crud at 1pm

I don't know why I enjoy setting myself up for cruddy days. Does the cruddy part come first so I go with it, or do I subconsciously feel it coming so I start acting cruddily, (yes, it's a word) thus perpetuating the cruddiness?

Today started off a great morning: my strawberry plant is growing, sunshine was warming through my blinds, my english muffin toasted up extra crispy, and I finished knitting a frog hat for E. Great day for success, I thought. I then went to Bible study and anticipated Phil calling so I had my phone on vibrate literally touching my leg so I wouldn't miss it. [Side note: it's funny how when your spouse is deployed, all social etiquette goes out the window. If someone had her phone on her like that during a Bible study, I would be thinking all sort of judgmental thoughts. Now when I excuse myself and whisper, "Sorry my husband from Afghanistan" everyone nods and murmurs their approval.]

To continue.

During prayer at the end (I know I know and I'm sorry!), I checked the screen and sure enough, 1 missed call and 1 voicemail. Really? How did that happen? I ducked out afterward and found out he was online even though I wouldn't be home for another hour. I decided to save face for about an extra half hour - because how rude would I look if I just left?? - then I booked it home. Thankfully he responded to my, "Are you still there??" and we got to talk for another hour and a half.

So this should be added to the Good Things to Happen Today column on my list, but it didn't. I loved talking to him and I'm so happy to know he's safe, but talking to him on certain days just makes my heart cringe up like a charlie horse. I share with him how busy I am, all the fun things I'm getting to do (setting up E's room!), and then as I'm smiling and typing, giant tears splash onto the keyboard.

Yesterday I had to move five giant tactical boxes in the baby room to other strategically hidden places in our apartment so E's room wouldn't look like a military training facility. These were heavy when I moved them way back in November, but now with a person sticking off my front and my ears constantly popping from heavy breathing, it took me an hour to scoot [at a snail's pace] these stupid black crates to closets. And of course, my budding paranoid mother side was screaming, "You shouldn't be doing this! Sit down! Call someone! E hates you right now!"

When I finished, I felt accomplished and proud to have done so much. But after talking to Phil today and telling him about it, I turned into a martyr..."oh what a hard life I lead, without a husband, having to do all of these life-threatening tasks without my burly man to do it." It's true to a degree: I do wish he was here and could see all of the soft, squishy and tiny things...and could have moved those boxes. I don't understand, however, how yesterday's high turned into today's crud.

Maybe I needed a good cry...maybe it's all a part of the daily "stuff" of deployment...but I don't like it. I hate that feeling of being able to cry all day. As I sat there talking with Phil on the computer, I realized yet again how frustrating it is to not be able to tell your best friend that you're sitting there weeping (he had no idea as I inserted lots of !! and smiley faces). It'd be one thing if he were at work, I called him crying to tell him about my crappy day, and know that he can say, "I'm sorry honey. When I come home tonight, we can talk more about it/I'll snuggle you/I'll make you dinner," all things he would say if he were here. But what can he do? Pray, write me a sweet email, call me the next day to check on me...yes...but not crawl into bed with me at night, kiss my cheek and tell me how he loves the baby room.

It sounds as though I'm writing this at the end of a long rough day and I will now sign off and go to bed, waking up to the blooming rhododendrons and possibly pancakes or some other carby deliciousness. Unfortunately, it's only 1pm. (A lot of emotions can happen in 5 hours!) So what now...

Well, I'll take out the trash and count that as my exercise along with the workout I had earlier when I moved the last 2 boxes...there's my 30 minutes. I'll wrap a cute baby gift for a friend with my best taping and folding skills. I'll start knitting another adorable hat (hope E likes hats), then make my way to a friend's house to bake, even though crawling into bed or watching a movie sounds more appealing.

This is normal life, and I whine a lot about it. It would probably be easier if I cut out the whining part and recognized it as normal life. Another thing with deployment: no one is bold enough to say to you, "Buck up. You're fine. Your husband is fine. Stop crying and make this day a good one, cruddy or not" because that would seem insensitive or somehow deployment gives you that right to be a pouty cry-baby. So since no one else will:

Al, buck up. This is life. Blow your nose and take out the recycle.

5.5 months in, 30 weeks preggers

I'm ready to be unpregnant.

I know I shouldn't complain because I'm only 30 weeks and the road is just going to get steeper from here on out, but everyday I am bigger and everyday I realize how way in over my head I am. Common thoughts that rumble through my mind:

- What's with all of these new freckles? Are some of them cancer?
- What is just the left boob so sore? Shouldn't the right one be too?
- Will I ever sleep soundly again?
- Is my bellybutton turning into an outie? Of all things, please no.
- How do other women stay pregnant for 40 weeks?

On top of these first-timer questions, I am thoroughly psyching myself out for the month of June. I know I'm going to freak out - with excitement - about Phil coming home...June is a word that I love to say. But as I'm seeing what R&R looks like for guys coming home lately, none of them are home when they're supposed to be home...they're ALL 2+ days late. Super frustrating in and of itself. But THEN to be ready to pop at any second?? I can already envision the sleepless nights, trying to breathe deeply but getting sick to my stomach hoping that I don't go into labor.

How is this going to work? I'm getting myself ready to deliver all by myself, if necessary, so that I won't be disappointed if Phil's not there. But lets be serious...of course I'm going to be disappointed, crying my eyes out in between contractions, and hating Army for having such backwards flights and keeping my husband away from me (that's a long-standing grudge though).

I know God will work it out, but I still can't help obsessing over it, creating back up plans for back up plans. How can so much joy be surrounded by so much stress? What if my husband misses the birth of our first baby? Am I strong enough to do it alone?

I don't know. And I'm spazzing out just writing this post, so I'll move on to the joys of being pregnant.

Peeing 2-3 times per night...always peeing all day.
Baby having hiccups which feel like a steady drumbeat in your gut...while you're trying to sleep.
Heartburn 3 bites into a meal.
Squished stomach that only allows 3 bites per meal.
Making sound effects when you bend over, get out of a chair, lean down, or roll over in bed.
Learning how to heave yourself off couches and other absorbent materials.
Thinking a t-shirt still fits, putting it on, and having it actually cause you pain.
Needing to catch your breath after tying your shoelaces.
Forgetting you're pregnant and scaring yourself when you look in the mirror.

I'm exhausted, pre-freaking out about June, having a love/hate relationship with pregnancy, and need to pee, yet again. I wish I could Rip Van Winkle it until week 40...

daziness

Do you ever feel like you're in a daze? Life feels dazy right now. I don't know whether I should complain about this, add or subtract activities, start some project or new goal, or just daze.

Life will forever change in about 2.5 months...at least that's what I'm gearing myself up for. If you knew things would be drastically different at a certain point in time, would you ride the good ride until it happened or attempt to do something epic?