Whinging

photo by Alan

If you’re in a chirpy mood, skip this post. I have a man cold. I’m grumpy.

I’m pretty sure the week before last – the one where I had all the energy and glowiness – was all I’m going to get of that amazing second trimester the books talk about. The “Ugh, I feel yukky” first trimester lasted until about 21 weeks, and now, at 26 weeks, I’ve hit the “I am perpetually uncomfortable” third trimester. I have pain in my groin (? or pelvis? the part where my legs join my body) when I start to walk, which makes me never want to walk anywhere ever. I should probably ask someone professional about it, if only for an anatomy lesson.

I’m still feeling ridiculously heavy. I can’t stand up or sit down without saying “Oof.” You know how on The Biggest Loser they always have that day where the contestants trek up a mountain, and the trainers add weight to their backpacks as they go, and then they reach the top and drop the bag and cry and hug and reflect on the meaning of life? I feel like I’m two thirds of the way up that giant mountain; I still have three months of climbing to go. This is not helping with the grumpiness.

Moses fell through the gap between the train and the platform the other day, and I keep replaying his frightened squeal and panicked look in my mind. Fortunately I was holding his hand; I immediately pulled him up and into my arms as if he weighed nothing, and it wasn’t until later that I had a chance to think through what had happened, and what could have happened. Now it haunts me every time I lie down to sleep. Plus, Alan and I are rehashing the same fight we’ve had for the last seven-or-so years, just to see if it’s more interesting this time around. IT’S NOT.

And now I have a man cold (it’s just an ordinary cold, but I’m not coping with it very well), so the two positions I’m comfortable sleeping in are out because my nose needs to be on exactly the right angle in order for me to be able to breathe. (When it tilts up, snot stores up. And when it tilts down, snot comes down. But when it tilts only halfway up, snot goes neither up nor down.) Trying to get some sleep is just a hoot right now.

So I’ve been wanting to write positive posts about seasons of life and discipline, but my efforts have been terrible because all I really want to do is rant. Dear John is a stupid movie, I don’t care what the girls in our youth Bible study say. Yes, I cried at the dad-son-bonding scene, but that’s because I cry at all dad-son-bonding scenes. The rest of it was stupid.

It annoys me when people smugly tell you that they don’t watch TV, only to reveal moments later that they watch DVDs of TV shows instead. How is that any different to watching TV? Can you be justifiably smug if you’re still wasting the same amount of time minus ads? I don’t get it. Don’t dis TV, man. TV introduced me to Portlandia, and that show was one of the few things that made me laugh this week. TV’s my friend.

Also, why is it okay these days for people with smart phones to pull them out and do things on them at any point during a conversation? I thought that doing anything on your phone during a conversation was rude, but I’ve noticed it’s only users of dumb phones who act like this rule still applies. Also, there’s inevitably a point now in every gathering, about four-fifths of the way through (I’ve been studying it), when every person with a smart phone will pull it out and a conversation about apps will begin. I thought this was a teenager thing; turns out it’s a smart phone thing. Smart phones suck.

Colds suck. Accidents suck. Fights suck. 

This week sucked.