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I’m currently reading The Ghost Map.  It’s about a major cholera outbreak in London in the the middle part of the 19th Century.  How’s that for light bedtime reading?

In my defense, Tucker’s reading Bitten which is about…well…bites.  Spider bites.  Ferret bites.  Snake bites.  Human bites.  Pretty much any and every bite that you can think of.

Yeah.  The point…where the hell did I hide that?

I was on Twitter this morning [cause that's where I always am] and JesseHambley linked to a really cool website: http://www.charitywater.org/birthdays/intro/trailer.html.

This was me at around 15:30 today.  I was not happy.  Can you tell?

I used to look like this:

I liked this hair cut.  It made me feel pretty and thin and like I looked LIKE A FUCKING GIRL.

I’ll try and keep the story short.

I got my hair cut like a month and a half ago like it is in the second picture.  I liked it; I liked the chick who cut it.  But, my mom convinced me that I should try the chick who cuts Mom’s hair.  “You’ll LOVE her.”

I am awake.  I have been awake since 5 am.

Cara is awake.  Cara has been awake since 5 am.

Do you see a correlation here?

Not only did she wake up but I could here her bouncing in her crib and couldn’t help but hear the earsplitting screams.  [Cara, is the screaming REALLY necessary?!]

The most maddening part about the screaming is that it’s not a pissed off scream or a sad scream.  It’s just a damn loud scream to let me know that she’s ready to get up.

I have been relatively sane for a while now.

I attribute this temporary sanity to the fact that I’m pregnant and pregnancy seems to agree with my brain.

Sure, I’ve been a tad more angry than I normally would be but it’s not like I’m constantly pissed off [just on Fridays from now on].

But the crazy train pulled into the station today.

For the past few days I’ve been angrier than normal and extra-emotional.  Then, this morning at the ass crack of dawn, our new next door neighbors woke Cara up with their alcohol assisted noise.  It was 3am, they were outside and I could hear every word of their conversation via Cara’s baby monitor.  She heard them too and was up from 3am till sometime around 5am.

I try telling myself that I’m not constantly pissed off this pregnancy, but alas, that’s a big fat lie. Something about this fetus makes me ready to go at the drop of a hat. [Don't fuck with me; I'll cut ya.]

Hence the post about the baby shower and hence this post.

We went to Target yesterday for something supremely important [I've forgotten what it was.] and of course I had to pee because I have to pee every fifteen minutes or so. [This post talks a lot about pee and bathrooms...you've been warned.]

We had to go get groceries today.

We were to that point where you start being “creative” when making dinner and Rice-A-Roni becomes the main course. [Don’t judge! You know you’ve been there.]

As we meandered around Target, Cara was being a rock star and she was completely engrossed by a box of Pop Tarts.

I was struck by how far she’s come in a year.

Trips to Target in the early months were things to be dreaded.

I would carry her around in the sling that Tucker had made us and pray that she could wait thirty minutes before her next feeding.

I am so utterly pissed right now. Pissed and hurt.

To make a long story not as long, my dad sucked as a father.

He missed “his weekends”, probably molested me and he stalked my mom.

I’ve gotten (or am getting) pass all of that as best I can.

Several years ago, Dad remarried.

His wife was/is an amazingly strong, wonderful woman who game him two great kids in addition to the son who she had from a previous marriage.

Let me just say here that my dad is crazy. Certifiably crazy. His jealousy and delusions ruined their marriage.

I’ve got a story for ya.

When Mom got here on Saturday, I very quickly explained our routine with respect to Cara’s bedtime.

Bath at 7 pm.

Boob and then bed by 8 pm.

No matter what.

If she woke up in the night, I was to be the one to check on her.

Mom was to not check on Cara during the night as I was afraid that having someone “new” respond to Cara’s cries might make her crying worse which would translate to me being awake for far too long in the middle of the night.

With Mom’s impending arrival creeping closer, I found myself getting more and more nervous about the visit.

The last time Mom was here, I was pregnant with Cara and Mom flew in on my “due date”.

I was supposed to have Cara on the 26th of October; Cara didn’t show up until the 3rd of November.

Mom and my relationship had been strained for several years and being pregnant and past due didn’t help things.

Once Cara was born, Mom ended up leaving early because the whole situation had only gotten worse.