sueeeus

Somebody, please write something happy and joyful about gumdrops and lollipops! Google reader has been sparse of late, and I’m teetering on the brink of emotional meltdown.

Yes, I’m hiding out in my room, while the rest of the family is sprawled on the couch watching TV. I’m in and out of tears, and can’t be around them. I think it’s safe to say that my limits have been exceeded.

The two teenagers were rough-housing this afternoon, and I could hear yelling and slapping or something like that going on. Part of me wanted to just scream at them, but I didn’t want to give such a display around my little guy, so I squelched it and just kept him away from them, distracting him with a book. Transformers. There’s a picture in the table of contents with an array of Transformers across the bottom of the page, and he pointed to and correctly named every single one. He’s a smartie, my little guy. I’m very impressed. And proud of him.

Tonight I made pasta with two sauces. Some prefer red, some prefer white. But I’m wicked, and I minced two whole onions and cooked them into the sauce. Because both kids hate onions.

Two days ago, while the teenagers were putting the dinner leftovers away, I noticed that Bubba, who has been loudly and expressively coughing into his hands, use those very hands to put the chopped onions in a container. I told him that the reason I have tongs out is so that the foods don’t have to make contact with people’s germy hands. “Then I’ll eat them,” he said. A flat out blatant lip serving lie. He hates onions, and would not in a million years eat them. I almost told him to eat them NOW, in front of me, to make good on his word, and teach him a lesson in not giving lip service. If he were my kid, I would have. But if he were my kid, surely he wouldn’t be such an ass. I’m just so tired of it. But I refrained.

Yesterday I made a salad with peas, kidney beans, corn, peppers (the more civilized peoples of the earth call them capsicum), and chopped red onions. Mostly for me (I know, high carb, but relatively good carbs), because I can’t be eating the junk they prefer. I made them a diabetic’s nightmare of baked beans, red beans and rice (which I actually love, but can’t have), and hot dogs. So Bubba took a good sized portion of the salad, even though I told him it had onions in it, and he proceeded to pick out each and every fragment of onion, and expressively gulp and laboriously choke down the remainder. He also claimed to have discovered three short pieces of hair in his beans and rice, and comment on how disgusting that was.

I know it does little to no good to go to such length in describing and reliving these irks, but I need to vent, for my own sanity.

Last night, we gave them a huge bag of candy to take home with them, which delighted them immensely. I had only one caveat. Please don’t eat any of that in front of BB. So tonight, here comes Bubba, chomping on candy, right in front of BB. So I reiterated that I asked that he not do that. “I didn’t hear you say that.” It’s infuriating. He apparently hears NOTHING I say. I could scream. But instead I’m just cold, and try my best to ignore him, not look at him, not be in the same room with him, and not speak to him. He’s a leper.

Every day I look for something good. Some kind words. Something. Anything. But every day I hear only sarcasm, ridicule, criticism, and an endless array of exaggerated body noises. Smacking lips, loud gulping of liquids, coughs, hacks, and on and on and on. Screaming for attention.

The sad thing is, I could go on and on with two or three times as many examples of things that have transpired. But this is exhausting, and I hate that I’ve stooped to such a low level of humanity to take the time and trouble to spew this forth. I could be the better person, and just suck it up. But I’m not the better person. Not today.

For as long as I can remember, I haven’t considered myself a career-person.  The word itself put a sour taste in my mouth.  I’ve let it be known that the work I’ve done has been just that.  Work.  A job.  But not a career.  I’m not sure what I thought the word career implied.  Maybe to call my line of work a career is in some way to call myself some sort of conformist.  One of them.  I don’t know.  It all seems a bit silly now.

I never wanted to define myself by the work I do.  Had I found a line of work that I’d have considered worth defining me, well, then perhaps I’d have called that a career.  But that line of work hasn’t materialized (yet).  And now, here I am, forty three, about to have my second child.  It’s been twenty two years since I graduated from university and entered the engineering work force.  Twenty two years.

Although I’ve always just called it a job, of course I’ve done my best and given it my all.  And now that I’m over forty and have a family, suddenly my perspective is somewhat different, and I’m almost willing to accede that I am, in fact, a career woman.  I’ve grown up in this company.  I’ve spent the better part of my life here.  The people are like family in many ways.  We’ve lived our lives here together, day in and day out.  We’ve been there for marriages, divorces, children, graduations, retirements, tragedies, victories, sorrows and joys.  There is history there.  Upswings, downturns.

