Perhaps part of the problem is that I am still recovering from last week’s illness. I’m feeling much, much better but my sinuses are still such, such a mess that breathing is hard. This has pretty much benched me from No.1 Coping Skill (confession: mid-April I started a committed home-practice approach to my own prenatal yoga needs and was rocking it. ROCKING it. Yoga.literally.every.damn.day for a couple weeks. But then the germ bugs hit and when putting your head down in DFD or child’s pose, etc. means instant headache and blocked airways, practice gets pushed to the side and I’m still not back at it like I’d like to be, almost a week later. Boo. And I hadn’t written about it yet because I didn’t want to jinx it like last time, but so goes – again – my attempt at a 3o- or 40- day streak).
The whole sinus situation has also effed over my sleep, which in the second trimester has been greatly improved over the first (thanks, Body and hormone levels for giving me a little break before the third trimester discomforts come!). That being said, I am still have lots of crazy pregnant-lady dreams (again, hormones!). Most of them I can’t (and wouldn’t want to) remember or am unwilling to share because, hi, I’m not sure any of you need that close of a look at my brain’s inner-workings, but I will give you two examples.
The first is from a few weeks ago. I woke up one morning, pissed – just pissed! – because I dreamt I had the baby and my family named my new little girl Jasmine, without asking me. Now, for the record, please let me state that I have nothing against anyone named Jasmine, so I’m not sure what the big aversion was (beyond obvious lack of control in the naming of my own child) but I was not happy. As in, mad-all-day like Phoebe once was at Ross on Friends for something he did in one of her dreams (does that make me old? To reference a show that hasn’t been on in over ten years? Yeah, I thought so.).
The second came this morning when I woke up in the middle of a long and complicated number in which I was sharing a birthing/hospital room with two other people – one was an older man hooked up to all kinds of machines, basically waiting to see if he was going to have a heart attack, and the other (who for some reason only got a tiny version of a twin bed, squeezed into the corner of our very “cozy” room) was the mother of a friend from high school who was also there to deliver a baby (even though she was current age which is in her 50s).
OK. So do you now see why somedays it takes me a few hours to shake the cobwebs from my head?
On top of dream fog, this morning was a Big Event in our house because it was HD’s last day of swim lessons – Fun Swim, in which family members can come watch/participate in the pool. I never get to just come watch, not even when pregnant, so there I was at the Y this morning, dropping the other two off at Child Watch, and getting my 22.5 week belly into the pool with my very excited-to-have-me-there Little Man.
As you may remember, HD is not a fan of swim lessons. Never has been. In three years pretty much the only time it is OK that it is a swimming day is Fun Swim because one of us will be there in the pool with him. So on top of being in the water for what felt like an hour but was probably closer to 30-35 minutes, playing, this morning, I had to be ON my game as positive cheerleader/encourager for him the entire time.
In total, HD did so well. The kids all wore life jackets (his definitely stayed on the whole time) and while he clung to me at first, he then did two lengths of the pool following me by propelling himself with kicking legs and pulling arms and not touching me at all, even though I could tell the whole exercise was a big effort (stress-level-wise) for him. He later chose to go down the kiddie slide twice, all by himself, and he smiled on and off throughout the morning. So. Huge Success. Very proud mama moment!
But holy crap. The whole thing wore me out. Even a snack and a (truth: second) cup of coffee afterward could not keep me from wanting to just melt on the couch this afternoon, which I did while kids napped and had screen time. But no one – not the cars/trucks/lawnmowers outside our house or the 5yo playing Kindle and sniffling his nose every 5 seconds – was being quiet enough to actually let me rest and I let the tired win.
Basically, I got super cranky. I told said sniffly kid that his sniffles were annoying me and that no one said he had to stay in the same room as me to play Angry Birds (yeah, not a shining moment). I was snippy during snack time and then did my best to ignore the fray that typically accompanies playtime as I finished a book on the couch instead (although that’s actually become a favorite parenting technique of mine that works pretty well most afternoons, so really isn’t negative, cranky, or out of the norm).
It wasn’t until we were outside in the yard playing that things felt semi-OK again and that might only have been because I knew we were T-minus-one-hour until Ben would be home and could take over for my tired, cranky ass.
So I don’t know. Lack of yoga. Lack of sleep. Abundance of snot. Too much energy – emotional more than physical – expended in the pool. Somehow all of this added up into a Tuesday.
Not much I can do about it now except for express my apologies for the extra crankiness of the day and try to go bed earlier tonight in hope of a better outlook for tomorrow. Thankfully all Tuesdays are no longer TUESDAYS in my world, so if one pops up every now and again, well that’s called life and being human; I’ve got to take the lizard with the good, eh?
But please, Brain; a few less-crazy-making dreams might help, too!