Let’s forget for a moment that I have been a home owner for 6 years, married for nearly 5 years, and a mother for more than 2 years. Because in all that time, I never really felt grown up.
That all changed today when I bought this:
I’ll be the mother of two before I turn 30 next month, and I now drive a minivan. Yup. I’m a grown up.
Would someone please pass me a glass of wine?
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Nate and I took Laura for ice cream the other night. With sprinkles, of course.
I sent this picture to my parents, and immediately received a text back:
Ice cream with jimmies! Summer can’t be too far away!
Jimmies. Someday, Laura will ask her Grammy, What on earth are jimmies?!
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I just haven’t been able to write anything this week. I have drafts of posts, just sitting in my dashboard. They feel inadequate. Impotent. Inappropriate. A silly picture of Laura eating ice cream, talking about how Maryland is such a different place to grow on than my own New England childhood. But it just feels wrong.
Wrong, when I know that a beautiful person is lying in a hospital bed, praying for her little boys to survive. To meet their darling older sister. To be handed an ice cream cone covered in rainbow jimmies sprinkles.
Wrong, when I think back to how I was feeling halfway through this pregnancy. Uncomfortable enough to be scared of preterm labor. My scariest week was at 26 weeks pregnant, when Nate was out of town and every weird infection I’d experienced in the whole pregnancy seemed to be peaking.
26 weeks was my worst, lowest point. The very thought of preterm labor at 26 weeks was scary enough. But 18 weeks, 5 days? My heart just aches for Diana and everything she has been going through this week. Every day has been a miracle and a testament to her strength.
Every day has been a reminder of how lucky I am to have nearly two healthy pregnancies under my belt. I’ll be full term tomorrow. And while my pregnancy with Gavin hasn’t been the easiest or most comfortable, it has certainly still fallen into the “healthy” and “normal” category.
So instead of posting about crabs vs. lobster, I’m posting a little prayer for Diana and all the other mothers lying in hospitals, hoping for their babies.
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep:
May God guard me through the night
And wake me with the morning light.
Pouring my heart out. Completely and utterly.
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One of the most embarassing (and hilarious) memories of my childhood took place in 7th grade during Spring Break. My parents took my older brother and me on a special trip to England for the week, leaving the younger two at home with my grandmother. I was outfitted with a brand new wardrobe for the occassion, which left me feeling incredibly grown-up. We flew into Heathrow, rented a car, and drove through the English countryside taking tea at every opportunity.
But we were also in a rented car for most of a week. My dad drove, with my mom sitting in front and my brother and I sharing the backseat. It was a fantastic way to take in the breathtaking views of the country. It was also a great way to experience English radio. Which left much to be desired.
One particular afternoon, my dad played around with the stations for a few minutes when suddenly the car was filled with… I guess it was music. MacArthur Park. With my parents belting out the song in their “best” operatic voices.
Please keep in mind that I don’t think I’d ever heard this song in my life, and here my two parents were singing as loudly and terribly as they could. My brother and I started pounding on the windows of the car, in hopes that some passerby on the lonely British road would take pity and save us from our crazy parents. Seemingly 2 hours later (maybe 7 minutes? It’s a looooong song), MacArthur Park finally came to its dramatic finish, with my parents’ operatic warbling at its loudest.
I swore right then and there in that car that I would never be as weird or embarassing as my parents. Ahem.
Last weekend, Laura left a donut-filled paper bag in the “trunk” of her Cozy Coupe at Grandma’s the other day. Laura remembered the donut a few hours later and wanted to eat it. However, in the hours between forgetting and remembering the donut, there had been a torrential downpour. The bag had disintegrated around the melted donut. It was disgusting. Laura was devastated. I burst into song:
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don’t think I can take it
‘Cause it took so long to bake it
And I’ll never have that recipe again!!! OH NO!!!!
Laura wasn’t amused. But I was! Isn’t it awesome, becoming the very parent you swore you’d never be? I love it.
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I had my first internal exam today. Yay. Just as horribly uncomfortable as I recalled from those with Laura. But very unlike my pregnancy with Laura, I am already 1cm dilated at 36 weeks. Not effaced or anything, but still. The day before my water broke and I delivered Laura, I was 1/2cm dilated and 50% effaced.
However, the day my water broke and I delivered Laura was a full moon. And you know what they say about a full moon. (It’s that women go into labor and delivery rooms are insanely busy).
So I looked up the dates for upcoming full moons:
May 6th and June 4th.
One of those dates is next week. NEXT WEEK. I think I’ll spend a little time this weekend gathering a few hospital necessities. I just have to remember where I hid my nursing bras…
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Remember a couple of months ago, when I kept getting really emotional and touchy about my hugeness? I seem to have turned a corner. Now I’m the one making jokes about my size. I AM THAT ENORMOUS.
