Notice the concentration. She takes her art very seriously.

I told MrZ last night that yesterday was one of the hardest parenting days I’ve had with NikkiZ. This was after two failed attempts to get her to sleep at night and me finally begging him to be the one that leaves her crying in her crib. He did - and this time she only cried for about 5 minutes before going to sleep. She hasn’t given us a problem at night bedtime in months. That was out of the blue and completely indicative of the fact that so many of you said: She has my number. Yes. Yes she does.

So - yesterday was very hard. And do you know what he said? He said, “Really? How so?”

Life would be easier if he would read my blog.

I’m worried that this transition will be just as hard on us as on me alone. I was trying to let him get some NikkiZ time last night while I worked. She was crying for me and I heard him say, “Honey, mommy needs a break. You have to play with me now.” And I lost my shit. To him? That’s the truth. And in reality? It’s not that far from it. But to me? I’m upset because I’m afraid she’s hearing, “Your mommy can’t handle being your mom 24-hours-a-day so I have to take over for her sometimes since she’s inadequate and possibly doesn’t even like you that much.”

I know - right? He probably shouldn’t have phrased it like that - but there was no need for me to freak out and panic that my daughter was going to think I hated her. It’s like my insecurities have gotten nine million times worse in the last two weeks. And I didn’t think that was possible. I’m suddenly worried that my husband is going to think I’ve got it easy and cushy while he’s slaving away at work, so I try to have measurable tasks to present when he gets home. Like library books and artwork. Proof we did something. I get up before he does and I try my best to stay up later, just to “prove” myself to him. And does he ask for any of this? No. But, will he get yelled out if he even tries to imply his day is harder? Yes. Last night he said he wanted to sit on the couch because he was tired and I immediately started crying.

Again - I’m an awesome wife.

So, I guess I’m turning this blog into a place where I vent my anxieties and insecurities because every time I do, many of you pipe up and say, “Me Too.” And for some reason, the KRAZEE feels a lot less extreme when we’re all feeling it together.

Wow. Yesterday sucked. I’ve always considered myself blessed that I don’t have any severe anxiety or depression issues because on days like yesterday it just comes so quick. I cried a lot and I haven’t done that since the miscarriage.

But you know what? I woke up this morning embarrassed with myself. Embarrassed that I had freaked out yesterday and cried and acted like things were much worse than they really are. I mean, really? Let’s not panic over lost internet or phones - it’s probably the Universe’s way of telling me to step AWAY from the computer. I’ve worked more hours per day since getting laid off than I ever have with an office job. That’s not going to improve my life, now is it? I probably needed the damn break. Someone was looking out for me.

And let’s not freak out over being unemployed. I’m unemployed with a severance. I know several who haven’t been that lucky. I also have a husband who makes more money than I did anyway, so less than half of our income was lost. And 30% of what I brought home went to daycare which we’re not pay for anymore, so in reality? Our finances don’t look that bad.

Thank you for letting me have my outburst yesterday. I’ve decided I’m not going to blame it on the pregnancy hormones this time. I’m going to blame it on The Biggest Loser because I cried during that entire 2-hour episode yesterday morning. When you start the day off watching something that emotionally charged, it’s going to be a volatile day. So - if I’ve learned anything from yesterday? It’s that you should NOT start your day off watching The Biggest Loser. Or Extreme Makeover: Home Edition for that matter. Any show that is designed to rip your heart out is NOT TO BE CONSUMED WITH BREAKFAST. They should have warnings before those shows. Screw “mature content” warnings before shows like House and CSI. I need the “May cause emotional instability for the next 24 hours” warnings.

One thing about starting to be obviously pregnant, is I find myself wondering if what I’m wearing is “appropriate” for a mom-to-me. Now, I don’t mean that in the sense of, “Should I wear this halter-top and mini-skirt?” I’m too insecure to dress like that. I mean, in terms of trends that some consider young. I even had this complex with LilZ and I was 18 when I got pregnant with him. Before and after my pregnancy with him, I was sporting Grateful Dead t-shirts and combat boots. But while I was pregnant? I felt like I had to wear floral tops or sweatshirts.

It’s no different this time. I bought these adorable vans on clearance at Ross, but everytime I wear them I think, “Can a pregnant woman wear this?”

The big question for me is not “Can A Pregnant Woman Wear This” - in actuality. It is “Why In The Hell Do I Care?” I mean, no other time do I really think about something being young/trendy/weird. I might have a general insecurity about not fitting in sometimes, but I love those kind of unique looks and never question wearing them. Only when I’m pregnant. Is it like I somehow fear that the baby will be taken away from me if I dress inappropriately? Do I feel like people are more judgemental with a woman carrying her baby in utero than of the mother with her kids by her side? Why is it that the bulbous belly somehow makes me…well…more insane.

Wait. I’m pregnant. I’m supposed to be insane. Right? Nevermind. I’ll just wear the shoes and do like I always do. Blame the hormones.

I was posting to my profile on Workitmom.com today (Because I need to have an account on ever page in the land? Evidently?) and one of the questions was “What is the best piece of parenting advice you’ve been given.” Or something similar. I said, “It’s okay to ask for help.”

It is the best advice I’ve been given. But it also is the advice I ignore the most. I feel like if someone takes over a duty I usually do, then I am somehow a failure. If I have to ask them to do it, I feel like I’m admitting I can’t do it and why is this so hard for me?

Sometimes I tell MrZ, “I don’t need help, but I would like some appreciation.” I think that’s very true, I can handle a lot more on my plate if someone is at least grateful I’m doing it. But, if I’m doing the laundry and the dishes and the dinners and the shopping and the bathing and the…well, you get my point. If I’m doing it all - an no one even notices - or worse: they complain - it’s like it is all for nothing. The exhaustion, the sweat, the tears…for nothing.

So, I don’t want to ask for help. I want to keep doing what I’m doing, but I want everyone to see it. Notice their clothes are clean. Notice the sandwich bags are restocked. Notice the dishes are put up. Notice that baby is clean. Then, I can keep doing it all myself.

But then I think, “Isn’t that just an excuse? Shouldn’t you still ask for help?” And yes. I should. But it’s damn near impossible. Because I’m stubborn. And stubborn. And also…stubborn.

If only there was a way to ask for help without actually asking for help. That would be ideal.

I just wrote this long entry about how much I hate the winter and how it affects my mood and I asked you if the weather affected your mood and then…THEN…the entry disappeared. It’s like my blog does not want me spouting my venom across cyberspace. DAMN MY BLOG. It has this need to keep me happy and for that…it must die.

Anyway - enough with the drama. Seriously - in a calm (and non-angry!) tone - does the weather affect your mood? It does mine. I’m in the best mood when it’s warm (or possibly hot) and sunny. I don’t mind the ass sweat so much, and I love to only have to wear one layer of clothing. But if it’s cold. Or rainy. Or worse…both…just be sure to avoid me all day. I’ll probably freak on you for whatever it is I can find first.

Today there is ice out. I know some of you deal with snow, but ice is too much for me. Ice means cold. Cold means several layers and pained fingers. Cold means chapped lips and dry skin. Cold means bitchy and angry. I hate do not like the cold. My mood and the weather go hand in hand…how about yours? Or…are you sane?