I am so over it.

Y’all, I’m done.

For all the complaining I’ve done to Mr. D. over the last few weeks, things haven’t really been that bad. Oh, sure, I can’t bend over. And it’s hard to walk up the hill to the bus stop. And I get heartburn all the time, and sleeping is difficult, and getting up from the couch really is as comical as it looks like on TV. But my pregnancy has been pretty easy, overall, and up until about a day or so ago, I really wasn’t feeling all that bad.

But now? I am done. I’ll be 39 weeks tomorrow, and I want this baby OUT. Now. My hormones are raging, so I am in a foul mood, certain family members are being asses, and I can barely concentrate at work to get done the four minor things I need to get done before I go out on maternity leave. Oh, and I am so effing uncomfortable I just can’t stand it.

The discomfort alone would be bearable, I think, if it weren’t for my shitty mood — made worse, no doubt, by the shitty weather, by the shitty things certain family members are doing, and by the fact that we’re hosting Thanksgiving (IN OUR HOUSE) starting today, when my in-laws arrive. I really like my in-laws — I really do! — and they are helpful around the house as well as relatively self-sufficient, so it could be worse. But, see above about my shitty mood. The last thing I want to be doing right now is playing hostess.  Six months ago, it sounded like a good idea; now it just seems like folly.

So today’s goal is to make it through the workday without bursting into tears (and I never cry, so the necessary coping mechanisms to make that happen are probably not very well tuned in my case), get home with some semblance of sanity left, and put on a happy face for my in-laws. And then maybe bury myself in Thanksgiving prep, because if I’m cooking, maybe people will just leave me alone.