Where I used to be arrogant and considered that the company was lucky that I chose to grace it with my presence, now I am grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to live my life in the presence of some very fine people and partake in some interesting and rewarding work.  The company has afforded me the roof over my head and the clothes on my back.  I’ve been blessed to have decent health benefits and good working conditions.  There have been some troubled times along the way in which I worked with difficult people in a difficult organization, but even so, the rough spots opened doors to brighter pastures.  It’s all been worth it.  I have a great position now.  I’m settled.  I get to do a variety of things, and I’ve made it to a good place.  I’m respected among my peers and by my management.  There’s no glass ceiling here.  I am very content.  I think I’ve made it.

Until I became a mother, I never imagined I’d want to stay with this company until I retire.  But now that I’m a mother, with the responsibility of raising and nurturing two boys to (God-willing and hopefully) grow into fine upstanding men, the prospect of working until I’m fifty five is no longer unthinkable.  What is another twelve years in the scheme of things?  Or more than twelve years, even.  These boys won’t even be through high school in another twelve years.  I can easily imagine working through their high school graduations, and perhaps even beyond.

I’ve given this company my life, and this company has given me my life.

Twenty two years today.

Happy Anniversary.

I don’t really understand the social security system, and I have mixed feelings about what little I see, in my ignorance. Gadget has a brother in his 50s who’s been collecting social security income for his entire life, because he’s disabled. I don’t really understand his disability. He’s not got Down’s Syndrome, but I guess he’s what one calls ‘retarded’. Or something. The man can read and write. He hasn’t got the most common sense in the world, and he has a snarly attitude, but it seems to me like he could work and do something somewhat productive with his life, rather than sit around with a snarly attitude, watching TV, collecting SSI and food stamps. It seems like he could work, but he won’t work, because it’s too hard to overcome the snarly attitude and actually do something productive and giving in life. I’m bitter. I know. And I obviously don’t understand disability. If I did, I might be much more gracious in attitude. But I don’t understand it. I understand hardship and making choices and sacrifices to get through and overcome hardships. I understand physical disabilities, and some mental disabilities, but there’s this big gray area that I can’t comprehend. And it’s not like I don’t try. (But it’s entirely possible that I don’t try hard enough, because when I think about it, I get too frustrated, and I find myself at an impasse, time and again.)

Gadget’s stepson is another case. He had leukemia when he was two. It was a tragedy, for certain, and the treatment took its toll on his body, as it does. He’s stunted in stature – he’s maybe 5’2″ or so, and he takes human growth hormone for something – maybe his pituitary is shot. I don’t know. But a shot pituitary isn’t a disability. Someone very dear to me has a shot pituitary with a slew of other physical challenges, and she has an amazing, full life, and the last thing she’d ever consider herself is disabled. She’s worked hard her entire life, and is very successful, full, and happy. And she’s never collected a penny of assistance.  Back to the stepson. He’s drawn SSI for his entire life, as he’s considered disabled. And I don’t know what it is that constitutes the disability. He’s 19, and has never had a recurrence. I think one is pronounced healed after ten years of remission. So what gives? He prides himself on his physical abilities when it comes to manly things like weight lifting, but good Lord, the level of grumbling when that strength is called into action for any sort of manual labor. He’s been here for a little over a month, and filled my home with his sour and snarly attitude. He’s big on talk, saying he’ll never put up with lame manual work and such, and that he’ll have nice things, but he doesn’t grasp that with such an attitude he may find it difficult to find, let alone hold, any sort of job. And it makes me wonder if he’ll somehow be one of those people who can somehow hold onto his disability claim, and skirt through life with the government (which means the tax payer, which means ME) paying his way. I’m very bitter, I know.  I don’t want to pay his way.  I want him to step up, grow up, change his attitude, and make a contribution to the planet.

Gadget is frustrated and disappointed and even embarrassed by these kids, because they have no incentive to be constructive in life, and they have no ambition. Of course many teenagers are self-centered in general. It’s part of being a teen. We’re all idiots who don’t know anything, as far as they’re concerned. They’ve lived their entire lives collecting money without having to work for it.   (At least they’re not drug addicts or criminals, though.)  They’ve lived, albeit meagerly, on child support from two separate fathers, SSI, and food stamps.   Something for nothing.  No actual work.  They have no work ethic, no desire to rise above their circumstances, no reason to think there’s anything wrong with getting assistance.

