Pregnancy: THE FINAL COUNTDOWN

I've had a few pregnancy-related things on my mind lately....  If you've been pregnant, perhaps you can relate.  If not, here's a preview of things to come.  And if you have a penis...please just sympathize if the woman in your life is currently carrying your unborn child. Rub her back WITHOUT her having to ask you. Rub her feet WITHOUT her having to ask you. Hug her often, kiss her often, tell her you love her WITHOUT HER ASKING. Its the least you can do for us giving up our bodies to ensure a healthy baby 40 WEEKS LATER. Not to mention the excruciating pain and recovery we have to go through.

Looks REAL EFFIN COMFY DOESNT IT?

Asking a pregnant woman to give a urine sample past about...oh...30ish weeks is a total joke.  Tiny cup to pee into + huge belly = can't see what you're doing one bit.  Hence the pee that inevitably gets on your hands every.single.time.  At least urine is sterile, right?   

Speaking of pee, I've been doing that ALOT these days.  Combine doctor's orders to drink a lot of water with a baby who likes to sit on, punch, and kick my bladder and you can bet I'm rushing to the bathroom about every 30 minutes, which is quite inconvenient at night...

"Get as much rest as you can now before that baby comes!"  HA.  What rest?  Besides the fact that I'm up peeing every half hour, there are baby belly dance parties at 3am, hormones raging through my body that think I'm okay with only five hours of sleep, soaked sheets full of sweat, and hips that ache after lying in one position for more than 10 minutes.  Jump off a cliff already... will ya? Oh and when you get a minute, push a 8 or 9 pound watermelon out of the tip of your penis. Thanks.

Rolling over in bed.  Getting out of bed.  Adjusting 3 body pillows in bed. Add a huge, beached whale to the picture.  That pretty much covers it.

Nesting instinct?  My nesting instinct is that I want someone else to do all the work.  Well, technically someone else SHOULD be doing all of the work since I am supposed to be on bed rest and I can only walk about 10 feet before I get kicked in the ribs or crotch or combination of the two. JOY.

Thank you to the cashier at Walgreens for telling me that I am small for as far along as I am.  Most people like to say, "Are you sure it's not twins?" or "I bet you're gonna pop any day now."  There should be at least one class for everyone on HOW to talk to pregnant women.  How easy is it to just say, "You look great!" or "You look so cute!" 

I'm ready.  Ready to meet this baby.  Ready to find out if it's a boy or girl.  Ready to introduce the kids to their new sibling.  And yet, I'm also trying to cherish the kicks and jabs, even if they do reduce me to tears sometimes.  I will miss my belly once it's gone.  I'll miss being pregnant.  I'll miss those 5 hours of sleep!  But...I'm definately ready.

And so, the waiting begins...

Taking It All In

It's the time of year I love. Temperatures are dropping, and leaves start to change. These gorgeous colors that surround me.. They lift my spirits. I feel more alive at this time of year, and it keeps me busy. I am always busiest in the fall but being heavily pregnant has slowed me down this year and it kinda sucks.

I plan on taking my kids to the pumpkin patch over the weekend and hopefully go apple picking once again. They love making homemade applesauce and my youngest gets a real kick out making pumpkin pie. It is harvest, which for some reason, makes me miss my Grandmother terribly. I never met this woman but when I find myself in my kitchen, using gadgets she once held, baking in dishes that were once hers -  things like that make me feel more connected to her. As I get older, I find myself clinging tightly to the traditions I have started with my own family. These are the memories they will share with their own children. A small part of me heals every time we do these things together.

I feel like fall will give me the rejuvenation that I need. Cooler, less stagnant air. Harvest. The smell of woodsmoke. Patchouli. Early nights. Sweater weather. More baking. Fires. Autumn always feels like a beginning for me. The irony is not lost on me. I always feel more alive in Autumn than any other part of the year. It is the time when my disconnection wears thin, and I start to feel connected again. I can feel it now, though. The call. I feel as though I can see my spirit calling me, but it's slightly out of reach. It's like a pain, an ache. I try and do what I can to connect, but I feel as though something is blocking me.

