Monthly Archives: February 2013

The People Make It Good.

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Today, while driving my new-to-me van for the first time and marveling at all the space, I was struck by the realization that I truly have everything I ever wanted. Today. I have it.

When I was younger I never would have dreamed that I’d want to be a full-time van-driving mother of three children under age 4, but here it is. It’s happening. I have become someone I never would have noticed before. Sometimes it hits me out of nowhere how blessed I am to simply be able to honestly say that I am happy.

I have a full life. A good life. But you know, a lot of people have everything I have and MORE and they are still not happy. You can be surrounded by bright and shiny things, but in order to be happy you have to notice and appreciate what you have been blessed with. 

The people are what make life good.

Without my people, I would have nothing. I would have no reason to rush around in the morning to make sure they are fed, nothing to motivate me to keep the laundry under control or the house in order. No reason to try to keep myself healthy and strong so I can keep going. I would have no reason to think of anything other than ME. No reason to give. No reason to serve. No reason to live. 

I spend a lot of time chasing after my 18-month-old (he likes to race into the bathroom and turn on the hot water faucet in the bath tub when I’m not looking … PLEASE PRAY FOR ME), and yelling at my 4-year-old (for doing things like waiting for me to chase his brother into the bathroom so he can find my scissors and cut things into tiny pieces), and feeling stressed out because I can’t seem to stay on top of my insane life.

But when I’m quiet, and I take the time to feel my third child thump-thump-thumping in my very tired womb … it hits me. My life, my children — it’s almost too much. We have nothing and we have everything. Isn’t it funny how life works.

 

I Don’t Wear Crazy Well.

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It seems I have reached the point in my pregnancy when I turn psycho. It happens every single time.

It usually starts when I begin having recurrent dreams about Husband cheating on me or rejecting me in some way. Last night I dreamt that I was trying to put the moves on him and he stopped me and said, “I’m bored. Also, I have to pee. Can you please move?” 

I woke up feeling super upset — I mean, he said he was BORED — and even after I told him about the dream and he laughed, which made me realize it was ridiculous to even repeat it out loud, I was still mad at him for what he did to me in my dream. That hurt my feelings, and he better make it up to me the next time he shows up in one of my wacky ass pregnancy dreams. Bring me flowers or tell me something nice, and for goodness sake … pee first, Dream Version of Husband. 

Also, last night you looked too mountain mannish. Next time I’d like a little less of that and a little more of this:

Thank you in advance.

***
 
As I grow larger, it literally seems like we are drifting farther and farther apart. Luckily, this time has been the easiest on us because we know what to expect and how to behave, unlike when I was pregnant with ONE. We were blissfully unaware that I would turn psychotic, and when the crazy began Husband did not respond well.

I remember one time my mother-in-law stopped at our house to stay overnight while she was traveling for work, and a few days later I found a hotel key buried under some magazines on the coffee table. I knew it was not Husband’s lost hotel key. I knew there was a rational explanation, like it was left on accident by my mother-in-law. That did not stop me from acting like a complete freak when he got home. There was definitely an interrogation.

It was not my finest hour.

I share all of this because making fun of my irrationality is the best way for me to cope with it. And I know Husband loves me, because he bought me a minivan yesterday. I mean, if there was another woman, would he buy her a minivan?! I don’t think so. She would probably just get grocery store flowers, but I got a VAN, bitches.

Of course, when I tell Husband that I’m worried he is going to get sick of me and find someone else who is:

1. Fun
2. Not pregnant
3. Fun,

He always gives me this very serious look and says, “I could never, ever handle more than one of you,” meaning, I suppose, that women are a handful and he can barely deal with the one. To which I say, “Good thinking.”

I have many more months left of abnormal behavior: 15 more weeks of gestation, and a good 12 weeks to recalibrate after that. That’s a very long stretch of crazy that we all have to look forward to. And so, I will do what makes sense and try my best to embrace it.

Yes Ma’am.

