Surpirse! I'm pregnant!

Dear my back pain, my tummy aches, my throbbing head, my hormones. I understand that all of this is necessary in brewing a perfect little miracle baby, but an opportunity to feel okay… notice I didn’t say great, I used “okay”, I’m realistic here, feeling just “okay”… that would just be fabulous. This nothing tastes good, milk makes me puke, sunlight hurts my head thing we’re doing, all while feeling like I’ve gotten zero sleep, and chasing a toddler… has to stop. It’s not working for me. So can we figure something out?
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Body.

SO yea… guess what… I’m pregnant! Child number two is baking away. Part of me is beyond excited—the other is gluten for punishment. I mean my first pregnancy wasn’t a walk in the park. I think the hospital staff saw me more than my family, and I lost 40lbs, which would be a bonus if I wasn’t oh I don’t know… pregnant. So now I’m in week 6. Thought I’d actually some how escaped the morning sickness bit because I was doing so well. It should be known that with my daughter, I was beyond sick from like week 3 to the end. And yes, I found out that early because I was THAT sick. With this bit of information under my belt I was really looking forward to not being ill. They say, “every pregnancy is different” I keep praying for that each visit to the porcelain goddess I make.
Whatever that hormone released after childbirth to make you almost forget your entire pregnancy and delivery… yea… that hormone is STRONG. My daughter is only 14 months and I REALLY forgot. Plus it is now my current belief that moms deserve metals, awards, and trophies, whatever we can get for raising children while being pregnant. I mean is this gods joke on us? How are you suppose to sleep and relax while chasing kids, cleaning, cooking, teaching, working, providing your taxi service to activities. I mean your not suppose to drink coffee, but your body is working over time trying to keep up on a normal day, that “normal day” I speak of is without bun in the oven. On a pregnant day… it’s worse. An IV connection to caffeine wouldn’t’ be enough to keep your eyes open after your daily routine. So I consider… a Nanny. And then… I feel guilty. Like I’m some defective breed of mother. However, if my daughter were entertained by what most kids are, then perhaps there wouldn’t be such a strong consideration, but in my case her most favorite thing to do is play with me. When I don’t feel like playing… the world comes to an end. Oh jeez look what I’ve done… *A is finally napping, which is good catch up sleep for me, and I’m writing. With that I bid this blog a farewell. Naptime must commence… now.

Me day? Mothers day... No way.

I’m typically not one to complain. I enjoy life, I love my husband and daughter dearly… they are my life and I couldn’t be more thankful. But moms need breaks. We need mini 1 hr vacations every once in a while… I’m not sure what your escape is however my preferred “me time” involves tranquil music, warm water, a foot scrub, a vibrating massage chair, and getting a French pedicure once month. 1 hour once a month? Is that too much to ask for? Imagine my excitement for mother’s day… I thought about a bottle of champagne, the spa, relaxation, dinner, and my family y-e-a-h … it went a little like this instead…
My mothers day went as such, me my daughter and my father took a drive to Circleville OH to see where my grandparents were buried, my husband worked and I got to battle an upset teething baby all by my little ol lonesome just about all day. Then my husband gets home from work with my mothers day card, and a note saying that I need to go treat myself to a pedicure. I LOVE pedicures. And looking down at my feet I could tell I was long over do for a brizillion soak. Now, 27 days later, this momma has yet to step foot into a day spa to get her pedicure as promised.
As I was hinting after dinner one night that I truly desired getting my toes done, trying to guilt and pursued my husband to take a day off so I could go to the day spa, he said… and I quote… “I don’t understand why you and *A haven’t gone already”
“… Um me and *A?” I said shocked that he truly didn’t understand. “… Me and our daughter?” I repeated myself slightly confused. “Are you serious?” I questioned again.
My poor husband truly didn’t understand why me and *A hadn’t gone to get my pedicure. Now maybe its just me, but I don’t see how bringing a 14month old to a pedicure appointment would end well. That’s like bringing her to a bar… you just don’t do it. Day spas are adult time—typically mommy adult time. Do you know how MISERABLE getting a pedicure would be with a toddler to chase, and entertain? It would be pointless for me, and annoying to all the other women spending $40 on their escape. Getting a pedi isn’t just because I want my toes to look pretty, its 45 minutes of pure relaxation. It rejuvenates me so I can tolerate my husband’s sometimes idiotic comments… like bringing our daughter to the day spa.
Now don’t get me wrong, I look forward to the day when my daughter is old enough to enjoy and understand the meaning of the pedicure club, but right now its just beyond her. And because of that, my feet pay the price. So much for my mothers day gift. I’ll cash it in one day… *sigh* … one day... Isnt that always how the story goes? LOL. Oh motherhood, marriage and life... how I love thee.