Friday, April 30, 2010

Indulge me.

I've been avoiding my blog for some time now. When I post, it can only do with small snip-its and tid-bits of information about my children, husband, or pregnancy. Bad comments must be evenly tallied with good comments. Trying so desperately to simply focus on the positive and only be grateful for this pregnancy. Or at least, when I'm in the depths of self-pity, keep it to myself. Because I'm that stupid, stupid woman. Always choking down the foot in my mouth, making all the offensive statements to all the wrong people (unknowingly, but still so stupid). The person complaining about pregnancy to the childless couple in desperate want of a baby. The person complaining about thigh cellulite to the woman with prosthetic legs. The person making shallow and (what she thought) humorous critiques on the vegan movement to...you guessed it, a vegan.

The one who never quite grasps how lucky she really is.

Tomorrow marks the first day of May. Hallelujah. May is what I've been waiting for. In my mind, since about March 13th, it has been a countdown to May. Because at some point in this blessed month, the fog should lift. I will feel better. I will want to live. I will be reaffirmed in this choice to be a mother. In the interim, it has been nothing short of a miserable nightmare.

It's shameful to complain about your pregnancy, really. The miracle of creating a child. And the logical part of me knows this. It really does. Truly. I am sooo blessed. But then, the less sane area of my brain begs to differ. This side chimes in with the more unpleasant opinions such as: pregnancy was developed as the most hideous torture mechanism to produce offspring whose sole mission in life will be to slowly and painfully destroy your nipples, designed by a creator who hates women. Eve must have really ticked Him off for sure. Either that, or the whole forbidden fruit story and its litany of supposed female implications was developed by Adam when he got all freaked out the day she got her period.

Speaking of Adam, don't get me started on my poor husband. A guy who leaves on a business trip and mistakenly shares the details, "Hey babe, we just checked into the Hilton....we're going to go play tennis...I think we're going to go to TexWasabi for dinner...headed to the hot tub before it closes..."

"Oh, that's nice, have fun. (You pathetic piece of garbage...you traitorous male with your evil member... you said you loved me...)"

And thus the battle rages on. I love being a mother! I can't believe I'm doing this again. I can't wait to devour my darling baby! The baby that will wake up every two hours. Pretty soon I'll be out of the first trimester! And start getting enormous. A cute pregnant belly! With hair. My beautiful children! Yeah, the naked ones squirting their chocolate milk at each other in the living room while you're typing this. My wonderful husband! The one who isn't going to be attracted to you for much longer.

Oh dear. But that is the reality of it. So much of it is a struggle, laced with miraculous moments of perfection. Obviously, the good has so far outweighed the bad by a long shot. Otherwise I wouldn't be crazy enough to continue on with this madness.

In fact, I'm convinced God sent London to me, at this age, at this very moment, to make me laugh and remind me He really doesn't hate women (still not entirely convinced, but open to more dialogue on the subject). Yes, I want more of these. Oh this child, this wonderful child, is the most enthusiastic, chubby bubble of funny and charm. Running around, giggling constantly, always assessing the situation at hand, something as simple as jumping on the bed, and exclaiming to me:

"Mommy! Dish is sho fun Mommy! Mommy, dish is shooo fun! Woch me Mommy!"
(Mommy!, This is so fun Mommy! Mommy, this is sooo fun! Watch me Mommy!)

It's impossible to convey it in words. The purity of her contagious happiness and cuteness. And Lily, oh my delightful, valley-girl Lily. While I was lying useless in our bedroom recliner a few days ago, I was able to listen in to her imaginary conversation to someone in her bedroom. She is standing with her hip popped in the doorway:

"Oh yeah, like, I was jus two years old and it was like, really hard. Yeah, oh my gosh (she's not supposed to say that), Justin Beiber is my boyfriend ( or that. As she giggles, puts her face in her hands embarrassed to be telling this to her imaginary friend?)...yeah, we kiss."

Or the ultimate best, the dearest moment of this entire pregnancy thus far: Lily and I were lying in bed together. Tyler was away on business and London kept sneaking out of her bed (she's not allowed to sleep with us because she refuses to SLEEP). I was frustrated, exhausted from a couple of days of parenting solo, ridiculously close to vomiting, and more than aggravated at having to continually climb out of bed to put London back in her crib. I plopped back down in bed, trying to hold back the tears that have become such a regular part of my days. Lily began rubbing my back sweetly, and cuddled up to me from behind. She whispered so softly,

"Mom, I love you. Yur da super best."

