Ok, so it's a little after 10 pm - a time I'm normally in bed - everyone else is asleep (or at least in bed), and I am wide awake, my heart racing with at what this point is turning into rage.
I'm reaching my breaking point. I just can't take this house, or the people staying in it, anymore. I am sick of being the only one to put forth effort to keep this place clean and maintained, and I mean I do close to everything - picking up trash and leftover food, cleaning dishes, sweeping, mopping, wiping counters, cleaning hair out of the drain, scrubbing toilets, mowing and raking the yard, cooking breakfast, lunch, and dinner (then cleaning all the dishes afterwards), assembling furniture, hanging pictures and curtains, taking out the trash, cleaning and sorting the recycling.... anything that needs to be done I do. By myself. At 8 months pregnant. And I'm sick of it.
I'm sick of McDonald's bags on the floor and counters, half empty glasses sitting everywhere, dishes with half eaten meals on the table and counters, bags of chips or boxes of crackers left out and open.... Why can't anyone scrape their plate, or put their dishes in the dishwasher, put food away when they're done with it, or put their trash in the trashcan? And the one that gets me, that really gets me, is the empty plastic bag for the toilet paper laying on the floor next to the trash can in the bathroom. On the floor. NEXT TO THE TRASH CAN. Was whoever grabbed the last roll of toilet paper too stupid to figure out how to open the lid?? Not to mention the fact that the empty rolls never find their way into the trash can, nor the new rolls onto the dispenser - that is unless I do it.
If I was living by myself and cleaning up after myself it would be one thing, but I'm constantly picking up after everyone else. I'm sick of everyone sitting on their butts, watching me do all the work and never lifting a finger to help.
I'm half tempted to just leave and let everyone fend for themselves for a while, but I'm afraid I would come back to a health hazard. I just honestly don't know how much longer I can do all of this, physically or mentally.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Saturday, July 17, 2010
All the things said and unsaid
I'm sitting downstairs during possibly the last few "cool" moments of the day. Our AC is broken and the last few days have been miserable. I was having heat flashes even before the AC broke, so having a room that's 10 degrees hotter is not my idea of fun.
My husband is upstairs sleeping, and still smells of beer from last night, which for the first time in a long time doesn't actually upset me. You see, last night we went out to play beer pong. And by "we" I mean my husband and the girl currently staying with us. I've never been a big fan of the game, even in college. Besides the fact that I'm allergic to beer and currently pregnant, the game in my opinion is actually quite disgusting. The chemistry students in our school did an analysis of the so called "rinse water" after a game and found things like urine, fecal matter, and e-coli, not to mention other organisms that I can't even pronounce or remember. Mmm, exactly what I want to put in my mouth.....
Anyway, back to my husband smelling of beer... my husband has several "types" of drunk, depending on who he's with, how much he's had, what he's drinking, and his general mood before drinking. Lately he has been a grouchy drunk, drinking alone and making caustic comments to those around him. It's a step away from his angry drunk, which thankfully I have not really seen since the first few years after his first tour to Iraq. But still, it's close, and painful to be around, to watch him turn into this grouchy, bitter old man who with a few words can stab you in the heart. You have to walk on eggshells around him because the wrong comment, the wrong look or action, can cause him to lash out and possibly storm off, secluding himself for hours and hours. This type of drunk emerges after deployments, and takes a long time to go away. Sometimes I wonder if they will ever go away....
He also has another type of drunk. Happy/stupid drunk. This is what you think of when you think of most college kids - it happens when he's in larger groups of people, encouraged to do stupid things by those around him. He's happy, energetic, the life of the party, though sometimes borderline belligerent. Usually at this stage other marines come up to me and tell my how "awesome" he is and how much they want him at their next social gathering. Of course, he rarely goes because he's inwardly anti-social and these "life of the party" moments are few and far between.
Then there's the pensive drunk. He rambles on about philosophy, and mostly history, relating it to the own wars he's seen and fought. These are the moments I learn some of the things that really happened over there, how he really feels about what he has seen/done. These are the times he is completely open and honest with me about how he feels, not only about his tours to Haiti, and Iraq, and Afghanistan, but about himself, and me, and our relationship.
