The growing pains continue...
I had to keep him from a baseball game tonight because he lied to me about having schoolwork to do...for what appears to be a whole week!
I know, I know, shame on me for not noticing sooner. But I trusted the little booger when he said he didn't have anything that needed done. He did...and he knew he did...and he lied to my face about it.
*sigh*
So far, eight isn't any easier than seven was.
Showing posts with label Steve. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Steve. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Sunday, May 09, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
The truth hurts (warning: graphic post)
7/12/07
I have been inspired by Niobe to verbalize some awful truths about myself. I have been thinking about it for over a year now...have tiptoed around it...but haven't really put it into words for anyone but my husband.
When Alex died, I was devastated. But looking back on it now, I can see that it was more shock and emptiness than it was grief over an actual child. I knew very little about him as a person so I didn't have personality characteristics to miss. Yes, there were memories of him...but they were all tied to the big P...pregnancy. There was no independent memories of him. I did not mourn HIM so much as I mourned the lost dreams I had FOR him. I remember the doctor's visit, the ride to my parent's house, the ride to the hospital and all the little steps toward letting go of those dreams. And with each step, I didn't mourn for Alex as much (if at all) as I mourned for me and Steve and Sam.
I also suffered from extreme shock. Things like stillbirth don't happen to people like me. I lost my innocence. I lost my ability to look at my life as fully beautiful. I had lived a charmed life up until that moment. Sure, bad things happened around me and I felt sadness. But it was outside of my existence and I was always able to move on. Bad things didn't happen TO me. This ugliness had pounced on me when I least expected it and I was...in a word...flattened.
But the truth is, I was repulsed by the idea that I had carried a dead baby around inside me. When Alex was first born I looked over to see them lifting his body into the bassinet, but I couldn't really see him because I didn't have my glasses on. I only saw a blurry image...his arms limp and hanging out to his sides, his legs limp with one hanging loosely over the other, and all his dark hair. When I did have an opportunity, I couldn't even look at him. I sent him away from the room for HOURS while I slept. He was not my baby...not my son. He was nothing more than a dead body to me. And I couldn't look at him.
After the man from the coroner's office came to speak to us at 3 in the morning and after I ate the best tasting turkey sandwich I had ever had in my life...only then did I allow my curiosity to get the better of me and ask to see my son's dead body. I slept and I ate a sandwich! And I enjoyed the sandwich! What kind of monster am I? Shouldn't I FEEL something other than these things?
The next morning I did ask to see Alex again. I don't know why. It felt like something I was supposed to do (And I've always been one to do what is expected of me). I made sure to keep him tightly wrapped so I didn't have to see what death had done to his body. Not because it made me sad, but because it made me sick to my stomach. Before I had them take him away, I kissed him on the cheek. To this day, I wish I hadn't. It was nothing more than a cold dead body. It was a million years from the warmth of the squirming bundle I had imagined so many times during my pregnancy.
And with Travis...
It still seems odd to say his name. In fact, I make efforts not to say his name outside of this blog because I don't FEEL anything for Travis. He didn't have a name. He didn't have an identity. We had just found out he was a boy. We gave him a name because we felt like we had to...like we should (and again, schoolgirl guilt dictated my actions).
Worse than that, most of what I do feel when I think of Travis is selfish. Embarrassment, anger, shame, horror, stupidity. There is no shock. There is just how "this" affected me and Steve and Sam. I have, at times, wished Travis never existed. I look at the pictures we took of him (and us) in the hospital and I marvel at how disconnected I look...at how disconnected I still feel. I have to really LOOK at his pictures to even conjure up a hint of recognition. This was my child? The thought repulses me to some degree.
When I think of my "grief" I think of it as being two years old. I am a veteran and I am "past" much of the hard stuff. I don't think of the "grief" as being refreshed just one year ago today. I just don't. I must admit that I often forget about last year altogether. And this makes me think even more that the "grief" I felt wasn't at all about either of my babies...but was entirely about me and how I had to shift my view of my reality. I am not sad like my friend who lost her mother. I do not miss them. How could I? They were never even born! I do occasionally find myself thinking about what Alex would look like now...comparing what might have been to reality. But I find that to be more about the three of us...me, Steve and Sam. How would WE be different?
I sadly admit that I discount my babies every day. And there is shame in that because I feel as though I'm a fraud...and have been a fraud...since the day we couldn't find Alex's heartbeat.
4/26/10
Three years that post set there in draft form. Three years and the only reason I post it now is because there is so much more horror to add. There won't ever be a pencil portrait of my last baby. Not even an awful hospital Polaroid of its dead body. And after it was over, I ate cottage cheese and vegetable soup...and I keep eating cottage cheese and vegetable soup now as if that will do something...I'm not sure what.
We don't even know if it was a boy or a girl, but we have it cremated and sitting on top of our electric fireplace in our living room. How fucking ridiculous is this?!?!
And I'll be honest, I don't even know if what I feel is sadness because the baby is dead or sadness because I failed again. Every life is precious...blah, blah, blah. But what was it? In the end, it was no more than another tiny dead body inside my belly...a dead body that didn't have the courtesy to exit the premises when it was done watching me jump through meaningless hoops.
Yes, there was hope and love and some measure of peace. And now there is none of that and I still feel death. And who will dare tell me that I shouldn't worry now? Who will be bold enough to suggest I am not cursed...that I have paid my dues...that there is nothing more to fear? Who in their right mind can say that I even have a chance at moving on from this place?
And I wonder...how do I even know? How do I know I won't walk out in front of a bus? or drink myself into oblivian? How do I know I'm strong enough THIS time? I've not done this before. Something similar, maybe....but maybe THIS is the last straw.
And what if I simply fall asleep and never wake up?
I have been inspired by Niobe to verbalize some awful truths about myself. I have been thinking about it for over a year now...have tiptoed around it...but haven't really put it into words for anyone but my husband.
When Alex died, I was devastated. But looking back on it now, I can see that it was more shock and emptiness than it was grief over an actual child. I knew very little about him as a person so I didn't have personality characteristics to miss. Yes, there were memories of him...but they were all tied to the big P...pregnancy. There was no independent memories of him. I did not mourn HIM so much as I mourned the lost dreams I had FOR him. I remember the doctor's visit, the ride to my parent's house, the ride to the hospital and all the little steps toward letting go of those dreams. And with each step, I didn't mourn for Alex as much (if at all) as I mourned for me and Steve and Sam.
I also suffered from extreme shock. Things like stillbirth don't happen to people like me. I lost my innocence. I lost my ability to look at my life as fully beautiful. I had lived a charmed life up until that moment. Sure, bad things happened around me and I felt sadness. But it was outside of my existence and I was always able to move on. Bad things didn't happen TO me. This ugliness had pounced on me when I least expected it and I was...in a word...flattened.
But the truth is, I was repulsed by the idea that I had carried a dead baby around inside me. When Alex was first born I looked over to see them lifting his body into the bassinet, but I couldn't really see him because I didn't have my glasses on. I only saw a blurry image...his arms limp and hanging out to his sides, his legs limp with one hanging loosely over the other, and all his dark hair. When I did have an opportunity, I couldn't even look at him. I sent him away from the room for HOURS while I slept. He was not my baby...not my son. He was nothing more than a dead body to me. And I couldn't look at him.