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This is worth writing down …

Today, both boys said “Yes Ma’am,” in unison while I was getting onto them. This was the first time TWO has ever said it, and he clapped for himself and cheered afterwards. It was one of those rare moments where I thought to myself — I’m doing something right. Kind of like how I feel when ONE rushes ahead of me exclaiming, “I’ll open the door for you, Mommy.“

This is a long road, but I sure hope I can keep plodding along and trying to enforce manners. And maybe one day, in the middle of dealing with who-knows-what, I’ll look out the window and see one of my sons opening the car door for a girl. Or standing up for each other, or speaking up for someone else who may not be able to. This is my dream.

Chicago 2013.

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Here’s what happens when I’m let out of the house: I take pictures of random things that entertain me, and then I come home from a really big trip with photos like these.

This was in the airport.

And then there was the experience I had in the Nashville airport where all of the stalls were available (see photo below), and yet, some bitch decided to use the one right next to me. Really??

I had a wonderful, but exhausting, trip with my girlfriends. And then Husband picked me up in New Orleans and I burst into tears … from exhaustion, from the stress of air travel and feeling my uterus contract into a painfully tight ball during every single takeoff and landing, from smelling too many strangers, from missing my family, and from being overwhelmed. I’m fairly certain I’m not a sissy in real life, but in pregnant life I TOTALLY AM.

Here’s what I’ve learned — I don’t think I should travel while pregnant, but I realized this slightly too late, while zooming up the elevator in the John Hancock building. That is when I thought to myself, “Oh shit.”  The moral of the story is that I’m glad I went, but wow, that trip really kicked my pregnant ass. 

Luckily, there were people present who took pictures of us instead of bald eagles with widespread wings. This is why I need my friends.

Lunch at Karyn’s Cooked, a well-known vegan restaurant.

Sweet Jolene turned 25 last week (we shall be 25 forever)!

Fuzzy night time photo taken by a well-dressed local.

I like this picture. Also, I did Kate’s hair (far right) and I kind of want to chop mine off now. And get a hot pink blazer like Kelli‘s.

View from the Hancock Building.

Breakfast at Bongo Room in Wicker Park. Hands down, best breakfast of my life.

WEEEEEE! On the elevator going 90-something stories up and I thought I might die.

Dinner at Giordano’s pizza.

City life.

Mmmmmm.

This is all vegan! It was surprisingly yummy.

Group photo!

I have to give props to Anca, our beautiful hostess in the white dress standing next to me in the picture above. She was so delightful and her husband Cort was so helpful and polite that I kind of wanted to cram them both into my suitcase and bring them back to Louisiana with me.

No, really.

Now that I’m back home, I have a ton of laundry to do and children to hug and lemon water to drink. And sleep to catch up on. It’s good to be missed.


GIRL’S TRIP.

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In 24 hours, I’ll be heading to the airport to fly away for three days with some girlfriends. We’re going to Chicago!

I am going to eat like a man and (window) shop and behave as if I’m not almost 6 months pregnant with my third child. 

I AM GOING TO LIVE IT UP, because once Pepper is born, I’ll have three kids to look after and who knows when I’ll be able to do something like this again!? Maybe never. So seize the moment I shall. 

Night #3.

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Tonight is night #3 of no crib for TWO. I couldn’t handle the thought of another crazy night and I set up the Pack N’ Play for him to sleep in. He’s not going back in his big crib … this will have to do for now. It’s a temporary fix, though, because he can almost drag his body up and out of it.

I KNOW IT WOULD BE EASIER TO LEAVE THE KID IN A CRIB UNTIL HE IS THREE. I’m no dummy. But that’s just not going to happen, due to the fact that we‘re having another child in a few months and I need to get ready for her because if I don’t, the Earth is going to open up and swallow us whole. Our whole house, all of our stuff, sucked down into the abyss. Do not question me. 

The same abyss is also going to suck us down if Husband doesn’t do something about the weed situation happening in our backyard and put a new bulb in the front porch light.

TWO is a giant acrobat of a toddler. He needs a booster seat for the table, and a real bed to sleep in. He wants to do everything he sees his big brother doing. So … that’s how it is, and I am trying to make the best decisions I can.

