Grouchier too. *sigh* Doc says I have to go back in Monday to have my blood pressure checked and if it's continued to creep up, they may induce me Monday. Part of me, the biggest part truthfully, says WOO-HOO!!! Get this baby out of me! But it would be cool to get to go through labor naturally. Maybe baby girl will cooperate and I'll give Chris one heck of a Father's Day present.
My poor kids, though. Seriously. I know they're just channeling how grouchy and irritable I am, because they are DRIVING ME FREAKING INSANE.
As for Chris? Well, he asked for it and, lest anyone has forgotten, this is ALL HIS FAULT. Man I hope he remembers these days and gets the stupid vasectomy this time around. If I get one more lecture about how I need to better appreciate all he's doing around here right now instead of complaining about him not doing the things I've asked, I WON'T BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR MY ACTIONS. Consider this my official warning.
As a matter of fact, he had the gall last night to complain about how tired he was. Apparently my constant trips to the bathroom all night long disturb his sleep. You can imagine how heartbroken this made me. I tell him he better get used to it because there will shortly be a newborn in the house and he's going to be way more tired. He says, "You're unbelievable." Um, yeah. Apparently he didn't believe me when I told him that this time around, I'm not doing all of the nighttime duties. Last time he told me that if I made him get up with Sophie, it was going to be my fault if he died by falling asleep during his long commute. Now, however, he works less than four miles from here, and I would be more than willing to yell at him via the cellphone for his entire commute to make sure he doesn't nod off.
I realized in the night last night as I got up for my 17th trip to pee, that I've actually turned into a grumpy old man. As I sat up in bed, I groaned. I sat on the edge of the bed for a second, willing all of my bones to settle back into place, and then with a huff and a puff I pulled myself up and shuffled across the room to the bathroom.
My feet maintained near constant contact with the carpet, I stayed hunched over, and one hand was strategically placed on my lower back. All of this so I could empty my bladder of the quarter ounce of urine that had accumulated in the last hour.
All I'm saying is, had my chickeness resulted in Chris feeling this way, the least I'd do would be to smile and say yes sir to every demand, reasonable or not. Complete and cheerful submission, that's all I'm asking for.
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