After the man from the coroner's office came to speak to us at 3 in the morning and after I ate the best tasting turkey sandwich I had ever had in my life...only then did I allow my curiosity to get the better of me and ask to see my son's dead body. I slept and I ate a sandwich! And I enjoyed the sandwich! What kind of monster am I? Shouldn't I FEEL something other than these things?
The next morning I did ask to see Alex again. I don't know why. It felt like something I was supposed to do (And I've always been one to do what is expected of me). I made sure to keep him tightly wrapped so I didn't have to see what death had done to his body. Not because it made me sad, but because it made me sick to my stomach. Before I had them take him away, I kissed him on the cheek. To this day, I wish I hadn't. It was nothing more than a cold dead body. It was a million years from the warmth of the squirming bundle I had imagined so many times during my pregnancy.
And with Travis...
It still seems odd to say his name. In fact, I make efforts not to say his name outside of this blog because I don't FEEL anything for Travis. He didn't have a name. He didn't have an identity. We had just found out he was a boy. We gave him a name because we felt like we had to...like we should (and again, schoolgirl guilt dictated my actions).
Worse than that, most of what I do feel when I think of Travis is selfish. Embarrassment, anger, shame, horror, stupidity. There is no shock. There is just how "this" affected me and Steve and Sam. I have, at times, wished Travis never existed. I look at the pictures we took of him (and us) in the hospital and I marvel at how disconnected I look...at how disconnected I still feel. I have to really LOOK at his pictures to even conjure up a hint of recognition. This was my child? The thought repulses me to some degree.
When I think of my "grief" I think of it as being two years old. I am a veteran and I am "past" much of the hard stuff. I don't think of the "grief" as being refreshed just one year ago today. I just don't. I must admit that I often forget about last year altogether. And this makes me think even more that the "grief" I felt wasn't at all about either of my babies...but was entirely about me and how I had to shift my view of my reality. I am not sad like my friend who lost her mother. I do not miss them. How could I? They were never even born! I do occasionally find myself thinking about what Alex would look like now...comparing what might have been to reality. But I find that to be more about the three of us...me, Steve and Sam. How would WE be different?
I sadly admit that I discount my babies every day. And there is shame in that because I feel as though I'm a fraud...and have been a fraud...since the day we couldn't find Alex's heartbeat.
4/26/10
Three years that post set there in draft form. Three years and the only reason I post it now is because there is so much more horror to add. There won't ever be a pencil portrait of my last baby. Not even an awful hospital Polaroid of its dead body. And after it was over, I ate cottage cheese and vegetable soup...and I keep eating cottage cheese and vegetable soup now as if that will do something...I'm not sure what.
We don't even know if it was a boy or a girl, but we have it cremated and sitting on top of our electric fireplace in our living room. How fucking ridiculous is this?!?!
And I'll be honest, I don't even know if what I feel is sadness because the baby is dead or sadness because I failed again. Every life is precious...blah, blah, blah. But what was it? In the end, it was no more than another tiny dead body inside my belly...a dead body that didn't have the courtesy to exit the premises when it was done watching me jump through meaningless hoops.
Yes, there was hope and love and some measure of peace. And now there is none of that and I still feel death. And who will dare tell me that I shouldn't worry now? Who will be bold enough to suggest I am not cursed...that I have paid my dues...that there is nothing more to fear? Who in their right mind can say that I even have a chance at moving on from this place?
And I wonder...how do I even know? How do I know I won't walk out in front of a bus? or drink myself into oblivian? How do I know I'm strong enough THIS time? I've not done this before. Something similar, maybe....but maybe THIS is the last straw.
And what if I simply fall asleep and never wake up?
Monday, March 29, 2010
Perfect Moments
It's supposed to be Perfect Moment Monday. And I'm supposed to post a picture. But my camera and I have been working on Animal Protective League business and haven't snapped even a simple shot of the boys lately (a fact for which they are extremely happy...I think they think I take too many pictures of them). I've been having a lot of "perfect moments" lately...just haven't taken a photograph of them.
Walking into the house after a long day of volunteering and having Sam and Myles run the length of the house toward me with smiles on their faces and their little arms outstretched for long-overdue hugs.
Driving up the driveway after work, seeing horses in the pasture, Steve on the porch, one little boy wearing his bicycle helmet and pretending to ride his skateboard, another littler boy swinging a plastic golf club around like a samurai sword.
Walking out of the grocery store seeing Sam in the passenger seat and Myles on Steve's lap in the driver's seat of our little blue minivan. Steve rolls down the window and they all smile and wave and say, "Hi mommy!"
These moments all seem so perfect.
It's funny because there was a time when I was convinced there would never be perfect moments again. And somehow, despite what/who is missing, it is enough. It is perfect in its own regard. There is no looking back.
But there IS nervous looking forward. Do I dare tempt fate? Do I dare to think that somehow that these moments are not YET perfect? That they can be even better? It is a strange place to be.
Walking into the house after a long day of volunteering and having Sam and Myles run the length of the house toward me with smiles on their faces and their little arms outstretched for long-overdue hugs.
Driving up the driveway after work, seeing horses in the pasture, Steve on the porch, one little boy wearing his bicycle helmet and pretending to ride his skateboard, another littler boy swinging a plastic golf club around like a samurai sword.
Walking out of the grocery store seeing Sam in the passenger seat and Myles on Steve's lap in the driver's seat of our little blue minivan. Steve rolls down the window and they all smile and wave and say, "Hi mommy!"
These moments all seem so perfect.
It's funny because there was a time when I was convinced there would never be perfect moments again. And somehow, despite what/who is missing, it is enough. It is perfect in its own regard. There is no looking back.
But there IS nervous looking forward. Do I dare tempt fate? Do I dare to think that somehow that these moments are not YET perfect? That they can be even better? It is a strange place to be.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Where I embarass everyone (without pictures)
It all started with my saying, "I need a serger," and Shinny offering to give me one. When I read that I thought, "Wow! She's crazy." Of course, a little crazy didn't stop me from then proceeding to make plans to meet up with her at Cedar Point in Sandusky, Ohio. Hey...a serger is a serger...definitely worth risking the possibility of being hacked up into pieces.
So yeah...I met Shinny! And she is as awesome in person as she is in my magic computer world...actually...she's more awesome in person (and not just because she was willing to give me a serger).
It's always a balancing act when I take the family to these kinds of things. Sam's at the age where he doesn't quite want to go on the big kid rides and Myles isn't big enough to ride any rides. The Boy came with Shinny...with the express purpose of riding the big kid rides with my husband...how nice is that?!?! I hope he didn't think we were too lame (he's 15). Steve said, "The Boy isn't a man of many words." They apparently spent a good deal of time just staring at each other. lol! I do have proof that it was all an act though...
(insert goofy picture of The Boy here)
But thankfully, Shinny didn't mind entertaining Myles...A LOT...
(insert cute picture of Shinny and Myles)
And Sam was able to ride a bunch of little kid rides...
(insert cute pictures of Sam riding rides)
We did talk both Sam and Shiny onto a real "big" roller coaster...
(insert picture of Shinny, The Boy, Sam, and Steve on the Blue Streak roller coaster...Shinny is making a funny scared face)
Yeah...she looks terrified...but she survived...AND managed to not pee her pants...lol.
I came home to dogs out of their crates and my stash of "good yarn" tangled and tied up into a ginormous ball (apparently I need to be more specific with the petsitter as to how we manage our multi-dog household). No worries though...I am so stubborn that I have already invested several hours untangling and re-balling three of the skeins (I only had to resort to scissors once so far). Hopefully I can save it all...we shall see.