Last night he was a mix between the last two types of drunk - happy and pensive.
He and the other people played several games of beer pong while I sat in the corner, playing spider solitaire and drinking coffee to stay awake. (my rant on constantly being designated driver later) I mostly ignored the goings on, but was aware enough to see people (my husband included) stripping off articles of clothing to distract the other team and fall down laughing. Yes, definitely a "life of the party" night. I have to admit that considering current company I'm surprised he didn't make any mean comments. I should also note that I am now a little more understanding of the insecurities that come from the husband of the girl who was staying with us. But that's not what this post is about.
As things began to wind down and people turned to slurring words and stumbling rather than walking the mood turned a little more somber. I walked into a discussion about the upcoming deployment, and just sat and listened as my husband explained to the girl staying with us what it was really like, and the things they had to do/not do to make it through it. It wasn't long before the girl got distracted and my husband turned to me. He practically fell into my lap, rubbing and kissing my stomach, telling our son how much he loved both of us, and how much he was going to miss us while he was gone. He opened up all the excitement he had for our son being born, how he couldn't wait to see him and hold him....and how truly terrified he was of all of it.
"How can a man so jaded from all that he has seen and done truly connect with an innocent child? What do I teach him?"
And I had no words. Nothing. I didn't tell him I thought he would be an awesome dad, not because I didn't believe it, but because I didn't know how to convince him of it. There are so many more hurdles to jump for military familes, and the truth is I don't know how we'll handle it all either. I just know we will. Somehow.
My husband is upstairs sleeping, and still smells of beer from last night, which for the first time in a long time doesn't actually upset me. You see, last night we went out to play beer pong. And by "we" I mean my husband and the girl currently staying with us. I've never been a big fan of the game, even in college. Besides the fact that I'm allergic to beer and currently pregnant, the game in my opinion is actually quite disgusting. The chemistry students in our school did an analysis of the so called "rinse water" after a game and found things like urine, fecal matter, and e-coli, not to mention other organisms that I can't even pronounce or remember. Mmm, exactly what I want to put in my mouth.....
Anyway, back to my husband smelling of beer... my husband has several "types" of drunk, depending on who he's with, how much he's had, what he's drinking, and his general mood before drinking. Lately he has been a grouchy drunk, drinking alone and making caustic comments to those around him. It's a step away from his angry drunk, which thankfully I have not really seen since the first few years after his first tour to Iraq. But still, it's close, and painful to be around, to watch him turn into this grouchy, bitter old man who with a few words can stab you in the heart. You have to walk on eggshells around him because the wrong comment, the wrong look or action, can cause him to lash out and possibly storm off, secluding himself for hours and hours. This type of drunk emerges after deployments, and takes a long time to go away. Sometimes I wonder if they will ever go away....
He also has another type of drunk. Happy/stupid drunk. This is what you think of when you think of most college kids - it happens when he's in larger groups of people, encouraged to do stupid things by those around him. He's happy, energetic, the life of the party, though sometimes borderline belligerent. Usually at this stage other marines come up to me and tell my how "awesome" he is and how much they want him at their next social gathering. Of course, he rarely goes because he's inwardly anti-social and these "life of the party" moments are few and far between.
Then there's the pensive drunk. He rambles on about philosophy, and mostly history, relating it to the own wars he's seen and fought. These are the moments I learn some of the things that really happened over there, how he really feels about what he has seen/done. These are the times he is completely open and honest with me about how he feels, not only about his tours to Haiti, and Iraq, and Afghanistan, but about himself, and me, and our relationship.
Last night he was a mix between the last two types of drunk - happy and pensive.
He and the other people played several games of beer pong while I sat in the corner, playing spider solitaire and drinking coffee to stay awake. (my rant on constantly being designated driver later) I mostly ignored the goings on, but was aware enough to see people (my husband included) stripping off articles of clothing to distract the other team and fall down laughing. Yes, definitely a "life of the party" night. I have to admit that considering current company I'm surprised he didn't make any mean comments. I should also note that I am now a little more understanding of the insecurities that come from the husband of the girl who was staying with us. But that's not what this post is about.