I was first diagnosed with depression at 22. I've experienced quite a few traumatic events in my life. At times I feel angry. I feel disgusted. Mostly, though, I feel like a burden. I wonder if people think I want to be like this. I wonder if people think it's some attention-grabbing thing.  If people knew the things I was thinking about myself, they'd cry. Or laugh, if they are assholes. I also can realize that there are MANY out there much worse than I am, but when it is your own issue, you really could care less about your neighbors. They don't live inside your head.

All in all, I am a FABULOUS actress. I can play the part of the well-adjusted person and hide my true self. I should have the Oscar, really.  I'm finally seeing that NO - I am not crazy - just kinda misunderstood. I think I have been frightfully honest enough for today. With all of the chaos that has happened in my life, it is hard to feel anything but nervous or question peoples motives all the time. It is hard to focus on spiritual stuff when your mind is all over the place. Im a work in progress. I am grateful for music. I am grateful for how it can often express what I am feeling, and can mirror my feelings so well. Sometimes I am grateful to have that certain song that I just turn on and cry or wallow in sadness which helps get shit out of my system. I am thankful that I am who I am. I am thankful for the things that have gotten me here. Even if a fair share of them totally sucked. :)

Pregnancy Paranoia Brought To You By Insomnia...

Siblings...

I watch my sons playing together often... They are so creative it makes me envious at times. They can build a paper city across the living room, each adding pieces here and there, and their imaginations run wild. They talk and giggle, then fight with each other about what goes where, and who gets to put stuff where they want, but all the while -  oblivious to the rest of the world.

I watch them come to a disagreement. I try SO HARD to not step in. My oldest gives up at a certain point and just needs HIS own time. Quiet time in his room, so I gently steer a heartbroken little brother away. I know how he feels; I often crave that alone time myself. My boys. They can drive me absolutely up the walls some days. But I adore them. Absolutely. ADORE them.

Once upon a time, two pink lines told me I was expecting my third child..

An unexpected surprise from a breathtaking trip to the island of the Bahamas. It was celebrated. 8 1/2 months later, we welcomed our gorgeous daughter. But when I saw those lines, I had HUGE doubts. Unlike the ones I had when expecting my second.

What was I doing to my firstborn by bringing another child into our home? Would he resent his big-brother role?  When his little brother arrived he was enthralled. He held his brother, snuggled with him, touched his fingers and peeked under his hat to see his ears. He was soon making his brother smile, then laugh. He cheered his brother on through each new stage. My oldest LOVED having a baby brother. But now ANOTHER sibling was coming. I was terrified. Will I have enough love in my heart for a third child? How is it even possible? OF COURSE IT IS POSSIBLE. 

And still I doubted.

Yet when their baby sister arrived I saw a new side to each of my sons. They worried. They helped. They were so quick to ask what she needed, and if she was warm enough, or hungry, or if she was tired. And they would rush to be the first one to give her the pacifier or a baby doll. They adore her. Don't get me wrong, she irritates the hell out of them at times, but when I walk into one of their bedrooms and find my oldest leading a reading session and the younger two sitting there listening intently - I melt. They all love each other.

Two more pink lines later. My energy was sapped, my patience is completely lowered. The big surprise this time. Although, much-celebrated, again the doubt and guilt. Only now the doubt and guilt were doubled. Just look at them, playing together, loving each other...then the screaming, yelling, fighting, teasing... TIMES FOUR NOW. It will happen. What have I done? What will a fourth child mean?  How will this little one fit in; is someone always going to be the third wheel, left out, feelings hurt, tears falling?

Will my oldest who is TRYING so hard to become responsible, grow to feel that we asked too much of him? More responsibility, less responsibility, I never know what's right. He's so small, the oldest of my babies. So big and yet so small. He is my heart. HE made me a mother.  His little brother - is so sensitive and loving. So curious and sweet.  I don't want my guy to feel forgotten, overlooked, invisible in his position as neither oldest nor youngest. And what will it mean for my daughter? Right now she is her daddy's PRINCESS. Daddy walks in the door and the WORLD comes to a STOP. What if this mystery package contains a girl? Will she be willing to share? Will she understand that daddy has enough love in him for TWO princesses? THAT should be interesting. Then there is me? More children than hands, myself spread yet more thin. I don't want to be the impatient mother, the too-tired mother, the no-not-today-maybe-tomorrow mother, lacking both time and energy. I am afraid.  Maybe their lives would be different if they were onlies - maybe we'd do more, explore more, travel more, tackle more, I don't know - but this gift of each other is something I could never wish away.

