wish I could call her up and complain to her, haha!
I am grateful for everything in my life. But sometimes there's bitter with sweet.
So, that being said, feel free to stop reading now. In fact, please stop reading, so you will think I am as perfect as my mother! Hang on, it's going to get ugly.
I am swollen everywhere.
I don't have ankles.
I had to remove my wedding ring, something I've never had to do with my other babies.
None of my shoes fit except for my tennies.
Tennies don't look good with dresses.
None of my pants will stay up.
It appears I'm too fat for even my maternity pants!
I get rashes on the sides of my waist from pulling up my pants all day.
And I have a horrible problem that I won't go into detail.
But it concerns a certain anatomy that my mother wouldn't let me ever say unless I called it my "bottom" or "rear end."
The baby's foot is permanently wedged into my ribs.
My torso is not long enough for this baby.
My back hurts because I lean back trying to give the baby more room.
I can actually feel my hip and pelvic bones rub together as I walk, roll over, sit.
We still haven't come up with a name, but we're closer. (Laura, I keep going back to that list we made up together but John isn't working with me here!)
My swollen fingers drop things all day.
My body hurts to pick things up.
So I don't.
I wait until there's someone else that can pick up the random towel, bottle, fruit, etc.
I want to decorate for Christmas.
But the thought exhausts me.
I probably wouldn't do it at all, but my children seem to think you have to have a Christmas tree. Go figure.
I haven't started Christmas shopping.
My mother-in-law hates me.
I miss my old mother-in-law who once liked me.
I used to feel so loved by John's family.
Now I feel like an outcast.
My brother's all live too far away.
I feel guilty for not talking to my hermit of a father on his birthday.
I called and left a message because he didn't answer.
I doubt he got it because the man can't operate anything electronic, especially if it has any sort of buttons.
I have such bad luck with mailing things.
I need to mail Ethan's birthday invitations today.
A simple job turned into a major ordeal.
But everything went wrong.
Keep in mind I started these invitations at 10:00 am.
I didn't print out enough invitations.
I had to go to 3 different resources to find all the addresses.
Went to Target for envelopes.
They didn't have the correct size.
I could have gone four stores away to Office Depot for the correct size.
But have I mentioned it's hard to walk with this belly and swollen feet?
So I just trimmed the cards until they fit the envelopes.
Now they look off center and stupid.
Addressed the envelopes.
Licked the envelopes.
Realized on the last card that I left off the time of the party.
Addressed envelopes again.
Now I realize we no longer have a convenient mailbox in front of our house like in our old home.
I would have to take them to the end of the street to the community mailbox.
Okay, I'll wait until I walk down to get Cameron off the bus.
But again, that means walking with swollen feet and pelvic bones that rub.
Open the door to go on my little walk.
Stomach cramps up.
Run to the bathroom.
Envelopes are still sitting on the counter at 5:56 pm.
And I was supposed to mail Laura a check weeks ago.
I am a LOSER with mail!
And don't get me started on the post office.
Ethan deserves a birthday.
His birthday is the day after Christmas.
He hasn't noticed that he's never had a party.
It appears when you turn 5 you realize everyone else gets a party!
I want to give him a party.
But I'm afraid of how this prego body of mine is going to do with eight 5 years olds!
Why does everyone insist on eating!
So there you have it.
Tomorrow's blog theme: Spirit of Thanksgiving. I'll list all the things I am blessed with. Better late than never!
But for tonight, I feel better!