At this particular moment....

I feel like I have a million children.  And 2 of them have 4 legs.

My human child is upstairs sleeping. 

Remember we enrolled the retriever in daycare?  We didn't do this for our health.  The dog needs daycare.  But first, as the responsible pet owner that I am, I insisted we have her groomed.  $70 later, the area behind her ears are shaved.  Probably because there were a few (read: 1 or 2- TOPS) mats back there.  No harm no foul, right?  Well, either a bug bit her, she didn't like the feel of the sweltering air behind her ears, I have no clue- but she ended up scratching that area and, true to golden retr*iever form, a "hot spot" grew and spread down the front of her neck.  So now she's wearing a big dog hood- and there is a string tied around her neck.  I'm afraid the string will end up choking her.  I feel terrible because I can tell her sore itches like crazy.  I feel terrible because J rubs medication directly on her open wound 2x a day with his bare hands.  But, to be honest, I didn't think of the string choking her aspect until 5 minutes ago when I saw that the string unraveled and she was chewing at it.  This is BAD NEWS.  My dad and step-mom had a cat named Tasha once.  Something happened to her paw and they bandaged it.  She pulled a thread from the bandage and it ended up cutting off circulation to her paws and she had to have a paw amputated.  She died a few months later... not sure from what but the amputated paw was what happened first.

So anyway, I have this large-a$$ dog who can't go to daycare because of an open wound.  I can't even really take her for walks because I'm a million months pregnant and J is working a lot lately and our neighborhood is incredibly mosquito infested and I worry a mosquito will just land on her cut and start slurping away.  So Hannah is driving me freaking NUTS.  But I'm afraid she won't live through the night because she'll end up strangling herself with that d*mn string.

This brings me to the rebirth or resurgence of my anxiety disorder.

A typical night for me is: Pass out cold sometime between 9:45 -11pm while watching Golden Girls (if I have it my way) or Holmes on Homes (if J has it his way) or Summer Rental (if we have it both of our ways).  Between 230-3am, wake up to pee.  Pee.  Lay there until 530-615am and fall back asleep.  Then wake up between 730-8am feeling like total trash and start day.

Between the hours of apprxoimately 3am and 6am, I WORRY.  About it all.  Remember last time I worried about my dogs running away? The bus that drives too fast by my house? (still an old favorite of mine) Well, keep those worries and add a few more: How will I load 2 babies in the car? Will we be bored all day? etc...

Then I wake up in the morning and I think, 'What a drama queen you are!!!!  CALM DOWN, idiot.  People in Ireland have about a million babies all at once.  My own ancestors had a million babies at once.  And yes, many of the them died, but usually at least 6-8 of them lived.  And that is plenty of babies.' 

So tonight I'm not falling for that trick.  It would help if the baby laid off the old bladder for a bit... but something tells me she isn't concerned with pleasing me- afterall, she is technically my parasite.

I had my 36 week appointment today.  The doc said if labor starts, head to L&D because they ain't stopping it.  I think we all know that labor isn't starting 4 weeks early for me.  And this is perfectly okay, although I wouldn't mind a small blood pressure spike that would enable me some short term disability time (pre-baby) from work and a few week's worth of relaxing on the couch. 

As for the beagle, I saw residual poop on her butt today and I'm a little disturbed by it.  But I understand that it happens.

Also, I am sad that my boobs will be shrinking down to their pathetic flap-jack like state upon the birth of the little one unless I breast feed in which case I will look like a sloppy and haggard Pam Anderson (more haggard, I guess) and feel like a milk machine.  Where is a wet nurse when I need one??!!!  Isn't there some insane woman from La Leche League who wants to breastfeed my child for the greater good?  I've read blogs about women who revel in the trials and tribulations they've overcome in breastfeeding their children until said children were close to 2 years old.  COME TO ME, BREASTFEEDING WOMEN.  I HAVE A CHILD FOR YOU TO FEED.  Meanwhile, I will be on the treadmill at the gym in a sports bra, envisioning my perky post-surgical breasts that will not be used as food but instead will be used by me for their hotness.

Today while changing from work clothes to boxer shorts I was quite vulnerable: down to a thong and a bra and my very pregnant stomach.  Monkey started cracking up, ran over to me and grabbed my butt cheek.  Nice.

