AND now would be a good time to bring some uplifting material and metaphysical goodies into my realm!
It's Monday and I STILL don't like Mondays - even though it's another gorgeous day, the sun is shining, we're fed, clothed and housed, with loving, caring people in our lives!
(What is it I'm bitching about, again?)!...
It's just a morning of weary, wary heaviness as I'm so aware the next step needs to be taken soon, and I don't know where/what it will be yet...
So many of us are feeling this...
So much to do, I have done/can/am willing to do...
And the (metaphorical) harvest is late - all of that activity, energy, commitment hasn't brought in anything we can live off, at least in the "traditional" sense...
The only thing that comes to mind is that we - individually and collectively - are in the middle of a long, hard birthing process, the outcome of which - a safe, healthy, delivery - is not yet assured...
AND in the grand scheme of LIFE, there is no right/wrong, good/bad about what will emerge from the birth canal...
The only thing that is true is that we can't go back...
In the meantime, just as in labour, we have to go with the process because we have no control...
We can't stop it, or make it go faster without endangering mother and child...
You've bags under your eyes
You've got boobs to your knees
Your hand's full of poo and your bra's full of cheese
Your stomach is bloated your clothes do not fit
He still wants sex while you feel like shit
He begs for this favour not long after labour
It's like eating a meal after you've just been sick
And the boys at the office tell him I should give him what he wants
To this I say that they're a bunch of lalalalalalala
You bastard you cocked up it's you got me knocked up
Just cos you want me to have bigger tits
You're pleading, you're pining
Oh please stop your whining
You're not getting sex 'til the kid's 26
You say you want another child, another pregnancy
When you can poo a watermelon I'll agree
I could have been someone if you just hadn't come (along)
If I hadn't been so drunk and I'd said maybe
We'd be going out and stuff, now there's forceps up my chuff
Pulling the head of a screaming 10lb baby
And the mums on Hornby Island* say keep breast feeding 'til they're four
If I do I won't have nipples anymore
And all the doctors told me that I'd need a stitch or ten
I say sew me up so I can't do this again.
*an island nearby with a reputation for being very wholesome!