Just Let Me Complain.

There. You have been warned. If you are not in the mood for my Debbie Downer rant for the day, buzz off. Come back another day when I can put on my rainbows and marshmallows happy face.

Four. More. Weeks.

This pregnancy is approaching its final stages and I could not be happier. At least, not with that particular aspect of life right now. Other things? Well, with every day I am getting more and more - how shall I say this - witchy, only with a capital "B." Or impatient. Maybe that is a more appropriate word.

I am complain-y and cranky and tired. Literally exhausted. I am uncomfortable. I feel things that I did not feel when I was pregnant with Reiss or Milla, like when I sit too long and my legs feel like the circulation is getting cut off. I am HUGE. The nurse at my OB appointment the other day said I had actually lost weight from my previous visit but seriously, I am ginormous. I waddle, for cryin' out loud! I do not sleep well and then I get up and have to deal with two children who can be well-behaved on some days and then downright terrors on other days.

Whoever, whomever, whatever word you want to use, said that children's behaviors are the direct reflection of the mood of the parents never had a child with autism. I can be as sweet as sugar and spice and everything nice and there are just some days when these monkeys are relentless with their drive to send me over the edge. I hate that I feel this way and I do not like it when people jump for joy over being away from their kids (like so many people I see hooting and cyber high-fiving at the beginning of the school year) but honestly, at this point, I cannot wait to go to the hospital to have this baby just so I can catch up on some much-needed rest. I will miss my kiddos and they will come to visit but I need rest. Sleep. I need sleep. I am losing my marbles without sleep and wondering why, why, WHY after six years of being a parent I still get about the same amount of sleep as a new parent.

Oh wait, I remember why. Autism. Yes, autism often has a way of making every aspect of life a living hell, especially when it comes to the parent or the caregiver ever feeling truly rested. Ever. Again. And while I am complaining, thank you, autism. I hate you!

Rant over because my non-gluten-free and super-bad-for-me frozen biscuits have just finished their stint in the toaster oven. Off to eat them with our organic jam. Because I'm feeling rebellious and that's just the way I'm gonna roll with today's punches.