First of all, I'm pretty sure today marks the one-year anniversary of my leap into the blogosphere, so, yay me! (Feel free to send gifts, etc.)
Secondly, I was just wondering if it is normal to feel wildly swinging emotions about the baby's impending arrival. For example, yesterday I had my thirty week check-up and was told that I am still not dilated and just have a big, squirmy baby who is making me very uncomfortable. (And also that I should be taking it easier, of course, and lying down more, blah blah blah. But the bigger and more uncomfortable I get and the closer the due date looms, the less I am able/inclined to take naps during the day.) Of course this made me happy- no bed rest, which is torturous to a person experiencing that biological drive to nest, and no three-day hospitalization to shoot up the baby's lungs with steroids or anything like we dealt with last time. This was excellent news.
And yet... I waddled to the door and thought, resentfully, "Holy crap! Ten more weeks of this. Ten weeks of more heartburn, more breaking out in a sweat every time I bend over, more not being able to see to shave my thighs. More tossing and turning at night with pillows wedged in every possible crevice, more contracting and more constantly having to pee and more puffiness. I can't wait for this to be over!"
Then the very same day, about an hour later, I was thinking of all the stuff I wanted to get done before the baby comes, and of how unwilling I am still to give up my alone time with Addy. Of how going out alone and getting a babysitter is going to require so much more effort now, and also of how I am dreading the days/weeks of postpartum weepiness and exhaustion. I thought, panic stricken, "Only ten more weeks! Two months! And that's assuming I go full-term. That is Not! Enough! Time!"
Friday, June 29, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Random Facts
Okay, Mommy Daisy tagged me for this meme, which is pretty simple- seven random facts or habits about myself which might be interesting. I'll try, but no promises on the interesting part.
1. I am a big nibbler. Like, if I make a cake or a pan of brownies or whatever, I'll just leave a fork right there in the baking dish and come around every hour or so and eat directly from the dish. Which means I end up eating probably a lot more than a serving size throughout the day. This is kind of sick, right? And germy, and also probably the reason why my thighs have lumps.
2. I have what borders on a fetish about dusting. Of all the undone household tasks which annoy me the most, it is layers of dust which will most depress me and make me feel like everything is coming apart at the seams. I know that this is irrational, as things like dishes and laundry and picking up toys and wiping up sticky kitchen tables are much more important to general household order than polishing the furniture, but there it is.
3. I went away to college for about two and half weeks, then returned to go to school in my hometown. Reason number one for this? My boyfriend still lived at home. Yes, I am a loser. Oh, and then after one semester at the local school, I dropped out and got married (to a different boyfriend) and started trying to get pregnant. This is not all that unusual, I realize, but I still find it hard to believe about myself. I used to truly and sincerely believe I would travel around and be a journalist or something, or a brilliant English professor, possibly at Oxford. Apparently my baby-making hormones had already claimed me for the duration of my twenties and there was little I could do to stop them.
4. I overpluck my eyebrows. I know that I do, but am powerless to stop myself once I get those tweezers in my hand.
5. I am obsessed with Jane Austen-period movies. These are not to be confused with the BOOKS actually written by Jane Austen; those I find boring and long on the descriptive paragraphs. But movies ADAPTED from her books- now, those are a different story altogether. My favorite is Sense and Sensibility, the one with Emma Thompson. I've probably seen it thirty times.
6. I went to a small private school in high school, uniforms and everything. My graduating class had twenty-four people. There were parts of this that were great, and also parts I hated.
7. I keep journals to both my children. I started doing this when I was pregnant with Addy. I try to write to them at least once a month (when it was just Addy, I did it more often) about what new things they're doing, what's going on in their lives, etc. And about how much I love them, of course.
Okay, now I was supposed to tag seven whole people to do this, but Addy is getting bored and cranky and needs to go down for a nap now and it will take me like ten minutes at least to think of and link to that many people (there, there's a bonus eighth random fact- I love blogging but am still painfully slow at even simple things.) So if you want to, tag yourself, and if you don't, don't!
1. I am a big nibbler. Like, if I make a cake or a pan of brownies or whatever, I'll just leave a fork right there in the baking dish and come around every hour or so and eat directly from the dish. Which means I end up eating probably a lot more than a serving size throughout the day. This is kind of sick, right? And germy, and also probably the reason why my thighs have lumps.
2. I have what borders on a fetish about dusting. Of all the undone household tasks which annoy me the most, it is layers of dust which will most depress me and make me feel like everything is coming apart at the seams. I know that this is irrational, as things like dishes and laundry and picking up toys and wiping up sticky kitchen tables are much more important to general household order than polishing the furniture, but there it is.
3. I went away to college for about two and half weeks, then returned to go to school in my hometown. Reason number one for this? My boyfriend still lived at home. Yes, I am a loser. Oh, and then after one semester at the local school, I dropped out and got married (to a different boyfriend) and started trying to get pregnant. This is not all that unusual, I realize, but I still find it hard to believe about myself. I used to truly and sincerely believe I would travel around and be a journalist or something, or a brilliant English professor, possibly at Oxford. Apparently my baby-making hormones had already claimed me for the duration of my twenties and there was little I could do to stop them.
4. I overpluck my eyebrows. I know that I do, but am powerless to stop myself once I get those tweezers in my hand.
5. I am obsessed with Jane Austen-period movies. These are not to be confused with the BOOKS actually written by Jane Austen; those I find boring and long on the descriptive paragraphs. But movies ADAPTED from her books- now, those are a different story altogether. My favorite is Sense and Sensibility, the one with Emma Thompson. I've probably seen it thirty times.
6. I went to a small private school in high school, uniforms and everything. My graduating class had twenty-four people. There were parts of this that were great, and also parts I hated.
7. I keep journals to both my children. I started doing this when I was pregnant with Addy. I try to write to them at least once a month (when it was just Addy, I did it more often) about what new things they're doing, what's going on in their lives, etc. And about how much I love them, of course.
Okay, now I was supposed to tag seven whole people to do this, but Addy is getting bored and cranky and needs to go down for a nap now and it will take me like ten minutes at least to think of and link to that many people (there, there's a bonus eighth random fact- I love blogging but am still painfully slow at even simple things.) So if you want to, tag yourself, and if you don't, don't!
Monday, June 25, 2007
Rise and Shine
It has been a long morning. I kind of went into it with a handicap, as I had to take my Vistaril last night and thus slept the heavy, crazy-dreaming kind of sleep that leaves me sluggish and bleary-eyed and cranky the next day. I heard Addy on the monitor around eight, chattering to her toys and flopping around on the bed, and listened, half-awake, for any signs of restlessness or discontent which would more urgently summon my presence. But before that happened, I heard through my haze the ominous turn of the doorknob and the pitter patter of feet down the hallway.
Yes, Addy has learned how to open doors. She's only done it a few times yet, but this morning was the true, inaugural achievement - she got it open on her first try, all casual and nonchalant, then padded around the house like, "Oh, I think I'll go out to the kitchen and start the coffee now, Mom, you want some?" My days of closing the door and knowing her to be safe are over. There is a gate across her doorway as well, but I'm thinking that isn't going to make for pleasant mornings if she manages to open the door only to find herself imprisoned yet again. We'll see.
So anyways, she comes in and jumps on me, and the smell of urine wakes me up in the way that only urine can. I got up and followed her down the hall, and from there it seemed to be just one power struggle after another.
I wanted to change her diaper before it soaked the living room carpet where she sat, but Addy wanted to run in circles around the house looking for Daddy. (Let me tell you, it's not easy to carry a furious, writhing toddler to her room and accomplish a diaper change while protecting your protruding abdomen from getting kicked. Quite the morning workout.) I wanted five minutes of peace in which to pee and brush my teeth, but she wanted to horrify me by uncapping my deodorant and rubbing it all over her face while I was on the toilet, and then celebrate by chewing on my toothbrush. I wanted to let the dog outside, Addy wanted to block my path to the door and cry hysterically- she seems unshakably convinced, despite no evidence to support her theory, that one of these mornings I am going to walk outside with the dog and never come back.
