The scales of relativity

So I guess it sounded like life's still sucking in my last post. I should make it clear that on the actual scale of suckitude I am quite low relatively speaking. I mean there's the suck scale of not pregnant, not raising triplets without a crazy mom and then there's the suck scale I live on permanently which should be the one I refer to and on that all inclusive scale, I'm doing well.

I hate to be the negative blog poster so some of the reason I've been so silent this month is due to things being a bit harrowing. But the harrowing part is passing and so now's the chance for me to grab the chance to blog about how it's all better. Here comes the sun and all that. I mean let's list the positives:

1. I am still pregnant. Despite my heart trying to overcompensate by sending my blood pressure into the atmosphere and my kidneys giving me a wee scare by spilling protein enough to make the doctor send me to get steroid shots in case the kid comes early, it's actually going 'well' compared to last time. Thankfully, my doctor is back from vacation so the fact that I spent last week actively mourning the loss of a natural birth prematurely, due to seeing an OB who might be termed hysterical, is all in the past. I'm a little bitter about all that emotional trauma but the truth is back on line and I might still push this sucker out the normal way. I just have to keep calm and mellow and stress free and relaxed. Ha Ha Ha Ha freaking ha.

2. My mom only ruined a tiny bit of Christmas. And I predicted the manner in which she'd do it. Somehow, at the age of 75, my mom is still not able to take care of herself in a responsible manner. Thus, a cold turns into pneumonia no matter how many people are telling her to rest, take meds, see a doctor and that she's actually really sick. So I ended up taking her to the ER Christmas Day. Delightful. But it wasn't Christmas Eve, the important one, so let's call that a victory. The fact that she wants to blame everyone else around her for her visit to the hospital? Typical. Doesn't even make me raise an eyebrow. Really. No really.

3. The triplets did, in fact, have 87 colds, flus and viruses over the course of November and December. No really. I slept maybe 2-4 hours a night for over a month there. And pregnant. I cleaned up a heck of a lot of barf. And poo. And the good news? I was too tired to blog about it. This one's good news for you people. Not me. But my good news? It's over. Until the next one.

4. I did survive no nannies for 10 straight days. I had a few fun experiences like taking the kids for walks around the neighborhood where they got to explore whatever they wanted. That was fun. I knew it could be done but it was exhausting and I almost didn't make the last 2 days. Because they were still not letting me sleep. And then with mom in the hospital I couldn't nap at naptime because a good daughter visits her ailing mother. So, come day 9? I almost killed a kid. Or a husband. Whichever makes you like me better.

So, see? All positive. I am spending this week recuperating, contemplating paperwork and bills, re-imagining my birth scenario, and being shocked at how much more uncomfortable one baby rolling around inside me is than 3. I have figured out that the triplets must have kicked each other a heck of a lot more than they kicked me because if this is how much they were kicking? I escaped quite unscathed. This little beastie rolls around, rearranging my organs and making me breathless with a little pressure to the diaphragm while dragging the other leg down the front of my abdomen in a positively alien manner.

And apparently he needs baked goods. Now.

I have been eating baked goods for approximately 48 hours now and there's no end in sight. Thank goodness I haven't gained weight in 2 weeks so I have a pound or two to spare. Oh, wait, no I don't because I started out 30 lbs over. Ah damn. Well, what's another cookie?