Drama from this trip includes leaving Myles' baby blanket at the Cedar Point hotel. Except, it isn't Myles' baby blanket...it's the baby blanket I crocheted for Sam before he was born. One of the last coherent conversations I had with my grandma Ruby was about that blanket. I remember sitting on the couch in her living room stitching and chatting about crochet and babies. So much has changed since then...I'm really overly emotional about that blanket right now. Lost & Found says they're looking for it...but I'm not going to hold my breath because the fact is I don't have that kind of good luck.
And of course, now the additional drama of what appears to be the slow death of the home computer. (You didn't think I PLANNED this post to be this boring did you?) I was being all efficient and uploaded from my camera...planning to do this post...and the computer has decided to need a computer doctor. Pictures are currently inaccessible. I'm hoping somebody can retrieve them but...as you know...I don't have that kind of good luck.
So yeah...I met Shinny! And she is as awesome in person as she is in my magic computer world...actually...she's more awesome in person (and not just because she was willing to give me a serger).
It's always a balancing act when I take the family to these kinds of things. Sam's at the age where he doesn't quite want to go on the big kid rides and Myles isn't big enough to ride any rides. The Boy came with Shinny...with the express purpose of riding the big kid rides with my husband...how nice is that?!?! I hope he didn't think we were too lame (he's 15). Steve said, "The Boy isn't a man of many words." They apparently spent a good deal of time just staring at each other. lol! I do have proof that it was all an act though...
(insert goofy picture of The Boy here)
But thankfully, Shinny didn't mind entertaining Myles...A LOT...
(insert cute picture of Shinny and Myles)
And Sam was able to ride a bunch of little kid rides...
(insert cute pictures of Sam riding rides)
We did talk both Sam and Shiny onto a real "big" roller coaster...
(insert picture of Shinny, The Boy, Sam, and Steve on the Blue Streak roller coaster...Shinny is making a funny scared face)
Yeah...she looks terrified...but she survived...AND managed to not pee her pants...lol.
I came home to dogs out of their crates and my stash of "good yarn" tangled and tied up into a ginormous ball (apparently I need to be more specific with the petsitter as to how we manage our multi-dog household). No worries though...I am so stubborn that I have already invested several hours untangling and re-balling three of the skeins (I only had to resort to scissors once so far). Hopefully I can save it all...we shall see.
Drama from this trip includes leaving Myles' baby blanket at the Cedar Point hotel. Except, it isn't Myles' baby blanket...it's the baby blanket I crocheted for Sam before he was born. One of the last coherent conversations I had with my grandma Ruby was about that blanket. I remember sitting on the couch in her living room stitching and chatting about crochet and babies. So much has changed since then...I'm really overly emotional about that blanket right now. Lost & Found says they're looking for it...but I'm not going to hold my breath because the fact is I don't have that kind of good luck.
And of course, now the additional drama of what appears to be the slow death of the home computer. (You didn't think I PLANNED this post to be this boring did you?) I was being all efficient and uploaded from my camera...planning to do this post...and the computer has decided to need a computer doctor. Pictures are currently inaccessible. I'm hoping somebody can retrieve them but...as you know...I don't have that kind of good luck.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Moving on
It's always weird the day after the anniversary of the worst day of our lives.
Back to a too-early alarm clock...I'm sooooo tired.
Back to work...
Today's work project is to determine who is responsible for paying for autopsies done in a neighboring county, our coroner's office (out of their budget) or our commissioners (out of the county general fund).
Back to blogging...
Thank you for all your kindness during this past week. Hell...thank you for all your kindness always. It seems impossible that anyone would want to read what I have to write for one day, let alone four years. But I have met some of the most amazing people through this blog and I consider you friends. I celebrate your victories and mourn your tragedies with you. And I am forever grateful that you share your words with me. I'm quite sure I would not have survived the past four years without you.
Like I said...it's weird. Part Oscar-acceptance speech, part lets-pretend-yesterday-was-just-another-day.
But before I move on entirely for another year, I want to tell you about my amazing husband. I generally get so wrapped up in the business of daily life (you know, dirty socks on the floor...dirty dishes in the sink) that I forget how wonderful he really is and how much I love him. When I rolled over in bed yesterday morning and said, "I just can't do it today," he didn't bat an eyelash before he said, "You want some company?" And just like that, what could have been an awful day turned into something kinder...less jagged around the edges.
He made all the necessary phone calls while I played with our amazing kiddos in our king sized bed. He changed more than one poopy diaper. He grilled burgers for lunch. He took us to Walmart to buy flowers for the cemetery AND home. He took us to Applebee's for dinner. He bought me Mike's Hard Lemonade AND wine for later ("It's a long week...get both."). He did the hard digging work, breaking up the sod, around our sons' headstones. He said I could have the huge TV to watch a "chick flick" any time I wanted it. He tucked me in bed, handed me the remote control, and kissed me so sweetly that even when we agreed, "it's always going to suck," I knew we'd make it ok.
When I said, "Thanks for today...it wasn't too bad," he replied simply, "We did it together."
And I realized...I only cried once during the entire day.
Back to a too-early alarm clock...I'm sooooo tired.
Back to work...
Today's work project is to determine who is responsible for paying for autopsies done in a neighboring county, our coroner's office (out of their budget) or our commissioners (out of the county general fund).
Back to blogging...
Thank you for all your kindness during this past week. Hell...thank you for all your kindness always. It seems impossible that anyone would want to read what I have to write for one day, let alone four years. But I have met some of the most amazing people through this blog and I consider you friends. I celebrate your victories and mourn your tragedies with you. And I am forever grateful that you share your words with me. I'm quite sure I would not have survived the past four years without you.
Like I said...it's weird. Part Oscar-acceptance speech, part lets-pretend-yesterday-was-just-another-day.
But before I move on entirely for another year, I want to tell you about my amazing husband. I generally get so wrapped up in the business of daily life (you know, dirty socks on the floor...dirty dishes in the sink) that I forget how wonderful he really is and how much I love him. When I rolled over in bed yesterday morning and said, "I just can't do it today," he didn't bat an eyelash before he said, "You want some company?" And just like that, what could have been an awful day turned into something kinder...less jagged around the edges.
He made all the necessary phone calls while I played with our amazing kiddos in our king sized bed. He changed more than one poopy diaper. He grilled burgers for lunch. He took us to Walmart to buy flowers for the cemetery AND home. He took us to Applebee's for dinner. He bought me Mike's Hard Lemonade AND wine for later ("It's a long week...get both."). He did the hard digging work, breaking up the sod, around our sons' headstones. He said I could have the huge TV to watch a "chick flick" any time I wanted it. He tucked me in bed, handed me the remote control, and kissed me so sweetly that even when we agreed, "it's always going to suck," I knew we'd make it ok.
When I said, "Thanks for today...it wasn't too bad," he replied simply, "We did it together."
And I realized...I only cried once during the entire day.
Monday, December 22, 2008
It's an office job
Is the office important to you? How important?
My job is a job. I like it well enough, but my identity is not as defined by my work as my husband's is. It's an odd sort of situation to be in, trying to understand his desire to drive an hour in low-visibility snow and 21 degree winds to an office (when, as I understand it, the majority of his work can be done via computer from home).
