Enjoy the (Very Temporary) Silence
The sound of a little voice playing Pet Shop and occasionally breaking into an Adele song is gone. The Disney laugh track has been replaced with Fox News. This morning, I ate my breakfast alone.
Last night, I read “The Night Before Kindergarten” to my Sassy. I barely made it through the book without crying. She told me she was nervous but excited too. Yesterday morning, as she crawled in bed with me for one last morning together before her school year started, she started to cry and told me she was worried about me. “Who’s going to take care of you when I’m at school?” she said through tears. That’s my Sassy, the little 5-year old who insisted on carrying the cooler to and from our spot at the pool last week because she insisted that I shouldn’t be carrying heavy things.
For the past almost 6 years, Sassy has been my at-home buddy. If I’m folding laundry, she’s usually helping me. She begs me to let her help put clothes away. If I’m cooking, she’s dragging a chair out to the counter to get up and help me crack eggs and stir batter. There is no doubt I am going to miss my little helper and my little grocery shopping buddy.
This morning, Sassy had eaten her breakfast and was dressed in about 15 minutes flat. Clearly, she was excited. She told me she was nervous but did so with a smile on her face. She is so excited to be a big kid and to be going off on the bus with her big sister. We took pictures and made our way to the bus stop.
It was there that she started holding my hand and standing really super close to me. I kept bending over and assuring her that she was going to have a great day and that she would love it. Big I and her friend promised me they’d look out for her on the bus; and then the bus was pulling up.
I gave her one last squeeze and told her “good luck.” I stood in the street and snapped a quick picture of her getting on the bus. She was all smiles. I’m hoping she will be the same when she gets off the bus today. It’s such a very long day and I already miss her like crazy.
I have to admit that it was definitely easier putting her on the bus than it was with Big I many years ago. Knowing you are sending your little one off with an older sibling really helps ease the nerves a bit. That doesn’t mean I didn’t have to put my sunglasses on and sniff back the tears until the bus doors closed. But knowing that Sassy’s big sister will see her at lunch and ride with her on the bus certainly does help.
Today I’m going to grocery shop, clean and go to my midwife appointment solo, for the first time in a very long time. Soon I’ll have another little buddy to keep me company. I thought I might enjoy the break; so far though? I’m not.
Facebook is Trying to Kill My Blog and So Are YOU
I don’t sleep much anymore. When I’m not waking up with contractions or waking up because my bladder is being used as a trampoline, I’m just hanging out in bed, staring at the wall and praying sleep will come. This is my body preparing for the huge sleep deficit I’ll soon be dealing with on a regular basis. I’m such a grumpy person when I don’t get enough rest; and I’m older this time around with more responsibility (two kids to get off to school each morning, starting next week!!!) so I can only imagine the fun my entire family is in for in the coming weeks and months.
One would think, with all this non-sleeping time, that I’d have plenty of time and desire to write here. But that hasn’t been the case.
I was thinking about why it’s been so difficult for me to write here lately and there are a couple reasons that I came up with that seem to make sense, besides that crazy foot fetish person creeping me out.
First, Facebook has made a pre-meditated attempt to kill my blog. Why write an entire post when one can take a picture with a phone, upload and leave a little comment and be done with it? Why say in paragraphs what can be said and shown in only a sentence and broadcasted to all the other Facebook addicts? It’s just a whole lot easier. And once it already lives on Facebook, then what’s the point of saying it here, in many more words when people are as strapped for time as I am? I realize this isn’t the case with everyone. I had a visit with a friend the other day who asked me what was up with me not writing so much anymore. I couldn’t really explain it all; but there’s more to it than just Facebook killing it.
