My Cheese Is Soft.

I’m fairly certain I mentioned in my last blog the horrible attitude that I’ve developed this trimester.  Some days I feel like a toddler that wants to just slam their ass down on the floor and have a fit – not for any reason other than nothing seems to please me or to be going right that day.  I was having one of those days last week and was sitting at my desk having my afternoon snack.
I must have this afternoon snack, otherwise my stupid heart burn flares up and I’m too hungry and agitated to even function properly to cook dinner for the family.
I bit into the little square of Colby Jack that was to be my appetite’s savior until 6:30…and it was soft.  It wasn’t firm and cheesy like I wanted it to be.  It was mushy like it had sat in my warm car all day.
I threw the cheese.  Threw it.  Had myself a small little tantrum and threw that shit.  When I realized what I had done I sat and asked myself, “What the hell is your problem?  It’s just cheese!”.
My problem is that I’m just pregnant and half the time I don’t even know why some things aggravate me more than others and don’t even to begin to ask me why I can’t control how I react to them.
So, I started keeping a list at my desk of seemingly innocent things that really have gotten on my nerves in the last week and in order to get the anger out, I’ve decided to share them with you.

1. My cheese is soft.  We already know the story on this one.

2. There is dirt on my floor. Meaning, my wood floor at home.  I would need to sweep or swiffer that damn thing every single day to keep it clean.  I don’t do that, because most days I want to sleep when I get home, so it’s covered in random bits of shit that the children have not picked up and crumbs. Lots and lots of crumbs.  If I had a dog, they’d be very happy.  And my floor would be cleaner.  I need a pet.

3.  Sleep.  Or lack thereof.  It’s all I can seem to think about lately.  At night I can’t stay in a comfortable position for long.  My hips will start hurting.  Or I’ll get a cramp in my leg. Or my lower back will hurt. Then I have to pee.  Then I can’t get back to sleep right away.  I feel like I spend all night tossing and turning. Which leads to me barely being able to keep my eyes open at work, wishing I could take a nap, having to blast music on my way home to keep my eyes open, then immediately laying down when I do get home (on the days I’m not running an errand) and closing my eyes for just a few precious minutes before I start dinner and make sure homework is done, etc.  I’m exhausted.

4. I drop everything. And then my heart just sinks wondering how the hell I’m supposed to pick it up off the floor.

5.  Nothing fits me. I think my stomach is getting bigger every day. And probably my boobs.  I had plateaued on the stomach growing for most of my pregnancy until recently.  Now I’m having to buy new stuff that will hopefully fit for the rest of this journey.  That includes bras.  The ones I just got are rubbing a spot on my side that has forced me to wear a sports bra today.  It’s time to go wireless.  Don’t get me started on trying clothes on.  Let’s just say I can’t wait to go back to knowing what looks good on me and what doesn’t.  Right now nothing feels cute.

6. Hey, Butt. I went to the grocery store alone on a Sunday.  It was crowded.  Usually, Mike goes with me to keep me on track and to get on to me for picking up the big jugs of water, but he was out of town.  As I was walking down one of the frozen aisles, there was a mother with a few teenagers picking out meals.  One of them was obviously the entertainer in the family and I was not giving him the attention that he wanted, so he started singing “Baby Got Back“.
Yes.  Good for you, kid.  You noticed my big ghetto booty.  It attracts all the black boys to the yard.  Trust me. Now be on your way and leave me alone.
Then in the cereal section I got accosted by two 5-year-old boys in a cart who decided to see if they could get a rise out of me by saying the word poop.  I ignored them (because honestly, I’ve heard worse) until they decided to address me as, “Hey, Butt”.  They got the dreaded “I will put so much hurt on that ass of yours,  you have no idea” look that most moms are capable of.  It worked, because they aren’t my own kids.  My kids ignore that look.
With the size of my stomach I had forgotten all about my ass.  My maternity pants aren’t even that flattering…it should be getting no attention whatsoever.

7. The good farmers markets are on weekday mornings while I’m at work.  Nothing I can do about that one, but annoying nonetheless.

8.  Girls are stupid.  I’m surrounded by dumb girls who pin outfits that they’ll never wear, dumb ass quotes, wedding dresses and engagement rings for weddings that aren’t even being planned, elaborate homes that they will never own, and adorable nurseries that are for babies that aren’t even conceived.  Let me tell you something:  All your outfits look the same but are a different color.  Everyone has already heard that quote; it’s lost its inspiration.  Your current beau is not going to get you that engagement ring and that wedding dress you picked out probably costs over $20,000 – yes, it’s pretty, but be more practical.  This goes for all the baby shit you posted, too.  You aren’t Beyoncé and you aren’t Jessica Simpson.  Be practical, because all that designer crap you’ve dreamed of dressing your baby in is going to get shit and spit up all over it.
And for fuck’s sake if you are on Facebook, don’t change your last name to your boyfriend’s last name before you are actually married.  And don’t call his dad “dad” unless he asks you to.  That is a privilege, not a right. You look like an idiot. Unless you secretly got married, in which case you’re still an idiot.

My blood pressure just went up.  This may have been counter productive.


9 thoughts on “My Cheese Is Soft.

  1. Girl, you throw your cheese!! I threw my proverbial cheese this afternoon too! You don’t have to have an explanation for it; sometimes pregnancy just sucks hard.

  2. Aw baby, I am sorry you are not feeling cute. I know its only me, but I KNOW youa re gorgeous. I will always be there to pick up the things you drop, buy you good cheese, punch stupid five year old kids and even though I am not black, outside of my soul, I LOVE your bootie, and will smack it up, flip it and rub it down any time.

    We are almost done with this phase, you have been a champ baby, just a few more weeks.

  3. Having done the 3rd trimester four effing times (<.<) I can totally empathize with you here. I hated the stupid floors, I hated everyone everywhere. I had pelvic displacement with #s 2 and 4, so even laying down was the worst.

    Also, some people's kids are just fucktards.

    I know it's hard right now, but soon it will be over and you'll have new things to bitch/blog about (but with wine!).

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