sad.

I'm sick of crying. Here are things I have cried over lately:

-Worrying about not having enough money when the baby comes.

-Worrying about something bad happening to my husband when he's away doing military stuff...even if he's only at the airport an hour and a half away.

-Worrying about becoming one of those Walmart moms with bad hair, a big butt, and driving a rusted minivan.

-The fact that my family took "family" Christmas pictures without me (but included my brother's girlfriend) in the middle of a weekday while I was at work. My mom said, "You knew we were going to do pictures. You knew we were leaving at 4:00 that day to take him to the airport." Yet, no, in actuality they told me that they were leaving at 5:00 because they knew that I was working until 4:00 that day and wanted me to be able to see him before he left. Furthermore, she failed to mention that they planned to do them in the middle of the day on a Tuesday...knowing full well that I was unable to take time off from work that week, and not even bothering to tell me about it ahead of time. I got to find out about it when they posted the pictures on Facebook. Then, in a feeble attempt to downgrade my feelings even more, my mom says, "Well I wanted to do them the night before but you didn't want to." Well for one, the other night that she wanted to do them, she didn't mention it to me until after I was already over there, after a long day of work, looking and feeling like crap and wearing sweatpants. A little prior notice would have been helpful, so that maybe I could have put on some makeup and a nice sweater. Of course this is totally my fault though. It's like she doesn't want to take responsibility for the fact that she screwed up and hurt my feelings. I should probably just blow it off, because apparently I'm the only one who is affected by it. Then she tagged me in the pictures, as if to add insult to injury. I untagged myself, and then I cried some more.

-Billy the Exterminator - the episode where they saved a rabbit with a paper plate.

-The fact that my coworker did not want to order lunch from the same place I did.

-The fact that nothing fits me.

-The fact that we have no washer and dryer of our own and always have to take our laundry somewhere to wash it. Furthermore, the fact that I work all day every day and don't have time to do the laundry, and my husband said he would do it today but he didn't do it. Then in an attempt to reassure myself, I thanked him for making dinner because I know he was busy and worked hard all day, and he responded by saying, "It's okay. I actually didn't do much today." Then why didn't he do the laundry? I worked hard today...like I do pretty much every day to support us financially, usually after barely sleeping the night before, all the while feeling tired and nauseous as a result of carrying around this growing fetus on my belly. And now I have no clean clothes for work tomorrow, and I'm crying. Maybe it doesn't matter. It's not like anything fits anyway.

-The ending of Toy Story 3.

-The fact that I can't seem to sleep through the night, ever.

-The fact that my husband refuses to take digestive enzyme pills after he eats so as to prevent the nasty smell of his poop and farts. I don't know why he refuses to take them. It can only help him, and save me from getting sick from the smell. But he won't, and I don't know why. It's like he wants me to throw up or something.

This is a grumpy hormone filled blog. And whether one or more of these things is actually worth being upset about, I'm still upset and I have another 6 months to endure this hormone induced psychosis which makes me cry over everything.

So far, I've enjoyed nothing about being pregnant. And I'm not glowing, either. I'm breaking out like a 13-year old going through puberty. FML.