Can you hear that?

Sometimes I wonder if the Biscuit can hear what I am thinking. I hope not because if so, I need to start that therapy fund now. I can just hear it now...

"My parents called me biscuit."
"My mom referred to me as alien-like."
"When I was lime-size my mom would throw up a lot and blame me."
"My mom would think to herself, and sometimes say outloud, that she didn't like being pregnant. What the hell is that about?"

I know, I suck. But let's be honest, is there a person on the PLANET who would enjoy vomiting daily for over a month? August is proving to be just as retching as July was and I don't know of a single person who would sign up for this...but yet, in a way I did.

Despite all the whining, I really do want to be a mom...ok, lately I am questioning even that if I can't handle the damn vomiting with a little bit of grace and dignity. But my point is, I am a little disappointed in myself and I hope the Biscuit can't hear that.

I thought I would handle this better. I am not sure I am really handling it at all. I have spent the last two nights sobbing as I am puking because I am doubting my ability to be a good mom. Sure drawing that line between my ability to handle constant vomiting and childrearing is a stretch, but who said I was rational right now?

Maybe I need therapy? ha!

Today I feel: pleased because I rode the exercise bike for a bit. Nothing like I used to but moving felt good.