Damn, I'm Stupid

Whatever made me think having two kids close together would be the best thing for everyone involved? Huh? What? OK, fine; I still firmly believe the kids will benefit from being closer in age - they may pick at each other, but at least they won't be isolated from one another. But this cooking thing frankly falls a little short of it all on my end. I am reminded daily that pregnancy wasn't the joyful and fulfilling end-all of my female existence that those bastards at Workman Publishing would have me believe. I was pregnant, what, nine months ago -- you would think I would remember congestion, the hair growing lustrous and then falling out, the sleepiness, dizzy spells, constipation, the magically disappearing bladder, and, oh yeah, the beautiful maternity wardrobe with the bows and tent-like lines -- all of this should have jogged some sense into me and helped me keep the swimmers at bay another two years or so. Only nine-and-a-half weeks in, and my pants don't fit already, I need a nap every two bleeding hours, I got acne (that's new) and I can't get excited about any food (again, new). The lovebug wants to play and be merry, and I want to flop on the bed. I'm cheating him. Mommy's not too fun right now, and I can't even go numb my palate with anything stronger than root beer (which, all right, is still pretty good). Adopt, all ye who want to have multiple children close together. Adopt, or get a pet. That'll cure ya for awhile.