Now, I’m all for assisting those truly in need. I’m just so very much against free-loading and laziness. And snarly attitudes. And all I see is free-loading and laziness. And snarly attitudes. So I’m bitter. And worn out. And ready for them to go home.

Gadget’s not entirely happy with me. It bothers him that I clearly don’t like his stepson. But what can I do? I should be like Jesus and just turn the other cheek and love unconditionally. But instead I feel like throwing a tirade and toppling the tables in the temple, shouting something about dens of thieves.

One more day. I was considering staying home Tuesday, so I could go to the airport with them, but now I’m hoping wondering if I have meetings (surely I do) that can’t be missed, so I can just get up, go to work as usual, and come home to an empty and glorious home.

I’m hoping the bitterness wanes quickly.  It’s not good for me, or anyone.

And then I have to begin the damage control, and reprogram BB’s attitude and vocabulary.  I may remain bitter for a while.  And I’m never inviting that person back.

I absolutely love this picture.  I love the rich throaty sound of his laugh when he makes this expression.  I love the way  his nose crinkles and his brow furrows.  I love his sense of humor.  I love his sense of adventure.  I love his spunk.  I love how much life he exudes.  If only I could bottle it up and save it for forever, this magical essence of boy.  Will he always express himself with such verve?  One of my goals as a mother is to never squelch his joie de vivre.

He will be a wonderful big brother.  He kisses my belly and puts his mouth right to it, to speak to his little brother.  Good night, LB.  Good morning, LB.  Have a happy day.

I’m looking forward to watching them grow up together.  My beautiful boys.

As in, great with child.

I love being pregnant. Some think I’m nuts, but truly, I love this. I love that there is an amazing life growing inside of me. Sure, I’m huge, and that’s not the least bit of an exaggeration. At 30 weeks, I look full term, and then some. In fact, now that the gestational diabetes is in full swing, I’m having regularly scheduled scans for estimating growth trends. Yesterday was the first, and LB came in at the 84th percentile, and 4 pounds 5 ounces. No worries, though. There is plenty of amniotic fluid and everything looks good. They won’t express concern unless he passes the 90th percentile, and even then, it’s practically a given that he will deliver via c-section anyway, so it’s more a matter of deciding the best time for the best outcome. I have no worries. I do need to keep my blood sugar under control, though, for both of us.

Yes, my legs and feet are swollen. And cramp frequently. And I have a yeast rash at the top of my legs. And more stretch marks to add to the collection. It does feel a bit strange now and then to have such a voluminous protrusion on the front porch. And it’s a teensy bit disconcerting to wonder how I could possibly get any bigger, considering my belly looks to be stretched to its utmost already. BB was huge, as well, but it seems as though my girth at this stage is already on par with my girth when I delivered him. And I have a full two months left to go. So.

All that said, I still love being pregnant. I love the feel of this little guy punching and kicking and squirming inside of me. I love thinking about the kind of person he is and will be.

I want to savor every moment, because I remember all too clearly the journey and the yearning for this opportunity, and this will most likely be the last time I walk this path. I want to remember the wonder of it all; all the feelings, all the movements, all the phases. Only two more months, which will be over before I know it. I want to savor it all.

It’s magical. It’s amazing. I’m loving it. I’m grateful.  Very, very grateful.

Today my beautiful niece turns 12. She is an amazing person, brimming with wisdom, poise, charm, kindness, intelligence, and all things good.

Not long ago, she shared something with our family that stirred us all to our innermost cores. I don’t think that she will mind that I share it here.

