Get-togethers in my honor are embarrassing. I had a birthday party when I was seven, and out of forty kids we invited five showed up; my mother told me 'never again'. I tried as much as possible to convey the thought that I didn't want anything organized. If someone wanted to get me something, it should be of their own discretion, not because they felt they had to after receiving an invitation. After months of no mention, I spent my own money getting everything we needed. The only thing missing is a car seat/stroller, and we are just going to pay for it out of pocket - after all, the only one that showed promise in keeping Ben safe while not being a gaudy nuisance costs well over three hundred dollars. Like I expect someone to pick that up for me.
Travis's sisters insisted, however, at the last minute, and Travis talked me into it to keep the peace. My only stipulations for this shower was that everyone (boys, too) were invited and it would be on a Saturday so two co-workers could attend.
Well, fuck that.
I didn't know when it was until two weeks ago, so anybody at Walgreens who may have wanted to attend didn't have a chance to re-schedule, the party falling on a Sunday. My sister didn't want to come, citing that it was too awkward to meet his family under such circumstances - I let it go. Two couples from his family have already bailed on it (even though I went to one's baby shower). I have one friend attending. One co-worker said she'd try to make it, but I can't drive from being so big, so the plan to meet up and go together so she didn't get lost has gone to bust.
And Travis is working today. He left at 3:30 this morning to try and be back in time for the party. I've been up since 1, stewing over this and more.
Did I mention I feel like a fat cow from all this water retention? that I've never been so ashamed of being pregnant from how bad I feel and look? that the last thing I want is to be around a bunch of people I don't trust, receiving shit I'm supposed to feel grateful for? I'd rather be broke and proud.
I've been house-bound for the last week, and I have been quite good at not making Travis fetch me something from the grocery store every time he came home, or making him leave the house once he's back from work. I've been trying real hard to put as little pressure on him as possible; he's working sixty hours a week, he's stressing out over getting the nursery done, and he hasn't had a lot of time to unwind. I've been trying so hard to keep the peace in spite of my discomfort, and none of it seems to have done me any good. I've kept up the housework and tried not to go ape-shit. I feel unreciprocated. I wish I didn't have to do all the dishes, all the laundry, all the cleaning, all the bullshit paperwork - everything he procrastinates on. It would be nice to know that if I let everything go for one day, he would pick up the slack. Or, if not that, then at least appreciation for what he doesn't have to do. If I try bringing anything up, well, you know, I'm the one who gets to be at home all day, and would I like to trade? I should be happy to be so alone. I should be so grateful to wait for you without so much as a phone call to see how I'm doing. I don't have anybody guiding me through this. I don't have a shoulder to lean on but for yours. Don't turn me away now.
Being at home was supposed to be less stressful.
Throughout all this, we're trying to find a vehicle that's reasonably priced, safe, and something I would like. And it seems like with anything else lately, it's as though it went from what I want to what Travis (or insert any name) thinks. It's not that I don't disagree with him entirely, but I feel like the actual decision was out of my hands a long time ago.
I've been eating my pride to avoid rocking the boat. My belly's full and I wish I could throw it all back up, so I wouldn't be so ashamed of myself for rolling over and accommodating.
1 comment:
women are exhausting.
been thinking about you.
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