When everyone, and your mother, reads your blog, it can be stifling and writer’s block inducing. If you scroll back through posts from years ago, you’ll find that some of my best were rants about annoying or stupid people. I’m good at those rants; but when everyone you know is reading your blog, it’s kind of difficult to write about anything controversial or potentially upsetting to another person. People who know you talk, misconstrue things and make trouble. It’s a fact of life. I’m always jealous of those bloggers who do such a great job self-promoting. I waver somewhere between the wanting to be completely anonymous and wanting to be a rock star blogger. I liked the anonymity that writing a blog used to give me. I will never forget the day that I found out that some of my karate friends had found my blog and were, GASP, reading it!!!! I came home from the dojo and instantly started analyzing every post I had ever written. Did I write anything that someone could find offensive or inappropriate? To this day, I still feel myself blushing and getting paranoid when someone new tells me they’ve been reading my blog. How do you write about that monster of a child who enters your own child’s life only to make it hell when her mother reads your blog? (You’re all wondering if I’m talking about you now, aren’t you? See, next time I see you, it’s going to be awkward.)
In one respect, I’m completely flattered that my friends, neighbors and family members read my blog. I want more readers. I want more subscribers. I’d like to turn my blog into a conglomerate “Pioneer Woman” style. But then, I don’t write about food and the ranch. I write about life in general and sometimes I can be a bit snarky. And don’t even try to lie about it; that’s why most of you like me anyway!
A couple months ago, I went through a ton of drama in my life. Some of it is still on-going. Suffice it to say that there are a couple people who hate my guts because of it; and they happen to be the same people who have been duped by the true culprits in the whole situation. I wanted to write about it and scream out the truth to everyone about what truly happened. I’m a “shoots straight from the hip” kind of person, but I agreed to a certain confidentiality (that others seemed to forget about instantly) and have kept my mouth shut. It made my life unpleasant. To write about it would have been a great relief to me. Perhaps that’s part of the reason why I stopped writing, because it’s like trying to ignore the elephant in the room. When you know there’s one thing you can’t write about, somehow it’s the only thing you do want to write about. Therefore, you write nothing.
Since then, I’ve done a good job of eliminating unnecessary stress from my life (people too); but let’s be honest. . . when the karate blogger stops attending karate classes and gets pregnant, she’s really just a Mommy blogger and that is one blogging area that is beyond saturated.
I’m going to try to get back to writing more. Since I haven’t been able to kick things or people, I clearly need some kind of release and a place to express myself. Perhaps I should worry less about what other people think about what I say and just put it all out there. Regardless of what I decide to write about, the truth is that in less than six weeks, I’m be giving birth, and clearly, given that you hung on my every word during my three knee surgeries and tales of constipation, you’re all going to want the gruesome details of that right?
I mean clearly, you’d be crazy not to. . .
7 Weeks and 2 Days to Go. . . Not that I’m Counting
Despite the smile, I am beyond tired of being pregnant.
32 weeks and change
After surviving the summer swimming season with heat waves galore, I figured the end of the summer would be fairly easy to tolerate. Maybe I’m just whiny, old or a combination of the two, but the constant stretching pains in the rib area are getting a bit annoying and my back is really hurting if I spend any length of time standing. I was talking to a friend the other day who said she always felt like her babies hung out “near the emergency exit” and that is very true of me this time around. When you can push on the little butt that is hanging out near your rib cage and you feel a head butt in the bladder, it’s cool in one way but also starts to make you feel like you could be the next Sigourney Weaver. Where’s my spaceship? And no, you can’t touch my belly unless I invite you to touch my unborn baby’s butt. Back off, no seriously.
Don’t get me wrong. This part of pregnancy is neat in so many ways. My stomach is changing shape almost constantly. I feel the little guy get ridiculously strong hiccups at least three times a day. Last night, I told Mr. BBM I was fairly certain he had discovered my hip bones because it truly felt like he was poking at them and pushing at them from the inside out. He is so present in my world already and I’m getting really excited to meet him. I’m just not so excited about having to go through the actual labor part again.
When I was in labor with Sassy, I hit a point where I looked at Mr. BBM and told him, “Now I remember. It’s all coming back to me.” It’s funny how new baby cries wipe away the remembrance of transition during labor and allow you to get pregnant all over again. Lately though, the nerves about going through it again are rising up to attack me. The other night, I had a horrible dream that I had to have a C-section. I know that plenty of people have them and that some people even request them, but having a C-section is my biggest personal nightmare. In my dream, they didn’t have time to put up the drapes so I spent the whole time, strapped to the table, staring beyond my forehead trying not to look. I woke up from the dream crying and sweating. The birth center where I go has a C-section rate of less than 10%, so my stress about this issue is really unnecessary; but you can’t help going there when you’re approaching the end of pregnancy.