Then I wanted us to eat breakfast- bowl of Life and cup of juice for Addy, her favorite, and a couple of frozen waffles for me. Addy wanted to not her cereal and eat bites of my waffle while rubbing syrup into her hair. Then, while I'm standing at the sink trying to scrub last night's meatloaf out of the pan, I realize the dog sounds a little too happy and turn around to see Addy tossing soggy handfuls of cereal at him- and ON him. His hairy back was splattered with milk and partially dissolved Life, while he happily bathed the already none-too-clean floor with his gummy tongue. What followed was almost an hour of cleaning up Addy, the dog, the dirty spot on the floor, and then, because I realized there was no point in having one shiny clean spot when the rest of the floor was filthy, a full-on mop job.
Some days I just want to be one of those people who gets up- even if to a blaring alarm- and only takes care of their own needs for the first hour or so of their day. What must that be like? No child needing changed and fed and cleaned up and dressed, no dog whining piteously to go outside and then needing fresh food and water, no dishes or messes awaiting my attention. Just the bathroom, to be used when and for however long I like, and coffee, to be drunk while reading the paper or checking my email. Breakfast, to be eaten as soon as I get hungry rather than as soon as I get a chance. Showers to be taken and outfits to be deliberated over, makeup and hair products to be used without having them snatched from the counter and applied to the floor instead.
So I know, I know, we all love being mothers and wouldn't trade places with our single selves for a million dollars and all that- but what do you miss? What part of single life or childless life do you think of wistfully every now and then?
Yes, Addy has learned how to open doors. She's only done it a few times yet, but this morning was the true, inaugural achievement - she got it open on her first try, all casual and nonchalant, then padded around the house like, "Oh, I think I'll go out to the kitchen and start the coffee now, Mom, you want some?" My days of closing the door and knowing her to be safe are over. There is a gate across her doorway as well, but I'm thinking that isn't going to make for pleasant mornings if she manages to open the door only to find herself imprisoned yet again. We'll see.
So anyways, she comes in and jumps on me, and the smell of urine wakes me up in the way that only urine can. I got up and followed her down the hall, and from there it seemed to be just one power struggle after another.
I wanted to change her diaper before it soaked the living room carpet where she sat, but Addy wanted to run in circles around the house looking for Daddy. (Let me tell you, it's not easy to carry a furious, writhing toddler to her room and accomplish a diaper change while protecting your protruding abdomen from getting kicked. Quite the morning workout.) I wanted five minutes of peace in which to pee and brush my teeth, but she wanted to horrify me by uncapping my deodorant and rubbing it all over her face while I was on the toilet, and then celebrate by chewing on my toothbrush. I wanted to let the dog outside, Addy wanted to block my path to the door and cry hysterically- she seems unshakably convinced, despite no evidence to support her theory, that one of these mornings I am going to walk outside with the dog and never come back.
Then I wanted us to eat breakfast- bowl of Life and cup of juice for Addy, her favorite, and a couple of frozen waffles for me. Addy wanted to not her cereal and eat bites of my waffle while rubbing syrup into her hair. Then, while I'm standing at the sink trying to scrub last night's meatloaf out of the pan, I realize the dog sounds a little too happy and turn around to see Addy tossing soggy handfuls of cereal at him- and ON him. His hairy back was splattered with milk and partially dissolved Life, while he happily bathed the already none-too-clean floor with his gummy tongue. What followed was almost an hour of cleaning up Addy, the dog, the dirty spot on the floor, and then, because I realized there was no point in having one shiny clean spot when the rest of the floor was filthy, a full-on mop job.
Some days I just want to be one of those people who gets up- even if to a blaring alarm- and only takes care of their own needs for the first hour or so of their day. What must that be like? No child needing changed and fed and cleaned up and dressed, no dog whining piteously to go outside and then needing fresh food and water, no dishes or messes awaiting my attention. Just the bathroom, to be used when and for however long I like, and coffee, to be drunk while reading the paper or checking my email. Breakfast, to be eaten as soon as I get hungry rather than as soon as I get a chance. Showers to be taken and outfits to be deliberated over, makeup and hair products to be used without having them snatched from the counter and applied to the floor instead.
So I know, I know, we all love being mothers and wouldn't trade places with our single selves for a million dollars and all that- but what do you miss? What part of single life or childless life do you think of wistfully every now and then?
Friday, June 22, 2007
Verdict
Sorry I didn't update yesterday- I was busy SWIMMING at my water aerobics class! Because I am fine; there are no cervical changes and the doctor said just to take it easy and take a pill if I feel too many contractions, but otherwise life is normal! I was so relieved I about did a dance as soon as the door closed behind him.
Of course, we had to wait in a very crowded office for about an hour and a half to get this news, because as always, whenever Jim comes with me to an appointment, Dr. D is inevitably called away on a delivery. The appointment was right at lunch time, so I had eaten some cheese and crackers in the car on the way, but Jim also kindly brought me a raspberry smoothie to help hold me over. I was getting such jealous looks from all the other hungry pregnant women, I was a little nervous! Addy came along too, after a trip to McDonalds with my mom, and was very happy and well-behaved.
This is the polar opposite of how she was last time we had to bring her to an appointment, so that was a big relief as well. Sure, she was jumping up and down on the scale and making a bunch of noise. Yes, she was spinning the doctor's little stool crazily. She was also fascinated with my feet, propped in the stirrups, and insisted on standing between my legs and loudly "counting" my toes (two, free, two, two, five!) over and over again. But all these activities were preferably to crying or whining or pulling specimen jars out of the drawers.
So, thank you all for praying, crossing fingers, and generally well-wishing. It worked!
Of course, we had to wait in a very crowded office for about an hour and a half to get this news, because as always, whenever Jim comes with me to an appointment, Dr. D is inevitably called away on a delivery. The appointment was right at lunch time, so I had eaten some cheese and crackers in the car on the way, but Jim also kindly brought me a raspberry smoothie to help hold me over. I was getting such jealous looks from all the other hungry pregnant women, I was a little nervous! Addy came along too, after a trip to McDonalds with my mom, and was very happy and well-behaved.
This is the polar opposite of how she was last time we had to bring her to an appointment, so that was a big relief as well. Sure, she was jumping up and down on the scale and making a bunch of noise. Yes, she was spinning the doctor's little stool crazily. She was also fascinated with my feet, propped in the stirrups, and insisted on standing between my legs and loudly "counting" my toes (two, free, two, two, five!) over and over again. But all these activities were preferably to crying or whining or pulling specimen jars out of the drawers.
So, thank you all for praying, crossing fingers, and generally well-wishing. It worked!
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
To-MORROW! Tomorrow!
Is my next cervix check! Oh the joys! I have a feeling everything will be fine, I really do, but there is still the naggy little worry of BEDREST. Full blown, only-getting-up-to-pee bedrest. Everyone, pray for me, or meditate, or think good, positive thoughts or whatever you do! Because not only do I really want the baby to not come too early, I also, more selfishly, really want to go back to my water aerobics class. I can feel my stupid bad leg getting weaker by the day as I sit around doing nothing. I was finally getting somewhere with the rehab and then, boom. Banished from exercise. I need two functional knees to get around with two little kids, people, I just do. I see no way around it, short of having a pack horse follow me around to safely carry the babies while I limp gingerly ahead.
Anyways... I am otherwise in a happy mood this morning because my sister cleaned the whole house yesterday, more or less, and my MIL came over and folded some laundry and rescued Jim's terminally wrinkled work shirts that had been lying in a laundry basket for a day and a half. So I don't have to walk into the kitchen and see the sticky dirty floor and be stressed that I'm not allowed to mop it because, tada! It is no longer dirty or sticky. Also, it rained yesterday a few times, just for about ten minutes, but enough to give a flicker of hope to our brown, dying lawn.