I shared an elevator with a very tall couple this morning. We got on, did the head nod acknowledgement, and moved on. The wife randomly pointed out the elevator’s specs to the husband, focusing on the 2500 pound capacity. The husband thought we’d be ok. I looked up from the ground where I was politely staring and said, “I dunno! I might be pushing it!” I got off the elevator with a smile on my face, and a hand on my tummy.
So here I am, at 36 weeks pregnant with my second. I’m a hot mess of nesting emotions. Sunday night, I was perched on the edge of the tub, cleaning the shower head. Because that’s obviously really important to clean once every five years. Monday night, I couldn’t finish the grocery shopping because of some fierce waves of tightening and pain that had me panicked that I needed to rush off to L&D. I’m convinced he’s coming early. I’m also convinced he’s coming late.
The pros to an early baby: He’d be that much older for this summer, with a jam-packed schedule of weekend trips, flights to Seattle, and me needing to leave him overnight for various reasons.
The cons to an early baby: My mom wouldn’t be able to fly down in the middle of the night to join me at the hospital. I didn’t realize how much I wanted my mom with me during Laura’s birth until I saw her walk in the room just after my epidural was placed. I’m pretty emotionally set on having her there again. I would like to skip the part where my father-in-law was also in the room.
The pros to a late baby: Um… I’d have more time at work…? Laura might be closer to being potty-trained…?
The cons to a late baby: He’d be that much younger for this summer, with a jam-packed schedule of weekend trips, flights to Seattle, and me needing to leave him overnight for various reasons.
So in actuality, I hope he’s right on time. Just like his big sister. I have my first internal exam tomorrow morning, so I’ll be sure to update if I’m holy-moly-4cm-dilated or something crazy. I’m probably high and tight, and just making up contractions in my head.
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I made it five minutes attempting to sleep in the same bed as my husband last night. Five minutes, before the “loud breathing” (that he insists is not snoring, because he “would know” if he snored) drove me to the couch downstairs. The couch because my visiting mother was in the guest bed.
Five minutes before I chose the cold leather of the recliner couch that I hate, over the hard but lumpy and unsupportive mattress (that I also hate) that I’m supposed to share with my husband. I can’t remember the last time we stayed in the same room.
Laura is getting super confused. Where is Mommy sleeping today? It’s like a really bad version of I Love Lucy, but instead of a cute nightstand separating me from my husband, we have walls.
I woke up this morning barely able to move. My hips were so achy from trying to stay on the couch without rolling onto the floor all night. My ego hurt even more. Why is it so hard for me to sleep in the same room as Nate? Why can’t I just get over the “loud breathing” long enough to fall asleep? Why do I feel like such a terrible wife?
It all leads back to the “I Wants” that I struggle with so much. I want a new mattress, one that doesn’t force me to roll right into the middle of the bed. I want a fresh coat of paint in our room, one that isn’t dreary and depressing. I want a new bedframe, one that doesn’t creak and groan with every breath. I want… I want… I want…
I think I’m actually looking forward to the sleep deprivation that will come with Gavin’s birth. At least I’ll have a few weeks where I know, without a shadow of a doubt, I’ll be able to fall asleep at the drop of a hat.
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Before I even got to the National Mall on Tuesday to thoroughly exhaust myself, I was already feeling crampy and uncomfortable. I was clearly dehydrated, but was facing a morning without a bathroom. I kept myself dehydrated and ignored the discomfort. By the time I got back to my desk, I was miserable. I just couldn’t recover from the combination of dehydration and two hours of walking and standing on the Mall.
So I did what any logical pregnant woman in her third trimester would do. I panicked. Not in the OMG rush me to the ER sort of way, but almost. I texted Nate to let him know I was feeling really, really awful, with semi-regular crampy squeezy contractions, complete with head butts to the cervix. I mentioned the same to a few close co-workers, just in case, and I started packing up my desk.
I printed on-going projects. I moved files to my personal external hard drive. I 409′ed the heck out of my desk. Everything that could stay at work was tidy. Everything I could take home to work on was in a tote bag. I left at 3:00, letting my boss know I needed a nap and wasn’t sure I’d be in the next day.
Clearly my biggest problem on Tuesday was too little water and too much exertion. However, I can’t shake the feeling that Gavin is antsy to make his arrival. I haven’t quite gotten the nesting bug at home, but only in part because I’m too tired after work and I haven’t been home on a weekend in a long time. However, I can rest easy knowing my cubible is squared away. I have a stash of work at home, and a little cache in a tote bag I’ve been taking back and forth each day. In the event of pre-term labor, at least I know my work-self is nested and ready.
My first internal exam is a week from today. I’m very curious.
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I really didn’t want to make my weekly trek to the grocery store on Monday. My meal plan for the week was nonexistent, and I knew I would just wander the aisles aimlessly with an antsy toddler in tow. Wouldn’t it be lovely if someone could do my shopping for me and deliver it to my home?
Wait. That service exists. It’s called Peapod. I did a quick survey of friends to see if anyone had used and liked the service. All votes point to yes. So I started to create some semblance of a shopping list to fill my online cart.
