The Queen and the Crazy Fat Bitch

I've been trying to get my children to take it easy on me, just for these last few weeks of my pregnancy. It's for their own good, really. I don't want the crazy fat bitch terrorizing them anymore than they do. And while I can see the light at the end of this looooooooooong tunnel, I am also at the end of my rope.

Entirely unlike my usual self, I am impatient, intolerant, and irritable, to say the least. And while I am riddled with guilt over not having to super human strength it takes to be super mom to three little ones, I am done trying for the next few weeks.

A friend suggested that I ask my children to treat me like a queen now. I knew it wouldn't be quite that easy, but I make a heartfelt plea to my darling children:

Me: "I just need you to take it easy on me now, to be gentle with me. Try to remember that I am very big and uncomfortable and I have an actual little baby inside of me who often feels like she's trying to kick her way out of me. Keep in mind that it's very, very hard to bend down, and it would be very helpful if you would not leave a trail of your stuff everywhere you go. Try to pick up after yourselves so that I don't have to do it all day long. And then, if you pick up your own stuff, maybe you won't have to come to me a million times a day to ask me where everything you want or need is when you want or need it.

And when you do want or need something a millions times a day, perhaps you could ask your dad, rather than walking right past him and searching the entire house for me just to make me do it. He can do most things almost as well as I can.

Or, maybe you could even try doing some things for yourselves once in a blue moon. Perhaps you could move an item or two and look around a little when you can't find your mitten, boots, book, toy, shirt, homework, brother, sister...........!

It would be nice if you could try not to fight with each other too because the whining and blood curdling schreeches kind of make me feel like my head is going to explode.

Maybe, on the rare occasion that I ask you to do or get something for me, you could do it without the dreaded MOMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYY! and the angry foot stomping.

If you could try not to follow me into the bathroom every single time I have to hide, I mean use the bathroom, that would be nice. That twenty seconds of alone time would be very useful right now.

And finally (for now), if you could please remember that I am very fragile right now, and please not run at me full speed when I'm not looking and fling your little body into me just because you "love mommy sooooo much!", that would probably curb my urge to want to body slam you. A gentle hug would be very nice (if you insist on touching me at all).

Basically, just treat me like a Queen right now, ya know, like I've been doing for you every single day of your lives?"

Madeline: "But Mommy, I'm just going to look at you and see that you are CLEARLY
NOT a Queen."

CLEARLY, I'll just have to suck it up a bit longer.