Weepy.

I have been crying all damn day. I have no idea why.

The cats are not getting along with Hobo Dave [dog], so I have cried several times today.
I didn't feel like eating anything we have for lunch today; I stood there and cried.
I cried when I tried to start lesson planning for next month, and whined out loud when I attempted to grade some poorly written papers. Granted - I would have whined at that no matter what, but......ha. Anyway.
I remembered meanly yelling at my mother for a really stupid reason on Saturday, and it of course brought tears to my eyes. In fact, I sobbed on the phone when my sadness drove me to call and apologize to her. Again.
And the most pathetic of all: tears - literal tears, not just moisture - clouded my vision at the end of watching G.D. POCAHONTAS. Oh yes, the Disney version.

Shoot me now.


So uh.... What. The. Fug. I rarely cry at all. PMS? A slight glimmer of hope is rising in the "Am I pregnant??" portion of my brain, especially since that was a MAJOR symptom when I was pregnant before. I would cry at everything. And nothing.

As of ahora, I am trying not to read too much into it. I am going to be really freaking pissed (ha) if I get my period tomorrow or something.


.....and I'm sure everyone wants to know that.

Now if only I had an extra $300...

My newest obsession.

Lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-looove means...

I love YOUUUUUUUUU

Holy Wind Batman!!

[Whiny.]

So yesterday we returned: for the previous five days, we'd taken a hiatus from reality by cramming ourselves into my parents' house with six of my closest siblings, their spouses, and offspring...ahh yes, and my parents. And five, sometimes seven, rambunctious dogs roaming free. And a moany alien cat. And some good old fashioned guilt served with a side of awkward sibling rivalry! Woo!

No, really: it was a good time. Family is family, imperfect but necessary as water to me. I am too far away from them, yet stressed when in their presence. It is a tricky dance full of complex steps - a jab on someone's weight being not as high as theirs, an overly elaborate apology for snapping at someone who was rude to your spoiled child. The feeling of immense closeness yet of polite distance as guests constantly at odds with one another.

It may be a totally different story if this weren't the third house my parents have lived in since I've left for college.

I should be pregnant. Twenty weeks in one day, as a matter of fact. We told our respective parents. Tears and hugs abounded. We began remodeling the nursery. Carpet pulled up, plaster stripped. I moved into my in-laws' home when we feared lead exposure. Andrew's demented (literally, not used in the manner a twelve-year-old boy might use) grandmother walked in on me showering. We bought crib bedding. Sage green toile. I began exclusively wearing maternity pants or the ever-classy Bella-band/unbuttoned pants combination. Damn were those things comfortable.

I should be pregnant, but I am not. As of October 28, I am no longer part of the club. The Pregnant Ladies' Club. The Swollen Feet, Varicose Vein, Pimple-Ensconced Club. The With Child, Preggo, Expecting Club. You get it.

I am better now than I was before, but by no means best.

At times I feel inadequate. What had I done wrong? Why did I produce an inadequate egg (if it was, in fact, on "my side" of the equation)?

Other times, I feel jealous, angry, and frustrated. I work in an environment where I see immature, irresponsible teenage girls get pregnant at the drop of a hat. Co-workers I knew who got pregnant after me have now surpassed how far along I was. We were ready: emotionally, financially, every-ly. Didn't we deserve that baby?

Christmas was hard - it consisted of my one and only niece displaying her parade of gifts from an array of relatives for two hours while we smiled and nodded, feigning interest in Another Barbie and One More Adorable Pair of Tights. I didn't want anything more than what I received - my gifts were heartfelt and definitely appreciated, and will be loved. I just couldn't help thinking of the fact that it was going to be such a different Christmas this year for me, for all of us.

I would have been halfway done. Halfway through the pregnancy. Visibly showing.

Bleh.


And now we have brought home the World's Most Chilled Out Twelve-Pound Dog, yet my cats are depressed, terrified, and morbidly unhappy. They won't even come upstairs. The dog hasn't even barked at them.

I can't even keep my pets happy. If I am such an inadequate pet owner, how will I ever be an adequate mother?

Double bleh.

Testing the waters...

Hi.

...We'll see how this goes.