I’ve started three separate intelligent posts that have nothing to do with my kid. My gripes are starting to get old, so I want to mix it up. It’s just… I’m too tired to finish them. I started this post a few days ago when the toddler was napping in his stroller in the doorway.
Today I’m 31 weeks pregnant. We’re lucky to get two nights in a row of uninterrupted sleep, or just two nights in a row of interrupted sleep. Lately I consider it a victory to get a six hour stretch of sleep between wakings.
Also in the “Win” category: when he naps in his crib at nap time. When he doesn’t strip naked and pee on his bed. When he doesn’t run away from me when it’s time to [insert task here].
When I wasn’t carrying around a human being inside my torso, this would have been tiring but not debilitating. At least, there would have been a LOT of coffee. Now, though? Exhausting. I was kind of hoping to rest up a bit before bringing home a newborn, though. The clock is ticking.
I’m fortunate to have 8 kid-free hours in my week. Most of those hours are spent cleaning, running errands and taking care of ridiculous things that pop up (i.e., back doors that won’t close, fleas, jumping cars.) While it’s hardly a problem worth complaining about, spending money on childcare to do things I don’t enjoy kind of gives me the grumps. And there’s this whole second child thing. I’m still coming to terms with how limited my “me” time is going to be.
So. That’s what’s up. I’m impatiently counting down the hours (hours!) until my husband is home, all the while beating myself up for feeling like it’s so hard when there are some of you out there still waiting for yours. I’m not too hard on myself, though… I need what energy I have to make it upstairs to go to bed.