Their excitement over the new baby is infectious. My 6 year old can hardly wait. The youngest one pokes and prods my growing belly, asking question after question - "Mama, is  baby sleeping? eating? pooping? ready to come out now? - and finishing with a hug and kiss before pulling my shirt back down. My oldest - he has no doubts, no fears.  He simply embraces and I have so much to learn from him. I ask him how he feels about another baby coming and he just tells me, he will make sure his stuff gets put away, because he doesn't want it broken - and he will change diapers - but not the smelly ones. He's a pretty neat kid. Oh and SLEEP. Yeah... What IS sleep anymore? I've been exhausted all day. After all, in celebration a new baby coming  my three year old decided it was the perfect time to stop sleeping through the night in her bed. So I attempt to bring her back to her bedroom, or my husband attempts. Not having it.... Crying, whining for Mama, it can go on ALL NIGHT. So I cave, and let her in the bed and think I can just go back to sleep after she settles back to sleep. But no. The cruel twist of fate known as Pregnancy Insomnia strikes again. Instead of grasping these last nights of uninterrupted sleep before the baby arrives, I lay awake for hours. My brain refuses to turn off. My loose pregnancy joints begin aching. My pregnancy bladder demands yet another trip to the bathroom. My swelling chest begins to throb and then I begin to freak out about how insane things are going to get when the baby gets here. Nothing like overreaction at two o'clock in the morning. THATS when I suddenly remember how incredibly excruciating natural childbirth is. And yet I have done it... THREE TIMES. God help me. I share this with my husband at two in the morning and he reminds me, I didn't DIE the other times and falls back into his deep sleep... :/ Thanks for the pep talk Babe.

It was a busy day yesterday and it is late. I waited a few minutes after I heard the giggling stop from their rooms and  and I opened their door, and waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark. There they are. Sleeping, peacefully. Snoring loudly...I wonder what they are dreaming about. Becoming a mother was always something I wanted in life. THIS... is a gift. This new baby, tumbling around in my belly is an incredible gift. This new little brother or sister will only add to their joy. 30 weeks and the end is drawing near. I am feeling its urgency pressing into my days. I am finding myself drawing inwards and yet I am so needed, so many needs, when I just want to be somewhere alone. I am tired, so tired. I am even afraid. Afraid of pain. Afraid of being responsible for more needs. Afraid of my own frailty. But some things lately are saving me:

Another mother's baby, with sparkling eyes and round cheeks and an easy smile. I remember - oh yes, THIS is  why - and the hard times don't feel so heavy anymore. Soon, I will hold my own tiny person in my arms.

Small things.... A song. A list. An iron pill. A nap. A square of dark chocolate - filled with salted caramel. A walk to the mailbox. A kiss from my toddler, help from my sons, a touch from my husband. So many small things that are steadying my world right now.

My children who forgive me when I blow up at them again. and AGAIN. Patience, went out the window in month 3.

My incredible husband. This man wakes up every morning and goes to a job he LOATHES, and then comes home some days to dishes unwashed and laundry piled up and a screaming 3 year old, 2 sons who are fighting like pit bulls, an undercooked On-Cor dinner and a frazzled, exhausted, emotional mess of a wife and he smiles, hugs and helps. I have NO CLUE what I would do without him.  None. Love him.  And even on days like the above, I wouldn't change my life. I can do this. At least I THINK I can do this...

We are all so very blessed. And it is my promise to this baby, as with the others before him/her, to always be what I wished and always wanted for myself.  Mom. Arms open, heart full, accepting, loving, nurturing, understanding and supportive. My promise to them always.

It's that time ladies and gents...

BACK TO SCHOOL BITCHES. BACK TO SCHOOL.

I have to admit that for most of this month, I’ve had a countdown going of how many days were left until school starts again. On my fridge.. IN BIG BOLD LETTERS. We’ve had a good summer: gardening, grilling, walking, parks, riding bikes, and scooters, playing ball, and swimming more times than I can count. My boys have played and had a ton of fun. My daughter loses her mind when outdoors.... I wouldn't be surprised if she buys a tent and sets up shop in the middle of a field and grows excessive body hair when she is older she enjoys nature so much.

