JUST TO MAKE YOU FEEL HAPPY AND UPLIFTED...
Ritalin - it doesn't work for everyone. Dontcha just love Steve Irwin?
BLEUGH
Last night I decided there was nothing in the house I could eat, but I was starving and getting very frustrated. Plus, Heather was sticking her feet in my ribs and I was uncomfortable. And hot. And cold. And hot. And cold.
So I cried.
And Alex fetched me chips and made me some strawberry angel delight. And I watched Invasion* (or as Alex calls it "that programme that confuses the hell out of you", because I missed the first few episodes and now have no idea what's going on...somehow this enhances my viewing pleasure. Figure that one out...). And then I watched Desperate Housewives.
After this I was calm. Fine. We went to bed.
At 1.30am I woke up, decided I was going to be sick, thought about this, decided I was DEFINITELY going to be sick, woke Alex up, realised I couldn't get the damned bedroom door open (doorhandle broke off...we now have a coathanger in a hole in the door), bellowed at Alex that I couldn't open the door, then ran into the bathroom and threw up all over the toilet seat. Then in the toilet. For fucking ages. Then I brushed my teeth, cleaned the toilet seat, had a drink, climbed back into bed and VIBRATED. I don't know what the hell this was all about...violent shivering which disturbed Alex muchly...not least because he couldn't go back to sleep. Not that he'd have been able to anyway, what with all the whimpering and wotnot.
Commence the sleeplessness and visits to the toilet! Every! Single! Hour!
What a fun night. Needless to say, I don't feel all too great today.
On the subject of vomiting...don't you hate that feeling when you've thrown up and there's chunks stuck in your nose? And no matter how hard you blow, they won't budge? Meaning that the only option is.....to sniff...? Ugh, makes me shudder just thinking about it. That gross feeling of cold chunks of sick sliding down the back of your throat.
I'm sorry, that really was disgusting.
*Invasion has caused some very weird conversations:
Me: (talking to tv) "Look, woman - you know he's evil. You can tell. Look at his eyes and hairline."
Alex: (from kitchen) "...is that how you distinguish an evil person, then?"
Me: "Look at him, you'll see what I mean."
Me: "So she had the baby?"
Alex: "No she didn't have the baby."
Me: "But it's still her baby, DNA wise?"
Alex: "Yes."
Me: "Ohh, so she's an alien then."
Me: "Why's she freaking out?"
Alex: "There's a face in the water."
Me: "Is that a dead person?"
Alex: "It's her face."
Me: "She's freaking out at her reflection?"
Alex: "No, that's her, dead in the water."
Me: "Ohh, so she's an alien then."
You can see the trend emerging. If I don't understand, they're aliens. Luckily I don't apply this logic in everyday life.
BLOODY UNIVERSITY JOBSWORTH ARSEHOLES WHO HAVE NO BRAINS.
Ridiculousness! Stupidity! Self-important arseholes!
This is going to be a rant. Can you tell?
I received an email the other day from the mitigations administrator at uni, advising me that I have an exam scheduled for the 8th of May and letting me know my options. I can take the exam on the 8th but have a separate room (to facilitate walking around), or I can take the exam in August. No competition, really. If I told my midwife that I planned sit in an exam room (even an isolated one) for two hours, four days before my due date, I'm guessing she'd probably laugh. Well, it does sound like a joke, don't you think? I replied politely to this, saying that it would probably be for the best if I sit the exam in August.
So what caused mitigations guy to get on his self-important, jobsworth, fucking ridiculous high horse? Surely it's common sense not to mess with pregnant women...? I wouldn't mind the rude "I've got my head stuck up my arse" tone if it wasn't for the fact that, if I could, I'd just take the exam in May so that I could get it over with...and I've actually told him this.
But anyway.
He sent me a snotty email saying:
-- I should plan to take the exam in May
-- He needs further, updated evidence to support my mitigations form (what further evidence?? He's got a copy of my notes which say my due date etc. I have a big fuck-off bump. What evidence could he possibly want??)
-- Requesting evidence for a recent appointment at the QE, relating to an issue which, while affecting my academic performance and causing some stress, bears no relevance whatsoever to the exam in May.
He was unwise in his email. Oh, he was unwise. I mean, seriously - I'm pregnant, I'm due on the 12th...anything could happen around then. If I did as he suggested and "waited to see what would happen" and then went into labour on the 8th, I would then have to fill out and submit a mitigations form by the 17th May at the latest in order to be able to take the exam in August and not receive a fail. I would imagine that, with a new baby, the last thing I'd want to be doing would be traipsing around the uni filling out forms and dealing with self-important arsehole men. And besides, even if nothing like that happened, I'm sure it can't be good for a massively pregnant, ready to pop woman to be stressing herself out with taking exams. But anyway.
I sent him an email 'advising' him that as my due date is only four days after the exam date, I didn't think it would be wise for me to plan to take the exam then. I told him in no uncertain terms that my additional medical problems bear no relevance to the exam, and therefore the lack of further evidence for this appointment should not be an issue. I sent him an email filled with more snottiness and bile and general evil vibes than he could ever manage. He hasn't responded yet. I suspect he may have spontaneously combusted.
It's only what he deserves.
Yes.
CRYING FOR RIDICULOUS REASONS
Yes, I've been at it again. I mentioned earlier about the lack of food/uncomfortableness crying...well, pity Alex for he had to listen to a whole ten minutes of sobbing over the following:
-- Socks. It's getting difficult to put my socks on. It's uncomfortable and it pisses me off.
-- Clothes. I don't have anything that I can just slob around the house in anymore. Nothing fits around the bump and, unless I wear my limited maternity wardrobe at all times, my belly is usually on display. Or I'm wearing Alex's clothes, which make me feel slobby and unnattractive.
-- Shaving pubes. Pubic maintenance is a problem. I can't see that area anymore, so therefore I only deal with it when I absolutely have to. This makes me feel like a scabby cow who's letting herself go to seed.
-- Food. I'm not just picky, I'm INSANE.
-- Being tired. I annoy myself my having no energy.
-- Not doing enough housework. I feel like I'm not looking after Alex enough, while he's doing shitloads for me.
-- Feeling guilty for not doing things, feeling panicked when I do do* things.
* Hee hee, "do do". Like dodo. Or 'doodoo'. I know it's childish, but you have to get your fun from somewhere.
ALMOST ONLY 12 WEEKS TO GO. THIS IS TERRIFYING.
I HUG DEAD PEOPLE. THEY'RE EVERYWHERE, WALKING AROUND LIKE REGULAR PEOPLE.
give Kate-Lee more *HUGS*Get hugs of your own