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October 28, 2009

My best girl

Summe and Fall 2009 053 On the way out of the 7-11 - my reward to myself for getting pregnant was to finally break my 4-year long Slurpee hiatus. Go womb! - I gave Mads a dollar and told her she could give it to the man who was sitting outside the store with his hat on the ground.

"Thanks a lot, little sister," he said when she chucked it into the cap.

Mads: "Little sister? Mommy, this guy called me little sister, but he's not my sister. That's funny! Isn't that crazy?"
Me: "Yup, that's pretty crazy."
Mads: "Why did he want some money?"
Me: "I don't know, hon. But we have an extra dollar and he needs a dollar, so we can give him ours."
Mads: "I think I'll give him something every single day I come here. I hope he's going to be here. Oh no! What if he's not going to be here?!"
Me: "That's really nice, Mads. We'll probably see him again."
Mads: "And I think maybe he will go and find someone else who needs money and he will give our money to that person. That's called a trade, Mommy."
Me: "That's called helping someone, too."
Mads: "Yes, that's called a helping trade."

She breaks my heart sometimes, for real.

October 28, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBack

October 22, 2009

Run down and ribbon dancing

Tired_mom2 Still here, still pregnant, still utterly exhausted from the roots of my hair down to my fingernails. Seriously, even my hair feels tired.

I’m realizing that it’s a whole different ballgame being pregnant with #2. The first time around I would drag my sorry self home from work, plop straight into bed and nap for 2 hours. Unfortunately Mads doesn’t do a lot of lounging about in the evenings so a nap for Mommy is pretty much out of the question.

She’s like a little Tasmanian Devil when F and I get home: She runs, yelling, to the door to let us in and then it’s “Let’s play parade!” and “I’ll be Cinderella!” and “You do tricks!” (this is a vague one, but seems to involve me improvising a gymnastics-inspired floor routine of sorts while she cheers. Think Will Ferrell’s ribbon dance in Old School) straight through until bedtime. By the time she’s settled it’s 9pm, then I eat, load the dishwasher, make a pathetic and laughable attempt at tidying up, do some work in front of the TV and then fall into a comatose state until morning. Or, technically, until I have to get up to go pee, which happens three fricking times a night. I’ve been considering a bedpan but oddly F is stubbornly refusing. Go figure.

You know, I’m starting to think that all those times over the past couple of years that I bitched about being tired… that was just a warm-up for the real thing. I’m starting to worry that me and my one-child self have no idea what tired even means and that all you moms of two and three and four and, god help me, five, have been sitting there (or, I guess, standing there, because as if you have time to sit) laughing at me all along.

I’m starting to wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.

October 22, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBack

October 11, 2009

Never say never...

279738632v2147483647_350x350_Front_Color-Black I was trying to think of a witty or at least a somewhat memorable way to announce this, but I think I'll just skip all that and cut to the chase: I'm pregnant. Knocked up. In the family way. Insert the euphemism of your choice, what it boils down to is that 6 months from now - knock on wood - I'll be a mom-of-two. 

Let me try to sum up how I've been feeling in the month-and-a-half or so since I found out, just so you're up to speed: Shocked, relieved, exhausted, nauseous, nervous, happy, hormonal. And terrified. Let's not forget terrified.

Last night F and I went out to dinner - where we spent much of the time talking about how we'll never be able to go out for dinner anymore - and when I got home I went and hung my coat up in the spare room, which is soon-to-be the nursery. And as I put the hanger back in the closet I had a sudden panic attack.

"Where are we going to hang our coats?" I asked F once I returned, pale and stricken, to the living room. "Once the baby gets here. Where will our coats go?? We never thought about that when we made this big decision, did we?"

For a long, long time I honestly thought I would never be pregnant again. I swore it up and down to anyone who would listen. I would have put money on it. I very distinctly remember the day I packed all of my maternity clothes up in a garbage bag and dropped them off in the Goodwill bin, thinking to myself that there's no way I'd ever be needing those again. I did the same with all of Mads' baby clothes and toys - I didn't keep a single thing. (Yeah, I'm kind of regretting that decision now.)

Then somewhere along the way I guess I changed my mind. Not entirely, but enough. And so here we are, happy and terrified.

My track record with new motherhood is less than stellar. I spent too many of Mads' early days numb and in tears and just the thought of going through that again is scary as hell. On the other hand, what would my life be now without Mads? What was it before her? I don't even remember. All I know is that sometimes when I see her big eyes and her toothy grin my heart literally aches to know that I've been entrusted with something so beautiful and so important. I am beyond blessed and grateful to have her in my life and I know that, whatever may happen along the way, I'll be blessed to know this new baby, too. 

(ps - If you're expecting or know someone who is and might be interested I've taken over the Babycenter pregnancy blog for the next 6 months or so.)

October 11, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBack

October 02, 2009

Sleep is for the weak

6a00d8341bf7f753ef00e54fcfc2838834-800wi I went to bed last night being serenaded by the not-so-soothing sounds of Old MacDonald has a Farm, which was being sung by my three-year-old... who was STILL AWAKE.

To her credit, she wasn't banging on the door or kicking up a fuss - though I did hear the occasional thump of a size 10 foot against her bedroom wall (the girl has monster feet - we can just about share our shoe collections). She was just lying there, singing. Loudly. Three hours after her bedtime.

Once you have a kid, basically nothing matters as much as sleep.Their sleep, your sleep - it's just about all you think about. We become sleep junkies. An 8-hour snooze used to be commonplace, now it's this mythical mecca. You hear it exists, you dream of one day getting there. But you can't really see any way in hell it's going to happen.

I really can't complain. Mads slept through the night early. She moved to a big girl bed without a fuss - well, nothing a little bribery couldn't fix at least. She doesn't get up and wander the halls at all hours of the night. Mainly because she's locked in her room, but whatever - I still consider it a victory.

The thing is, though, when you tuck your baby in at night, you never really know how it's going to go. It's a toss-up. She could just snuggle into her blankets and drift sweetly off to dreamland for 11 hours. Or all hell could break loose. There are just so many variables involved: Teething, head colds, monsters in the closet, too dark/too light, too loud/too quiet, too hot/too cold, bedtime anxieties, early morning nightmares, potty trips, upset tummies, lost blankies, 5am wake-up calls. Or maybe she just feels like singing at 11:30pm. Who knows?

Maybe all of this sleep deprivation is some kind of twisted rite of passage. I distinctly remember being about 6 years old, sitting with my dad in the early morning hours in tears because I'd had a bad dream about a German Shephard - I had dog issues back then. I don't remember exactly what kind and calming things he said, but now I know what he was probably thinking: For the love of god, girl - shut up and let me get some sleep! What goes around comes around.

October 2, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBack

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