The Facade Is Working

I had a gentleman at work approach me in the break room and tell me how impressed he is with me. I don’t seem exhausted and am pretty put together, you know, even though I’m gigantic, pregnant and that my home has been ripped up and non-functioning for the past six weeks.

I take this to mean that my façade is working in the office. The fact that I manage to walk through those doors looking somewhat put together on a daily basis is a miracle that only survival can explain. The mere fact that I haven’t snapped once at the office full of smart-ass guys I work with is purely self-preservation. And the fact that I haven’t shed a single tear at work is beyond me.

You see, the tears are reserved for Friday evenings, when we're all exhausted from the regular workweek, when I can’t fathom how we’re going to make it through another weekend filled with plans. The incoherent pregnant mood swing madness is reserved for silliest, inexplicable times like yelling at Jake about why he was standing behind the bathroom door hanging up his robe. And the exhaustion rears its ugly head on Wednesdays and Sundays when Jake  is away and Gwyneth and I are left to our own devices.

Life is hard right now and there’s no way to pussyfoot around it.

We did receive good news this week and can finally begin the process of renovating our kitchen. But this also means another month (!) of waiting for things to get ordered, and then maybe just maybe construction can begin while I'm still employed. Yes, I realize this will all be super awesome in the end, we'll get a new kitchen we never dreamed we'd have and be better off than we were before. But for now, for the last six weeks and for the next four, it sucks. Just plain sucks, because when it rains it pours and sometimes you just have to put on your galoshes and trudge through the puddles, while crying big giant pregnant tears.

While I count down the days and struggle to find balance in this chaos that is our current life, I can at least find solace that I can put on a good show for the office. Because being complimented on how I’m not a crazed pregnant woman is of course a compliment and not at all offensive, right?