Crab Apple

I really ought to be in bed. I stayed up working on some things and had a cup of fully loaded coffee to keep me going. It's now 11:30 and night. Right now, I ought to be slipping ‘neath my cool sheets and drifting off into blissful oblivion. But wait. I’m still pregnant. Very pregnant, mind you. And I’m not too thrilled with that. I am due in 4 days and I think the action won’t start until next week, and even that's a maybe. I think of my bed and realize that even if I were to slip ‘neath my sheets, comfortable oblivion will escape me. I can’t seem to lie in any position that knocks me slam out. And here, I pause to look over at Jeff peacefully snoring (yes, he does that only when he’s bone weary and today must have been that kind of day for him), and I think “I can’t fall asleep listening to that.” So I turn my thoughts backward and think about my own day.

Today, it was nearly 80 degrees outside. Today, my toes swoll up like hot Vienna sausages on a bed of smoldering coals and I could barely move them. Today, I didn’t get to nap because this horrendous time change messed with my childrens' perfectly perfect schedules. Today, I had some lovely visitors and Gideon showed his imperfect sin nature by slapping our youngest company in the back of the head while she was calmly eating her pizza, and then, he turned on his sister. Today, I took the children outside to enjoy the weather and work off some of that tension they seemed to be sporting, but I was sweltering and miserable, so I was cranky and completely without grace for their little scrapes and misfortunes. Today, I temporarily hurt Jeff’s feelings because in giving himself a haircut I thought he missed a huge patch on the back of his head on purpose and I laughed…alot. Note to self: he didn’t. Today, I noticed that I was starting to grow jowls like Jabba the Hut and perhaps microscopic germs were having a hay-day surfing the waves. Today, I had to put on Jeff’s basketball shorts because I have nothing cool to wear and I look like a wanna be balla’. Today, I didn’t even enjoy my favorite show on t.v. “Dancing with the Stars” and I can’t quite figure out why.

What’s wrong with me?

Oh, did I fail to mention just how pregnant I was? No. Okay. Just checking.

Don’t pity me. This has happened every year for the past three years. Ought I be surprised by the uncomfortable unpleasantness of these last few days? Of course not.

But, somehow, unlike some things in life, this just doesn’t get any easier.

I can say that I am most excited about meeting the newest little member of the family, but it’s just this interminable waiting, lack of bodily agility and balance, instantaneous swelling of fingers and toes… and steady growth of personal girth that finds me pessimistic and crabby in this late stage of the game.

And did I mention, and I only do because it just crossed my mind…that one of the doctor’s I saw quickly and pointedly informed me that I have varicose veins in my legs and the way to “cure” them or “lessen them” is to sit with my feet propped up or elevated. Umm, I don’t think she realized I have a 1- and 2-year old at home. Sitting with feet elevated? What’s that?

Enough of this tired moroseness for today. Tomorrow I shall try to renew my mind and sanctify my thoughts so I can share with joy instead of self-pity! Your prayers are appreciated on that front.

Until the baby comes, I remain very pregnantly yours….