Truth be told, I don't understand it. It makes me quite cranky, in fact. I am incredibly thankful to have a vacation day today whereas he does not seem at all deterred by roads that are described on the news broadcasts as "treacherous." AND he seems to think it humorous that I worry about his safety. It perplexes me. (Of course, he is equally perplexed by my temper tantrums over the lack of help with household chores...or the lack of "thank you" in this house.)
I guess it's true...men ARE from Mars...where it is snowy and cold and they are crazy stubborn.
My job is a job. I like it well enough, but my identity is not as defined by my work as my husband's is. It's an odd sort of situation to be in, trying to understand his desire to drive an hour in low-visibility snow and 21 degree winds to an office (when, as I understand it, the majority of his work can be done via computer from home).
Truth be told, I don't understand it. It makes me quite cranky, in fact. I am incredibly thankful to have a vacation day today whereas he does not seem at all deterred by roads that are described on the news broadcasts as "treacherous." AND he seems to think it humorous that I worry about his safety. It perplexes me. (Of course, he is equally perplexed by my temper tantrums over the lack of help with household chores...or the lack of "thank you" in this house.)
I guess it's true...men ARE from Mars...where it is snowy and cold and they are crazy stubborn.
Monday, December 15, 2008
What is wrong with us?
Steve: Yeah, they should make holiday cards that say, "While I neither confirm nor deny the existence of a supreme deity, if one does it exist, I hope it blesses your holiday celebrations."
Me: A bit wordy, but I love it.
Steve: You are so going to blog this aren't you?
Me: A bit wordy, but I love it.
Steve: You are so going to blog this aren't you?
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
7:52pm Thanksgiving eve
And the time-honored tradition of families everywhere continues...
"I am NOT going to put up with the two of you nit-picking at one another for the next four days. If you don't behave, you will lose Star Wars, TV, computer...everything that makes life fun. You will wish you were in school instead of home with me."
(taking a bow for my mom who is laughing and applauding at the moment she reads this)
"I am NOT going to put up with the two of you nit-picking at one another for the next four days. If you don't behave, you will lose Star Wars, TV, computer...everything that makes life fun. You will wish you were in school instead of home with me."
(taking a bow for my mom who is laughing and applauding at the moment she reads this)
Monday, November 10, 2008
True Love
I read online about a Star Wars Pumpkin Carving kit available exclusively at Target. A week before Halloween, I sent Steve to find one. He called and asked me to find the SKU and text it to him...because he wasn't having any luck. I was disappointed to find that nobody had a good enough photo of the actual package so I could copy the UPC.
But my man was not to be deterred. The Daddy who, despite the sighs and eye rolls, really wants to see his son's eyes light up...the hunter/gatherer...refused to return to the nest empty-handed. He kept looking...rummaging through shelves of generic Halloween accessories...peering behind Star Wars costumes and related paraphenalia...already planning to visit a different store the next day if need be. A final desperate look behind the Disney princess pumpkin carving kits and...voila! He found one and returned home a hero!
We shall not discuss the profanity that accompanied the actual carving of the pumpkins. But they do look good, don't they?
But my man was not to be deterred. The Daddy who, despite the sighs and eye rolls, really wants to see his son's eyes light up...the hunter/gatherer...refused to return to the nest empty-handed. He kept looking...rummaging through shelves of generic Halloween accessories...peering behind Star Wars costumes and related paraphenalia...already planning to visit a different store the next day if need be. A final desperate look behind the Disney princess pumpkin carving kits and...voila! He found one and returned home a hero!
We shall not discuss the profanity that accompanied the actual carving of the pumpkins. But they do look good, don't they?
Thursday, August 28, 2008
I am thankful
Tash wrote a great entry over at Glow in the Woods and she asked
This is a subject I've been thinking about lately.
I AM thankful but I just haven't been able to say it.
The words are stuck in my throat like a big piece of soggy half-chewed bread and I just can not choke them out. I tried once or twice to no avail...ripping up multiple thank you cards...deleting more than one thank you email...nearly hyperventilating at the thought of saying thank you in person.
I can't get over the tail end of the thank you...Thank you for (insert kindness here) after my baby died.
I can't help but feel like I shouldn't HAVE TO be thankful and therefore I resent that I AM thankful. Everytime I think about being thankful to anyone, I can't help but finish it with, "But I hate it...every bit of it." It doesn't make sense outside of my head, I'm sure.
Lately, though, it has felt like now is the time to let the qualifiers go and just be thankful. So let's see what I can do here...
I am thankful for my husband for a million different reasons.
I am thankful that my pregnancies with both boys were easy (some might say perfect). I am thankful for the time I got to know and share space with them.
I am thankful for the nurses who talked with us and not AT us. They made us feel normal when this big horrible abnormal thing was happening to us. I am thankful they took the time to anticipate that we would want footprints and photographs.
I am thankful that giving birth to Alex and Travis did not require surgery. It was hard enough leaving the hospital without my babies. I do not think I could have survived if I had to recover from a c-section as well.
I am thankful for the doctor who delivered Travis and his understanding that I could not cope with milk production. I do not remember the name of the drug, but it is my opinion that it should be prescribed to every loss mama.
I am thankful for the funeral director and his assistant (whose son's name is Alex) for their kindness. I am thankful they gave me a lock of Alex's hair to keep and placed a few treasured possessions from his family with him.
I am thankful for my family who stood by me and offered me their love, knowing I wasn't capable of returning it at the time. They loved me when I was at my worst and I know my worst was pretty bad. I am thankful they remembered who I was and saw me through to who I am.
I am thankful for those who stood beside us as we buried our sweet baby boys.
I am thankful for our friends in real life and online who called or emailed or sent us snail mail. They surrounded us with love and support and kind words. We weren't nice to be around and yet they remained tenacious in their belief that we were worth it.
I am thankful for my job and my many volunteer distractions. It kept my mind from sinking into the deepest darkest pit that ever existed for me.
I am thankful for the answers as to the biologic reasons Alex and Travis died. They are scary and horrible and bring a lot of complicated guilt feelings with them. But having these answers is better than only having questions for the rest of my life.
I am thankful for a beautiful cemetery where I can go and experience peaceful moments thinking of our boys.
I am thankful Alex isn't alone.
I am thankful for my new perspective. Before this happened, I tended to think in terms of black and white...right and wrong...cause and effect. This has taught me that I don't have all the answers and I shouldn't be so quick to judge. It has softened me and made me a more empathetic human being.
I am thankful that I live in a place where this will most likely be the worst thing to ever happen to me.
I am thankful for Dr. A. and his kindness all last year while I was pregnant again.
I am thankful that this wasn't the end. I am thankful for our sweet Myles.
In retrospect, comparatively speaking (or perhaps not at all), are you at all, remotely, even a teeny bit thankful for anything that happened surrounding the death of your baby/-ies? And believe me, it's fine if you say "No. Not a fucking thing. Are you crazy?"
This is a subject I've been thinking about lately.
I AM thankful but I just haven't been able to say it.
The words are stuck in my throat like a big piece of soggy half-chewed bread and I just can not choke them out. I tried once or twice to no avail...ripping up multiple thank you cards...deleting more than one thank you email...nearly hyperventilating at the thought of saying thank you in person.
I can't get over the tail end of the thank you...Thank you for (insert kindness here) after my baby died.
I can't help but feel like I shouldn't HAVE TO be thankful and therefore I resent that I AM thankful. Everytime I think about being thankful to anyone, I can't help but finish it with, "But I hate it...every bit of it." It doesn't make sense outside of my head, I'm sure.
