Has anyone ever told you that showing your house with a toddler is some kind of crazy torture? And that the black and white tile floor in your kitchen that you thought looked so nice when you picked it might make you want to pull your hair out when said toddler manages to throw every piece of food and drink all over it and you are forced to mop it all the time? Or that the planets have to align properly for you to get out of the house for a showing without said toddler undoing all the picking up you just did so the house would be clean enough for another person come look at it and tell you your house is too small? Someone should tell you that.

Has anyone ever told you that selling the house you bought in 2004 for anything that won't make you want to choke on your own tongue will be virtually impossible? So you probably won't look at houses because you don't think that you will be able to sell your house and you don't want to find anything you like because you won't be able to have it? So you have to start thinking of alternate plans so you don't have to put your new baby to sleep in the bathtub because there isn't any room for him or her anywhere else? Someone should tell you that.

Has anyone ever told you that maybe you will get an offer on your house and maybe it won't be so horrible that you could actually accept it? Except you can't really get your hopes up because who knows if it is so "good" of an offer that it won't appraise and you will be right back to square one? But if you are not back to square one, you are going to be closing on your house on March 31, which is like a month from now, and you haven't been looking at houses because, you know, you aren't going to be able to sell your house. Someone should tell you that.

Has anyone ever told you that your "forever" house doesn't exist in your price range and you probably won't be able to stay in the town you love? And that if you can't find a house that you want to buy in a month, that you are going have to pack up your pregnant self, your toddler, your husband, your cat and your house full of stuff (which is surprisingly a lot considering how "small" your house is) and go live with your in-laws, who are kind enough to take your homeless butts in off the street? And that the thought of packing up everything you own when you are pregnant is enough to make you want to cut off your own fingers in case the "pregnancy card" isn't strong enough to get you out of it? Someone should tell you that.

Someone should also be kind enough to tell you that your husband will want to kill you for months on end because he has no idea how stressful all of the above can be on you when you are otherwise occupied growing another life.

The preceding pregnant rant was brought to you by the letter H for HORMONES.

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