Thursday, June 21, 2007

Sort of a dark, charcoal gray

My oldest is driving me up the wall. Do I need to let some stuff go? Am I being too hard on him? Not being smart about which battles to pick? Probably. Is it him or is it me? It's me. In all honesty - it's usually me. My big, beautiful boy is a wonderful kid. He asks a lot of questions. He's sort of demanding at times. Relentless when he sets his mind to something. He isn't as affectionate as he used to be. That's probably my fault too. I kiss the little one more than I kiss the big one. That's crappy of me. It isn't intentional, it just is. My big boy is getting really good at making smart ass remarks when he gets into trouble. I guess I shot myself in the foot on that one. I can guess where he learned that sort of attitude. Osmosis. He's also charming and smart and sweet and inquisitive. He's growing up. I'm so incredibly taken with him, and proud of him, but sometimes I'm only half listening. I can't snowball him anymore. He calls me on stuff. And I'm just tired....and I feel SO guilty when I'm not the Mom he deserves. I realize I'm being's just that this post is a result of insomnia, and having to get up to pee for the 450th time today. So I'm not into details. I'm so tired, yet so awake.

My little boy. My little boy is the sweetest part of my life right now. He unfortunately drives his brother insane, and today that earned him a wooden train to the ear (from his "had it up to here" brother) which resulted in a really scary looking double goose-egg type thing complete with blood. Keeping an eye on it. Anyway, my rose colored glasses are permanently fixed on my little boy at this point. More and more, I'm finding myself just gazing at him. Watching his perfect lips as he eats his peanut butter sandwich....smiling at him like a love struck teenager and then starting to cry when he hugs me as tight as he can. Loving his nose, and his laugh, and his bad hair. Hormones? Sure. With every pregnancy, I'm reminded of how effing (pardon the blatant fake F-word) psychotic (maybe not in the *true* sense of the word - thankfully - but you get the picture) I become. NEVER AGAIN. But maybe I'm sort of mourning the loss of my little boy as the baby of our family? I don't know. I can't wait for this to be over. I'll take a newborn crying all night over this crazy state of mind any day of the week. This is our first consciously planned pregnancy, and I'm happy about having a new baby - but with this blog as my witness - NEVER again. It just isn't worth what I go through mentally. I worry about my boys constantly, and against my will - I find myself imagining my life without them. All the terrible things that could happen. It makes me cry, and I know that there wouldn't be life without them....and so I will myself to knock it off already. But it's an exhausting process. Some people have postpartum issues - my issues are during pregnancy. The baby is my reward for a job well done, and my ticket out of this mess. Thankfully - I don't go through this all the time. It just comes in cold, murky, waves.

Well, heartburn is pulling me away, as is my bladder. Again.
Tums. The bathroom. And hopefully - sleep.

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