Hi. I lately have been really stressed; a lot has been going on. I’ve felt pain for my dad that I haven’t felt in 2 years. It has been 2 years and 7 months and I wanted to just come on and say how much we love him and miss him. I feel like since he was so connected to our message board and his computer, by writing a quick few words he will get them wherever he is, and he will experience all of the family coming together through something so simple but so vital to all of us. So here goes: “Daddy, I have missed you for almost 3 years now. There isn’t a day I don’t think about you. I am not saying that in sadness but in joy that you blessed me with enough time to create memories with you. I have decided a new path for remembering you. Instead of being sad that you left, I’m going to be happy that you were here for however amount of time you were. Although some of the memories I have with you are not necessarily great, they are still with you. I love you. I miss you. And I am sooo sorry for forgetting the promise I made you. But believe me I will get it taken care of. I know you are better. I can finally feel it. I feel like the chains keeping me down, in worry for you have been released. Finally, I know this is what you wanted. Every day our family is getting stronger, closer, and I’m happy to say that I’m not mad, disappointed, or sad anymore. You freed me. My family and my friends have just continued to help cure me. Although no one will ever replace or refill the empty space in my heart for you, there is no need to worry; I have my uncles, cousins, aunts, mom, sisters, and even brother (lol). I’m OK. Thank you. I know I couldn’t have done anything to save you now. I think I’ve felt guilty all this time. Like I had the most responsibility for you and I failed. But now I feel like there was nothing I could do, I will always remember everything. The moment when we went to T– mountain, your life changing smile, and how much you loved family. No matter what, you enjoyed visits from everyone. That is the biggest memory I have. And I’ll never let go. Your ashes will be spread in Italy, I will keep my promise. Also, I won’t forget about the Caribbean. You always said you just wanted to run away there, so I will put some of you there too. I will keep every promise I made you (except the whole Olympic thing). Well, now I have to go but I wanted to share this little conversation with everyone in the family.” I decided to write that because I want to talk about him more, I want to have an intriguing conversation on the great memories everyone had with him before I was born. I feel like talking about him more and remembering him more will make him seem more alive, more, I don’t know, just more. So I thought I would say that. Oh, and I did something I have been afraid to do: I read the message board from October 27th and behind. I read all this stuff I was too afraid to know, it definitely helped. I recommend looking back at the board to years and years ago; our family has grown and although there were some hardships, we are still as close if not closer. I thank you guys for being so helpful with pulling me out of the place where I was hiding. I am forever grateful, and so is Daddy.

And from my sister:

That’s right, Princess!
Thank you for so thoughtfully honoring your dad,
and for sharing those thoughts with the family.
In this, you have instinctively brought him to life
in our minds, in the most loving way.
To understand his love for us is yet alive,
is to understand a very empowering secret:

We are his heaven.

We can live there, inside his best giggle
and most loving intentions for his family,
and watch in wonder as all his dreams
are coming true.
The best of Six of Nine is still
very much alive.
Thank you for showing us, Princess.

And from my other sister:

Princess, when you write or speak it’s as if you’re a channel through which God speaks to us. You are a true angel and such a tremendous gift to this family. We all love you more than we could ever say. Together we’ll all remember all that was beautiful in your Dad’s life. I’m so glad you realize there is/was NOTHING you could have done to change anything, but what you CAN do is live well and be happy. Your soul has so much wisdom that must come from somewhere in the spirit realm, a place that is timeless. When you decided to be happy and thankful for the time you had, rather than be sad for time you missed, you discovered a very important truth to living a great life. Always remember that and be thankful for all the blessings that you do have. When I was feeling down at your age your Grandma used to always say, “why don’t you go count your blessings?” and it’s true. One blessing I’ll be sure to count is having you as my niece, and you’ve added a great deal of happiness to my life. I love you darling.

And they all say it better than I, but this girl of ours, she is most precious indeed, and we love her dearly, so very dearly.

Happy Birthday, Princess.