AND yesterday I got a lot of work done on the crosstitch I'm doing for the new baby. I have only, to date, finished one other crosstitch, for Adelay, but I kind of enjoyed it, and now I feel it's only fair to do one for this baby, too. I'm doing one of Tigger. Originally I was doing Winnie the Pooh, but I realized a few hours into it that I had gotten all the colors mixed up, don't ask me how, and it was now beyond fixing. So I just started over on another one.
Next project: painting the baby's room. Not for me to actually do, of course, just to think about obsessively until someone else does it.
Anyways... I am otherwise in a happy mood this morning because my sister cleaned the whole house yesterday, more or less, and my MIL came over and folded some laundry and rescued Jim's terminally wrinkled work shirts that had been lying in a laundry basket for a day and a half. So I don't have to walk into the kitchen and see the sticky dirty floor and be stressed that I'm not allowed to mop it because, tada! It is no longer dirty or sticky. Also, it rained yesterday a few times, just for about ten minutes, but enough to give a flicker of hope to our brown, dying lawn.
AND yesterday I got a lot of work done on the crosstitch I'm doing for the new baby. I have only, to date, finished one other crosstitch, for Adelay, but I kind of enjoyed it, and now I feel it's only fair to do one for this baby, too. I'm doing one of Tigger. Originally I was doing Winnie the Pooh, but I realized a few hours into it that I had gotten all the colors mixed up, don't ask me how, and it was now beyond fixing. So I just started over on another one.
Next project: painting the baby's room. Not for me to actually do, of course, just to think about obsessively until someone else does it.
Monday, June 18, 2007
It Ain't Easy Being Two
So, I was reading Anna, Clara and Me today and I wanted to pass it on for discussion. I thought all of it, and especially this excerpt, was so right-on, so exactly what I'm always secretly thinking when I watch little kids play together and listen to their parents harp, with varying degrees of patience, about the merits of sharing and using their words.
I wonder, though. Maybe we — that is, I — ask too much from our kids.
I might sound like one of those parents people who always makes excuses for their children — "helicopter parents," I think they're called — but, whose emotions wouldn't be overwhelmed in a situation like that? Who wouldn't want to scream?
Right now I'm lying on the couch, typing on my laptop. If some Annoying Person bounded over and started typing on the laptop, too, how would I feel? Mad. Also shocked, brutalized, maybe out of control. I doubt I'd be polite.
Now take it a step further. Suppose Dan saw the whole thing and said, "Evonne, calm down and use your words. And, how about let's take turns? First Evonne can have the laptop for two minutes, and then Annoying Person can have it for two minutes. I'll set the timer."
At that point, I'd probably slam the laptop closed and stomp off.
I think we — that is, I — forget how bad childhood can feel sometimes. Oh, I know, I know, childhood is exuberant and magical and wonderful and great, but it can also be frustrating and irritating and scary and confusing and humiliating.
And being surrounded by kids — even if you're a kid, too — is part of the pain. Kids are vicious and intrusive. They're constantly grabbing things. No wonder Anna clutches her snack to her chest when we're in public. "Don't worry," I want to say. "No one wants your soggy mess of a stale pretzel." But in her reality, they do.
Is this not so true? It's so easy to hear a kid scream in anger when a younger child takes their toy and feel an urge to respond sharply- "Now hey, play nice, so and so's just a baby!" But really, isn't a two year pretty much a baby, too, in the scheme of things? So little impulse control- so little control over anything, really- but such huge curiosities and desires.
It is both a beautiful and heartbreaking thing to watch a toddler crash around, her emotions running the gamut from delight to devastation all before her morning bath. Towards Adelay I often feel both envy and pity in this regard. To feel so deeply about everything- how wonderful! I will muse. And also, how truly awful!
How does everyone else feel about the sharing thing? How do you handle toy/snack/attention disputes in your home, especially when happening between two relatively young children?
I wonder, though. Maybe we — that is, I — ask too much from our kids.
I might sound like one of those parents people who always makes excuses for their children — "helicopter parents," I think they're called — but, whose emotions wouldn't be overwhelmed in a situation like that? Who wouldn't want to scream?
Right now I'm lying on the couch, typing on my laptop. If some Annoying Person bounded over and started typing on the laptop, too, how would I feel? Mad. Also shocked, brutalized, maybe out of control. I doubt I'd be polite.
Now take it a step further. Suppose Dan saw the whole thing and said, "Evonne, calm down and use your words. And, how about let's take turns? First Evonne can have the laptop for two minutes, and then Annoying Person can have it for two minutes. I'll set the timer."
At that point, I'd probably slam the laptop closed and stomp off.
I think we — that is, I — forget how bad childhood can feel sometimes. Oh, I know, I know, childhood is exuberant and magical and wonderful and great, but it can also be frustrating and irritating and scary and confusing and humiliating.
And being surrounded by kids — even if you're a kid, too — is part of the pain. Kids are vicious and intrusive. They're constantly grabbing things. No wonder Anna clutches her snack to her chest when we're in public. "Don't worry," I want to say. "No one wants your soggy mess of a stale pretzel." But in her reality, they do.
Is this not so true? It's so easy to hear a kid scream in anger when a younger child takes their toy and feel an urge to respond sharply- "Now hey, play nice, so and so's just a baby!" But really, isn't a two year pretty much a baby, too, in the scheme of things? So little impulse control- so little control over anything, really- but such huge curiosities and desires.
It is both a beautiful and heartbreaking thing to watch a toddler crash around, her emotions running the gamut from delight to devastation all before her morning bath. Towards Adelay I often feel both envy and pity in this regard. To feel so deeply about everything- how wonderful! I will muse. And also, how truly awful!
How does everyone else feel about the sharing thing? How do you handle toy/snack/attention disputes in your home, especially when happening between two relatively young children?
Fun In The Sun
We're back from the water park, and all went well. Addy slept neither on the way there nor on the way back, but it was still pretty smooth sailing thanks to the DVD player. This handy device also saved us while we waited for our food to come during a late dinner on Saturday night. Yes, I am sick to death of all things Baby Einstein. But no, I am not nearly sick enough of them to forfeit the peace and quiet that ensues after one of those bad boys is popped into the portable player. Also, I like when Addy starts randomly signing along with Marlee Matlin- I can smugly think what a little genius we've produced.
We had a beautiful room, especially since we got a free last-minute upgrade to an even nicer suite. I kind of wanted to stay another night just to enjoy the garden tub with jacuzzi jets and the steam shower and the giant plasma TV and the hot tub on the balcony (well, I could only watch other people enjoy that, but whatever.) Who needs water slides and alcoholic beverages when I can lounge in the suite, with the cozy fireplace turned on AND the air cranked up, because, hey, I'm not paying for it, and watch channels we don't get?
It was definitely a kid place to be. There was actually not a real swimming pool with a deep end anywhere in the place, although it's still under phase two of construction, so I think there will be eventually. Right now it's purely kid heaven- three foot pools and sprinklers and giant slides and water basketball and all kinds of craziness, both indoors and out. But Addy had a blast, Jim and I enjoyed the lazy river, and everyone got some sun, so all in all a successful trip! Giant tummy and all!
Things seem okay on that front, by the way. I only needed my contraction medicine once while on the trip, so I think my assumption- that I would actually be more relaxed away from home- was correct. I probably walked a little more than I thought I would, 'cause the place was just so huge, but I didn't ride any rides or even do that much Addy watching. She mostly played with Daddy and the grandparents, and I laid around and got to watch barely dressed people in various states of physical fitness chase after their kids. There were so many cuddly little babies there, and of course most of them seemed to be boys, at least the ones I noticed. I wanted to go up to people and ask, "Please, ma'am, may I smell your tiny little baby for a minute?"
