Funny Stuff and Difficult Things

My sister told me the funniest story about a conversation her three kids had in the backseat while she was driving the other day. They were on the freeway when she swerved to avoid a dead, smushed bunny in the road. Her oldest child asked, "What was that, mama?" She replied that it was a dead bunny.  (Note: this is when I would assuredly lie, calling the object in the road a fuzzy piece of trash to avoid a conversation about death and cute, furry animals.) There was a long silence before one of her girl twins said, "Maybe it was one of the bunnies we see when we walk with dada in the morning." (They love running into those bunnies by the way.) My sister replied that she didn't think it was one of their local bunnies because they were too far from the house. Insert an even longer silence before the twin then said, "Maybe it was the easter bunny." This time, there was dead silence and looks of horror all around. The oldest child, very upset, started yelling and going on an on about how there was no way it could be the easter bunny because he doesn't use the freeway, only goes to people's houses and does so during the night when they're sleeping.

Hilarious.

In other not so surprising news, I'm seriously struggling with carrying around what seems to be a ginormous baby inside my body. Unlike when I was pregnant with Sabine, I have many more aches and pains, none of my clothing fits, it hurts to sit upright and I continue to get an alarming amount of comments about the hugeness of my belly, making me feeling like some kind of carnie freak.

At about one o'clock each day, I physically crumble and need to lay on my side cause the pains are too great. Sabine has been a trooper. Thank goodness she's now into painting and coloring and stickers.

I'm seriously struggling here and cannot imagine feeling like this for at least another three and a half weeks. I asked Kadin for another short back massage last night before we went to sleep. He begrudgingly obliged in silence and with one hand. Then I started going on about how I don't think he has any idea how insane this is/feels or what a struggle it is every single day. His response? "Oh I think you're handling it pretty well." Then he turned over and continued watching TV. Dude, I get more sympathy from my two-year old.

I guess the bottom line is that carrying, giving birth to and then being the main caregiver to a tiny human is by far the hardest and most trying thing I've ever done. But I guess a guy, even a beloved life partner, can never really understand that.

via Observando