Having children was a given for me; I’ve always been comfortable around them, infants in particular. I remember being six years old and going to a before and after school program at the local daycare, I would beg and plead with the staff to “help out” in the infant room. I have always had a soft spot for babies. Babies that were never my own.

Carter was a great infant: better then I gave him credit for. Every newborn has crying fits, even some in the middle of the night, trouble latching and all around new baby behaviour. Compounded by the fact I had raging hormones, painfully engorged boobs and lady bits that felt like they had been through the shredder, I just wasn’t seeing clearly. I didn’t see how great he actually was, but instead focused on the worst times.

I remember one dark and lonely night, sitting in the living room, bawling while cradling an inconsolable infant and reciting to myself over and over Do. Not. Shake. The. Baby. Through tears, I begged and pleaded with him to tell me what he wanted: to tell me what to do.

Those were the darkest moments parenting has brought to me thus far. Hopefully I never see worse days then those.

Now that I look back at how inconsolable I was, I cringe at the thoughts and feel extreme guilt. Guilt that I could have done so much better during Carter’s first days. He deserved better then a screaming, crying and down right miserable mother who wanted nothing more then personal space and sleep. I was so selfish. I see selfish, even though I was too adjusting to life as a parent. To life where I didn’t come first anymore. It wasn’t about me anymore and wouldn’t be for years to come.

Ungrateful? Maybe. Selfish? Yes, I believe so since I knew what sacrifices I was to make while bringing a child into the world, yet he didn’t.

Being someone that hasn’t had trouble conceiving (to date) my thoughts lately have been with those who have and reading a post that My Moosh (yes, she’s MINE all MINE!) wrote got me thinking even more.

As much as I want this pregnancy, I perceive myself as appearing FAR less then grateful. I have complained and whined and felt sorry for myself repeatedly when there are more then a few people would would do anything to have this morning sickness. They would gratefully hug The Porcelain God that Thank Him for this opportunity all the while I scoff at Him and curse Him to the depth of Hell.

I know this is my blog and I can feel what I want and shouldn’t have to apologize… blah…blah…blah….

No one put my up to this, no one guilted (yes, not a word, but is today) me into this. This is how I feel and and I have a right to share that I feel horrible and guilty even thinking about the fact that my harsh and blunt words could and may have been hurtful to someone that has had to try harder.

So for that I am truly sorry.

** Please don’t think that this is Casey’s doing. I’ve read other posts, but hers was the latest one that I’ve read and it really touched me because I consider her a great friend. Besides, the mere mention of morning sickness on this blog and traffic seems to disappear in a blink of an eye. **

Sundays are the hardest time to come up with something to write for me. I can sit here and read and analyze, but I can’t think of a damn thing to write. Fingers tapping on the keys, I just begin to spew out anything that comes to mind, then erase and try again.[That past sentence was written and re-written three times before I said fuck it, just write something already! ]

We try and typically spend our Sundays doing something family related; even if that means we’re all outside together while Mike cleans the gutters and I try to rake the backyard. At least it’s outside and away from the television and this computer.

So, instead of boring you with mundane weekend tasks, and my lack of photos lately; since I have been forgetting the camera a lot lately, we’ll just stop now and save you what brain cells you (or I) may have left.

Back outside, the leaves await.

It’s Wordpress’ fault not mine, or Britt’s. Wordpress screwed up this entry.

See exhibit B:

I really did enter it for Friday! I can count!

Now, back to your scheduled programming…

AQUA DOTS are pulled from the shelves…

Aqua Dots are dangerous?! What a surprise! Have you seen the commercial? I was horrified when I first saw these things; just wondering how safe they were and who the fuck thought that up!?

Here’s a tidbit for ya:Your mouth has saliva: saliva is WET.

The tiny dots stick together PERMANENTLY when they get wet.If that wasn’t a hazard enough… now they’ve actually recalled them over something entirely different?

…the term “industrial solvent” often is synonymous with “highly toxic.” The children who swallowed Aqua Dots vomited violently, went into a coma, and were hospitalized before recovering..

…In the body, the chemical forms gamma-hydroxy butyrate, an illegal date rape drug — so named because it was used to secretly induce a comalike state during which perpetrators raped their victims….

I could sit in an ivory tower and decide: Why yes! Let’s make a toy that looks like candy and then make sure it has DATE RAPE drugs in it! It’ll be a sure seller! Honestly. How do these people make it through the day?

Need I say more?

Seriously, what’s next?

Snow globes with cyanide? How about Operation? Now with a Real scalpel!

In my defense for missing yesterday’s NaBloPoMo post, I had it already and preset to post since I couldn’t be near a computer yesterday.

I enter this this into evidence…

I had preset it with help from the wonderful Miss Britt.

[Because *apparently* the directions for editing the time stamp where just too simple that I knew there had to be more to it all. Fuckin' Wordpress.]

I thought I had done everything right… except… Count. The. Days. Yeah, apparently I picked for Sunday instead of Friday. I created the post on Thursday… I don’t know how I could have miscounted.

I blame Britt. It’s better then admitting that I may have fucked up.

Does this mean I still failed NaBloPoMo?