Tomorrow, I have another midwife appointment and they will be doing another blood draw to find out if drinking liquid nails has brought my iron levels up to a point where I can truly start packing for and planning for an out-of-hospital birth. The extra loads of little laundry have already started. 51 days to go. . .
The Best Parents Ever
One of the serious negatives about being pregnant and anemic at the same time is that it is sometimes very difficult to find energy to do much of anything. I’m not much of a sitting around type of girl, but lately, that’s about the only thing I’m capable of comfortably doing. Thanks to a healthy infusion of green leafy vegetables, edamame and more red meat than you can find at your local butcher, I started feeling a little better this week; but there are still moments when lifting my arms is just way too intense. Mr. BBM did bring home a nice big bottle of Floradix for me last night. If you’re not familiar, it’s basically a bottle of liquid iron. It says it has lots of fruit juice in it to hide the nastiness, but it tastes like something a vampire would very much enjoy. Imagine having about five teeth knocked out at once to a gush of blood and throw in a chaser of rusty nails. . . it actually tastes worse than that. You should also avoid taking it in the evenings; I found out the hard way last night. The last thing you want to do after taking a shot of that business is get horizontal. After it goes down, you want it to stay down. Trust me.
Due to all this hanging out on the couch time that I’ve been doing lately, the girls have been subjected to a bit more TV than usual. Thanks to our crazy schedule this summer, we haven’t watched very much TV at all; but I have found two shows that are capable of bringing our family together like no other shows have done before: Supernanny and Toddlers and Tiaras.
Supernanny is the show that Sassy lovingly refers to as “that bad kid show,” and boy, there are some bad ones on there. Last week, there was a show that featured a little boy, about Sassy’s age, who would get ticked off and then run out of the house towards the street. He also spent a good deal of time hitting his Mom, calling her swear words, and spitting at people. Sassy and Big I sat mesmerized by this kid. You could have heard a pin drop in our house. Frequently, after an especially horrible outburst by the little demon, Sassy would look at me and say, “I would NEVER do that to you.”
Frequently, the parents on those shows are as messed up and insane as the kids, so I will often get a “You’re the BEST Mommy” during the course of us watching that show too. Last week, Sassy cuddled up right next to me and was wrapping her arms around me the whole time. Bad kids seriously freak her out. It’s amazing how much better behaved and how much more helpful the girls are after watching an episode of Supernanny. I kind of think it’s going to become a staple here in our house when I need them to listen better.
The other show that happened to come on yesterday afternoon is Toddlers and Tiaras. This show had both of my girls staring dumbfounded at the TV. The kids are over the top; the parents are absolute nightmares. One parents sat there directly in front of her daughter, clearly disappointed and livid that her daughter had won the “Natural Beauty” part of the pageant instead of the “Glitz” part of the pageant. Hmm, let’s see. Would I be happier if my daughter won an award for looking the way she’s supposed to look or for looking like a total hussy? It’s sort of a no-brainer. Meanwhile, the Mom sat there in a t-shirt that was too big for her, wearing a ponytail that made her look like she just rolled out of bed, scowling with disgust at her daughter, the judges and the other contestants. Talk about a group of people who need the Supernanny!
Big I was in absolute awe. “Sassy, we have the BEST parents ever. We are SO lucky,” she said to her sister. Sassy answered that with a big hug for me. Then Big I talked about earning trophies this summer for swimming, not for putting on fake eyelashes and teasing her hair, and how good it felt to work hard at something and get a trophy that truly means something. It was a proud parenting moment, followed by two kids who immediately got in their pajamas when I told them it was time, the first time.
Yep, reality TV is capable of giving even young children a healthy appreciation for the awesome parents they have at home. I think they are partially afraid I’ll put them in a glitz pageant or call the Supernanny if they don’t listen to me too. Whatever works.
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