Gestational logorrhea: week 12

Tomorrow I'll [hopefully] clear the first important hurdle that stands before my broadcasting my status to the world - having a screening test at the hospital that will give us the odds that something is rotten in Denmark. I truly cannot believe everyone in the universe has not noticed this belly, which now protrudes menacingly under the non-maternity shirts I persist in wearing. I feel that maternity clothes will signal that I've "given up" and am ready to look the part. I'm not. Also, I have yet to take them out of the torn shopping bag they reside in, stashed since last time around.

My utter exhaustion has been replaced by selective exhaustion and random recriminations. Yesterday, I felt energized enough to murder 15 flies that had infested our home (from an as yet unknown source, though I suspect we're harboring eggs somewhere), armed with a can of air freshener and paper towels, and even felt annoyed when Josh opened the window to let #16 fly free. Today, arriving home after lunch, I found a new colony clinging to the window shades, and decided it was much too much to have to cope with. I refused to kill a single one, or even open a window to let them out. Instead, I decided that we'd spend the afternoon in a state of siege, turning on no lights so as not to attract the filthy creatures to other parts of the apartment. Naptime was fine, as the flies haven't ventured into the bedrooms, but naptime was curtailed by UPS ringing our buzzer, which is loud enough to end all sleep. We made an escape to the corner bakery, where I could not help but notice the flies on the wall, and then spent a good hour splashing in the neighbors' wading pool (well, Jonah did). When we got home to the dark apartment with flies still in the window, I almost cried. OK, I think I actually did cry. Then proceeded to feed Jonah dinner in very dim light. At no point did I consider that I could have gone out to buy some flypaper myself - no, I was waiting for Josh to bring it. I did not know he was wrapped up in a big project at work, and was furious when he came home at his usual time and not earlier.

I hate it when the "helpless" switch gets flipped. I hate it when I use passive voice to describe it. I guess I couldn't have continued my insect-murdering spree for a second day, but I could have been a bit more proactive. I'm lucky to have a husband who lets things like this slide... though not entirely unremarked upon.