move centre stage: self righteous indignation

I am one cranky as all hell woman over here.
And it’s that crankiness that comes with that really irritating, holier than thou shit.
Like tonight? Chef has gone to a concert. Of one of our/my favourite bands. When the discussion was going on about buying tickets etc I was all – guys, I’ll be 37 weeks pregnant, as if I will be in a state to go to a concert. Also knowing there would be binge drinking and mull smoking and other things that REALLY IRRITATE ME because hello, aren’t we all grown up now? Does any of us have a chronic injury or condition which is about the only condition that – to me – makes the smoking of weed acceptable on any level once you’re over the age of gee, I don’t know, 21?
I know, hello, I’m Killjoy, and you are?
Anyway, it dawned on me that Chef would be drinking this evening, and knowing the people he has gone with – juvenile boys trapped in men’s bodies – that he would be drinking a LOT, with carefree abandon, drinking, beer, beer and more beer, until they move onto Jack Daniels or Bundies and coke.
It also dawned on me that what if I go into labour tonight? He wouldn’t be able to drive.
And then, I was pissed. As in off.
No, not because this didn’t even occur to me until about 6pm, but because I know it didn’t occur to him at all.
That and the realisation that I am a single parent for six nights this week.
S.I.X. nights.
That is five lots of picking up two children from different schools, caring for a toddler, dropping off and picking up said toddler from city-based daycare on two days, two lots of sports training (although I consciously objected to going to one of them tonight), four nights of GROANWORK, six nights of getting three children dinner, bathed and into bed.
So now I’m feeling all martyr-ish, indignant and cranky.
It’s one of those crankies, you know, the one where you are pissed off not because they are doing something in particular, but because they can.

Which has only been compounded by the fact I can’t download pics from my phone. Something is wrong with the cord so the connection keeps cutting in and out.
This is really really shitting me.

In other news…
Today I had a pedicure and got my eyebrows waxed and had acupuncuture. All lovely and if I do go into labour tonight at least those who have to be at that end of action will have some clean, lovely painted toes as distraction.
And apart from these lovely interludes, I’ve felt ‘off’ all day. It’s a sleep and size issue.

Tomorrow is the shrink and midwife.

With that, I am harrumphing and going to bed.