Some days are really bad. Some days, I told my husband before on the phone, I feel like it's a race to see what is going to happen first. Will the weather get better? So that we can go outside and maybe breathe some fresh air that doesn't freeze our lungs on contact? Will I ever not have a cold again and maybe be able to breathe and/or sleep before I have this baby in May and am unable to sleep? Or will I go crazy and end up in jail and hell because I've lost my mind and walked out on the kids or something?
Some days I don't know what's going to happen first. Some days Kathleen wakes up SO early and SO angry and then she doesn't nap. Some days Joseph brays like an animal all day, he's super frantic and sad himself. Some days as soon as I try to salvage the sleep day for Kathleen and put her up for her afternoon nap, Joseph stands at the bottom of the stairs (or worse, outside of her door) and brays and brays - wordless, senseless noise.
I pray and pray. I pray that it gets better. I pray that he will SHUT the F up for just an hour so she can get some rest. And then I hear her crying. Some days.
Some days I think no one understands - no one understands what it's like to be a stay at home mother, just a normal one, let alone one like me, one who can't go anywhere because she can't control her kids, I can't chase the brayer and the tired one.
Some days I feel really, REALLY pregnant. I am finding that it is much harder to be six months pregnant with a one year old than with a two year old.
Some days I feel 90 years old. Some days I think I can't do it. I hope tomorrow isn't one of those days. I hope the weather gets better. I hope and hope and hope.