Lately, though, it has felt like now is the time to let the qualifiers go and just be thankful. So let's see what I can do here...
I am thankful for my husband for a million different reasons.
I am thankful that my pregnancies with both boys were easy (some might say perfect). I am thankful for the time I got to know and share space with them.
I am thankful for the nurses who talked with us and not AT us. They made us feel normal when this big horrible abnormal thing was happening to us. I am thankful they took the time to anticipate that we would want footprints and photographs.
I am thankful that giving birth to Alex and Travis did not require surgery. It was hard enough leaving the hospital without my babies. I do not think I could have survived if I had to recover from a c-section as well.
I am thankful for the doctor who delivered Travis and his understanding that I could not cope with milk production. I do not remember the name of the drug, but it is my opinion that it should be prescribed to every loss mama.
I am thankful for the funeral director and his assistant (whose son's name is Alex) for their kindness. I am thankful they gave me a lock of Alex's hair to keep and placed a few treasured possessions from his family with him.
I am thankful for my family who stood by me and offered me their love, knowing I wasn't capable of returning it at the time. They loved me when I was at my worst and I know my worst was pretty bad. I am thankful they remembered who I was and saw me through to who I am.
I am thankful for those who stood beside us as we buried our sweet baby boys.
I am thankful for our friends in real life and online who called or emailed or sent us snail mail. They surrounded us with love and support and kind words. We weren't nice to be around and yet they remained tenacious in their belief that we were worth it.
I am thankful for my job and my many volunteer distractions. It kept my mind from sinking into the deepest darkest pit that ever existed for me.
I am thankful for the answers as to the biologic reasons Alex and Travis died. They are scary and horrible and bring a lot of complicated guilt feelings with them. But having these answers is better than only having questions for the rest of my life.
I am thankful for a beautiful cemetery where I can go and experience peaceful moments thinking of our boys.
I am thankful Alex isn't alone.
I am thankful for my new perspective. Before this happened, I tended to think in terms of black and white...right and wrong...cause and effect. This has taught me that I don't have all the answers and I shouldn't be so quick to judge. It has softened me and made me a more empathetic human being.
I am thankful that I live in a place where this will most likely be the worst thing to ever happen to me.
I am thankful for Dr. A. and his kindness all last year while I was pregnant again.
I am thankful that this wasn't the end. I am thankful for our sweet Myles.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Let the 1st grade adventures begin!
So I spent all last year with the impression that it was the teacher. Now I'm beginning to think it's the whole school.
School starts Tuesday. As of today there are no teacher assignments mailed out...and no bus schedules posted or printed anywhere. It appears that communication is not this school's strong suit. We would most definitely change schools if this one weren't academically the best in our district (we can't afford private school).
So Steve called today and was informed that the teacher assignments "had just been made" and the bussing staff are having a meeting tomorrow (at which they will presumably finalize a schedule that will be posted online and printed in the paper). The school secretary very kindly looked up Sam's teacher assignment and told us that we could visit anytime with him in order to find his classroom, etc. She also "guessed" Sam's bus schedule "based on last year's bus schedule." Her "guess" leads us to believe he would be the first child picked up in the morning and would ride the school bus for almost an hour (to a school that is ten minutes away). A six-year-old on a bus for almost an hour sounds like a recipe for trouble to Steve and I. Looks like he's not riding the bus again this year.
Nice to know this stuff ahead of time. Did I mention that school starts Tuesday?
School starts Tuesday. As of today there are no teacher assignments mailed out...and no bus schedules posted or printed anywhere. It appears that communication is not this school's strong suit. We would most definitely change schools if this one weren't academically the best in our district (we can't afford private school).
So Steve called today and was informed that the teacher assignments "had just been made" and the bussing staff are having a meeting tomorrow (at which they will presumably finalize a schedule that will be posted online and printed in the paper). The school secretary very kindly looked up Sam's teacher assignment and told us that we could visit anytime with him in order to find his classroom, etc. She also "guessed" Sam's bus schedule "based on last year's bus schedule." Her "guess" leads us to believe he would be the first child picked up in the morning and would ride the school bus for almost an hour (to a school that is ten minutes away). A six-year-old on a bus for almost an hour sounds like a recipe for trouble to Steve and I. Looks like he's not riding the bus again this year.
Nice to know this stuff ahead of time. Did I mention that school starts Tuesday?
Friday, July 18, 2008
What's wrong?
I don't know. No...that's not true...I have an idea or two.
My mental state is such that I almost had a complete breakdown in JCPenney yesterday. We were late to my mom and dad's house to go out to dinner for mom's 60th birthday.
There was nobody at the photo counter to ring up my purchase of a picture frame (4x10 photos...don't EVER buy this size...no matter how adorable...because then you HAVE TO buy the frame from them as well).
Then I went to jewelry and wandered around, frustrated by my too-helpful son suggesting we get grandma a string of pearls ("that's not really grandma's style"..."what's style?"..."oh my god does he NEVER shut up?").
All the while, Myles was grunting. You know...THE grunt.
I finally found something I felt reasonably sure my mom would like and, obviously taking their cue from the portrait place, there was nobody to ring it up. The watch guy was helping someone examine watches with a jeweler's loop, so they were gonna be a while. The fine jewelry lady had a customer to whom she said, "Let me go find..." and disappeared behind the swinging doors into the magical land of only-God-knows-where-the-hell-she-went. The purse lady helped someone (right in front of me) and then, quite literally, DISAPPEARED. I looked around me to find Sam and looked back and she was GONE...and something inside me snapped because I KNOW she saw us...hell...even if she didn't see us, I KNOW she heard my chants of, "Sam, no...Sam, stop it...," not to mention Sam's hysterical cries of, "Myles, stop pooping already please." (Yeah...I know...we're classy like that)
So I made a beeline for the customer service desk by the door where we came in. And yes...it was empty. The three teenage girls who were SUPPOSED to be working it were standing in the baby section discussing something (important, I'm sure...maybe world peace). One of them reluctantly strolled over and rang up my purchase. When asked if they had any gift boxes, she referred me to the catalog counter. No problem, it's over by the photo place that I had to return to to get the damn frame, so it was ok. Ha!
And here is when the crying started (Myles, not me...yet).
Walked into the photo place AGAIN and waited in line behind a woman who was ordering her portrait package from the slowest cashier in the history of the world. Seriously. She would have grown moss on her if she had moved any slower. And I keep getting THE look...isn't that cute? listen to the baby cry. awww...poor baby. can't you do something? that baby crying is really starting to get annoying. what kind of mother are you? Yeah...THAT look. I wanted to reach around the woman in front of me, across the counter, and grab the cashier by the ears and just...I don't know...shake the shit out of her.
Finally got my picture frames and headed, with screaming baby, to the catalog counter. Asked for a jewelry gift box. The pimply faced boy couldn't find one and wanted me to WAIT while he searched. I said it wasn't that important and he said, "No, if you want a gift box, I will find you a gift box," all surly-like as if I had just insulted his mother. Pimply-faced teenager #2 overheard our conversation and said, "Gift box? They're over here," and proceeds to hand me a SHIRT BOX. I just looked at him and said, "Thank you, but I'm looking for a jewelry gift box."
"Oh...we don't have any of those...these are the smallest gift boxes we have."
Yeah...I walked out.
