I know that it's easier when the bun is in the oven than when it comes out. I get that. Part of me loves the miracle and experience of feeling the little guy moving around inside of me. But part of me, namely the inside of my ribcage, is tired of being pummeled and kicked to the point of pain and soreness.
Then I realize how quickly this pregnancy is coming to an end. I mean, we're almost at the end of May, then there's June and July and bang, there's August. I start having to take deep breaths at that point and start humming in my mind along with the chant, "It'll be okay, it'll be okay."
'Cause I know it will be okay but I'm just concerned about how okay it's going to be. I mean, I'm tired mentally, physically, and emotionally just dealing with my force of nature as a mostly single parental unit. To think of throwing a newborn in the mix exhausts me even further.
And it's not just that. It's the knowledge that comes with the consecutive children. With the first, you're more concerned with "I am going to be responsible with keeping this child alive." With the ones after that (and maybe it's just me who worries about this crazy stuff), you realize that keeping them alive is the easy part as compared to actually raising them to be humans with strength, resilience, and morals to do the right thing on a daily basis whether you are there or not. That's what weighs me down - the enormity of this parenting responsibility and my concern that I won't have the emotional stamina to juggle 2 little beings' development.
Maybe the problem is that I just think too much. Only time will tell.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
At Least She Has a Sense Of Humor
After throwing an object at me because she didn't like what I was saying and then crying at the top of her lungs in her room for 20 minutes (all this before 8:30am), I. says to me, "It's been a good morning, huh Momma?".
Then she erupts into gales of laughter because she knows just how ridiculous that statement is considering the angst that has gone on around this joint.
Well at least she has a sense of humor. That counts for something.
Then she erupts into gales of laughter because she knows just how ridiculous that statement is considering the angst that has gone on around this joint.
Well at least she has a sense of humor. That counts for something.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Mother's Day
I just read my post from last year's Mother's Day and was hoping for a better experience. I wish I could say it was, but it wasn't. Not even by a long shot. Am I disappointed? Surprisingly enough, I'm not. If anything, I'm relieved. Relieved that it's over. That bums me out because this was MY holiday too not just my mom's like it always has been. I waited a long time to be eligible for this holiday and to me, it is a big deal because it's a celebration of who I am today, what I dreamed of and what I worked hard to get to. And it was basically ruined. Now that I am delving into my feelings, I'm really, truly, and deeply angry under that feeling of relief.
It started before we even were seated at the restaurant. I. had to use the restroom as soon as we arrived so while the rest of our group (except for my mom and sister) were seated, we went to the restroom. That's where my mom and sister were. My mom was having an unexpected female problem and she was literally bleeding all over one of the stalls. I mean it was bad. When I. and I walked in, my sister was standing near the sinks with her usual ugly look on her face and wouldn't even say hello when I said hi. She just stared at us until I repeated myself. My mom asked her if she could get some wet towels so she could clean up the floor and stall. My sister held the towels over the top of the door and then started berating my mom because she wasn't immediately taking them from her. I told my sister to just wait a second and stop making a bad situation worse. This is how it all started.
At the table I was trying to figure out what we were ordering since we had organized this meal and was talking to my dad about it. My sister was across from me, staring, asked what we were thinking of ordering and then said, "I'm not eating any of that." So my dad asks her, "Well, what will you eat?" - a seemingly valid question to which she snottily and replies as though irritated, "I don't know." Then she says she just wants a piece of pizza and I told her that they didn't sell it by the slice that she'd have to get a small pizza and she said that everyone else would have to eat it then because she only wanted a slice. Fast forward to the ordering process where she asks for the pizza without cheese, no oil but bring olive oil on the side.
The pizza came before the rest of the food and it appeared to her that there was a piece of pizza with cheese on it, a very small piece of cheese. Well, she goes ballistic that she's not going to eat this, she's sick of ordering things and not getting what she ordered and that they need to make her another pizza. I mean, off the fucking deep end about a stupid pizza. Even though I'm sitting across from her, I start concentrating on I. and others so that I don't lose it and my parents are having to deal with it. If it had stopped there, the meal would have been salvagable but it didn't. Nope, not even close.
