We woke up late. Only, I thought it was 7:10… which means I thought we woke up early. Dave insists he told me it was 8:10 {but I just magically heard 7:10} so we lounged around before my mom called and I wondered why she was calling me before 8 am. Turns out it was because it was shortly before 9 am. I was the only one that had ironed anything and we all needed showers and the dog needed to be fed and our lounging quickly turned into complete and utter chaos.
I wish I had a million pretty pictures of all of the motherly loveliness, but I don’t have those because in every fucking picture I am wearing a dress that looks like a giant hideous tent. No, really. I felt like shit about the dress in the first place and everyone’s assurances that it looked “cute” made me feel like I was just being the crazy pregnant lady. When I saw the photos after brunch though, I only felt totally disgusted and pissed that I wore it out in public, it was that bad. Apparently, I must look like absolute shit all of the time for people to say that a sack hanging off of me looked good.
Then I spent the whole day feeling really really alone.
Instead of family time or doing something fun, Dave holed up in our bedroom pounding nails into the floor and Finn played games on PBS Kids. I took a nap. Dinner was talked about instead of made, and just lead to an argument to top it all off. I ended up with cereal.
I also cried. A lot. Stupid sobbing snot filled hormonal awesomeness.
I know I sound like a whiney bitch. I just wanted you to know that things, they aren’t always perfect.
There are days that you want a re-do. There are days when you feel like hell, you feel empty, everything hurts right down to your soul, your husband feels a million miles away instead of like your partner, your pregnancy hormones are raging, and you just want a fucking hug that never comes.
Yes, there are even suck-filled Mother’s Days.
No comments:
New comments are not allowed.