But there’s just something about August: being out of school for two months already, the kids getting on each other’s nerves from too much togetherness, the building intensity of “I’m bored,” and just knowing these summer days are coming to an end. I'm ready for this shit to be OVA.

Once school starts, I won’t have to try as hard to balance everything. I love the structure of the school year. There is TIME FOR EVERYTHING. And this is the first year my youngest son will be in school 5 days a week. ALL DAY. PRAISE JESUS. It will allow me time to work more with my daughter, and to prepare for this baby who is going to be here before I know it.

So there goes my countdown: less than a week until I can go more than 10 minutes without being asked for a snack, being asked to go swimming even on 72 degree days, being asked to go here, there, and anywhere that is not just staying at home.  Less than a week I won’t have to break up fights until after school hours. When I can start a project or take a break to go tinkle and know that I’m not going to be interrupted. Or at least, not interrupted as often as I am in summertime.

And right now, on a morning when I’ve had to yell things like “Don’t hit your brother with Super Mario!”, “your sister isn't a football!” and "you are not having chocolate ice cream at 8:30 in the morning.." that sounds heavenly. Truth be told, I’ve enjoyed the days of summer when we didn’t have to be dressed and out the door by a certain hour. And therefore not in bed by a certain time either.  When our schedule was just ours: no school, homework, sports, or anything else dictating when we needed to be where. Soon this house will be quieter during the day and then filled with homework, karate, and stricter bedtimes at night. Oh and not to mention a screaming newborn soon. And while the quiet will be welcome, albeit for just a short time, I’m not quite ready to go back to such scheduled days. Not ready to let my boys go. My 5 year old is beyond geeked to get on that cheese wagon the first day. And I stifled back tears helping him shop for his supplies and organizing his book bag. I am going to be brave and smile and wish him luck and then cry my eyes out as they get on the school bus and drive off because I cannot believe how fast time flies. My oldest is going into 5th grade, and it truly seems like I just delivered him yesterday. He is all about how his clothes look, how his hair is styled, how SICK his new shoes are, and what buds he will have in his class. Gone are the days of Incredible Hulk and Spiderman lunchboxes and light up gym shoes. TEN. When the hell did that happen?

So I’ll enjoy these last days of the freedom that comes with summer. And these last few months of chaotic calm until this family of five becomes a family of six. Yikes.

"Crazy train, ticket for one please..."

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am the first person to call bullshit when it comes to certain aspects of religion. But today I snuck away from my children, leaving them in the care of my father at home and entered a Lutheran church near me. I slid into the pew and bowed my head and did the customary sign of the cross. I then felt this overwhelming urge to bawl my eyes out. Desperation just came over me. I sat there and I pressed rewind in my head to my earliest memory from childhood and it just became more and more depressing. I completely surrendered and asked this all mighty being a good portion of the planet holds in such high regard, to somehow give me the strength to be able to manage my life. I live in constant fear and anxiety. I have actually been diagnosed and medicated for anxiety and depression. If nothing ever changes, how can it ever get better?

I have a horrible fear of death and abandonment. How we are raised and what we see give us a roadmap for our life. I no longer want to use this map I have had since I was a kid. I get you can't change people who do not want to be changed. I GET IT.  I guess without drawing out this post for days, I need to understand how to just let some things go, or "Give it to God" as I hear thrown around so often. I just feel like sometimes I need to see those footsteps next to me. I got up, lit a candle and began to have a quick one on one with the big guy. I need help. I need some higher power to begin to explain to my head and heart that I am not responsible for the actions of other people, past or present. I need my head and heart to understand that my life is what I make of it. I want this tremendous boulder of guilt out of my head and heart.

I dont think of myself as weak, but one person can only deal with so much until they literally collapse. And I have. Physically and mentally. Maybe what I was seeking today was a light bulb moment. I was hoping that as I sat there and silently poured my heart out to this beautiful and expensive sculpture's eyes, that somehow, I would get an answer. And you know what? I did. Its that noone and nothing will change, unless I change myself.  Time will tell.

