Since right before Christmas, life has been hectic. And it hasn't all been bad, but there was lots of family stuff (unexpected death, somewhat-expected illness, etc.) and then, of course, the customary craziness that accompanies the holiday season in general, especially when you have [a] midget[s] and everyone wants to see you guys. It kind of doubly sucked this year since D was sick and/or working for at least half of the family gatherings, and I had to go BY MYSELF, knocked up, with a disgruntled LPT in tow.

But all that is over, right? RIGHT?

Not quite. The somewhat-expected illness I mentioned is in reference to my grandmother, who had to be hospitalized on our anniversary (4 years and no murders yet! Woo hoo!) with a raging kidney/urinary tract infection that rendered her completely immobile and everyone thought she had suffered a stroke. (she went from kind of feeble to not being able to feed herself, walk unassisted, or go to the bathroom alone.) Since she was in such a state, my mother was reluctant to leave her at the hospital alone. So, she and her siblings traded shifts day and night while she looked at rehab facilities/nursing homes. The woman never stops.

I tell you all this as an introduction to the main point of this post: I am not a stay-at-home mom. I know, OBVIOUSLY, since I work full-time, but I mean that I have zero desire to be a stay-at-home mom. Basically, since my mother was indisposed this week and part of last week, she hasn't been able to keep LPT. Which means I don't work. And all that is completely fine. My mother does quite a bit for us in the realm of child care, and one of the perks of being employed by your stepfather is that if there's a family emergency, her knows the gravity of the situation and usually won't give any trouble if I need to take off. So I got a taste of the life of a SAHM, and I must say, it was yuck. The last time I stayed at home was when I was in the throes of PPD, so I can't recall much except wishing I could just go back to bed. But this time around, I'm not nearly so bad off! So I thought that maybe this would be fun, a week of me and LPT by ourselves, quality time and all that jazz.

I was wrong. Staying at home with a toddler (who is high-maintenance on a really good day) can make one certifiably crazy. LPT is not happy about having new addition to the family, and she has begun to act out regularly to communicate her feelings. Combine all this with her typical toddler behavior of ignoring me all the time and her incessant questions (Why do we have to have a baby? Why is it a boy? Why do people have babies? Can I have a popsicle for dinner?) And as a little added bonus, we can throw in a few (unintentional) kicks to my abdomen. By the end of the day, I wanted to scream and curl up (as best I could, what with the belly and all) in the fetal position and just be alone for a few days. I wanted nothing more than to get away and have a few moments of peace BY MYSELF. But that was not to be. Knowing there was an end in sight made it bearable, but I have renewed respect for women and men who stay at home (out of choice or necessity) with their kids. I cannot do it.