I’m feeling a lot better it seems. A couple of days ago, we cleaned the whole house from top to bottom. Today, I cleaned up the house, did some laundry, wrapped some gifts, and started in on cleaning out Joseph’s toys. I actually think that perhaps I am over the hump. I feel a lot better. I’m so happy about that. I hated feeling the way I was.

Next week comes the Santa trip. Joseph shows no fear of anyone, so this shouldn’t be a problem.

Christmas gifts are almost done. That feels good. Next week we will be getting our tree. We might actually need to put the gifts out on Christmas eve, since Joseph is a little too excited about the whole unwrapping thing. How he remembers this from last Christmas (which was his first) I don’t know, but he knows what to do. A little too well.

I’ve nothing much to report. I feel much better, and that’s the big news. Both physically and mentally. I’m 17 weeks into the pregnancy. This one feels different from Joseph. Some of the problems I had with him are not existant, but I have other uncomfortable things going on. So, it’s true what they say… Every pregnancy is different. I still don’t know how I’m going to manage two kids, but some people have 10 and no nanny – I figure I’ll survive.

So, the holidays are coming up. We have a little money for gifts, which is a good thing. I’m giving the grandparents framed pictures that they don’t have, so they’re taken care of. Joseph’s easy, since he’s so young. Right now, my problem is Jay. He asked for completely boring things. Like new underwear and workboots. Please. I have to get him something more interesting than that. And I can’t think of a THING. A thing. Hmph.

We’re going to visit Jay’s parents for the New Year. Yipee. Hey, at least I’m invited this time. This should be interesting. I have no idea how it’s going to go. You see, I’ll be on (ahem) their turf. I’ll either have a really interesting story when I get back, or a terribly boring one.

My mother actually was going to take my (I’ll repeat, MY) son to have his first visit with Santa Claus. Without me. Her reply, when I said I wanted to do that myself… Well, I could always take him a second time. A huh. You really think so? I don’t.

I’m really having a problem around the house. I can’t seem to get my butt moving in order to get anything done. At all. It’s affecting my morale.

I can’t believe that it has taken me this long to write again. Well, here I am. The truth is, I’ve been fighting depression. Jay and I both think that it’s the pregnancy hormones. But, I’m feeling better for more days in a row, so that’s a start. On the pregnancy front, I’m now out of the morning sickness phase, though there are still rough spots. I’m 4 months (16 weeks) along now. And the big news is, I don’t have gestational diabetes! That was a big problem with Joseph. They’re going to test me again in about 10 weeks, but so far, blood sugar is perfect.

I still haven’t found a job. I don’t even want to discuss that since I’m so discusted with it.

Good news: we will have a little money for Christmas! I went to my old job for a couple of days a weeks for the last month and a half. So, we have a little extra money. Good thing too – if I hadn’t, there would be no gifts, no tree even. But that has changed!

I found something called Flylady.net. It’s helping me get my act together as a stay-at-home-mom, as far as housework and things goes. I’m very excited about that. Although I’m still not doing too great at it. I think that was the depression acting out, but I seem to be doing better now.

That’s all I have to say. Really though, I’m living a boring life. Perhaps if I were to write more, I could write more about different things I’m feeling, instead of huge chunks of time, where all I have to write about is monumentous occassions. Which, lets be honest, doesn’t happen a lot in my life.

Well. There is a reason I haven’t been writing.

If you guess correctly, Yup ladies and gentlemen, Michele is indeed pregnant.

9 weeks. I’m feeling sick 24 hours a day, which is why I haven’t been writing. I’ve been pretty much vegging. I just had my first prenatal appointment. We’re doing things a little differently, this time. I’m going to a midwife. I’ll be giving birth in a hospital, and I will also be seeing a regular MD, but I had such an awful experience the first time around, that I decided to make some real decisions for myself this time.

I loved our midwife clinic. Plus, there’s some little things that make me feel better about the whole thing. For example, I don’t check in during my appointment. I just walk right into the back, take my own weight, take my own urine test, analyze the results (very easy), and report it to the midwife when I’m examined. Why is this such a big deal to me?? It makes me feel like I’m actually trusted with my own body. I’m not “sick” in need of being “healed”. It’s not a “sterile” environment. I’m not in need of being poked and prodded, and measured, and then told I pass muster. Or what’s worse, being told I DON’T pass. I can bring Joseph, and he’s allowed to run around and explored. When he walked into the office to say “hi” at the top of his lungs and then ran off, right in the middle of my surgical history, the midwife simply stopped and said, “I love boys, they’re great”, and then continued where we left off.

This was a good choice.

In other news, I’m still trying to find an at-home job. It’s not looking promising. Any ideas are helpful.

I’ll try to write more, I promise. ‘Course the key word there is TRY.

I have a jumble of thoughts in my head, and I’m having trouble sorting them out. For one thing, I’ve been sick. Really sick with a terrible cold for the last week. I think I’m just now starting to get better. However, Joseph just started showing signs of a cold now. So, I’ve been seeing most of the attack footage and stuff through a haze from cold medicine (and lots of it), tissue, and a stuffed up head.

For one thing, this is just terrible. I mean it’s just a terrible, terrible, terrible, heinous, monstrous thing. I feel such a sorrow for those people who lost their loved ones. I feel even more sorrow for those people who don’t know yet about their loved ones. Yes, they have a shred of hope, but let’s be realistic. It’s going to be most of the lost who are dead. And when you think about it, are they ever going to be able to find closure through a funeral service? I know it’s a terribly morbid thought, but are they going to be able to find enough to make identifications for burial? Those are the people I feel most srrow for.

I feel violated by a lot of things. By the fact that someone could do this. By the fact that we let them (unintentially). By the media coverage cramming this down my throat 24/7. By my need to see these images over and over again. Perhaps, I’m subconsiously trying to numb myself to it.

I feel the need to retaliate, knowing that I will have nothing to do with retaliation.

I feel that I need to keep living as I always have. If we don’t, what kind of life would we have?

On another subject, although somewhat related, my husband’s birthday is Tuesday. The one week anniversary of this awful act. I had plans to take my husband to Medieval Times, someplace he’s wanted to go to for years, for a birthday party. I still plan on taking him. And I feel guilty. Why should we be feasting and making merry while these poor people are trying to find their loved ones. But then again, what could be a better celebration of life, than to celebrate the birth of the most important person in my life?

I know that there aren’t any real answers to the questions that I have right now. And I’m worried that any retaliation efforts made on our part will lead to an all out WWIII. But I can’t stop my life because of this. I can’t stop the joy, because that’s what life is – trying to balance the sorrow with the joy. I think I shouldn’t feel guilty, because I haven’t done anything wrong. But somehow, I do. Somehow, I feel like I should have been more effected by this.