Melt my heart, just typing that still makes me cry.
This is definitely worth it.

So sorry, I just had to do it. I had to have a moment to complain. Thanks for indulging me.

Peace out.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Morning Routine

Every, every morning (except weekends), I wake up to two girls toddling into my room and climbing into our bed (Heeeaven, mixed with a little bit of hell if it's too early). The conversation always, always begins like this:

"Wherz Daddy?"

London: "Mommy, Daddy go awok aday?" ("Mommy, Daddy go to work today?")

Enter devastating response, followed by droopy faces and dismay:

"Yes baby, Daddy had to go to work today."


Lily: "So jus a Fursday den a Tooosday den a Fursday and a Monday and a Monday and he will be home?"

Yep, something like that.

Poor girls.



And some cute pics...

Chippy tooth London (consequence of DADDY supervising them in the bath.)


Sad Lily.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

The Little Beast who wouldn't...


Share her puppy. Ever.



Or her plastic water containers... Ever.
Or wear her clothes...
Or keep her hair clippy in... Ever.


Or stay in her bed...



Yes indeed. Nothing screams "time for a third child!" like the loss of control of your second one. I figured a pregnancy, a newborn, and breastfeeding would be the perfect components to achieving balance in this situation, don't you?
Heaven help me.
Heaven.
Help.
Me.



But really, can you blame me for wanting more of these?

Friday, April 16, 2010

Thursday, April 8, 2010

All the many reasons.


Reason to Cry:
Watching TLC's A Baby Story. Back to back. Morning after morning. Before I had kids, I occasionally watched an episode in shock and disgust. Now, I just sob through each episode. Every time that baby arrives, I can't help it...with the surge of pregnancy hormones I do nothing but improportionately weep throughout the whole thing. I cry because it is so beautiful, I cry because it is so hard, I cry because I want to fast forward to that place, I cry watching the husband and wife interact lovingly, I just cry. cry. cry.

Reason to Smile:
Having babies with this guy. He's so good in the delivery room, and patient and sweet to me throughout my misery and whining. I remember him staying so close, holding my hand and counting me through every contraction. I also remember him passing out while watching me get an epidural (classic. so funny.). My big, strong husband blacking out at the sight of me in pain and being inserted with a giant needle, what's not to adore about that? Just the other night, he slept with the girls in the guest room so I could get good rest throughout the night (back issues). This is the man to have babies with, I'm so lucky.


Reason to Cry:
My face (acne). Nausea. Vomiting. Constipation.


Reason to Smile:
London's hair.



Reason to Cry:
Being utterly useless.


Reason to Smile:
Lily stepping in as my big girl. ("Reading" a story to London - which basically consists of Lily making up whatever comes into her head as she turns the pages. Very interesting.)


Reason to Cry:
Our laundry situation.



Reason to Smile: My mother.





Sheesh, Pregnancy. What a roller coaster.


***Addendum to Today's post:***

I just got this pic in a email from Nae 10 minutes after this post

Reason to smile:
Look at the fun I was having at the wedding


Reason to cry:
I had no idea that photo was being taken. Which means, I was really dancing like that.







Thursday, April 1, 2010

Why my kids will have NO say in the naming process...



Lily was lying on the couch with me this afternoon. She started listing names for our future baby. It was too fabulous, so I started writing them down.

I hereby release Lily's requested names for the baby (no stealing these, we call first dibs):

Belle-ella

Showermint

Bellposta
(Immediately after she listed this one she paused and reflected, "oh yeah, that's a reeeal pretty one.")

Pink pony

Bubblegum

Postermom
(Is this some sort of subconscious nod to my awesome-ness as a mother? I think so.)

Toomento

Flower

Flowermint

Flowerposted

Shower shower butterfly

Flowerbutterfly
(2nd reflection:"Oooh yeah, that's a pretty name")

Little Mermaid

Pocohontas

Reeman

Binkiebull

Crackermint

To provide a little background on the choices, I was eating a mint patty while she was listing names, hence the strong "mint" theme*. And the addtional strong "shower" theme can only be attributed to my current lack of hygiene.

*(Thanks for dropping those by Jamee, so thoughtful - they really do help.)

I'm thinking if it's a boy: Binkiebull.

Girl: Pink Pony.



Thanks Lils.