There was poop everywhere...clothes, carseat, appendages (his and mine). It was a thing of beauty I tell you. I changed his diaper right there in the back end of the minivan...bare butt cheeks blowing in the breeze white trash style...and Myles made the rest of the trip to my parent's house in his diaper and nothing else (and I just now realize I left that poopy outfit in the van...in this heat...hehehe...thankfully I'm not driving that stinkmobile today...poor Steve).
At dinner I spilled my drink and almost burst into tears. My mother, showing early signs of Alzheimer's (or maybe a mother's special intuition), asked if I'm pregnant (I'm not).
So what's wrong?
Steve and I had THE talk. Should he stock up on frozen peas pretty soon? Go in for the big snip-snip? Yeah...THAT talk. And as is our amazingly adult style...we resolved nothing.
When I think about it (and it's ALL I've been thinking about since we talked about it), I want to puke. I hate feeling backed into a corner...like I HAVE TO make a decision NOW. I like to work at my own pace and come to my own conclusions in my own time. But time keeps ticking and...well...there isn't much of it left.
I keep trying to distract myself. It worked before...kept me busy so I couldn't think. But it ain't working now. So I make lists of pros and cons. The cons list is considerably longer than the pros list but I'm not sure quantity is what counts here. How do you weigh cons like unspeakable fear and financial stress with the joy and love of another child? I know what I SHOULD do. I know what the RESPONSIBLE thing is...
And I really can't help but wonder if what I'm feeling is a longing for what I lost in the past rather than a wish for future children. And that mind f*** is just too complex for me to untangle.
Crap, this is difficult. Anybody want to be in charge of my life for a while?
In the meantime, if you see a story on the evening news about a woman who sat down crying in the middle of Penneys and couldn't stop...you'll know what it's all about.
My mental state is such that I almost had a complete breakdown in JCPenney yesterday. We were late to my mom and dad's house to go out to dinner for mom's 60th birthday.
There was nobody at the photo counter to ring up my purchase of a picture frame (4x10 photos...don't EVER buy this size...no matter how adorable...because then you HAVE TO buy the frame from them as well).
Then I went to jewelry and wandered around, frustrated by my too-helpful son suggesting we get grandma a string of pearls ("that's not really grandma's style"..."what's style?"..."oh my god does he NEVER shut up?").
All the while, Myles was grunting. You know...THE grunt.
I finally found something I felt reasonably sure my mom would like and, obviously taking their cue from the portrait place, there was nobody to ring it up. The watch guy was helping someone examine watches with a jeweler's loop, so they were gonna be a while. The fine jewelry lady had a customer to whom she said, "Let me go find..." and disappeared behind the swinging doors into the magical land of only-God-knows-where-the-hell-she-went. The purse lady helped someone (right in front of me) and then, quite literally, DISAPPEARED. I looked around me to find Sam and looked back and she was GONE...and something inside me snapped because I KNOW she saw us...hell...even if she didn't see us, I KNOW she heard my chants of, "Sam, no...Sam, stop it...," not to mention Sam's hysterical cries of, "Myles, stop pooping already please." (Yeah...I know...we're classy like that)
So I made a beeline for the customer service desk by the door where we came in. And yes...it was empty. The three teenage girls who were SUPPOSED to be working it were standing in the baby section discussing something (important, I'm sure...maybe world peace). One of them reluctantly strolled over and rang up my purchase. When asked if they had any gift boxes, she referred me to the catalog counter. No problem, it's over by the photo place that I had to return to to get the damn frame, so it was ok. Ha!
And here is when the crying started (Myles, not me...yet).
Walked into the photo place AGAIN and waited in line behind a woman who was ordering her portrait package from the slowest cashier in the history of the world. Seriously. She would have grown moss on her if she had moved any slower. And I keep getting THE look...isn't that cute? listen to the baby cry. awww...poor baby. can't you do something? that baby crying is really starting to get annoying. what kind of mother are you? Yeah...THAT look. I wanted to reach around the woman in front of me, across the counter, and grab the cashier by the ears and just...I don't know...shake the shit out of her.
Finally got my picture frames and headed, with screaming baby, to the catalog counter. Asked for a jewelry gift box. The pimply faced boy couldn't find one and wanted me to WAIT while he searched. I said it wasn't that important and he said, "No, if you want a gift box, I will find you a gift box," all surly-like as if I had just insulted his mother. Pimply-faced teenager #2 overheard our conversation and said, "Gift box? They're over here," and proceeds to hand me a SHIRT BOX. I just looked at him and said, "Thank you, but I'm looking for a jewelry gift box."
"Oh...we don't have any of those...these are the smallest gift boxes we have."
Yeah...I walked out.
There was poop everywhere...clothes, carseat, appendages (his and mine). It was a thing of beauty I tell you. I changed his diaper right there in the back end of the minivan...bare butt cheeks blowing in the breeze white trash style...and Myles made the rest of the trip to my parent's house in his diaper and nothing else (and I just now realize I left that poopy outfit in the van...in this heat...hehehe...thankfully I'm not driving that stinkmobile today...poor Steve).
At dinner I spilled my drink and almost burst into tears. My mother, showing early signs of Alzheimer's (or maybe a mother's special intuition), asked if I'm pregnant (I'm not).
So what's wrong?
Steve and I had THE talk. Should he stock up on frozen peas pretty soon? Go in for the big snip-snip? Yeah...THAT talk. And as is our amazingly adult style...we resolved nothing.
When I think about it (and it's ALL I've been thinking about since we talked about it), I want to puke. I hate feeling backed into a corner...like I HAVE TO make a decision NOW. I like to work at my own pace and come to my own conclusions in my own time. But time keeps ticking and...well...there isn't much of it left.
I keep trying to distract myself. It worked before...kept me busy so I couldn't think. But it ain't working now. So I make lists of pros and cons. The cons list is considerably longer than the pros list but I'm not sure quantity is what counts here. How do you weigh cons like unspeakable fear and financial stress with the joy and love of another child? I know what I SHOULD do. I know what the RESPONSIBLE thing is...
And I really can't help but wonder if what I'm feeling is a longing for what I lost in the past rather than a wish for future children. And that mind f*** is just too complex for me to untangle.
Crap, this is difficult. Anybody want to be in charge of my life for a while?
In the meantime, if you see a story on the evening news about a woman who sat down crying in the middle of Penneys and couldn't stop...you'll know what it's all about.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Take a left at the Hello Kitty display
He calls me from Party City...where I have sent him to buy a package of Star Wars birthday party invitations.
"Where did you find the invitations?"
"In the Star Wars section."
"Which is where?"
????????
Apparently I am supposed to play air flight controller and talk him in for a landing in the appropriate aisle of the store I have been to exactly four times IN.MY.LIFE.
I know I'm tired. Myles' snotty nose disturbed his sleep breathing and woke us both up twice during the night last night while Steve snored away (and today hasn't been much better with sporadic and fitful naps). And I know I'm irritable. Sam has decided to be my shadow today for some reason...my very whiney shadow.
I don't think my husband realizes how dangerous it is to ask me where to go right now. Poor foolish man.
"Where did you find the invitations?"
"In the Star Wars section."
"Which is where?"
????????
Apparently I am supposed to play air flight controller and talk him in for a landing in the appropriate aisle of the store I have been to exactly four times IN.MY.LIFE.
