I’m due to give birth any minute. I’m tired. I’ve been on modified bedrest for forever. I’m sick of being in this house. I’m sick of being unable to nest. And I’m sick of being hungry all the time.

It’s Wednesday. My husband works late Wednesday. And he and my oldest go to church. I don’t go because well pregnant and there isn’t anything for our youngest kid. It’s not usually a big deal. I meal plan all week and have leftover for us at home. My oldest kid eats at church.

But I haven’t been anywhere but doctors and hospitals and being exhausted and caring for everything as best I can. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t eat the last of the leftovers. I wanted a chocolate shake and an Arby’s sandwich.

So when my son went to church, I grabbed my little and in my pjs got in our car. I wouldn’t get out. I’d just drive through the drive through. I don’t like happy meals but dang it, I can’t care. I can’t cook and I want a chocolate shake. Nobody would see me.

So I walk out and of course our neighbor and deacon from church isn’t at church, he’s at the end of my drive chewing the fat with our other neighbor. Both old men. I’m in my pjs. I don’t think I’ve ever, as a grown adult, gone anywhere in my pjs. I’m wearing a shirt that is too small bc I’m ready to pop.

Can’t care.

I went to two different drive through and ordered whatever I wanted. Heartburn be screwed.

My little barely touched his happy meal. But now he’s cuddled in my arms watching choochoos. We try not to watch too much tv.

I can’t care right now about the mess, dishes, the toys. Or even the tv time. Any day I’ll have a new baby so I’m snuggling my one year old while I can.

These days I don’t feel like a great mom. I know my husband is coming home to a wreck. But sometimes you have to just say screw it and eat fast food and watch cartoons.