It's not a bad day for any reason.

It just is. Maybe it's just that I'm tired. I don't really feel tired, and was awake with The Boy this morning, even though I refused to get out of bed. I knew it was going to hurt too bad, so I wanted a few more delicious moments of "I feel just fine" before I started my day. I eventually got up about a half an hour later and took The Boy to IHOP. He refers to this eating establishment as IHOCK and it's "got a sad face"


 I guess I just never thought of it that way. Anyway I got some standard diner fare and we proceeded to go to WalMart for no good reason. MISTAKE. Well, not really. I did need Clorox wipes, and found a pair of purple tights for The Girl. None of this really has anything to do with why my day just sucks.

 It sucks, because it just DOES and that's it. It's a mixture of a lot of things. I'm in very early labor, which is more frustrating than anything else. It's too soon to worry about the contractions I AM having, seeing as how they never get to less than 15 minutes apart. I'm in HORRENDOUS pain, to the point of not being able to walk. I haven't felt like this since I hurt my back in my car accident. I'm anxious to have this done. I like being pregnant, but I can't handle this stupid stupid pain. I'm used to feeling like total crap every day, that's normal for me. I guess that's why pregnancy really doesn't phase me. Aches and pains are normal, and to be expected each day when I wake up. Bones that feel like they're filled with fire, muscles that feel like I ran a damn marathon, a sleep deprivation hangover, and the ardent wish for SLEEP. Real honest to goodness sleep. I only ever really nap, and real sleep only happens after a week or two of total exhaustion. This exhaustion can be caused from just laying on the couch or sitting here screwing around on Facebook. My body sucks, but I'm used to it, and I really really want to be that person that never complains.

 I want to be that woman who never admits to hurting, or being too damn tired to see straight. When I try to tell someone they just assume I'm being dramatic, and I probably am. Life sucks, and that will continue until I'm ashes in a little box in someone's curio cabinet.

 I want more energy, and patience. I want to be a good mom to these kids, and they sure as hell deserve someone better than me. There is no doubt of how I care for them, and feel for them. I just can't DO anything. I hate it. I'm just a lazy damn parent. I do the neccesary, and not much else. As I sit here wallowing in self pity, my kitchen is trashed, smells bad, and my house is destroyed from the baby shower aftermath. I can't do anything about it. I haven't even gotten up to go lie on the couch because I'm afraid to. There's nothing to hold on to on my way there. At least to the bathroom from bed there's always a wall.

 I'm just done feeling this way. I'm one of those people who would just rather have it out with all the bad stuff right away, so I can start dealing and getting past it. It's easier not to dwell. I think that's why I'm so anxious to just have this baby already. I want to just start dealing with how hard life is going to be. There is no "enjoying my last days with my only child" because I'm in a constant state of panic over what's coming. I'm in no way shape or form ready for another baby, another human, another person. It's hitting me today just how alone I am. Everyone has someone, and I have nothing. As much as my friends wish to help, and want to be there, they can't fill that position. I'm ALONE. Everyone else is happy and moving on, starting new relationships, married and happy, content with their partner, or on the prowl for a new one. I'm stuck. I'm alone, with two kids. That's not baggage. That's LUGGAGE.