week.

I know its my birthday for the next 13 minutes, but I have a secret. Today was really not so great. As I say it, I've "had a day". Now I can't say I've had a "bad day", because there were some really good parts. Ross made me breakfast and had an OK magazine waiting for me this morning. Then we got dressed up and made it to 9:30am service at 9:45am. Not too bad. We went right up to the cry room and enjoyed each other and a good message. Let us (I mean me) not forget what today was REALLY about...

But I actually was supposed to have a nice afternoon to myself shopping while my sister watched Maddy. I had grand ideas of getting myself new make up and buying something to make me feel "pretty". I really have not felt pretty lately. This has been quite a downer on my mood, if you haven't noticed. Sometimes I'll feel pretty and okay, and then I'll see a picture of me and think, "Who's that frizzy haired chunky girl with the bad dye job?". Okay, I know I'm being a little hard on myself, but it is hard to look at other pictures of a 120 lb girl with out a care in the world and then see the pics taken a couple days ago. Anyway, I got to the mall and most stores were closed because of Easter. I should have thought of that, I really should have. But I figured if Ross has to work on Easter, shouldn't the people at Nordstrom and Sephora? So I came home soaked from the rain and empty handed- I should have just stayed home and done laundry; because at least then it would have been finished and not in a huge stack in the corner of my bedroom.

I will be honest; our new lifestyle has been really hard on me. I KNOW I need to count my blessings. I KNOW there are plenty of working mothers out there who work 40 hours a week; not 24. I know that there are a lot of families who don't have the luxury of family babysitting. I know, I know, I know.

Part of it is the stress of Ross' job. He is stressed. He works long hours. Sometimes we barely get a small conversation in before we're ready to go to bed. On bad days, which unfortunately there have been a lot of lately, we end up arguing about something stressful and we don't even get to enjoy each other. We argue about how stressed we are, who should help with what, and other fun topics. Tonight we argued because Madelyn was very difficult to get down for sleep tonight.A couple days ago, I was in pieces over the fact that we thought we were pregnant again. My period was 2 weeks late and I was bloated and emotional. Plus Ross had a "feeling". Turns out I just got to have a REALLY long stint of PMS- sweet. Don't get me wrong, another baby would be a blessing in many ways. I just wouldn't even know what to do with myself in terms of work if I had a 14 month old and a newborn.

It feels good to "vent". As soon as I complain about this stuff, I can hear how spoiled I sound. Our bills are paid, we have a nice home, we have a gorgeous, sweet little baby girl, and despite recent bumps in the road, we have a really great marriage. We are healthy. But Lord, could you make things a little easier? I know I seem ungrateful...but at least give me an easier week this week? I hate to sound so whiney, but I have just had a really hard time adjusting to this. I think that after having Madelyn, I still had a lot of time to get things done and even have some time to myself. Maddy has been a fairly easy baby, and I had Ross as a stay at home dad. Now all at once; Maddy has been more demading, and Ross works so much that he doesn't have time to help with any house work.

For the first time in a while I have found some comfort in a poem. My mom told me part of it when I called her crying a couple days ago. I am thinking of having it tattooed on the inside of my wrist as a little reminder. Not really, but I just need to remember to slow down, breathe, and most of all remember that women have been in my dilemma (and in some cases much worse off) for ages.

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth
empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
hang out the washing and butter the bread,
sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
and out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
but I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
for children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton