Bobby, because he's wonderful, played Scrabble with me, and that was the highlight of my day.
MAN was I in a funk today.

I blogged this morning, what am I doing blogging again?
NOTHING, that's what. Cause all I got accomplished was a steaming heap of grade-A, certified NADDA today.
At least that's how I feel. Ok, I walked on the treadmill, did the dishes, blogged, watched too much TV, and read. But that's not doing something. I guess I could add "gestated" to the list.

See, I have this thing about doing something. I have to do something, go somewhere, have something to fill in the blank with when I say at the end of the day, "Today I ________". This is a sick and twisted little quirk of mine, this need to be able to claim some kind of day's activity, and I don't know how good it'll be for me in the months ahead.

For you see, dear peeps, I am not the "Stay At Home Type". I see all these blinkies with "I love my kids more than work. Proud SAHM (stay at home mom)" and my knee-jerk reaction is Lord, better you than me, lady! And how horrible is that? I'm SOOO psyched about having a baby, soooo ready and impatient and thrilled, but I'm not 100% sure that I'll particularly enjoy the day in and day out of seeing nothing but the inside of my house.

"Oh, you'll take her to the park, the store, the mall" they all say. Yeah, 'they' have apparently not napped and fed and burped and changed and pacified and bundled up an infant for the March weather and then managed to do something with her while they crated the 100 lb. Labrador retriever so they could go to the store and get out of the house when their husband is coming home soon and could easily stop and get the necessary jar of pickles himself. Not that I've done all of that either, mind you, but I've been schooled by several mommies, and frankly, let's be realistic here. You don't throw 'em in their car seat and go. There are procedures here. This is a project. One that spells a lot less time out of the house. My inactivity today might have something to do with the fact that I feel, as I believe I've said before here, like freakin' SHAMU (sp?) and have little to no energy at times. (And other times I'm bouncing off the walls, but who's counting?) But I was just a depressed little mess earlier!

Of course there were tons of other mini-things bothering me. The only one of the dozen or so I care to mention is that summer's over next week and the weather won't stop being crappy. Oh, and we were having tacos and I SO did not feel like tacos of any kind. Yeah, me. The Mexican Food Vacuum. That's how you know I was nuts. And that's how I know I'm not me, when a dinner I'm not in the mood for makes me all wussy.

So during my bi-monthly irrational crying jag I lamented all this and of course I'm less worried now that the preggy hormones have waned. It's sick, you're sitting there thinking, "This is not a big deal. This is stupid. Wait, what am I crying about again?" and you seriously don't know, but you still cry. It's called crazy-ass-hormone-woman, and she takes over once every few weeks. I also blame her for the obsession with all things at Baby Depot, and...hey, didn't my bra used to FIT?

Poor Bob. Except for the bra thing.