Finding Inspiration...

I don't think you need to be a parent to feel the crunch of a terrific lack-of-time these days.... Normal every day life paired with the constant requests from outside sources = not enough hours in the day for the insane amount of shizz that needs attention. I still need to use this outlet to purge. So therefore, I take time for me, and do so. I have had so many ups and downs this year, with this week being pretty low. I feel that emotionally I am just bone dry. I am entering this stage of numbness with certain issues and I dont like it. I guess I feel like I am continually stifled. That my opinions, thoughts, views and goals have no validation or meaning. I cannot tell you what this does to your sprit. Depression is trying to chokehold me, but even through it all - Im feeling inspired. Attribute it to the beginning of Spring and my new years goal to tend to the garden of ME. But mother effer. I am high and low, broken and yet, balanced. You figure it out. I am inspired...

It’s a funny thing about what inspires you, it can be so deep and meaningful, or so shallow and transient. I have been trying to  live in the moment and enjoy everything that flows around me, rather than getting bogged down with ‘important’ things.

What is ‘important’ anyway?  Ok, so I know that things like jobs and putting food on the table and paying bills and things are important in one sense, and it would be pretty difficult to survive if these things werent tended to. On a simpler level, why do we decide something inspiring or beautiful is ‘more important’ than something else that is inspiring and beautiful?

Being outdoors and in the silence of nature is beyond healing and soothing to me. Watching my kids run and play and their absolute innocence is soothing to me. I am finding myself looking at issues and just repeating internally "Give it to God" "Give it to someone higher to deal with and focus on YOURSELF". I have also found myself heading to church..And engaging my children in talks about their beliefs. I take the view that children shouldn’t be able to choose a religion until they can understand what religion is.  Even then, they should take some sort of... SOMETHING...before they take the final step of committing to a belief system.  And there should always be an opt out process. I teach my children that they are miracles.I am interested in teaching them respect and care for the world around them – not as a part of religious rules that they have to subscribe to, or for the fear of this divine being and retribution, but for it’s own sake and for theirs as people.  I want to teach them the wonder of a sunrise is not more or less than the wonder of a storm.  When my 9-year-old will stop and tell me about an ant he sat and watched cross the sidewalk to make sure it got safely into the grass to make its way home to its mom, my heart melts. It tells me that he is aware of life and its value. Something as small as an ant and its safe journey across the concrete MEANS something to him. I love this child so much my heart hurts. He is a lesson to be learned EVERY minute of EVERY day. Those of you who know me, and know him, know what I mean. All of my children are beginning to become inspired by nature. We spend time outside, and once inside, the crayons come out and pictures of sunshines, rainbows, trees and flowers with their family gathered together begin flowing. It gives me peace to know, that what is soothing and calming to me, brings them happiness also. ::sigh::

Nature isn’t about complicated ideals.  It doesn’t bend and change shape to be what you want it to be. It just... IS. Mother Nature is simple, violent, ruthless, and beautiful.  It doesn’t have to justify its beauty, any more than it justifies its violence.  The things that inspire us should be the same.  Simply there, inspirational, for whatever the reason, and not graded according to their worthiness. I am inspired by the green around me, the rebirth of nature and the happiness the sun brings me when it shines on my face. My children's laughter. It can lift my heart and make me cry because I still continue to be amazed that these three beautiful beings came from me and I seize up with worry about the world I am sending them out into and how they will respond to what their lives bring them. No matter what they learn at home and the tools I give them to navigate throughout life, there are still people out there who seek to harm others. We hear about it every day.  I am an eternal worry wart. I cant help it, I will more than likely NEVER stop. THEY inspire me. I may be all over the place with this post, but that is because lately, my mind has been all over the place. Life and death, past and future.... It's not a good place to be at times, my mind...

The worth of inspiration is what it inspires you to do. Be inspired. 

February Funk. I HAZ IT.

Sometimes, it's really hard to take the saying "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff" to heart.  Inevitably, lots of small things put together equal one big thing and your day officially blows big ass. "That's the last straw," you hear yourself yelling when you run out of milk or make a wrong turn or burn your finger on the stove. I find myself in this boat a lot.  Why is it so much easier to focus on all the negative little things in life than all the positive little things?  Take yesterday, for example. 