Here is night #3. The picture is blurry because I was kind of frantically trying to snap it before he sensed my presence and started screaming again:

This whole experience reminds me a lot of what we went through for the first 5 or 6 months of his life when he WOULD NOT SLEEP, AND I THOUGHT I WOULD DIE, OMG. We made it through that, and we‘ll make it through this. Here is a reminder of how far we’ve come.

 

A Nice Reminder.

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I am alone a lot of the time. I’m hormonal and exhausted. I am easily overwhelmed and find myself questioning my decisions a lot. So after a really tough stretch of mothering, I came across this on the internet and it was exactly what I needed. I’m not sure who the author is, but it sure helped me get through the remainder of my day. It’s good to be reminded that I was created to do this job, and I do it well. I would welcome anyone who questions my abilities to come take my place for 3 days.

No … really. Come on. I DARE YOU.

***

A little boy asked his mother, “Why are you crying?” “Because I’m a woman,” she told him.

“I don’t understand,” he said. His Mom just hugged him and said, “And you never will.”

Later the little boy asked his father, “Why does mother seem to cry for no reason?”

“All women cry for no reason,” was all his dad could say.

The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why women cry.

Finally he put in a call to God. When God got on the phone, he asked,

“God, why do women cry so easily?”

God said, “When I made the woman she had to be special.

I made her shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world, yet gentle enough to give comfort.

I gave her an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that many times comes from her children.

I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going when everyone else gives up, and take care of her family through sickness and fatigue without complaining.

I gave her the sensitivity to love her children under any and all circumstances, even when her child has hurt her very badly.

I gave her strength to carry her husband through his faults and fashioned her from his rib to protect his heart.

I gave her wisdom to know that a good husband never hurts his wife, but sometimes tests her strengths and her resolve to stand beside him And finally, I gave her a tear to shed. This is hers exclusively to use whenever it is needed.”

“You see my son,” said God, “the beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair.

The beauty of a woman must be seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart — the place where love resides.”

Frayed.

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I’m in the trenches of transitioning TWO to a toddler bed in preparation for sleeping in a big twin bed soon. We have installed a child proof knob on the inside of his door, otherwise he would be running wild when it’s time to be sleeping.

He stands at his door and screams … and screams … and eventually finds his way over to the rocking chair, where he has fallen asleep the past two nights. We pick him up and move him to his bed, but if he happens to wake up, we start all over again.

Night #1

Night #2

This morning, his diaper leaked at 4:30 a.m. and he has been pretty much freaking out ever since. There are few things that annoy me more than being woken up repeatedly, so around 5:00 I accepted it for what it was, got him out of his room and started a load of laundry.

I spent the next hour and a half trying to keep him from waking the other sleeping members of our household. At 6:30 I moved the clothes from the washing machine to the dryer and returned to the kitchen to find this.

I believe he was preparing to leap when I intervened. My nerves are shot, and I’m exhausted. But thankfully, because this is my second child, I know it gets better.

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Full-Body Varicosity.

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I know you have all been waiting on the edge of your seats, but the suspense is over – I do not have a hernia.

I have an issue with one of my ligaments, round ligament varicosity, to be exact.  It mimics a hernia. Joke’s over, ligament. I know what you are, and you are not my intestine. I hope you had fun watching me freak the FREAK OUT.

I actually think I have full-body varicosity. I have diagnosed myself with this (made-up) condition because all of my veins are big and blue and sticking out in places they shouldn’t be. It’s an unsightly problem, but what a relief to learn that is my issue … and not innards escaping.

I told Dr. Boudreaux two things yesterday during my appointment: I think my entire vaginal area is rebelling (“No more babies, you bitch!” is what it’s telling me), and, I love her. She is such a great doctor, OMG. Like I think we could be friends outside of the doctor’s office. I feel a bond with anyone who has taken the time to me at length about my hoo-ha. My old doctor would never have indulged me and stated aloud in the exam room that my vagina cannot actually decide to “rebel,” because it doesn’t have a mind of its own.

She would have given me a well-deserved blank stare.

I love a health professional who will bring it down a level and be funny for a minute. I know they are rushed, but my OB never makes me feel like I’m being brushed aside. I give her 5 stars. Now … let’s get through the next 120 days, and get this baby out of me so my varicosities can go away.