I think the only minor mishap to report from the weekend was that on the way home, at the exact second that Jim commented, "Wow, Addy was so good this whole trip!" she decided to upturn an entire box of Cheez-Its all over herself and the carseat. Beware, parents, of bragging about your good fortune! seemed to be the implication of this incident.
Hope you all had a good weekend as well. Happy Belated Father's Day!
We had a beautiful room, especially since we got a free last-minute upgrade to an even nicer suite. I kind of wanted to stay another night just to enjoy the garden tub with jacuzzi jets and the steam shower and the giant plasma TV and the hot tub on the balcony (well, I could only watch other people enjoy that, but whatever.) Who needs water slides and alcoholic beverages when I can lounge in the suite, with the cozy fireplace turned on AND the air cranked up, because, hey, I'm not paying for it, and watch channels we don't get?
It was definitely a kid place to be. There was actually not a real swimming pool with a deep end anywhere in the place, although it's still under phase two of construction, so I think there will be eventually. Right now it's purely kid heaven- three foot pools and sprinklers and giant slides and water basketball and all kinds of craziness, both indoors and out. But Addy had a blast, Jim and I enjoyed the lazy river, and everyone got some sun, so all in all a successful trip! Giant tummy and all!
Things seem okay on that front, by the way. I only needed my contraction medicine once while on the trip, so I think my assumption- that I would actually be more relaxed away from home- was correct. I probably walked a little more than I thought I would, 'cause the place was just so huge, but I didn't ride any rides or even do that much Addy watching. She mostly played with Daddy and the grandparents, and I laid around and got to watch barely dressed people in various states of physical fitness chase after their kids. There were so many cuddly little babies there, and of course most of them seemed to be boys, at least the ones I noticed. I wanted to go up to people and ask, "Please, ma'am, may I smell your tiny little baby for a minute?"
I think the only minor mishap to report from the weekend was that on the way home, at the exact second that Jim commented, "Wow, Addy was so good this whole trip!" she decided to upturn an entire box of Cheez-Its all over herself and the carseat. Beware, parents, of bragging about your good fortune! seemed to be the implication of this incident.
Hope you all had a good weekend as well. Happy Belated Father's Day!
Friday, June 15, 2007
Knocked Up and Knocked Out
Wow, so, these drugs are pretty potent. But then, drugs always seem to be especially potent in my nervous system. Pharmaceutical drugs, I should clarify. I took one tiny little 25mg tablet last night and was nearly incoherent with sleepiness by nine pm, despite having napped already that afternoon. And I slept soundly until nine this morning! Yikes. I still feel kind of dazed and disoriented, and now it's almost time to take another pill. I'm a little scared.
You remember that movie, "Father of the Bride, Part II"? Remember the scene where George (Steve Martin), exhausted from so many false labor alarms in the middle of the night, decides to take a sleeping pill from his crazy party planner/decorator, Franc (Martin Short)? And then two minutes later he falls face-first into his soup bowl? And you know how Franc says, "He took them BOTH? Two of those, it's like, 'Goodnight, George, see you next Thursday'!"
It kinda feels like that. Keep me away from the soup bowls.
You remember that movie, "Father of the Bride, Part II"? Remember the scene where George (Steve Martin), exhausted from so many false labor alarms in the middle of the night, decides to take a sleeping pill from his crazy party planner/decorator, Franc (Martin Short)? And then two minutes later he falls face-first into his soup bowl? And you know how Franc says, "He took them BOTH? Two of those, it's like, 'Goodnight, George, see you next Thursday'!"
It kinda feels like that. Keep me away from the soup bowls.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
0 Centimeters
Dilated. Yay me! Nonetheless, the contractions have been getting really strong the last few days, to the point of pain, whenever I attempt to do anything more physical than just walk around. Last night I put away three loads of laundry and was up until two with regular cramping. So at the appointment today, despite the good news of not being in "real" preterm labor, the doctor still was pretty stern about taking it really easy, no housework or lifting or anything, and I have a prescription for Vistaril to take whenever I feel contractions. I have to go back in a week to get checked again. He said if you have a history of preterm, you're more likely to go even sooner the next time, so he really wants to keep an eye on it.
This sort of bummed me out, because I had thought that as long as I wasn't dilating he was just going to shrug and say, "You'll have that with second pregnancies." But now I have to force myself to just sit around the house, getting up only to shower, pee, get myself and Adelay food, and change diapers. Oh, and CHASE ADDY AROUND THE HOUSE ALL DAY. Yeah... Still not sure how that's going to work. Poor kid, she's gonna have to be stuck in her play yard a lot more often now.
Still, I'm very relieved. I was so afraid I was going to be posting from the hospital today or something. I had visions of incubators in my head, and it seems that isn't imminent yet. So it's not as bad as it could have been at all. Except that for this week I can't do my water aerobics. The doctor said if I'm still not dilated next week I can maybe start it again and see how it goes. I was supposed to be there tonight, at this very moment in fact, and I am really pining for the cool water and the wonderful stretching and the great way my muscles feel afterwards.
I might get to be in the water this weekend, though in more of a "lying on a raft" capacity than going through a workout. My parents, sister, and Jim and Addy and I had all planned to go to a water park resort this weekend for Father's Day, and even though the doctor was all grumpy and frowny about it, I think we're still going. Because seriously, if I'm not on actual bedrest yet, then what's the difference between sitting around in the car and a hotel room and laying around my own house? If anything, I'll probably be tempted to do LESS work, since there will be all those people to help with Addy. I'll still take my pills, I definitely won't ride any crazy rides or go down the giant slides, and if I'm still cramping a lot, well, I'm sure that city has a hospital too!
Am I being a bad mother? Should I unquestioningly obey the doctor? I will now ask you in a sheepish whisper.
This sort of bummed me out, because I had thought that as long as I wasn't dilating he was just going to shrug and say, "You'll have that with second pregnancies." But now I have to force myself to just sit around the house, getting up only to shower, pee, get myself and Adelay food, and change diapers. Oh, and CHASE ADDY AROUND THE HOUSE ALL DAY. Yeah... Still not sure how that's going to work. Poor kid, she's gonna have to be stuck in her play yard a lot more often now.
Still, I'm very relieved. I was so afraid I was going to be posting from the hospital today or something. I had visions of incubators in my head, and it seems that isn't imminent yet. So it's not as bad as it could have been at all. Except that for this week I can't do my water aerobics. The doctor said if I'm still not dilated next week I can maybe start it again and see how it goes. I was supposed to be there tonight, at this very moment in fact, and I am really pining for the cool water and the wonderful stretching and the great way my muscles feel afterwards.
I might get to be in the water this weekend, though in more of a "lying on a raft" capacity than going through a workout. My parents, sister, and Jim and Addy and I had all planned to go to a water park resort this weekend for Father's Day, and even though the doctor was all grumpy and frowny about it, I think we're still going. Because seriously, if I'm not on actual bedrest yet, then what's the difference between sitting around in the car and a hotel room and laying around my own house? If anything, I'll probably be tempted to do LESS work, since there will be all those people to help with Addy. I'll still take my pills, I definitely won't ride any crazy rides or go down the giant slides, and if I'm still cramping a lot, well, I'm sure that city has a hospital too!
Am I being a bad mother? Should I unquestioningly obey the doctor? I will now ask you in a sheepish whisper.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Mommy Brain?
So I made a really special little social faux paus which I thought I would share with you all here, because I know you, Lisa, will particularly enjoy it!
So I'm at the Y the other night in the locker room, preparing for water aerobics with my friend Jess, when a woman I recognize comes in with her two girls and says "hi" to me. And I hit this giant mental blank and cannot for the life of me think of her name. But she has a haircut very similiar to a woman my husband works with, Lisa, and I know that Lisa has kids around these kids' ages, and so that is the name my mouth settled on blurting out. "Jess, this is Lisa from Jim's office," I introduced cheerily.