My Debbie Downer list included:
a cloudy, rainy, snowy craptastic day
nothing in the house for lunch
whines and tantrums from a certain two-year-old
Said two-year-old dropping what lunch I was able to make her in her lap because she was goofing off instead of eating...
a sad, depressed feeling that wouldn't go away
a horrific headache
the daunting task of meal planning and grocery list making was hanging over my head
a husband who was at work while I was marinating in my "bad" day

The thing is, it wasn't that bad of a day. But my brain kept track of those little things, adding them up and adding them up until I was ready to deliver a Rodney King style beatdown to the first person who looked at me wrong. Sometimes it's really hard to get off that negative path, but thanks to my camera and the ability it gives me to reminisce on the day through the lens, I can now see the tiny little good things that I should've been adding up instead.

Despite the dreary, snowy BLAH day, I managed to have some chill time with my middle and youngest chitlins.

We had a tea party.
We played with bubbles.
We created odd creatures with playdoh.
We got lost in about 6 books.
I got schooled in wrestling action figures.

The oldest came home and flew through his homework without a battle and even cleaned up dinner, his toys and took a shower. All without me skreetching at him. Be still my heart. I am thankful for the time I take to capture all the little moments in my children's lives. It seems like their childhoods are going by so quickly.

And while they are napping... I figured I would purge...

10 Things You Probably Don't Know About Me

1.  When I was in elementary school - either 7th or 8th grade, I think it was,I accidentally left a curling iron plugged in and shut the front door to my house, thus locking my dumb ass out. Panicked, I grabbed a fire extinguisher from my dads car (THATS A WHOLE NOTHER ISSUE...) and decided to throw it through the bay window. But not the WHOLE window.... an opening probably 2X2 feet wide. I wont post a picture of what I looked like back then, but you can pretty much guess, I wasnt gonna fit through a 2X2 opening. A neighbor came to my rescue and busted in the front door. All because of..... a fucking curling iron. My douchebaggery began that afternoon, many years ago...

2.  I have a sleeping disorder.  Nothing diagnosed, because I am convinced I'm the only person in the world with this problem. I cannot stand the sound of someone breathing/snoring while asleep.  It has caused me so many issues throughout my life as I've struggled to find places to sleep alone on vacations or at sleepovers.  I have slept in bathrooms and closets, I've used fans and earplugs...I have threated to shove random items into people's body cavities... Its pretty intense. So if you are a snorer, I am going to need you to shove a sock in your face if you plan on sleeping anywhere near me or expect some shit to go down. No joke. Hand across heart.

3.  I went through what I call a "rebellious" stage in high school, not in the form of drinking and drugs, but shoplifting and penciling my eyebrows and lip liner with brown/black Wet N Wild pencil... that more than likely - was stolen. I got a lot of free stuff, got caught twice, grounded twice, then my dad threatened to beat my ass if I did it again and then those stealing days ended.  As for the lips and brows, that came to an abrupt end. Probably when I couldnt steal it anymore. Someone should have handed me the memo sooner though. Without those sharpie hued eyebrows, I sort of resembled Robert Blake:

Frightening. I know.

4.  I had horrible nose bleeds as a child. I have no idea why I got them... probably the fear of yardwork or mum planting which was pretty much a weekend ritual in my house, caused them. Bloody nose or not, I was out in the lawn at the crack of dawn well before the sun was up digging holes for those freebies from McCormick Place.

5.  Childbirth was one of the best experiences of my life.  I absolutely loved my labor and delivery experiences.

6.  I long to be a stay-at-home-mom who does educational activities with her kids, who keeps her house clean, who is super creative and is constantly making new things, who cooks healthy meals each night, who maintains a positive attitude in almost every situation.  Oh wait, this woman doesn't exist. And if she does, fuck her. 

7.  I am addicted to Scrabble.

8.  I am an organic food whore.

9.  I'm a very nostalgic person.  I wish I could time travel or re-live some of the great moments of my childhood and teenage years.

10. My goal is to be the Tori Spelling of Northwest Indiana. Minus the horrible boob job and infidelity thing... I love her craftiness, her drive, her style and her dedication to her children.  Tori kicks ass.
Thats all she wrote folks.