Because when the poor waitress shows up my sister basically shoves the pizza platter at her and starts telling her in this snotty, obnoxious tone what the "sky is falling" pizza situation is. She told her once but that wasn't enough. She said it 3 times increasingly raising her voice that "She wasn't going to eat it. This isn't what I told you I wanted and you need to go back, etc." And that's when I lost it.
I told her to stop treating the waitress like she was an idiot and that all she needed to say was that there was cheese on it and could she bring you another one without cheese. She started trying to defend how she was acting and I told her that it was embarrassing how she treated people like crap who didn't deserve it and that she was just the waitress not the one who cooked it and didn't deserve to be treated like an idiot. I asked her if she even realized how she treated people and finished with the fact that even I. knew not to talk to people like that. The whole time she just stared at me with no expression on her face which pissed me off even more so I said I needed to go outside. Because honestly I couldn't stand to look at her across the table one more minute (I didn't say that part). I. piped up and said she needed to go the bathroom so instead I took her and then came back. But the meal was ruined for me and having to fake it the rest of the day like everything was fine while pointedly ignoring my sister was exhausting.
For years I have struggled with my feelings about my sister. And when I say years I mean for the last 14. I have struggled with hating what she was putting my parents and entire family through, agonizing over the wrong choices she made and the pain she was causing herself, feeling guilty about how much I disliked her as a person. Always stopping before I said out loud, "I hate her." Today that guilt is gone and I have no problem saying it. It's a statement of fact. I don't think it probably jives with being godly but in the past much of my own struggles have been caused by all the "I shouldn't think, I shouldn't feel" statements that I would tell myself denying myself my own strong feelings.
Well no more. It brings me no happiness to say it but it also isn't causing me internal conflict. For my own mental and emotional health, it's the healthy thing to do. Right now, I need to stay healthy physically, mentally, and emotionally so that I can be there to teach my young daughter right and wrong, support and love my husband, and provide the best possible start for life of my unborn son. And if that means I have to call a spade a spade, then that's what I'm going to do.
It started before we even were seated at the restaurant. I. had to use the restroom as soon as we arrived so while the rest of our group (except for my mom and sister) were seated, we went to the restroom. That's where my mom and sister were. My mom was having an unexpected female problem and she was literally bleeding all over one of the stalls. I mean it was bad. When I. and I walked in, my sister was standing near the sinks with her usual ugly look on her face and wouldn't even say hello when I said hi. She just stared at us until I repeated myself. My mom asked her if she could get some wet towels so she could clean up the floor and stall. My sister held the towels over the top of the door and then started berating my mom because she wasn't immediately taking them from her. I told my sister to just wait a second and stop making a bad situation worse. This is how it all started.
At the table I was trying to figure out what we were ordering since we had organized this meal and was talking to my dad about it. My sister was across from me, staring, asked what we were thinking of ordering and then said, "I'm not eating any of that." So my dad asks her, "Well, what will you eat?" - a seemingly valid question to which she snottily and replies as though irritated, "I don't know." Then she says she just wants a piece of pizza and I told her that they didn't sell it by the slice that she'd have to get a small pizza and she said that everyone else would have to eat it then because she only wanted a slice. Fast forward to the ordering process where she asks for the pizza without cheese, no oil but bring olive oil on the side.
The pizza came before the rest of the food and it appeared to her that there was a piece of pizza with cheese on it, a very small piece of cheese. Well, she goes ballistic that she's not going to eat this, she's sick of ordering things and not getting what she ordered and that they need to make her another pizza. I mean, off the fucking deep end about a stupid pizza. Even though I'm sitting across from her, I start concentrating on I. and others so that I don't lose it and my parents are having to deal with it. If it had stopped there, the meal would have been salvagable but it didn't. Nope, not even close.
Because when the poor waitress shows up my sister basically shoves the pizza platter at her and starts telling her in this snotty, obnoxious tone what the "sky is falling" pizza situation is. She told her once but that wasn't enough. She said it 3 times increasingly raising her voice that "She wasn't going to eat it. This isn't what I told you I wanted and you need to go back, etc." And that's when I lost it.