Onto cravings:  What I am truly craving is an IPA.  Or any decent beer.  But not a sip or 2: an entire beer and maybe 2.  But I figured yesterday perhaps I could settle for an ice cream sundae.  So at the store, I bought the necessary ingredients, including this Skinny Cow Ice Cream.  Last night I made myself a sundae.  It was such a freaking huge disappointment.  In fairness, it was probably the low fat ice cream that bummed me out.  I am not into frozen yogurt and I'm really just of the state of mind: if you're gonna have ice cream, have the real deal.  But I felt like since it was just a craving, it would be okay.  Now I am sad that I didn't buy brownies or something wonderfully high in fat and cholesterol for myself.  And since J is working late tonight (sadly), he cannot go out and get me anything, nor can I go out and get myself something (a la pregnancy numero uno). 

I keep having this dream that I am a student and "realize" mid-semester that I have been straight up ditching my 9am class.  I forget the class exists until I look at my schedule.  And of course it is in a location I cannot find in a huge school built like a maze.  I am not typically a dream teller, but I've had this dream so many times I can't take it.

Also, I am freaked out when J isn't home.  I'm afraid of an intruder.  That's why I wish I had a gun.  I would just shoot the intruder before he even saw me.  Now I'll be stuck brandishing a knife or a large object and I have pretty much zero arm strength so after I hit him, he'll turn around, look at me with a confused look on his face and then pull out his gun and shoot me.  OR I'll be stuck hiding with Monkey and 2 dogs in the basement or something.  We have a security system and neighbors that live attached but I'm fairly certain their midwestern a$$es don't have guns and someone with a gun is precisely what I need.  And the police will probably take awhile to get here.  So what I do until J gets home is sleep on the couch with every single light in the house on and the TV blaring and the house alarm activated.  It is not a very peaceful sleep as you might imagine.  J just called and said if I was really tired I should just go to sleep but I told him I don't want to go to sleep at 8, wake up at 2am and then be up for the rest of the night- which is exactly what will happen.  Then he gave me some skewed logic about how if I wait until 10pm it won't be good because I'll probably be up for awhile after he gets home and blah blah blah.  But it really just made no sense.

Today I bonded with my neighbor via a 1 hour conversation in our front yard on my lunch break.  We both are extreme worriers which makes me love her and feel less alone in this dangerous world.  She is a social worker and specializes in death and dying and works at a hospice- she is the real deal.  In the course of the conversation she mentioned to me her longing to reach out to pet owners in their moments of grief after learning of sad news concerning their pets.  I definitely feel the urge to give a hug but I fear not knowing what to say, not saying the right thing, etc.. she deals with people in this state and even dealing with their OWN death every day.  I just don't know how she does it, but I can see that she would be a true comfort.  She is gentle and midwestern.  And her mom is even sweeter, if that is possible.  My friend who moved to St. Louis told me that yes, people are nicer than they are on the east coast but the fact is that you simply just do not know how they are truly feeling because they will be nice either way.  But on the east coast when someone is nice you know that it is genuine because if they felt any other way, they'd just be a jerk to you.  While I see what she's saying, I kind of feel like sometimes, despite how someone really feels, maybe it is nice when people are nice- like my neighbor.  If she secretly hates me, I don't need to know. 

Anyway, I knocked my sister in law (GOOD SIL, even) because she got mad at us at the beach for not seeing that she needed help carting her 1 year old and 4 year old to the beach and she was doing it all alone.  My neighbor and I were talking about the prevelance of nannies and I mentioned that I feel like a 4 year old is old enough to help out with a 1 year old if you need help and if the 4 year old is being a pain in the butt, then turn around and give the 4 year old a time out and don't go to the beach.  Don't get mad at J & I bc you can't get your kids under control bc your nanny isn't there.  That said, I don't have 2 kids or 3 kids so I don't know.  I remember right after we had Monkey, though, I felt like MIL should have offered more than a plate of f*cking brownies, but that was only because I feel like it was the grandmotherly thing to do- not because we particularly needed assistance.  And when she handed me the used n*ipple cream, thinking that would be helpful, I knew we were straight up better off without her.  So maybe I misinterpreted Good SIL- maybe she was just like, 'WTF?? My own mother is watching me struggle with my children.  She should be happy to help me and come to the beach with my children and me.'  This would make sense.  Because my mom would've helped me - she definitely would be at the beach with us.  But MIL? No... she's too busy being a sub-par grandmother for that kind of "helping" nonsense.  So maybe she was more mad at MIL.  Which would make sense because when she was en route to the beach, we had just gotten there and were literally saying our hellos to people.  We weren't in bathing suits and didn't go to the actual beach once.  So...I retract my statement about GoodSIL.  She's still the better SIL.  But... no matter how wretched she would become, she would still be the Good SIL.  Competition is slim!

Man...I miss J.  I wish he were home.

Okay, I'm going to stop rambling now. 

I just noticed a weird feature on blogger:  at the bottom of my screen it says "Location:" and I guess you can add your location?  Who the hell would do that?