Into the single digits and a helluva week

It is Wednesday and I am 31 weeks pregnant. I feel like Wednesday is too early to label this as a legendarily crappy week, but it's not. Every night this week has resulted in tears, yelling, or some sort of disaster. I feel like I am going to go into labor any minute from bending over to pick up the 678 toys that are all over the floor. This task, that normally takes only a few minutes a night, is taking me much longer and Larkyn has been more active (ie: hurtling toys across the room for fun, dumping out the entire contents of the toy box to play "boat") than normal. And this blog post has been stewing for three nights, only to be interrupted by some sort of chaos that needs immediate attention.

I am trying to stay up on keeping the house clean. Words cannot explain how badly I want a play room.

I am trying to fix a dinner each night. Resulting in time away from Larkyn, resulting in the messes mentioned above. And a bigass mess in the kitchen afterwards. Luckily she still finds it fun to help me unload the dishwasher, so there's that.

I am stressed by the mess, the lack of sleep, and the feeling that I am spending time on things that are NOT quality time with my family. What am I supposed to do?  If I leave a toy on the floor, it will be there indefinitely. Same with dishes in the dishwasher and whatever item Sebastian snatched off the table and took into our room. It ain't gonna pick itself up. So, what ball drops? Why does one have to drop at all? I am growing resentful of my time being taken away by this asinine stuff. My time to play tea party with my girl, to watch the news or a show with her, to write a blog post, to even look at my phone. I am not a stressed out person, I don't like being unnerved, and I don't like listening to complaining...so this is a hard post to write. 

But, I feel like Baby O is being cheated. My thoughts are often elsewhere this week. A baby should never be surrounded by negative feelings, and I have not had a lot of positive ones lately. Thank goodness for those positive lights in my life. Keeping that baby safe in a happy bubble is at the top of my priority list, and they get that. So....therapeutic rant over.

Let's talk about him for a moment.

1. He has a name. I woke up over the weekend and he had a name.
2. He is as big as a pineapple, which makes sense since I've been a citrus maniac.
3. He (and I) are measuring 31 cm at 31 weeks, putting us right at our due date of 3/19 as of now.
4. He kicked/punched me so hard last night that it woke me up. Squished? I don't know, but impressive.
5. Thanks to some amazing friends, he has some adorable hand-me-down clothes (thanks, Amber!) and 2 places to sleep (thanks, Mara!) He also has lots of caring aunties who are going to shower him with diapers during a girls night in a few weeks.

Thank you for giving me this space to let it out. 99% of the time, this will be a happy spot. Not tonight. I'd love your advice or happy thoughts sent my way, if you have any to spare. Hey, if I can avoid disassembling a urine-soaked car seat, hand washing it, and assembling it tomorrow, the day will be a little better.