Crap

You’d think after subscribing to Flylady for 4 years, I wouldn’t have any crap around my house. But I look around and all I see is crap. And I just can’t keep up with it now that I’ve entered third trimester territory. Because with two little kids in the house, absolutely all of the crap is on the floor. And I’m six months pregnant, so bending over, well, there’s only so much of it I can take.

Yes, I’m just over six months pregnant, which means I punctuate everything I say to people with “and I’m six months pregnant.”

“I just cleaned the whole house, and I’m six months pregnant!”

“My throat is killing me, I’m coughing all night, and I’m six months pregnant!”

“I’m six months pregnant, and you’re in my way.”

“I really need a chocolate chocolate-dipped cone from Dairy Queen, and I’m six months pregnant!”

"Look at all the crap all over the place! Damnit, I'm six months pregnant!"

Despite the title of this post, I don't feel like crap. After two weeks with a nasty head cold, I feel pretty good. So good that, yesterday, I spent all day on my feet. Got Ben to preschool, went grocery shopping, got Ben from preschool, served lunch, babysat my 2-year-old nephew for two hours, then our 5-year-old neighbor came to play for another few hours. All while picking up crap in between. Then, big exciting trucks delivered two rugs and John’s new twin mattress. Served dinner, cleaned up dinner, put laundry away, helped get two very excited new roommates settled down.

Sat down, finally, at 9 p.m. Felt crampy. Likely just braxton-hicks contractions, but reminded myself to s-l-o-w d-o-w-n. And to stop picking up crap. Which means, all the purveyors of crap must pick up their own crap. Or I'm renting a dumpster.