I’m one of those lucky gals who have people in her life who don’t mind smacking her around until she can see reality again.  I say this lovingly, because when I’m being a dumbass (and it happens quite regularly), I appreciate those people who stop me and go, “QUIT DOING STUPID THINGS!”

Yesterday, my mother had to get her car out of the shop, so I offered to take her.  I offered on the condition that we HAD to eat at this quaint little place that I adore but my husband hates, so I only get to eat there when I sneak out with my mom.  After a lovely lunch in which I inhaled anything edible within a two-foot radius of my pie-hole, we were in line to check out when I saw an old teacher/friend of mine.

He asked how the baby was doing, like everyone does.  And like I always do, I said, “Oh, it’s fine.  But I hate it.  It sucks.  really.”

He smirked in a way that only he can, and said, “Well, Sarah, when in your life have you ever loved anything you weren’t in control of?  It’s always hot and cold with you.”

I laughed an uncomfortable laugh, but the man was right. (He always is.) I have a slight.. ISSUE.. with control.  It’s something I’m cognisant of, but it’s not anything I struggle to contain. 

So I’m going to work on it.  I actually started working on it last week, when I did two things that pregnant women should NEVER, EVER do in the same day: I stepped on a scale (it’s the first time I’ve actually LEARNED my weight since.. March?), and I went clothes shopping.  How masochistic AM I?  But, since I can’t control my weight or the fact that my ass cheeks are apparently having a feud and spreading to keep from having to come to an agreement about pant sizes, I just bought a larger size of jeans and some macaroons.

I’ve worked on it a lot today, when I had umpteen thousand curveballs thrown at me to juggle WHILE I’m already taking on other tasks.  One of my co-editors made a change to our newsletter without asking (because.. you know.. we’re “co”), and I wanted to go nuts about it.  Instead, I had to breathe in, out, and realize that it’s one more thing I don’t have to do.

And I’ve worked on it where Tony is concerned, too.  I have no idea how, but I have pulled some groin muscle in my left leg.  The pain is so intense that, at any moment, I could look down and not at all be surprised to see a small Tony-fetus clinging to my thigh and gnawing on my muscle.  But it’s beyond my control, so I’m just drinking lots of water and squatting a bit here and there.

On a completely unrelated note: I had my second dream last night about Tony.  He was small, and his blanket was wet, and the nurse handed him to me and said, “Okay, he’s yours.” 

I’ve been so incredibly stressed out for the last month from many, many things.. and that single moment, even in a dream, made it all disappear.

I’m not always in control.  I’m learning to like that.