Muffins

Some days I can't cope and some days I can. That pretty sums up my life at the moment. Most of the time, probably 80% of the time I am coping fine, find it all a breeze and am enjoying it. The girls are happy and settled now that they have their routines, the house is chugging along and work is great. But some days aren't and Friday was one of those.

It's amazing how much harder I am finding pregnancy this time. I don't know if it's because I'm 27 and therefore older, or if it's because it's #3 or if it's just because of all the other stuff that I'm now doing. But it is a bit tough. I still haven't put on weight, but I feel much heavier. My feet hurt at the end of the day, my back aches, I have difficulty breathing unless I am standing bolt upright. My ribs are splaying again - something I vaguely remember from before meaning that instead of growing "out" I grow "up" and to accommodate necessary things like my lungs, my ribs splay out leaving less potential for them to move. I think this is why I'm breathless.

The nausea/vomiting thing just shits me, if for nothing else its inconsistency. Some weeks almost none, other weeks feels like first trimester again. Some weeks the idea of eating is torture and others I have something in my hand at all times just waiting to be popped into my mouth as soon as I stop chewing the last bit.

Bingley is worried about me. He worries all the time and far too much, but he is very worried at the moment. He has that permanent worried frown thing happening. I have tried to tell him he will get wrinkles but he just gives me a wry smile. He is worried that I am going to crack under the pressure and do something silly or hurt myself and/or The Possum. He is desperately afraid of labour and has dreams about me dying, even though I am the poster child of empowered natural birth. This of course makes being cheerful and relaxed at home somewhat more difficult. He told me this after I volunteered to be a representative for my cohort of interns.

I sometimes hyperventilate at the thought of next year, of doing all this but with 3 children, one a baby who will need me as much as I will need him. Childcare costs alone are enough to make me wake up in a cold sweat - we're looking at easily $3000 a month just in childcare. Approximately the amount that we're looking at spending on a half million dollar mortgage. If anyone dares tell me I am having a third for the Baby Bonus I will go into hysterics. But it's the emotional side that scares me, of making sure I'm there for my children and them feeling like their mother is there and a part of them.

At the moment I know I'm doing OK because the girls are both happy AND well behaved while maintaining their cheekiness - a sign that they're not overwhelmed or stressed. They were actually much more difficult over the Christmas break when I was home fulltime... I wonder what that says about me and my abilities *blush*. It's just that I'm not naive to the fact that we are doing something extraordinary. I don't know any other person my age who has made choices like ours. It makes it hard to say "hey they're doing it".

Anyhow this is a mish mash because I'm making muffins (raspberry and banana with cinnamon) and keep getting up to check on them. They smell awesome and I am feeling OK. Just in case you were worried like Bingley.