I told her to stop treating the waitress like she was an idiot and that all she needed to say was that there was cheese on it and could she bring you another one without cheese. She started trying to defend how she was acting and I told her that it was embarrassing how she treated people like crap who didn't deserve it and that she was just the waitress not the one who cooked it and didn't deserve to be treated like an idiot. I asked her if she even realized how she treated people and finished with the fact that even I. knew not to talk to people like that. The whole time she just stared at me with no expression on her face which pissed me off even more so I said I needed to go outside. Because honestly I couldn't stand to look at her across the table one more minute (I didn't say that part). I. piped up and said she needed to go the bathroom so instead I took her and then came back. But the meal was ruined for me and having to fake it the rest of the day like everything was fine while pointedly ignoring my sister was exhausting.
For years I have struggled with my feelings about my sister. And when I say years I mean for the last 14. I have struggled with hating what she was putting my parents and entire family through, agonizing over the wrong choices she made and the pain she was causing herself, feeling guilty about how much I disliked her as a person. Always stopping before I said out loud, "I hate her." Today that guilt is gone and I have no problem saying it. It's a statement of fact. I don't think it probably jives with being godly but in the past much of my own struggles have been caused by all the "I shouldn't think, I shouldn't feel" statements that I would tell myself denying myself my own strong feelings.
Well no more. It brings me no happiness to say it but it also isn't causing me internal conflict. For my own mental and emotional health, it's the healthy thing to do. Right now, I need to stay healthy physically, mentally, and emotionally so that I can be there to teach my young daughter right and wrong, support and love my husband, and provide the best possible start for life of my unborn son. And if that means I have to call a spade a spade, then that's what I'm going to do.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
The Last Word
It's amazing what it takes to put I. in one of her best morning moods in a long time - a leotard and matching skirt. She's been laughing, exhibiting sweet, good manners, and dancing up a storm this morning. No angst this morning and it's a relief. A big fat relief that I'm relishing.
What's funny is that the road that paved this involved a tantrum yesterday in a dressing room. Those are always fun especially when it involves a 5 year old who has at least 10 times the lung volume and stamina as a 2 year old. At least there was a door to hide behind.
I. has been taking gymnastics for about 5 months now and loves it. The other little girls wear leotards and I. wears sweatpants and a t-shirt. It didn't matter to her and she never brought up the difference so I certainly didn't. She tends to march to her own drum and not care if she's doing something different and I like that about her. But one day after class on the way home, she asked what the other girls were wearing and after a short back and forth I told her that if she wanted to get one, she would have to submit herself to "shopping" at the mall because that was the only store I knew of. She hates shopping (so do I for that matter) but agreed that she would go for the leotard. So off we went yesterday.
It was going swimmingly well until the very end. That's usually how these things happen. Just when you start relaxing and patting yourself on the back feeling good about how things are going is when they start unraveling before your eyes and you're standing there watching your kid sitting on the ground sobbing and wailing in public with you standing there in disbelief thinking, "What the hell happened?!" Ah, but I jumped ahead a little.
I. had picked out the leotard and then we just needed to decide between 2 skirts. Now mind you, she goes once a week and once kindergarten starts, I don't even know if she is going to be in a gymnastics class and these dance-ish clothes aren't cheap. So taking all that into account, I really just wanted to get 1 skirt at this time and then we'd go from there in the future once we figure out the longevity of gymnastics. Well, that's where it all started to fall apart. Because when you're 5, it's hard to make a choice between 2 things that you like. We went around and around, me remaining calm and trying to help her decide because that's what a good parent should do - use this as a lesson for the bigger choices in the future, right?
Problem was that I. is an intense kid - she feels everything times 10 and as we stood there in the dressing room, I could see the emotions building up. It was like watching a tornado coming at you and not being able to stop it, just deal with it. It culminated in her throwing herself down on the floor with the 2 skirts in her hands sobbing at the top of her lungs. I kept trying calmly and quietly to help her but she just kept getting more upset so that's when Mean Momma had to come for a visit. Mean Momma kept her voice low and slow and said, "If you keep crying like this, we will walk out of this store without anything." Then I started counting 1-2 and I. knew if I got to 3, that was exactly what was going to happen so the sobbing ceased with an abrupt intake of air, followed by rhythmic sniffing.
I'm not an ogre though and part of me was thinking, "Come on, it's only 1 additional skirt." At that point, it was too late to go there and really, isn't it always just one more thing? Maybe I am too hard-core but I suspect (and fear) that it's a big ole slippery slope that "just one more thing" mentality and it doesn't feed some of the character traits I am trying to instill in I. You know like gratefulness, appreciation, and contentedness. Those things are important to me and guide me through many of the decisions I make when it comes to I.
