It's been a while since I've written about my assistant, Catherina, and it's time for an update.

Because I'm of a certain age ... so conserving of my energy ... a mom to two little ones, work at home and have a big house in the back of beyond in the bush in Seychelles, I both deserve and need someone to help me around the house, with the kids and to run errands. We hired Catherina back in October, not knowing that she was pregnant at the time.

She's now very close to eight months pregnant, so really round. The little boy inside her is as active as a fetus of that age can be .... bouncing as much as room allows ... and she's feeling well.

Although I've suggested she simply drop the baby while vacuuming, then resume getting the floors clean, she doesn't appear to be too hot on the idea. (This is, OF COURSE, a joke, just in case any new readers think ill of me.)

I've been through the birthing books with her and our coaching sessions on breathing and relaxing exercises is going well. She seems comfortable with what's coming up, not unduly nervous or frightened, and is finally beginning to talk about the baby as a real person.

That's the up-side.

Now the less-than-up-side.

She's madder than heck.

A conversation yesterday gave a peek into just how angry she is about her state of affairs. Keeping in mind that she's young ... her 19th birthday is later this month ... some frustration at the conditions life has served up for her is understandable, but the level is a bit worrying.

"God never gives me what I want!" she complained bitterly. "I planned my whole life out when I was 12, and NOTHING has gone the way I planned it.

"I didn't want to be pregnant until I was twenty-five, then when I found myself pregnant, I wanted a girl.

"Now I'm eighteen and having a boy! It's just not fair!"

This was followed by a long rendition of other things 'not fair', such as the fact that her boyfriend has an eight-month old son by another girl (this did not come as a surprise, as she's known about "Stan" all along ... all very common here in Seychelles), she hates being 'fat', her cell phone isn't working and she can't go to Mass because there's no toilet in the church and she has to pee every five minutes.

Sigh ...

I thought about pointing out the good things ... a healthy baby growing well, her own health and strength, the fact that they have a house to live in and food to eat and that for a teenage pregnant girl in an African country, which this is, none of those plusses are anything to sneeze at, plus she has someone to do their laundry (me) and help with the baby when he comes (also me), ... but she was in no mood to look on the bright side.

I'm hoping this is a hormone/teenage one-two punch and by the time the baby comes she will have cheered up a bit. In the meantime ... well, we're being less picky about the state of things around here. Don't want to upset the preggo, you know.

For some background on how I got myself into this situation, you can read earlier posts here, here, and here.