Well, I finally went off the deep end and blew up. 😦

I feel like a crazy person. :crazy:

On Sunday, I started cleaning up the baby’s room. I was getting more and more frustrated as I cleaned it. πŸ™„

Last week, Andy said he had sanded the ceiling and cleaned up the drywall dust. To be fair, I know that he sucks at this stuff… but really… how hard is it to wipe down a wall with a cloth? Seems pretty freaking easy, right? And I had already sanded all the walls so he could look and feel my work and be able to halfway get the ceiling right… right?

Yeah, the ceiling looks HORRIFIC and there was still dust EVERYWHERE! πŸ™„

So, I’m in there Sunday just trying to make the best of it… I have been sleeping horribly… I am 8 weeks away from my due date and I feel like I am on a deadline. I can barely move most days due to extreme pain in my joints. I’m a mess! I don’t have the time or the energy to be worrying about all this half assed stuff that Andy is doing…

Anyway, so I am in there working… Andy comes home, relaxes, and holes himself up in his man office with the door shut to work incessantly on his newest obsession based hobby. He would come out to pee and get something to drink.

Meanwhile, I am sweating my ass off, squatting and standing excessively while having contractions, climbing ladders I shouldn’t be on, making multiple trips to the bathroom to both pee and rinse water, etc. I need to wash some laundry. All my makeup I put on has drained off my face due to the sweat. (And I only put make up on for him… I wasn’t going anywhere… and he wasn’t even in the same room as me πŸ™„ ) My hair that I finally was able to curl after 2 weeks of not having access to my curling iron was all sweaty and ratty and nasty so I had to put it up in a very unattractive bun… *sigh*

It was not going well…

I was getting more and more irrationally pissed as time went on. After 2 hours of this and only being just under halfway done in the room, I went into the bedroom and sobbed uncontrollably into a pillow like a big baby. πŸ˜₯ Andy couldn’t hear me because he had just been having a grand old time listening to shit on his computer all morning…

I finally got myself together but I still laid there for some time. I just couldn’t pull myself off the bed even though I wasn’t really tired… I was so frustrated and angry and sad and I hated that I really didn’t have any good reason because it’s not like I didn’t know that he sucked at home improvements… 😑

Andy finally realized that I was no longer in the baby’s room and came in and laid down with me. I didn’t say anything. I really just felt so ridiculous… but, you know… why stop there. πŸ™„

So he finally asks me if I am okay and I tell him I’m not and I start crying. Then I go off on this incoherent tirade about how I have done almost everything in the baby’s room and I have so much left to do and the baby will be here before we know it and I feel like I’m doing everything alone! And it is all true. Sounds like a reasonable argument, right?

Yeah… and then I added on that I hadn’t done my hair in 2 weeks and now it looked like shit…



I said that. πŸ™„

Now, my amazingly reasonable argument for being psychotic just vaulted to a new level. Super.

All Andy said after THAT **GEM** was, “I’m sorry”.

That was maybe the best thing I have heard in a long time. πŸ˜€

After a few minutes of me composing myself, he told me to stay in bed and sleep. He would finish. Then he kissed me and left the room.

When I came out an hour and a half later, he was in his boxer briefs and tennis shoes kneeling on the floor in the baby’s room. He had moved everything out, wiped everything down, even cleaned the wood work with Murphy’s Oil, and he had cleaned up the dresser that was full of dust as well.

He looked amazing. πŸ˜‰

I love him so much!

He even wanted to start painting right away but I hadn’t brought any paper to lay down because I assumed I would have to do it myself and I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle that this weekend myself. But he seems committed to getting at least the ceiling and top portion of the walls primed for me.

His co-workers told him I could handle painting even while pregnant so he still expects me to do the bottom half and around the woodwork myself and the do the actual painting… which is fine I guess. (Like I have a choice?) It will take me a while to do myself but that will be the final step to complete the major work in the room and I know he sucks at it so I kind of have to do it if I want it to look somewhat decent…

So the breakdown I felt coming on has happened. I am hoping that is all out of my system. I don’t feel any better physically but it’s nice for me to assume Andy is “getting it” right now… which I hope he is and isn’t just trying to appease the psychotic baby mamma in his life right now.

I’m telling you… I feel horrible… I am so down and blah. I look like crap… aged at least 10 years right now. My hair is like straw for some reason. I have absolutely no energy. I am tired all the time. I have no ambition to eat or do anything at all. I am in pain constantly so I would just rather lay in bed 24 hours a day. I am no fun AT ALL! 😦

I have a doctor appointment on Friday. I told them last time that I felt like shit. I think they think I am joking because of the way I say it, but I guess I need to stress to them that I am NOT in any way joking. I feel beyond the normal bad.

It’s killing my will to live!

Ok. Not really. But it is killing my will to live happily.



Say what you mean, Mean what you say...

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