And realized an hour later that I know this woman from church, that she most definitely was NOT named Lisa nor related to Jim's office in any way, and now I feel like a complete moron. Does anyone have advise as to what to say to this woman when I see her next? Do I just pretend it never happened, and make a point of using her CORRECT name, or do I address the issue of my own awfulness and apologize?
So I'm at the Y the other night in the locker room, preparing for water aerobics with my friend Jess, when a woman I recognize comes in with her two girls and says "hi" to me. And I hit this giant mental blank and cannot for the life of me think of her name. But she has a haircut very similiar to a woman my husband works with, Lisa, and I know that Lisa has kids around these kids' ages, and so that is the name my mouth settled on blurting out. "Jess, this is Lisa from Jim's office," I introduced cheerily.
And realized an hour later that I know this woman from church, that she most definitely was NOT named Lisa nor related to Jim's office in any way, and now I feel like a complete moron. Does anyone have advise as to what to say to this woman when I see her next? Do I just pretend it never happened, and make a point of using her CORRECT name, or do I address the issue of my own awfulness and apologize?
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Perhaps We'll Name Him Braxton
As in, I'm having Braxton-Hicks contractions about a zillion times a day. Or perhaps they are not Braxton-Hicks contractions, ominously whispers the Debbie Downer who lurks in my brain. We'll find out on Thursday at the 28-wk. appointment, I guess. I am really hoping I'm not dilating or anything yet and get sentenced to bed rest, because we have trips planned! A nursery to paint! I still have things to cross off on my "Deep Cleaning Before Baby Comes" list! I'm not ready to be sidelined yet!
In no particular order, here are other random items of note:
1. I have good news from physical therapy. Today I was able to- hold on to your hats- put a basketball under my bad knee, and then lift my foot from the therapy table to full extension over the basketball! Which means I can complete this week of therapy, and then be finished, as long as I promise to keep up on my water aerobics class. Consider it done! Yay, me!
2. My anxiousness to be done with pregnancy is affecting my dream life. I keep having these vivid dreams of the baby's birth- first it was at home, and I delivered him myself. Last night I dreamed I had a C-section, then screamed at a nurse because she wasn't fast enough getting me my pain pills. I woke up from this dream panting and hoarse as though I had actually been yelling at someone. Scary. (Incidentally, in both dreams, the baby had a full head of dark hair, and was remarkably chubby for being two-three months early.)
3. My mom had a bunch of leftovers from my youngest sister's graduation party last weekend, so for the last three days, we have been enjoying delicious little petit fours (sp!?) And when I say we, I largely mean, I.
4. I looked for flat shoes for about an hour today and couldn't find any that met all of my requirements (not orthopedic looking, not expensive, wide enough not to pinch into the sides of my puffy swollen feet, slip-on style but not flip flops or open-backed tennis shoes.) So, I got a new bag instead, which made me even happier than shoes, because my previous purse was a giant canvas black hole with no organizational features, into which all sorts of crap disappeared, never to be found when needed. My new bag? It has FOUR separate compartments, and side pockets for phone and keys, and is red and cute and fits over my shoulder so that my hands are free. It's everything I ever dreamed of.
In no particular order, here are other random items of note:
1. I have good news from physical therapy. Today I was able to- hold on to your hats- put a basketball under my bad knee, and then lift my foot from the therapy table to full extension over the basketball! Which means I can complete this week of therapy, and then be finished, as long as I promise to keep up on my water aerobics class. Consider it done! Yay, me!
2. My anxiousness to be done with pregnancy is affecting my dream life. I keep having these vivid dreams of the baby's birth- first it was at home, and I delivered him myself. Last night I dreamed I had a C-section, then screamed at a nurse because she wasn't fast enough getting me my pain pills. I woke up from this dream panting and hoarse as though I had actually been yelling at someone. Scary. (Incidentally, in both dreams, the baby had a full head of dark hair, and was remarkably chubby for being two-three months early.)
3. My mom had a bunch of leftovers from my youngest sister's graduation party last weekend, so for the last three days, we have been enjoying delicious little petit fours (sp!?) And when I say we, I largely mean, I.
4. I looked for flat shoes for about an hour today and couldn't find any that met all of my requirements (not orthopedic looking, not expensive, wide enough not to pinch into the sides of my puffy swollen feet, slip-on style but not flip flops or open-backed tennis shoes.) So, I got a new bag instead, which made me even happier than shoes, because my previous purse was a giant canvas black hole with no organizational features, into which all sorts of crap disappeared, never to be found when needed. My new bag? It has FOUR separate compartments, and side pockets for phone and keys, and is red and cute and fits over my shoulder so that my hands are free. It's everything I ever dreamed of.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
My Hips Don't Lie
Jim and Adelay and I were in Cincy today for his brother's graduation (congratulations Brett!) where we endured the reading of fourteen hundred graduate's names, and where I officially became the Biggest Pain In The Neck Ever to bring along to a college commencement ceremony. Second maybe to Adelay, who had a meltdown of historic proportions, but that is a story for another time. Today's story is why my family must love me a lot not to have left me behind somewhere in the Fifth Third Stadium. Or not to have at least put a "Slow Moving Vehicle" or "Extra Wide Load" sign around my neck.
Now, the knee thing and the pregnant thing are not my fault, granted, but they do slow me down considerably. And slowing down is not what you're going for when you're in a crowd of ten thousand or so people and you're all trying to get good seats in the stadium and the only seats available are up like a zillion flights of cement steps. But for some reason I was just not thinking when I chose my footwear for this particular venture, because to add to my considerable handicaps, I wore these sandals that have a heel. A wobbly heel. Now, it's about a one and half inch heel, and back in the day that would not have phased me in the least, but that was then and this is now, my friends.
In order to keep up and get to the stadium in time, I eventually had to take the sandals off. I trotted after everyone in my bare feet down the hilly sidewalks and then limped oh-so-tediously up the endless stairs until my good leg was quivering and numb. And I repeated the barefoot escapade, garnering many an odd look, all the way back to the parking garage, hopping across the hot pavement as best I could.
So what does this have to do with hips? Well, after bearing all of my (substantial) weight up and down many, many stairs and up and down many, many hills, my left leg and hip (that's the good side) had pains shooting up and down it with every step for the rest of the day. I was wincing and wheezing and clodding along like a... I don't even know. I have never felt so ungainly and burdensome. If our little family unit had been on National Geographic, I would have been the weak, sickly one that the hyenas would have gone for first. They would have separated me from the rest of the herd and gone for the jugular.
All of this to say, I am more determined than ever not to slack off on the physical therapy. I have GOT to get this knee back to normal so I can take stairs at a reasonable speed again!
Also: I have GOT to stick to flats for the rest of the pregnancy! And maybe for forever!
Now, the knee thing and the pregnant thing are not my fault, granted, but they do slow me down considerably. And slowing down is not what you're going for when you're in a crowd of ten thousand or so people and you're all trying to get good seats in the stadium and the only seats available are up like a zillion flights of cement steps. But for some reason I was just not thinking when I chose my footwear for this particular venture, because to add to my considerable handicaps, I wore these sandals that have a heel. A wobbly heel. Now, it's about a one and half inch heel, and back in the day that would not have phased me in the least, but that was then and this is now, my friends.
In order to keep up and get to the stadium in time, I eventually had to take the sandals off. I trotted after everyone in my bare feet down the hilly sidewalks and then limped oh-so-tediously up the endless stairs until my good leg was quivering and numb. And I repeated the barefoot escapade, garnering many an odd look, all the way back to the parking garage, hopping across the hot pavement as best I could.