At the end of the day, I. picked one skirt and we walked over to get a frozen yogurt. It also gave me an opportunity to have a conversation with her about how in life we have to make choices every day and if she was going to cry about all of them, her days weren't going to be very happy. I asked her if next time I needed to get something for her, should I just go pick it out without her or did she still want to pick it out? She said she wanted to come pick it out and agreed that next time, she would try to choose without the crying tantrum part of it.
"Whew," I thought, "another life lesson taught." and was just getting ready to pat myself on the back when she looked at me and said with a sweet smile, "When I have a little girl, I'm going to buy her both skirts for her leotard."
Just shoot me now.
What's funny is that the road that paved this involved a tantrum yesterday in a dressing room. Those are always fun especially when it involves a 5 year old who has at least 10 times the lung volume and stamina as a 2 year old. At least there was a door to hide behind.
I. has been taking gymnastics for about 5 months now and loves it. The other little girls wear leotards and I. wears sweatpants and a t-shirt. It didn't matter to her and she never brought up the difference so I certainly didn't. She tends to march to her own drum and not care if she's doing something different and I like that about her. But one day after class on the way home, she asked what the other girls were wearing and after a short back and forth I told her that if she wanted to get one, she would have to submit herself to "shopping" at the mall because that was the only store I knew of. She hates shopping (so do I for that matter) but agreed that she would go for the leotard. So off we went yesterday.
It was going swimmingly well until the very end. That's usually how these things happen. Just when you start relaxing and patting yourself on the back feeling good about how things are going is when they start unraveling before your eyes and you're standing there watching your kid sitting on the ground sobbing and wailing in public with you standing there in disbelief thinking, "What the hell happened?!" Ah, but I jumped ahead a little.
I. had picked out the leotard and then we just needed to decide between 2 skirts. Now mind you, she goes once a week and once kindergarten starts, I don't even know if she is going to be in a gymnastics class and these dance-ish clothes aren't cheap. So taking all that into account, I really just wanted to get 1 skirt at this time and then we'd go from there in the future once we figure out the longevity of gymnastics. Well, that's where it all started to fall apart. Because when you're 5, it's hard to make a choice between 2 things that you like. We went around and around, me remaining calm and trying to help her decide because that's what a good parent should do - use this as a lesson for the bigger choices in the future, right?
Problem was that I. is an intense kid - she feels everything times 10 and as we stood there in the dressing room, I could see the emotions building up. It was like watching a tornado coming at you and not being able to stop it, just deal with it. It culminated in her throwing herself down on the floor with the 2 skirts in her hands sobbing at the top of her lungs. I kept trying calmly and quietly to help her but she just kept getting more upset so that's when Mean Momma had to come for a visit. Mean Momma kept her voice low and slow and said, "If you keep crying like this, we will walk out of this store without anything." Then I started counting 1-2 and I. knew if I got to 3, that was exactly what was going to happen so the sobbing ceased with an abrupt intake of air, followed by rhythmic sniffing.
I'm not an ogre though and part of me was thinking, "Come on, it's only 1 additional skirt." At that point, it was too late to go there and really, isn't it always just one more thing? Maybe I am too hard-core but I suspect (and fear) that it's a big ole slippery slope that "just one more thing" mentality and it doesn't feed some of the character traits I am trying to instill in I. You know like gratefulness, appreciation, and contentedness. Those things are important to me and guide me through many of the decisions I make when it comes to I.
At the end of the day, I. picked one skirt and we walked over to get a frozen yogurt. It also gave me an opportunity to have a conversation with her about how in life we have to make choices every day and if she was going to cry about all of them, her days weren't going to be very happy. I asked her if next time I needed to get something for her, should I just go pick it out without her or did she still want to pick it out? She said she wanted to come pick it out and agreed that next time, she would try to choose without the crying tantrum part of it.
"Whew," I thought, "another life lesson taught." and was just getting ready to pat myself on the back when she looked at me and said with a sweet smile, "When I have a little girl, I'm going to buy her both skirts for her leotard."
Just shoot me now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)