I know I'm tired. Myles' snotty nose disturbed his sleep breathing and woke us both up twice during the night last night while Steve snored away (and today hasn't been much better with sporadic and fitful naps). And I know I'm irritable. Sam has decided to be my shadow today for some reason...my very whiney shadow.
I don't think my husband realizes how dangerous it is to ask me where to go right now. Poor foolish man.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Love my camera
Look at what I captured today...
Do you see the little dog in the background licking her chops? LOL!
I call this one, "Boys will be boys." What's he doing, you ask? Digging a hole for no other reason than the pure pleasure of digging a hole. And yes, he's wearing a pullover sweater and shorts. He dressed himself. I give him full credit for that fashion statement.
Of course there has to be a Myles pic. He was not so sure about the big ball of brightness in the sky. A northeast Ohio winter baby has to be reassured that the sunshine is a good thing...it's so rare to see it before May around here, it can be frightening.
And look what popped up practically overnight! I so badly wanted to get out and do some gardening. Sadly, I had too much laundry to do to get out and dig around. But I will...SOON. It's supposed to be in the 60s all week!
Do you see the little dog in the background licking her chops? LOL!
I call this one, "Boys will be boys." What's he doing, you ask? Digging a hole for no other reason than the pure pleasure of digging a hole. And yes, he's wearing a pullover sweater and shorts. He dressed himself. I give him full credit for that fashion statement.
Of course there has to be a Myles pic. He was not so sure about the big ball of brightness in the sky. A northeast Ohio winter baby has to be reassured that the sunshine is a good thing...it's so rare to see it before May around here, it can be frightening.
And look what popped up practically overnight! I so badly wanted to get out and do some gardening. Sadly, I had too much laundry to do to get out and dig around. But I will...SOON. It's supposed to be in the 60s all week!
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Break it down
There are no more complete sentences. My days happen in one continuous stream of consciousness that baffles me by the end of the day. And sick days...forget about it...complete and total insanity.
Headache.
Sick husband.
Whining five year old.
Screaming baby.
Feed baby.
Chicken noodle soup for the infirm.
Dishes.
Shower.
Screaming baby.
Feed baby.
Jello.
Shop.
Whining five year old.
Screaming baby.
Feed baby.
Lunch.
Whining five year old.
Jello.
Nap.
Screaming baby.
Feed baby.
Dinner.
Jello.
Screaming baby.
Whining five year old.
Feed baby.
Furniture.
Whining five year old.
Headache.
I feel like my legs have been run off and my one big accomplishment today was making jello jigglers for my son's kindergarten valentine's party tomorrow. Well...that...and not killing anyone.
I have come to the conclusion that the great thing about being a stay at home mom is that you ARE a stay at home mom. You can give yourself fully to the tasks like making jello jigglers for your son's kindergarten valentine party. You don't have to feel like you're stretched in a gazillion and one directions unless you choose to do so.
As a working mom I am realizing that there is just no way that anything can have my full undivided attention. It's just not possible. But I wonder if it's fair? I'm happy (save for the whining five year old whose mouth I'd like to duct tape shut). But I also feel guilty because I'm sure I'm not living up to my potential in any of the areas of my life. I had to ASK friends how to make the jello jigglers...I think that speaks volumes about my mom abilities. And work? ha! I have any number of clients who would be glad to tell you how crappy of a job I'm doing.
So how do I live with the happiness guilt-free? Yeah, I know I'm not good at all of this stuff...I'm ok with that. Exhausted and headache-y. But really ok.
Headache.
Sick husband.
Whining five year old.
Screaming baby.
Feed baby.
Chicken noodle soup for the infirm.
Dishes.
Shower.
Screaming baby.
Feed baby.
Jello.
Shop.
Whining five year old.
Screaming baby.
Feed baby.
Lunch.
Whining five year old.
Jello.
Nap.
Screaming baby.
Feed baby.
Dinner.
Jello.
Screaming baby.
Whining five year old.
Feed baby.
Furniture.
Whining five year old.
Headache.
I feel like my legs have been run off and my one big accomplishment today was making jello jigglers for my son's kindergarten valentine's party tomorrow. Well...that...and not killing anyone.
I have come to the conclusion that the great thing about being a stay at home mom is that you ARE a stay at home mom. You can give yourself fully to the tasks like making jello jigglers for your son's kindergarten valentine party. You don't have to feel like you're stretched in a gazillion and one directions unless you choose to do so.
As a working mom I am realizing that there is just no way that anything can have my full undivided attention. It's just not possible. But I wonder if it's fair? I'm happy (save for the whining five year old whose mouth I'd like to duct tape shut). But I also feel guilty because I'm sure I'm not living up to my potential in any of the areas of my life. I had to ASK friends how to make the jello jigglers...I think that speaks volumes about my mom abilities. And work? ha! I have any number of clients who would be glad to tell you how crappy of a job I'm doing.
So how do I live with the happiness guilt-free? Yeah, I know I'm not good at all of this stuff...I'm ok with that. Exhausted and headache-y. But really ok.
Monday, February 11, 2008
I'm hiding
The boys are all upstairs.
I can hear Myles screaming. The cute little newborn squeaks have given way to ear-piercing infant screeches.
I can hear Sam's mouth going a mile a minute. When he was two, we worried his speech was delayed. Now he is always talking.
I'm sitting here hoping that Steve's heavy footsteps don't come down the stairs toward me.
I just need a second to catch my breath.
Just a moment of quiet. Oh, ok...semi-quiet...there is really never true quiet with a five year old and a 12-week old in the house.
I'm not complaining. I know I don't have any right to complain.
I just need a moment.
Sam is here...gotta go...
I can hear Myles screaming. The cute little newborn squeaks have given way to ear-piercing infant screeches.
I can hear Sam's mouth going a mile a minute. When he was two, we worried his speech was delayed. Now he is always talking.
I'm sitting here hoping that Steve's heavy footsteps don't come down the stairs toward me.
I just need a second to catch my breath.
Just a moment of quiet. Oh, ok...semi-quiet...there is really never true quiet with a five year old and a 12-week old in the house.
I'm not complaining. I know I don't have any right to complain.
I just need a moment.
Sam is here...gotta go...
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Not a bad day
~Was able to wear heels and prepregnancy pants.
~Swung through the McDonalds drive-thru for hashbrowns and coffee.
~Sam made it to school EARLY.
~I made it to work EARLY.
~The maintenance men rearranged my office furniture. While they did break my computer keyboard, they were fast and didn't make fun of my need for playpen space to my face.
~Myles seemed to enjoy the day.
~Found out my coworker who had a miscarriage is tentatively pregnant again.
~Got very little actual work done, but got my office cleaned and rearranged to be baby-friendly, followed up on some pending matters, organized my workload so I can start in earnest tomorrow.
~Picked Sam up on time.
Not bad if I do say so myself.
I do have a few things to ponder after this first day...
~I need an exercise routine. One day back in heels and my legs are killing me.
~In line with the weight considerations, I need to come up with portable and easy meals that I can eat in a hurry.
~How to answer phone calls with Myles in the room. You just never know when he's going to lose his mind and start screaming. It gets a little tricky.
~What do they mean when my coworkers say, "Let me know if there is anything I can do to help"???
~Is it irrational to think that I might need a portable DVD player in my office to entertain the baby in a couple months? Is he going to get bored and suffer sensory deprivation over time?
~Sweaters are too warm and button-downs are definitely easier to deal with for boob access. How much can I spend without Steve giving me "the look"?