So what does this have to do with hips? Well, after bearing all of my (substantial) weight up and down many, many stairs and up and down many, many hills, my left leg and hip (that's the good side) had pains shooting up and down it with every step for the rest of the day. I was wincing and wheezing and clodding along like a... I don't even know. I have never felt so ungainly and burdensome. If our little family unit had been on National Geographic, I would have been the weak, sickly one that the hyenas would have gone for first. They would have separated me from the rest of the herd and gone for the jugular.
All of this to say, I am more determined than ever not to slack off on the physical therapy. I have GOT to get this knee back to normal so I can take stairs at a reasonable speed again!
Also: I have GOT to stick to flats for the rest of the pregnancy! And maybe for forever!
Friday, June 08, 2007
Three More Months
To the day until my due date. Notice how I did not say, "Or maybe two more months," mentally anticipating another eight month pregnancy, because that would just be inappropriate, right? Unmotherly, even. All these 5K-ers for the March of Dimes, trying their darndest to prevent early births, and here I am secretly wishing for one just a little early. Like, three weeks or so. Yes, that is definitely unmotherly. So here's me, lifting my glass of Mylanta to A Full Forty Weeks of This Crap! Bring it on!
I am not glowing today. I am a grumpy pregnant lady. I had my first prenatal water aerobics class last night, which I have really been looking forward to, and for the first half it was great. And then we hit the deep end, and as soon as I got chest deep in the water, the heartburn rose up in me until I actually had to go back to the shallow end and take deep breaths while everyone else kicked around on their noodles gaily. I had not eaten or drunk anything but water for four hours prior to the class in anticipation of potential heartburn, and I still got it! The instructor suggested I bring antacids to the class from now on, and also offered this cheerful pearl of wisdom: "Your baby must have a lot of hair!" What the...?
I am also grumpy because when I woke up today, I was so puffy I actually thought my rings might have to be surgically removed from my body. This, after I have been raving to everyone about how the water aerobics really kept me from retaining water during my last pregnancy. So much for that.
Two of the women in the class are due in about three weeks, and were excitedly talking about how much they're effaced, how low the baby's head is, and how they're sure it will be any day now and THANK GOD because they couldn't possibly take another day of being pregnant in this heat! I did my squats and kicks obediently and silently fumed at the knowledge of my own summer-long sentence. Whoops, I mean, gestational period.
I also found what I think is the beginning of a varicose vein on my inner calf yesterday. We won't even talk about that. Nor about how my week-by-week pregnancy book says that if I've been "eating plenty" I should have gained between sixteen and twenty-two pounds by now, and I have in fact gained... More than that. We also won't discuss how I have broken out in itchy and distinctly unattractive little red bumps all over my chest and belly. I assume it's a heat rash. Or LEPROSY.
We will talk instead about another baby name! Because thinking of names reminds me that there is in fact a tiny delicious little baby at the end of this summer, hot and miserable though it might be, and that I am not just suffering from some chronic disease characterized by incurable discomfort and excessive gas.
So the name is... Camden. Or Kamden. Not sure which spelling I like best yet. Anyone a fan? Or not? And don't forget to tell me if it goes with Addy's name, because for some reason this seems very important to me.
I am not glowing today. I am a grumpy pregnant lady. I had my first prenatal water aerobics class last night, which I have really been looking forward to, and for the first half it was great. And then we hit the deep end, and as soon as I got chest deep in the water, the heartburn rose up in me until I actually had to go back to the shallow end and take deep breaths while everyone else kicked around on their noodles gaily. I had not eaten or drunk anything but water for four hours prior to the class in anticipation of potential heartburn, and I still got it! The instructor suggested I bring antacids to the class from now on, and also offered this cheerful pearl of wisdom: "Your baby must have a lot of hair!" What the...?
I am also grumpy because when I woke up today, I was so puffy I actually thought my rings might have to be surgically removed from my body. This, after I have been raving to everyone about how the water aerobics really kept me from retaining water during my last pregnancy. So much for that.
Two of the women in the class are due in about three weeks, and were excitedly talking about how much they're effaced, how low the baby's head is, and how they're sure it will be any day now and THANK GOD because they couldn't possibly take another day of being pregnant in this heat! I did my squats and kicks obediently and silently fumed at the knowledge of my own summer-long sentence. Whoops, I mean, gestational period.
I also found what I think is the beginning of a varicose vein on my inner calf yesterday. We won't even talk about that. Nor about how my week-by-week pregnancy book says that if I've been "eating plenty" I should have gained between sixteen and twenty-two pounds by now, and I have in fact gained... More than that. We also won't discuss how I have broken out in itchy and distinctly unattractive little red bumps all over my chest and belly. I assume it's a heat rash. Or LEPROSY.
We will talk instead about another baby name! Because thinking of names reminds me that there is in fact a tiny delicious little baby at the end of this summer, hot and miserable though it might be, and that I am not just suffering from some chronic disease characterized by incurable discomfort and excessive gas.
So the name is... Camden. Or Kamden. Not sure which spelling I like best yet. Anyone a fan? Or not? And don't forget to tell me if it goes with Addy's name, because for some reason this seems very important to me.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Blood Sugar and Name Question
So the gestational diabetes screening was this morning, and I discovered they have three gross sugary pretend sodas to choose from now! I went with lime, and it was MUCH better than that orange crap I had to drink last time. I got the usual hyper little buzz from all that glucose on an empty stomach, while the baby danced a little jig all over my uterus, and then a nice slow sugar crash, all while sitting in a quiet waiting room reading Glamour. Actually, not a horrible way to spend the morning. I did have to spend all day eating and resting to feel normal again, of course, which sucked. My pregnant self is so dependent on food at regular intervals that skipping one meal makes me feel like a lethargic slug the rest of the day.
So, that's literally the only thing of note that I did today-eat and lay around. Luckily, Addy was extra sleepy (I think she has a mild cold) and napped for about four hours today. FOUR HOURS, people. Blissful. And while she napped, I thought of a question for all you commenters out there.
So I know we have the previous name list: Landon, Bennet, Clayton, Larson, and... What else? My brain is a little fuzzy. But can we also add this one? Grady. Thumbs up or down? Let me know!
So, that's literally the only thing of note that I did today-eat and lay around. Luckily, Addy was extra sleepy (I think she has a mild cold) and napped for about four hours today. FOUR HOURS, people. Blissful. And while she napped, I thought of a question for all you commenters out there.
So I know we have the previous name list: Landon, Bennet, Clayton, Larson, and... What else? My brain is a little fuzzy. But can we also add this one? Grady. Thumbs up or down? Let me know!
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Rehab Is Kicking My Butt
Basically the title could be the entire post, just add some further whining and sweating and huffing and puffing and a pathetic, put-out look on my face. I actually enjoy the time to myself, kind of, and also the way that my therapy appointments fill the day and get Addy and I out of the house at least for awhile. But it's getting really hard! Today was gorgeous, breezy and not hot at all for once, and I was all energetic and had plans to do tons of stuff around the house today. But after rehab and grocery shopping, I felt like I needed to ice the knee and lay on the couch the rest of the day!
I probably should have, too, but got caught up putting away groceries and then checking the dryer and then so on. So I did do SOME stuff, but I definitely wasn't as productive as I had planned on being. Oh well. At least my leg is strong enough that I don't feel like such an invalid anymore. The bad side of this is that I haven't been wearing my brace as much, which I really should just as a precaution. I will kick myself if I forget about it one day and then fall again while doing some mundane little chore- did I mention that last time I fell while taking the trash out to the garage?