• Although I’m still hiding out in my office, and generally avoiding the company, I am feeling better in general. We’re getting ready to take a few days off and visit my sister, who lives conveniently close to a water/amusement park. That will be the big hoorah for the teenaged house-invaders. They’re very excited about it. Plus, my sister and her husband have a boat and live near an amazing lake, and the weather is supposed to be nice. So. I will fork out a truckload of cash to offset the cost of operating said boat, and the kids can have more water fun. I will be surrounded by mostly relations of my flesh and blood, so I will take strength and nourishment from that. Maybe the teens will run off on their own and do their thing. I’m hoping they behave well, and interact well with their step-cousins.
• Being on insulin has helped reduce some stress. My numbers aren’t jumping all over the place now. They go up, they come down, they don’t go bang bang zoom pow bang.
• Getting the go-ahead to use a laxative has greatly improved things as well. Ahem. Seriously, though, I feel emotionally better knowing that I’m not all compacted with festering debris for days on end. TMI. I know. I know. But I feel better.
• Having those 3D pictures of my baby is such a joy for me. It helps me visualize him. I find myself thinking of him more, and smiling more.
• BB was placed in time out in the kids room at the gym while I was doing my water aerobics. He was throwing things and reportedly hit a couple of kids. When I ask him about it, he says he likes to hit. It’s a bit challenging trying to have a reasonable and logical conversation with a three year old. I want him to understand that it’s not nice to hit. He was broken of that before the home invasion took place. Now I have to start over. He’s being exceedingly belligerent, saying, “NO. I’m NOT going (to bed, to the bathroom, to daycare, to pick up that toy, to eat my dinner, etc.) NO.” I felt awful, that he got in trouble in a public place. I had mixed emotions. Awful that somebody else disciplined my child (albeit gently) and awful that he needed to be disciplined.
• We’re going to be towing a small utility trailer loaded with two refrigerators when we take our trip this week. The weight of the load is within the trailer’s limit, and the weight of the trailer is well within the specs noted in my van’s manual. Even so, I’m feeling nervous. There will be five people in the van and a heavy load behind the van. We will be riding very low. And I’m nervous. Must. Not. Think. Of. It. Denial is best for situations like this.
• Gadget keeps blowing off his chiropractor appointments. It’s very annoying. He should at least have the decency to cancel, if he’s not planning to go. Meanwhile, he gave them the wrong insurance card, so the billing is all whacked too. None of which really matters to him, because it all rolls to me. I, however, am annoyed. Especially because he has plenty of complaints over people in his line of work not being where they say they’ll be when they say they’ll be there. He should just cancel. Period. I don’t care if he doesn’t want to go to the chiropractor. We both tend to think it’s mostly quackery. But if he has an appointment, he needs to cancel it.
• I have some sewing/crafting projects in mind, but don’t want to start into anything until I have my home back to myself. I think I’ve become somewhat of a recluse or something.
• Tomorrow is my beloved niece’s 12th birthday. When she was 6 months old she (and her family) lived with me for a time, and I got to enjoy her in the best of her babyhood. She took her first steps to me. Me! I like to think of her as my girl, especially since I will not likely ever have a daughter of my own. She’s an amazing person, and I’m very proud of her.
• The benefits of the magnesium are sadly not fully consistent. I’ve had several night visits with my friend Charlie, who is NOT a good or welcome bed partner. Why are they called Charlie/Charley horses, anyway? Bill Bryson would surely know.

The nice thing about living with someone who used to be an appliance repairman, is that I can call him up at 2:30 in the afternoon and tell him that the schmancy expensive front loader washing machine broke during a spin cycle, because it got off balance and galloped impressively and terrifyingly across the laundry room floor, eventually overcoming the strength of the latch and flinging the door open (takes deep breath) and he will say, because he’s a man of few words, “Okay.”

And, by 3:45 p.m. he’s home, with the required part in hand, and by 4 p.m., one can hear the sounds of a machine going through various operational modes.  And by 4:09 p.m. he will peek his head in the office and nod when I ask if it’s fixed.

The only flip side, is that now that he’s no longer an official appliance repair man, he doesn’t have as easy access to these troublesome parts that tend to need replacing.  Back in the day, he’d save bits and pieces that were scraps from other repair jobs, but that had good parts on them that he knew we might one day need, and that way we’d have them for free.  This way, the silly little latch cost us a hundred bucks.  But at least I don’t have to pay for a technician and service call, which would be another hundred and forty or so.

Sometimes he’s worth having around.  😉

And I really do love him, in spite of the whinges that I normally post.

28 Weeks.

Today I got to see LB! He’s beautiful (to me) and I’m smitten even more. He seems to have an abundance of personality.

He smiles. (He frowns too.)

He’s peaceful. (He’s grouchy too.)

He sucks his thumb. I hope this means he’ll take to the breast.

He looks like he’s a sweetie-pie.

He poses. (And puts up with the paparazzi.)

I’m so in love. I can’t wait to meet him face to face.

What a wonder technology is. Truly amazing.

Now there’s a joyful looking woman. It’s amazing, really, how one can achieve so many different looks, depending on the angle of the camera. I don’t think this looks anything like me. But for a not very joyful person, she looks sort of pretty.

This looks more like me, but again, I cheat by taking the photo from a vantage so as to obliterate the multiple chin factor. Tricks of the trade. I like the blonde, but it still takes me by surprise once in a while.

So what’s new around here?

