Hanging In

Somehow a month has gone by without my realizing it. You see, these past several months - and particularly the past month - have been, without doubt, the most exhausting, stressful, and challenging of my life. Hrmph. You know, I was about to write "I'm not complaining" but yeah, I guess I am - SO THERE.

When you are working SO FREAKING HARD at the office that you blearily emerge into the bright early evening summer sun at 5:45pm, racing to pick up your toddler before daycare closes, and realize that OH CRAP, you forgot to leave your desk and go eat lunch all day and OH YEAH, you're 8 months pregnant so that's not good, it's okay to complain a little.

When your toddler decides that sleeping through the night is for SUCKERS and he'd rather wake up 3+ times per night for the past two months, screaming "MOMMY AND DADDY'S BED! BACK IN MOMMY AND DADDY'S BED!" (yes, we let him sleep in our bed ONE night when he had a cold - NEVER, EVER AGAIN!), leading your husband to start sleeping on the floor of the nursery just to get him to sleep, DEAR GOD, get him to sleep, you get to complain a little.

When, while attempting to re-sleep-train and let him cry it out, said 22-month-old toddler CLIMBS OUT of his crib and wanders down the hall to the living room where you are FINALLY relaxing for five seconds on the couch and you suddenly realize SWEET JESUS it's a whole new ballgame now, you're going to complain a little.

When it's 95 degrees in Los Angeles and you're SO HUGELY PREGNANT that parts you didn't even know you had are simultaneously aching and bloating and sweating while you waddle around the neighborhood at noon in a desperate attempt to get your toddler to nap in his stroller, OH WHY OH WHY won't you NAP?!?, then by damn, it's your god-given right to COMPLAIN A LITTLE.

Yawn. Blargh.

At work, we are launching three shows this fall, in addition to the half-dozen or so other shows we already handle, which means PURE CHAOS for yours truly. You see, I handle the money, and EVERYONE WANTS THE MONEY these days. I really like my job - I really do. But when I (stupidly?) attempted to take a mini-vacation to visit family in Seattle a few weeks ago, accidentally scheduled said "vacation" during THE WEEK OF MY BIGASS DEADLINE (no, I'm not an idiot nor a masochist - without telling me, my boss moved the deadline after I'd booked my flight), and spent the entire trip tethered to my iPhone, replying to emails, with a sick kid who would not sleep, I realized that vacations and parenthood are not particularly compatible.

For some people, this is no doubt a depressing thought, but I have grown accustomed to the idea, and actually find comfort in my new vacationless resolve. For me, there's no point in attempting lofty travel goals - at least, not with the silly notion of "relaxing" in mind. BAH! Relaxing vacations are for childless people and people who leave their kids with Grandma. Thus, save for visiting my parents up north, I have decided that I am not taking any more vacations until 2018. I figure by then all of my children (assuming I have three, per the current plan) will be done napping and we will have more freedom and less insanity. Oh, and we'll bring Grandma.

Well, this post was simply DEEEELIGHTFUL, wasn't it, kids??

I'm going to finish with something positive - I am having a BAAAAAABYYYYYYY in less than two months, and he's already head-down and ready to rock. A few days ago I gave Carter a baby doll to introduce him to the concept of Big Brotherhood. He took one look at it, started chanting "NO BABY! NO BABY! NO BAAAAABY!" and threw it on the floor, which I didn't even realize until my husband pointed out that Carter's little brother was now lying face-first on the rug. Hmm...this does not bode well for their relationship. Gotta work on that.