Thank God I know how to swim

I'm not going to beat around the bush here, the truth is, I'm struggling these days.
It always seems to come in waves -- those times when life just seems so overwhelming and barely manageable -- and the waves almost always knock me down and leave me crawling back to my beach towel, covered in sand and a sour taste of salt water in my mouth. On the upside of this metaphor that got away from me, at least I'm still on the beach, basking in the sunlight.
The truth is, I'd love to really be in my metaphor, preferably with some sort of alcoholic drink in hand, but instead, I'm sitting here at my desk, which I am growing increasingly bitter towards with each passing day.
My office mailbox is more and more frequently containing letters of gloom and doom, informing me of the latest cuts our company is making due to the increasing difficulty the newspaper industry is facing. Then, a ray of hope appeared inside one of those gloom and doom letters a few weeks ago. The letter was searching for people to volunteer to cut back their hours a bit to help "The Company" out with their financial woes and to prevent potential layoffs. I jumped at this opportunity, because cutting back my hours by two days/week would mean I would be able to stay home with Olivia (and baby #2 when he arrives) for two days per week and take her out of day care, where she seems to be picking up more germs than I can personally handle at this point. But I'll get to that in a minute. Currently, Olivia spends part of her week with my awesome mom, who I am eternally indebted to at this point (even more than I was before) and a couple days at day care. The cost of day care for two days for Olivia is just shy of $100 per week. When the new baby enters day care, he will cost a little more than that for two days. That equals $200 per week for just two days in day care and that equals about two days' work for me salary wise. SO, it occurred to me that instead of working to pay day care for two days, if they would give me the option, why not simply stay home and not have to pay day care at all for those two days? I'd break even and I'd be MUCH happier. So, I submitted a proposal. They have yet to approve it and every day they give me no news, I grow more and more agitated.
So there's that.
Then there's my baby girl, who is finally getting over yet another bout of her latest illness: High Feveritis. Really it was some sort of virus that caused her temp to spike up to nearly 105 (104.8 at it's highest check) and stay there for about three days. Meds helped some, lowering it to around 102 or so, but it was scary and miserable and we haven't been getting much sleep as a result of it. Also, when we are awake, we (and by we I mostly mean Olivia) has been whiney, clingy and miserable, not unlike her daddy when he gets sick, which he coincidentally is, as well, since he allows Olivia to give him sloppy baby kisses. I tell him that her saliva is dangerous, but he does not heed my warnings.
And then there's me, pregnant, oh so very pregnant these days, tired, oh so very tired, and just clinging to that ounce of energy I'm mustering up, mostly in the form of my measly cup of coffee in the morning.
I'm slacking on way more than blogging these days, I've got a to-do list 8 miles long.

On the bright side, I won a brand-new, hands-free, top-of-the-line Medela breastpump, their Cadillac of breastpumps that costs about $400 via random drawing. This is sad that a breastpump is what gets me excited these days, I realize this, but what can I say? I never win anything, first of all, and more important, I won't have to lug around my old gigantic pump to work every day anymore, because this one is tiny and fits in the palm of my hand! I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm actually looking forward to pumping breastmilk! Well, maybe I won't go that far. But I am very excited.

While I am completely overwhelmed and tired these days, I'm also so thankful for my daughter and this little guy in my belly (who's seriously working on his dancing moves these days in my uterus) because they are keeping me going.

They are keeping me on that beach, soaking in those warm, wonderful rays, filled with gratitude, even though those waves keep on coming. They are the reason I can keep on swimming and not sink like a rock.

(My beach metaphor just reminded me of this one hilarious beach trip I took in high school with my friends, when I was skinny and able to pull off a teeny bikini, and we were all in the ocean...I dove through a wave in my bikini and stood straight up for all the world to see me, not realizing I'd lost the top of of my suit somewhere in the drink. I finally realized I was topless and managed to find my suit floating nearby, but the damage had been done on that day at that crowded beach in Ocean City, New Jersey.)