I just couldn’t do it. I had maybe five things in the cart, nothing of any substance for any dinner, and I still needed to pick out some ice cream. I don’t buy ice cream all that often, and I really wanted to stand in front of the freezer to make my selection. So after work, I hauled Laura to the grocery store for our weekly ritual of sweet conversation, mild tantrums, and bribery.
IT WAS AWFUL. One of the worst grocery trips of my life. I was completely lost without my shopping list, and Laura was a two-year-old at her worst. We started the trip by opening our unneeded purchase #1: a package of “Monkey Ogurt” (Dannon smoothies), which Laura promised to sip carefully as we didn’t have a straw. By the time we got to the milk fridge, she had dumped most of the smoothie down her shirt. She was beyond distressed by the cold, wet, sticky feeling. We high-tailed it to the baby aisle for unneeded purchase #2: baby wipes, so I could strip my child in the grocery store, wipe of her stomach, and clean her shirt to the best of my abilities.
While we were there, I grabbed unneeded purchase #3: a package of take ‘n’ toss cups with straws, so Laura could use a straw for a second attempt at Monkey Ogurt. Meanwhile, I still only have bananas, grapes, yogurt and milk in my cart. I had promised Laura some “marshamallows” as potty training bribery on our way to the store, so we backtracked to the nuts and candy aisle for a bag, which I let Laura hold as we trudged back across the store to grab something – anything - for dinner. Just as we’re nearing the end of this abysmal trip, just as I’m starting to see the light, Laura scolds me for not opening the marshamallows. Cue tantrum. So now I have a yogurt-covered toddler screaming in the bread aisle over an unopened bag of marshamallows. Obviously, I cave and open increasingly unneeded purchase #4: the damn marshamallows. I still haven’t bought anything useful to make for dinner. We obviously need quick and dirty tonight. I head to the Stouffers section, and pick up a veggie lasagna and a chicken with broccoli rice casserole. I let Laura choose, but she says chicken and broccoli while she points to the lasagna. I put mostly unneeded purchases #5 & 6: two frozen dinners, in the cart.
We make it to the ice cream aisle, where I am silently cursing myself for not ordering our groceries through Peapod. Why, I ask myself, why do we really need ice cream? I put normally unneeded purchases #7 & 8: two pints of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, in the cart. Laura is back in a good mood, and somehow overlooks this source of more unneeded treats – thank GOD. We make it to the line for the register, where I am joking with Laura about how silly she is. Apparently, I strike a nerve.
I NOT A SIWWY GOOSE! GET AWAY MOMMY! I DON”T WIKE YOU! GET AWAY!
Ouch. Really, really ouch. I know she’ll say that to me and about me hundreds (thousands) more times throughout her life. When she becomes a frustrated big sister in a few weeks. When she’s a tween and wants to do so much more than I’m ready for. When she’s an angsty teen. When she heads off to college. We she’s planning her wedding… but ouch did it hurt hearing those words from my daughter so young.
We wound up spending $86 on absolute crap – half of which we wouldn’t have needed at all if I hadn’t attempted the groceries that night. I used to love my weekly shopping ritual with Laura. I’d bribe her with a snack, as we meandered through the aisles adding the items on our list to our cart. Laura would babble and chatter, I would laugh. Lately, there has been less laughter and more tears. I think maybe we need to put our mother-daughter shopping trips on hold for a little while. I’ll be trying Peapod next week.
I can’t begin to imagine what it will be like prom dress shopping in a few years.
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Yesterday was such an amazing day to be in Washington, DC. Amidst sunny blue skies, Space Shuttle Discovery circled the city three times atop a 747 in a farewell flight, before joining the Smithsonian Family. I am so glad I was able to join the thousands on the Mall to pay homage to our nation’s history.
I couldn’t believe how incredibly low the shuttle was flown. The plane (and the accompanying fighter jet bodyguard) was so low, you could feel the rumbling of the jets. And my fears of just seeing the underside of a 747 were completely unfounded – the shuttle was so easy to see.
What a sight it was. We would hear shrieks from crowds in various spots around the city, as the shuttle came into view. We would look towards the noise – and sure enough, a small blip at first getting closer and closer. At times, the shuttle looked like it was about to hit the Washington Monument – it was that close in such otherwise restricted air space. The shuttle would disappear behind trees, only to pop out again for another viewing. Spectacular.
It was especially poignant for me to see such an important part of American history fly by the Washington Monument, the Smithsonian Castle, and the Capitol. I’m sure people along streets and rooftops all over the city saw similarly spectacular sights of the shuttle passing the White House, National Archives, Treasury Department and so many other government icons.
I devote every day to protecting and preserving our nation’s cultural history. What an amazing experience to actually watch history fly over my head. It was a great day.
Photos taken by a friend, perched atop the Department of Justice building for the occasion. My camera appears to be missing, and my iPhone shots were… not great.
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