As things began to wind down and people turned to slurring words and stumbling rather than walking the mood turned a little more somber. I walked into a discussion about the upcoming deployment, and just sat and listened as my husband explained to the girl staying with us what it was really like, and the things they had to do/not do to make it through it. It wasn't long before the girl got distracted and my husband turned to me. He practically fell into my lap, rubbing and kissing my stomach, telling our son how much he loved both of us, and how much he was going to miss us while he was gone. He opened up all the excitement he had for our son being born, how he couldn't wait to see him and hold him....and how truly terrified he was of all of it.
"How can a man so jaded from all that he has seen and done truly connect with an innocent child? What do I teach him?"
And I had no words. Nothing. I didn't tell him I thought he would be an awesome dad, not because I didn't believe it, but because I didn't know how to convince him of it. There are so many more hurdles to jump for military familes, and the truth is I don't know how we'll handle it all either. I just know we will. Somehow.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Say Goodbye
So, today I said good-bye.... to the rest of my pre-pregnancy jeans. I should be happy I made it to 30 weeks still being able to fit in some of them, but it's still a sad, sad day for me. I guess part of it is a reminder that my body will never be the same again. I look at it as a badge of pregnancy, something to be proud of.
But there's something psychologically devastating about having an entire closet of clothes that don't fit anymore, and will most likely never fit again.
I suppose it would be different if the only reason they didn't fit was because of my expanding stomach, but that's not the case. My hips and pelvis have actually settled into a wider stance - and that won't change. On one hand I'm glad it happened. It means (presumably) that I will have an easier labor since there will be more room for the baby to slide through. On the other, when my "fat pants" become my snug pants I know I need a wardrobe change.
I wish I actually like clothes shopping....
But there's something psychologically devastating about having an entire closet of clothes that don't fit anymore, and will most likely never fit again.
I suppose it would be different if the only reason they didn't fit was because of my expanding stomach, but that's not the case. My hips and pelvis have actually settled into a wider stance - and that won't change. On one hand I'm glad it happened. It means (presumably) that I will have an easier labor since there will be more room for the baby to slide through. On the other, when my "fat pants" become my snug pants I know I need a wardrobe change.
I wish I actually like clothes shopping....
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Roller-coaster
I know I've been MIA for a while. Pregnancy hormones are throwing me for a loop, or should I say several loops. There seems to be almost a weekly cycle of depression and normalcy, some days much worse than others. I've had very little energy, physically or mentally, to do much of anything lately, and blogging is one of the lowest things on my list.
I knew I was at extremely high risk for PPD, but I didn't realize symptoms would hit this early. Still, my moments of normalcy are enough to keep me off of medication, at least right now. I know I will have to start at some point in my 9th month to prepare for post-partum, but the longer I can hold off the better.
I hate feeling weak, feeling like I have little to no control over my emotions. On one hand I feel like I should logically just "snap out of it" - there's no real reason for me to be so depressed - well, with the exception of the death of my grandfather and this upcoming deployment. On the other hand I know it's not that simple. I know it's not something you can just snap out of, that hormonally I'm on the biggest roller coaster of my life. Sometimes being so psychologically in tune with yourself can drive you crazy.
I talked to the chaplain about a week ago and he was able to get my husband out of the month long boat duty they assigned him. And, while I am extremely thankful, I feel guilty at the same time. What makes ME special? What makes our situation any worse than those of all the other wives who are pregnant right now, or have young children to take care of? I find a bit of solace in the fact that there were single marines not scheduled to go who could easily take his place, and his job was to do laundry, not even training. Still, now I feel like the wife who whined to the chaplain to get her husband to stay home. And I don't like being that person. I don't like being singled out as "special" for some reason or another.
