Thursday, 26 September 2013

For when we feel unlucky... and why men are so thoughtless

It's easy to feel unlucky sometimes.  For example, I am getting pretty good at feeling sorry for myself (blaming the hormones at the moment)...  I'm dreading labour in a way I never have before, simply because I "know" when it's going to take place. Before that, it was just a case of concentrating on the signs and not looking beyond that.  But now I know that Tuesday may well be a DAY OF PAIN... it's looming!

Other reasons I feel unlucky sometimes: ridiculous amount of health problems in this pregnancy, lack of sleep, the fact that (for some reason) I have a zillion mouth ulcers (attractive), the fact that I am the only adult in the household who makes an attempt to speak French and therefore have to take on the lion's share of the bureaucracy (although to be fair, Ray is getting pretty good at "mime" (luckily he hasn't yet purchased a stretchy black all in one leotard for the process)), and the fact that I seem to consider others more than they consider me (sob!) - more on that later.

But then I have to remind myself: I live in THIS era, in THIS part of the world, I have had access to a good education, I have the children I thought I might never have (plus they're gorgeous!), I have options in life, rights - I can live anywhere I like in Europe and don't have to fear for my life on a daily basis.  That makes me about - what? - in the top 2% of lucky people in the WORLD.  Go me!!

Plus, I've never once had the urge to go on X Factor and embarrass myself in front of the nation...

It's easy to forget how lucky we are, despite the trials and tribulations of daily life - but all we need to do is tune into the news to feel grateful that we were born on the right side of the world, at the right time.

Now, to go against all this.

What IS it with men (and when I say Men I mean Ray, but suspect he's not the only one)? 

Being 9 months pregnant, staggering around with a bowling ball up my jumper, just out of hospital, I'd be forgiven for sometimes putting myself first.  But, no, being the "saint" I am, I consider Ray and the family in everything I do.  For example, today I need to go to the supermarket (which I probably shouldn't do on my own) and elected to go during the boys' nap time. Yes, I am expecting a call from the Pope at any minute...

What does he do?  Makes an arrangement (which he neglects to tell me about until the last minute), which means I have the boys during FEED and NAP time (despite not being able to carry them up the stairs anymore) whilst at the same time people are coming to work on our windows, so I have to be around for them, whilst juggling adventurous twins...

So... what can my revenge be? :)

Hmmmm!  Let me think...  maybe it's time to buy him that leotard after all... :)

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