My Preschooler, His Tantrums, And My Lower Back

Do you have small children? I'm sure you either do, or you have had them, or you know what I mean when I say that N is going through that stage. You know, right? The one where your child is convinced that he or she can get you to understand that they need that chocolate chip cookie by throwing themselves wholeheartedly at the floor in tears of rage and anger? It's super awesome. N tantrums about fifteen hundred times a day now.

Some days I handle it better than others, but most days in which P and I are both at home, I manage to handle it better because I think seeing P's anger at the tantrums calms my own.

Unfortunately, this means that my darling son inevitably wants me to hold him and comfort him and carry him. This was fine when I was non-pregnant me. I could easily carry him even at thirty five or so pounds. Sure, he got a little heavy, but I'd just adjust him a bit and keep powering through.

Now, however? Oh, my back. And, frankly, people are trying to convince me that at twenty plus weeks, it's probably not the smartest thing to be hauling that much weight up onto my hip. I'll admit that when his face is quivering and his arms are reaching, it is so hard to say no to him though.

Did any of you start to have lower back pain this early in your pregnancy? I'm a little past twenty-three weeks and it feels like I've already started to waddle like a fat penguin and my back feels like someone has punched it.

Also, now, when I sleep, I occasionally get that damned round ligament pain. And when I walk more than five feet, I get a stitch in my right side. Oh, pregnancy, you're miserable. Have I started to glow yet? If so, that would be the constant sweat that is streaming from my pores. I'm sure Halloween trick or treating will be delightful tomorrow as I walk from door to door and give up five doors later. (To those who are not aware, I love holidays in the same way children do, wholeheartedly and excitedly and lovingly. For me not to trick or treat the whole time with N is basically my admission of defeat to this baby. You win, tiny baby. You win.)

But, to end this all off on a slightly humorous note, I dreamed that I had my baby slightly prematurely the other day. It was a girl in my dream and I remember being super blasé about the whole deal -- having the baby, seeing the baby. And I remember in my dream worrying that my pregnancy had ruined my enjoyment of the baby. Then, I was looking and looking at the baby and finally said to myself, "This baby is a girl!" In my dream, I turned to P, and said, "You need to stay here at the hospital with our baby. I have to go buy her a super cute going home outfit from the mall!" I totally abandoned my infant and husband to go get cute clothing for a baby girl. I'm going to be the most awesome mom ever, right?