In other news, baby boy has moved from breech to completely sideways in my belly. When I lay on my side in bed, I can feel the kicks and stretches on both sides of my stomach simultaneously. It's such a strange feeling! But at least he's getting turned a little. Hopefully he'll be head down soon. I've also been having tons of Braxton-Hicks contractions lately, so I'm really hoping that won't be the prelude to anything more serious like it was last time. I'm kind of dreading my 28-week appointment. I'm afraid I'll go in and they'll ask about the contractions as always, and I'll say, "Oh, yeah, I'm having some," and then in comes Dr. D to do a check and announce that I'm dilating and must be on bedrest for the next eight weeks. But! Must think positive. I've heard early contractions are much more frequent in second and subsequent pregnancies than in first, so I'm sure that's all it is!
Here's a quick question for all you pregnant and recently pregnant people: Did you, or do you, get horrible headaches? It seems like the last few weeks I wake up with a sharp headache every single morning, and it sticks around on and off all day long. I'm drinking plenty of water and I've tried Tylenol, but it's not really helping. Any suggestions?
I probably should have, too, but got caught up putting away groceries and then checking the dryer and then so on. So I did do SOME stuff, but I definitely wasn't as productive as I had planned on being. Oh well. At least my leg is strong enough that I don't feel like such an invalid anymore. The bad side of this is that I haven't been wearing my brace as much, which I really should just as a precaution. I will kick myself if I forget about it one day and then fall again while doing some mundane little chore- did I mention that last time I fell while taking the trash out to the garage?
In other news, baby boy has moved from breech to completely sideways in my belly. When I lay on my side in bed, I can feel the kicks and stretches on both sides of my stomach simultaneously. It's such a strange feeling! But at least he's getting turned a little. Hopefully he'll be head down soon. I've also been having tons of Braxton-Hicks contractions lately, so I'm really hoping that won't be the prelude to anything more serious like it was last time. I'm kind of dreading my 28-week appointment. I'm afraid I'll go in and they'll ask about the contractions as always, and I'll say, "Oh, yeah, I'm having some," and then in comes Dr. D to do a check and announce that I'm dilating and must be on bedrest for the next eight weeks. But! Must think positive. I've heard early contractions are much more frequent in second and subsequent pregnancies than in first, so I'm sure that's all it is!
Here's a quick question for all you pregnant and recently pregnant people: Did you, or do you, get horrible headaches? It seems like the last few weeks I wake up with a sharp headache every single morning, and it sticks around on and off all day long. I'm drinking plenty of water and I've tried Tylenol, but it's not really helping. Any suggestions?
Monday, June 04, 2007
Moody
You know how sometimes you'll be walking through a store or a restaurant or something with your child, and some kindly older person will insist on pinching your kid's cheeks or patting their head? This I can actually take. But the worst is when they look up at you with those watery, earnest eyes and instruct urgently, "Remember these times! Cherish them! They fly by so quickly..." And they will be so sincere and so insistent that you just know they must either be suffering from mild dementia, or have never actually lived with a young child themselves. Otherwise, how to explain it?
Whenever I see another mother of a toddler, I feel empathy for her first and foremost, not a burning desire to go remind her that these formative years are crucial and that she must not for one second forget it! If anything, I would approach her slowly so as not to startle her, offer a caffeinated beverage, and say, "Boy, it's a good thing they're so cute, huh? 'Cause otherwise, we might as well be the wardens at some zoo and actually get paid."
Hmm, is it obvious that it's been one of those days? I can't even remember all the actual irritants that have driven me to this point, I just know that at the moment I am unspeakably tired, have heartburn and a headache, and am sore all over from literally wrestling with a twenty-three pound will of iron all morning.
I suppose we screwed her schedule up big time yesterday by trying to attend a graduation ceremony during what should have been her naptime. And believe me, I paid dearly for it. But I figured after her long late afternoon nap and then a good night's sleep that she would be back to normal. Not so. She woke up this morning all fiery, jumping out of bed and running to the door before I could even give her a good morning kiss or change her diaper.
She crashed around the house for awhile, then I finally got her in her seat for breakfast. Which was Cheez-Its, the only box in the cupboard that received anything but a violent shake of the head when offered. Then we went for a morning walk, which was actually fine except for the stupid dog, who insists on marking his territory every five steps. But it was a bit of an ordeal just to get both of us dressed and out the door, me with my knee brace on and cell phone in my pocket, and her with her sippy cup and bowl of crackers and toy, and the dog with his leash, and then I had to get the stroller out of the garage and... So on. There's so much more motivation to go for a walk if all you have to do is put on your shoes and go.
So anyways, we got back to the house around nine thirty, the dog in a frenzy from all the neighborhood dogs and squirrels. I was all itchy and annoyed from the knee brace, and also I of course had a pounding headache, my new constant companion whenever I'm doing anything but lying down. As soon as I get out of bed in the morning it starts, sharp in my temples, and continues on and off all day. Tylenol doesn't really help, nor does extra water or any of the usual remedies other than lying in a dark room sleeping.
After about an hour of trying to make it go away on the couch while Addy ran around the house and played, I finally gave up and put her in her room with the monitor on, then went to my own room to lie down for awhile in the silence. It was blissful... For about five minutes, and then I heard a bang and a second later a wail. I jumped up, sending the headache into full gear again, and ran to see what was wrong. I couldn't tell what had happened, but Addy stood pitifully in the middle of the room, her lip trembling. I assume she had dropped a toy or something, who knows. I scooped her up, as she was still whimpering, and carried her to my room with me. She cuddled in bed and drank her milk while I rested for a few minutes, but then got bored and began to play with the portable DVD player which I have set up next to my side of the bed.
I was in that foggy, all-I-want-is-sleep phase by now, and I could hear her pushing buttons but lacked the will to do anything about it. Finally, she of course stopped the movie that was playing, and then got all frustrated and began hitting buttons like a maniac and yelping angrily. So I had to drag myself up again, turn the whole thing off, and literally carry her, kicking and screaming, out of the room.
I decided maybe lunch would help, or at least a snack. I put some tater tots in the oven, then put her in her play yard with a granola bar and some milk while I checked my email. This went okay, although lots of that granola bar went to the dog. But when I tried to serve lunch!! You would have thought I was serving up a nice bowl of anthrax. I tried to give it to her at the table, then in her play yard, then at the table again. I actually couldn't even get her into the seat, she was yelling and twisting so violently.
I thought I might be losing it, what with the headache and the tired and the heartburn, which had begun as soon as I took a bite of my own tater tots. "Ni-night time?" I finally suggested brightly, and probably a little crazily. "You need a ba-ba and a ni-night?"
Apparently so, although I had to carry her kicking and screaming to her bed because I cruelly refused to let her pull ALL the bottles, sippy cups, and lids out of the drawer to take to bed with her. But when I finally got her into the bed and the bottle hit her mouth, she was done for, and fell asleep almost instantly. Thank God.
I'm pretty sure somebody else wrote about this recently, too, but it always amazes and ashames me how much my perception of Addy's behavior is colored by my own mood. If I'm feeling well and have energy, I can pretty much cope with whatever she throws my way and not get bent out of shape. If I'm tired and cranky and hot and have heartburn, the slightest deviation from her normal, happy self confounds me and sends me into an irritable frenzy. Well, maybe not a frenzy. But I definitely don't think clearly and positively. I am not Nanny Jo. My voice starts to sound sharp and naggy and ragged, and I can feel my forehead knotting into a permanent furrow. I get frazzled and want to call time-out so I can go take a nap and escape from the situation. This makes me feel weak and selfish, for not being a better grown-up. I mean, if the kid's in a bad mood and the mom's in a bad mood, somebody has to step back, right? Take one for the team, suck it up, etc. And I'm thinking it's supposed to be the adult.
At least she's taking a nap, now, so I can just hit publish and then go to take one, too. I will contemplate being a better, happier mom just as soon as I wake up...
Whenever I see another mother of a toddler, I feel empathy for her first and foremost, not a burning desire to go remind her that these formative years are crucial and that she must not for one second forget it! If anything, I would approach her slowly so as not to startle her, offer a caffeinated beverage, and say, "Boy, it's a good thing they're so cute, huh? 'Cause otherwise, we might as well be the wardens at some zoo and actually get paid."