It's worth noting I suppose that despite my spirals into oblivion the pregnancy has been going very well. I got a high five (literally) from my midwife at my 29 week appointment for doing so well. BP is 96/60 (pretty normal for me pre-pregnancy), other vitals look good, baby's heartbeat is strong, and I've gained about 16-21 lbs, depending on if you count the 5 lbs of holiday weight I gained around the time of conception. I have, for the most part, kept up my walking routine, occasionally adding a 30 min session on the bikes or ellipticals at the gym 1-2 times a week.
I'm still quite small comparatively for someone who is 29 weeks, though my uterus has consistently measured about 2cm big at each visit. There was some question as to when I actually conceived because we had been trying for several months and there is a possibility that I may have had implantation bleeding. With my longer than normal cycle it would put me about 2 weeks further along than predicted. The confusing part is that in both ultrasounds the baby measured right on target for size and weight. Normally I would just accept it as whatever it was and not pay attention to the due date at all, but the husband is scheduled for training around the time the baby's due. I know it seems silly since the baby is going to come whenever he's ready, but I just like to have everything planned out.... if I need to expect him 2 weeks earlier than originally thought there are so many added logistics to take care of in terms of contacting the FRO, his command, the Red Cross, etc. And even then I just have to come to terms with the fact that the chances of him being here for the birth are practically zero. They won't start to send him home until the hospital contacts the command to let them know I'm in active labor, and then it'll take about 10 hrs for him to get to me.
All frustrations that I really don't feel like dealing with right now.
I knew I was at extremely high risk for PPD, but I didn't realize symptoms would hit this early. Still, my moments of normalcy are enough to keep me off of medication, at least right now. I know I will have to start at some point in my 9th month to prepare for post-partum, but the longer I can hold off the better.
I hate feeling weak, feeling like I have little to no control over my emotions. On one hand I feel like I should logically just "snap out of it" - there's no real reason for me to be so depressed - well, with the exception of the death of my grandfather and this upcoming deployment. On the other hand I know it's not that simple. I know it's not something you can just snap out of, that hormonally I'm on the biggest roller coaster of my life. Sometimes being so psychologically in tune with yourself can drive you crazy.
I talked to the chaplain about a week ago and he was able to get my husband out of the month long boat duty they assigned him. And, while I am extremely thankful, I feel guilty at the same time. What makes ME special? What makes our situation any worse than those of all the other wives who are pregnant right now, or have young children to take care of? I find a bit of solace in the fact that there were single marines not scheduled to go who could easily take his place, and his job was to do laundry, not even training. Still, now I feel like the wife who whined to the chaplain to get her husband to stay home. And I don't like being that person. I don't like being singled out as "special" for some reason or another.
It's worth noting I suppose that despite my spirals into oblivion the pregnancy has been going very well. I got a high five (literally) from my midwife at my 29 week appointment for doing so well. BP is 96/60 (pretty normal for me pre-pregnancy), other vitals look good, baby's heartbeat is strong, and I've gained about 16-21 lbs, depending on if you count the 5 lbs of holiday weight I gained around the time of conception. I have, for the most part, kept up my walking routine, occasionally adding a 30 min session on the bikes or ellipticals at the gym 1-2 times a week.
I'm still quite small comparatively for someone who is 29 weeks, though my uterus has consistently measured about 2cm big at each visit. There was some question as to when I actually conceived because we had been trying for several months and there is a possibility that I may have had implantation bleeding. With my longer than normal cycle it would put me about 2 weeks further along than predicted. The confusing part is that in both ultrasounds the baby measured right on target for size and weight. Normally I would just accept it as whatever it was and not pay attention to the due date at all, but the husband is scheduled for training around the time the baby's due. I know it seems silly since the baby is going to come whenever he's ready, but I just like to have everything planned out.... if I need to expect him 2 weeks earlier than originally thought there are so many added logistics to take care of in terms of contacting the FRO, his command, the Red Cross, etc. And even then I just have to come to terms with the fact that the chances of him being here for the birth are practically zero. They won't start to send him home until the hospital contacts the command to let them know I'm in active labor, and then it'll take about 10 hrs for him to get to me.
All frustrations that I really don't feel like dealing with right now.
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