• I’m pretty sure I’m going to be ordered to start injecting insulin, after I see my doctor tomorrow. The numbers have remained bad. Sure, it coincides with the presence of the step-kids, coupled with an incredibly stressful bout of work, but it also coincides with third trimester or whatever that magical placental week is when all hell breaks loose in the realm of blood sugar control. I feel somewhat of a failure, as I thought I’d be able to manage the sugars on my own, but I’m no match for my present circumstances. Now, to try and coordinate a 3-month prescription before the end of June, because my medical insurance is switching to a new plan, thanks to my company’s unrelenting cost-cutting measures, and the new plan is fraught with more paperwork, claims, copays, and deductibles.
• Gadget thinks I’m being anti-social. Hey, my laptop is at the dining table, and everyone else is watching TV. That’s as social as I feel like being. And besides, these people aren’t the most considerate of youngsters. When I do enter the family room, nobody makes a move to make room for me on the couch. Our couch is a sectional with a chaise, so it can seat 5 very comfortably, but Gadget’s in his spot (the chaise), Sissy is next to him, and Bubba is stretched out over the remainder, stinky feet and all. Now, another, well-mannered, well-raised child (like any of Suse’s fine bunch) would hop up immediately to offer a seat. But not these. No. In fact, I actually did want to join them the other day, but met with the afore-described scenario, to which Gadget was disappointingly oblivious, so went to the dining table instead. My Beautiful Boy, BB (soon to be Big Brother), sweetly asked me, “Don’t you want to come sit with me, Mommy?” I told him there’s no room for me over there. He went and made a little spot for us on the floor. What an angel. Melts my heart. But I told him I didn’t want to sit on the floor. Especially with self-centered teenagers who are oblivious to the physical constraints of a large, pregnant woman.
• My work has been crazy ridiculous. I work in customer service, supporting very expensive widgets. Once in a while we get demanding requests in which we are expected to be miracle workers. Decode this data and tell me if my widget is in compliance with the widget regulators, and by the way, we bought it from somebody who changed it, and we don’t have any information that describes the changes. But do it anyway. And do it now. Because if you don’t, this widget will not be able to service our valued customers and we will lose tons of money. So do it now. And if you find anything wrong, tell us what it is and tell us how to fix it. So. Some people have amazing faculties in which they remain undaunted by such demands, but I have yet to achieve, let alone master that particular skill. I was able to get something put together, by the skin of my teeth, but it’s not at all satisfying. I sent the final report out today, with a big ‘FAIL’ marked on it, so I’ve been half expecting a phone call at home, requesting emergency troubleshooting to resolve those items which I failed. But what can I say? Dudes. If you don’t tell me how it’s wired, I can’t tell you how to fix it. Leave me alone!  As if I could really say that.
• BB loves having his half-sister and step-brother here, but he’s regressing and there will have to be a period of damage control in which we (that means I) re-establish good behavior. I do like how much fun he has. He has laughing fits and plays hard, hard, hard. But he also picks up on the belligerence and other attitudes milling about, so that part I don’t like so much.
• I discovered that my right ear has a mutant skin condition, much to my chagrin. My ears used to be my only near-perfect physical attribute, so it was with some horror that I discovered this condition today. I don’t know why it’s only one ear (thankful that it’s not two!) or if it’s stress-related or blood-sugar related (does diabetes affect the skin?) or what. Maybe I just got a sunburn and it’s peeling. It’s all red with flaky skin, so maybe it’s an eczema or something. Whatever it is, it’s not pretty, and I don’t like it.  I’m blaming the step-kids.  😉
• I should take a picture of my belly.  At 28 weeks, it’s magnificent, in the sense that a manatee is magnificent.
• I’ve lost my temper with Bubba a few times.  It makes my blood boil when he barks, yells, reprimands, or scolds my BB.  I told him NOT to do that any more, that I will do the reprimanding, and he’s supposed to be an adult, and take into consideration that three year olds behave like three year olds and learn to manage his own words and reactions.  July 8th can’t come soon enough for me.  I’m not proud of myself, but I just don’t have the time or energy to invest in nurturing him into a considerate, thoughtful, well-mannered, pleasant person.  That ship has sailed.
• I’m doing okay with Sissy, which is a relief, because she is Gadget’s flesh and blood.
• The magnesium is working.  No leg cramps!
• I’m going to have a 4D ultrasound of LB (Little Brother) on Thursday — I will get to see his beautiful face!  It’s a splurge, but I’m not likely to have any more children, and I had it done with BB.  I’m excited to get a look at this beautiful little boy.  Pictures to come!
• I’m spending a good part of my waking time trying not to be on the verge of tears; chalking it up to hormones and the home invasion.  I really need some good alone time.
• Blogging away ad-nauseum like this helps.  I’ve thankfully consumed the better part of the evening.
• Some day I’ll probably look back on this time and be even more ashamed of myself for my attitude re the home invasion.  But if I know myself well, I’ll likely deny it.
• Over and out.