~Swung through the McDonalds drive-thru for hashbrowns and coffee.
~Sam made it to school EARLY.
~I made it to work EARLY.
~The maintenance men rearranged my office furniture. While they did break my computer keyboard, they were fast and didn't make fun of my need for playpen space to my face.
~Myles seemed to enjoy the day.
~Found out my coworker who had a miscarriage is tentatively pregnant again.
~Got very little actual work done, but got my office cleaned and rearranged to be baby-friendly, followed up on some pending matters, organized my workload so I can start in earnest tomorrow.
~Picked Sam up on time.
Not bad if I do say so myself.
I do have a few things to ponder after this first day...
~I need an exercise routine. One day back in heels and my legs are killing me.
~In line with the weight considerations, I need to come up with portable and easy meals that I can eat in a hurry.
~How to answer phone calls with Myles in the room. You just never know when he's going to lose his mind and start screaming. It gets a little tricky.
~What do they mean when my coworkers say, "Let me know if there is anything I can do to help"???
~Is it irrational to think that I might need a portable DVD player in my office to entertain the baby in a couple months? Is he going to get bored and suffer sensory deprivation over time?
~Sweaters are too warm and button-downs are definitely easier to deal with for boob access. How much can I spend without Steve giving me "the look"?
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Crafty resolutions
When in doubt...blog about crafts...
My craft table has been sitting in the barn since my uncle delivered it almost a year ago. It's a heavy heavy piece and required two men to move it. So, on Christmas Day, I roped my brother (who complains that every time he visits I make him lift heavy things) into helping my husband bring it into my undecorated/unfurnished dining room. It needs painted a better color than its current colonial blue (which I forever banished from this house with the removal of "the big blue box" that enclosed our old wood-burning fireplace and blocked off our beautiful WIDE living room door opening (we're talking about hanging french doors...I'll keep you posted))...but it has this really neat slide out table that will be fabulous for cutting fabric! But I digress...the table is in the house and just waiting to be used for something crafty. Now I just need to reassemble my sewing machine (it had to be removed from its table/cupboard so that we could move it upstairs/downstairs during the time the furniture was rearranged to make room for the Christmas tree)...and I'll be good to go. Now I just need to figure out what I want to do.
We won't discuss all the projects from last year that went un-finished...OK, so maybe we will since they are integral to what I want to get done this year. But this year I'm putting them all in one place so I can check them off as I go. It didn't work so well with the books I was supposed to read (which I'm going to carry over to this coming year). But hopefully I'll find more motivation in 2008.
~First and foremost, I want to sew up the hems on my bedroom curtains. They've been safety pinned for almost a year now. Tacky, tacky, tacky.
~Next, I want to get back to crafting for charity. I've got at least a half dozen burial gowns in the works...not to mention hats and booties. Alex, Travis, and Myles all received wonderful gifts from these sorts of efforts and I want to pay it forward, I suppose you could say.
~I want to catch up with MOM Project bracelets. I have fallen woefully behind. I have beads but will need to buy some wire soon due to the number of pending requests. Thankfully, JoAnns keeps sending me 40% off coupons.
~I MUST finish a couple of baby gifts I've got on the hooks. Can't say too much. Don't want to spoil the surprises. :o)
~I really want to finish the afghan for a friend that I've been working on since October of 2006. She's recently announced she's moving. I hope the colors will still work in her new house.
~Next, I want to find and finish the tea cozies I promised a couple of friends. Yes, I know I said it was weird and I still think it IS weird. But I have weird friends so it all balances out.
~Knit Blue a ruffle sweater.
~Find the box of supplies and at least start the crochet shrug from Secret Pal 9.
~Work on Myles' baby blanket.
~Start work on a couple of quilts and afghans. Steve got me this pattern book for Christmas and I would LOVE to do the crochet dragonfly afghan. I have tried knitting dragonfly squares but have NO talent when it comes to following a knitting pattern. I'm fine with crochet patterns, so I'm excited to have this particular one.
I still have dragonfly squares to sew up into a quilt for myself (and my aunt's quilt referenced in that post isn't done yet either [hanging head in shame]).
~As previously mentioned...SNOWFLAKES!
~FINALLY put together my mom's newest medieval faire costume. She's been so patient, waiting for the last THREE years. I've got six months. I'm starting now...
...after I nurse the screaming baby...
(Anyone want to bet how much I actually get done this year?)
My craft table has been sitting in the barn since my uncle delivered it almost a year ago. It's a heavy heavy piece and required two men to move it. So, on Christmas Day, I roped my brother (who complains that every time he visits I make him lift heavy things) into helping my husband bring it into my undecorated/unfurnished dining room. It needs painted a better color than its current colonial blue (which I forever banished from this house with the removal of "the big blue box" that enclosed our old wood-burning fireplace and blocked off our beautiful WIDE living room door opening (we're talking about hanging french doors...I'll keep you posted))...but it has this really neat slide out table that will be fabulous for cutting fabric! But I digress...the table is in the house and just waiting to be used for something crafty. Now I just need to reassemble my sewing machine (it had to be removed from its table/cupboard so that we could move it upstairs/downstairs during the time the furniture was rearranged to make room for the Christmas tree)...and I'll be good to go. Now I just need to figure out what I want to do.
We won't discuss all the projects from last year that went un-finished...OK, so maybe we will since they are integral to what I want to get done this year. But this year I'm putting them all in one place so I can check them off as I go. It didn't work so well with the books I was supposed to read (which I'm going to carry over to this coming year). But hopefully I'll find more motivation in 2008.
~First and foremost, I want to sew up the hems on my bedroom curtains. They've been safety pinned for almost a year now. Tacky, tacky, tacky.
~Next, I want to get back to crafting for charity. I've got at least a half dozen burial gowns in the works...not to mention hats and booties. Alex, Travis, and Myles all received wonderful gifts from these sorts of efforts and I want to pay it forward, I suppose you could say.
~I want to catch up with MOM Project bracelets. I have fallen woefully behind. I have beads but will need to buy some wire soon due to the number of pending requests. Thankfully, JoAnns keeps sending me 40% off coupons.
~I MUST finish a couple of baby gifts I've got on the hooks. Can't say too much. Don't want to spoil the surprises. :o)
~I really want to finish the afghan for a friend that I've been working on since October of 2006. She's recently announced she's moving. I hope the colors will still work in her new house.
~Next, I want to find and finish the tea cozies I promised a couple of friends. Yes, I know I said it was weird and I still think it IS weird. But I have weird friends so it all balances out.
~Knit Blue a ruffle sweater.
~Find the box of supplies and at least start the crochet shrug from Secret Pal 9.
~Work on Myles' baby blanket.
~Start work on a couple of quilts and afghans. Steve got me this pattern book for Christmas and I would LOVE to do the crochet dragonfly afghan. I have tried knitting dragonfly squares but have NO talent when it comes to following a knitting pattern. I'm fine with crochet patterns, so I'm excited to have this particular one.
I still have dragonfly squares to sew up into a quilt for myself (and my aunt's quilt referenced in that post isn't done yet either [hanging head in shame]).
~As previously mentioned...SNOWFLAKES!
~FINALLY put together my mom's newest medieval faire costume. She's been so patient, waiting for the last THREE years. I've got six months. I'm starting now...
...after I nurse the screaming baby...
(Anyone want to bet how much I actually get done this year?)
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