I can't seem to get anything right or finish a task lately.
I'm nauseous and can't think of one food item that I'd like to eat.
Listening to other moms at the park talk about tile, snacks and stroller brands makes me want to blow my brains out it's so boring.
Yesterday was Sabine's last swim lesson. Actually, last Wednesday was Sabine's last swim lesson, but since I can't seem to get anything right, I showed up yesterday. Half way through the class I was humiliated by some grumpy hall monitor-like administrator, who asked my name and told me I hadn't registered for the class. I explained the situation and told her I wouldn't be back. She snarled, ignored my words and repeated that I needed to go register. I had to restrain myself from pushing her into the pool. This was just after my bathing suit bottoms fell off as I jumped out of the pool to prevent Sabine from sticking her finger into an outdoor light socket (she was WET, as she was supposed to be jumping into my arms from the edge of the pool, not exploring how to get electrocuted). My entire white butt was exposed to the Olympic-size pool. Thank god swimming lessons are over.
Speaking of butts, I was scolded over the weekend by my neighbor for saying "butt" in front of her children. Really? I think she should butt out of my vocabulary. It could've been a lot worse. Besides, you can only control what your own children say and do, not what the rest of the world says and does.
If you haven't seen the movie Crossing Over, you should. It's the best film I've seen in a long, long time. I promised myself I would not get political on this blog, but I'm going to touch on this ever so heated topic only very briefly: immigration. I know that a lot of American citizens are against illegal immigration. But I am not and here's why: the people who are fleeing their third-world countries or the places they were born are usually risking a lot, including their lives and their families. They are usually trying to escape a world of poverty, oppression, pain and very little opportunity. I want to see these people survive and make it and not suffer. I want them to have a fighting chance. So I'm okay with waiting in a longer line for whatever services if that means that even one immigrant might possibly be able to have even half of what I've been lucky enough to have.
I'm terrified of having twins (which, genetically, is pretty likely to happen). That would seriously kick my butt.
I'm also terrified that I could miscarry at any moment because: a)It's so early in my pregnancy and I've blabbed it to the whole world, b)I'm old and c)It's not uncommon and none of us are immune to terrible, sad things.
I really need a margarita to take the edge off. Butt that's impossible for the next long, booze-free eight months.
|Image via Observando|