Hmm, is it obvious that it's been one of those days? I can't even remember all the actual irritants that have driven me to this point, I just know that at the moment I am unspeakably tired, have heartburn and a headache, and am sore all over from literally wrestling with a twenty-three pound will of iron all morning.
I suppose we screwed her schedule up big time yesterday by trying to attend a graduation ceremony during what should have been her naptime. And believe me, I paid dearly for it. But I figured after her long late afternoon nap and then a good night's sleep that she would be back to normal. Not so. She woke up this morning all fiery, jumping out of bed and running to the door before I could even give her a good morning kiss or change her diaper.
She crashed around the house for awhile, then I finally got her in her seat for breakfast. Which was Cheez-Its, the only box in the cupboard that received anything but a violent shake of the head when offered. Then we went for a morning walk, which was actually fine except for the stupid dog, who insists on marking his territory every five steps. But it was a bit of an ordeal just to get both of us dressed and out the door, me with my knee brace on and cell phone in my pocket, and her with her sippy cup and bowl of crackers and toy, and the dog with his leash, and then I had to get the stroller out of the garage and... So on. There's so much more motivation to go for a walk if all you have to do is put on your shoes and go.
So anyways, we got back to the house around nine thirty, the dog in a frenzy from all the neighborhood dogs and squirrels. I was all itchy and annoyed from the knee brace, and also I of course had a pounding headache, my new constant companion whenever I'm doing anything but lying down. As soon as I get out of bed in the morning it starts, sharp in my temples, and continues on and off all day. Tylenol doesn't really help, nor does extra water or any of the usual remedies other than lying in a dark room sleeping.
After about an hour of trying to make it go away on the couch while Addy ran around the house and played, I finally gave up and put her in her room with the monitor on, then went to my own room to lie down for awhile in the silence. It was blissful... For about five minutes, and then I heard a bang and a second later a wail. I jumped up, sending the headache into full gear again, and ran to see what was wrong. I couldn't tell what had happened, but Addy stood pitifully in the middle of the room, her lip trembling. I assume she had dropped a toy or something, who knows. I scooped her up, as she was still whimpering, and carried her to my room with me. She cuddled in bed and drank her milk while I rested for a few minutes, but then got bored and began to play with the portable DVD player which I have set up next to my side of the bed.
I was in that foggy, all-I-want-is-sleep phase by now, and I could hear her pushing buttons but lacked the will to do anything about it. Finally, she of course stopped the movie that was playing, and then got all frustrated and began hitting buttons like a maniac and yelping angrily. So I had to drag myself up again, turn the whole thing off, and literally carry her, kicking and screaming, out of the room.
I decided maybe lunch would help, or at least a snack. I put some tater tots in the oven, then put her in her play yard with a granola bar and some milk while I checked my email. This went okay, although lots of that granola bar went to the dog. But when I tried to serve lunch!! You would have thought I was serving up a nice bowl of anthrax. I tried to give it to her at the table, then in her play yard, then at the table again. I actually couldn't even get her into the seat, she was yelling and twisting so violently.
I thought I might be losing it, what with the headache and the tired and the heartburn, which had begun as soon as I took a bite of my own tater tots. "Ni-night time?" I finally suggested brightly, and probably a little crazily. "You need a ba-ba and a ni-night?"
Apparently so, although I had to carry her kicking and screaming to her bed because I cruelly refused to let her pull ALL the bottles, sippy cups, and lids out of the drawer to take to bed with her. But when I finally got her into the bed and the bottle hit her mouth, she was done for, and fell asleep almost instantly. Thank God.
I'm pretty sure somebody else wrote about this recently, too, but it always amazes and ashames me how much my perception of Addy's behavior is colored by my own mood. If I'm feeling well and have energy, I can pretty much cope with whatever she throws my way and not get bent out of shape. If I'm tired and cranky and hot and have heartburn, the slightest deviation from her normal, happy self confounds me and sends me into an irritable frenzy. Well, maybe not a frenzy. But I definitely don't think clearly and positively. I am not Nanny Jo. My voice starts to sound sharp and naggy and ragged, and I can feel my forehead knotting into a permanent furrow. I get frazzled and want to call time-out so I can go take a nap and escape from the situation. This makes me feel weak and selfish, for not being a better grown-up. I mean, if the kid's in a bad mood and the mom's in a bad mood, somebody has to step back, right? Take one for the team, suck it up, etc. And I'm thinking it's supposed to be the adult.
At least she's taking a nap, now, so I can just hit publish and then go to take one, too. I will contemplate being a better, happier mom just as soon as I wake up...
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Henry Is Here!
Oh, oh, my heart! I'm dying of the sweetness! I can smell the newborn smell! Because Swistle's baby is here! Right here! Look at that lip pucker... He's like a gorgeous little doll.
Congratulations, Swistle!
Congratulations, Swistle!
Saturday, June 02, 2007
The Best Birth Control Advocate Ever
So you know that new movie out, Knocked Up? Totally hilarious, but let me just warn you now: If you are going to be giving birth relatively soon, or, you know, EVER, maybe be prepared to cover your eyes and ears towards the end. 'Cause HOLY CRAP! I actually didn't view my own child's birth in as graphic of detail as this actress's pretend birthing scene was shown to me on the big screen last night. There was your usual yelling and cursing and writhing in pain and all that, but there was also a pleasant moment in which the baby's heart rate drops and the OB shoves his hand between the girl's legs and digs around quite deeply for awhile while she cringes in pain. Afterward he explains ever so coolly that the cord was wrapped around the baby's neck and he was just "loosening" it. Um, okay...
And then there's the actual birth, which features the actress, who has foregone drugs, shrieking, "Oh my God, I feel everything, I feel EVERYTHING!" I was literally squirming in my seat, remembering that distinct and panicked sensation of HEAD!, and realizing afresh what is in my not-too-distant future. Then, before I could calm down and remember that I was watching fiction, there appeared, not once but three times, the lovely image of a real woman's vagina with a baby's head crowning through it! Gaaaaa!!! I didn't even ask for a mirror when I was giving birth because I was slightly afraid that the grossness of what was happening to my girly bits would distract me from the actual miracle at hand. So what happens? A year and a half later, I get to see what happened to my girly bits via the magic of cinema!
I still thought the movie was fun, though- definitely not one for the kiddies, however. Although, maybe go ahead and encourage your teenagers to attend, preferably with their current romantic interest. I can almost guarantee you that there will be no premarital sex happening for at least a few days after the viewing of that movie! In fact, as we were leaving, I noticed there were still a few shell-shocked adolescents who remained frozen to their seats, valiantly avoiding eye contact with one another. Ah, young love...
And then there's the actual birth, which features the actress, who has foregone drugs, shrieking, "Oh my God, I feel everything, I feel EVERYTHING!" I was literally squirming in my seat, remembering that distinct and panicked sensation of HEAD!, and realizing afresh what is in my not-too-distant future. Then, before I could calm down and remember that I was watching fiction, there appeared, not once but three times, the lovely image of a real woman's vagina with a baby's head crowning through it! Gaaaaa!!! I didn't even ask for a mirror when I was giving birth because I was slightly afraid that the grossness of what was happening to my girly bits would distract me from the actual miracle at hand. So what happens? A year and a half later, I get to see what happened to my girly bits via the magic of cinema!
I still thought the movie was fun, though- definitely not one for the kiddies, however. Although, maybe go ahead and encourage your teenagers to attend, preferably with their current romantic interest. I can almost guarantee you that there will be no premarital sex happening for at least a few days after the viewing of that movie! In fact, as we were leaving, I noticed there were still a few shell-shocked adolescents who remained frozen to their seats, valiantly avoiding eye contact with one another. Ah, young love...
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