I am at war with myself. More specifically, my physical self is at war with my control freak self. I am 37 weeks and 2 days pregnant today, and my physical self wants this baby o-u-t. My physical self is sick of Braxton Hicks contractions and peeing constantly and heartburn and back aches.
My control freak self is going haywire because she can't decide when the ideal time for this baby to arrive would be. Do we want the baby to be born ASAP so Physical Self can get some relief? Or is it more important for 2.0 to come at a time when D is not working so he won't be exhausted and unrested? Or should 2.0 wait until closer to my due date so my maternity leave at work would work out more appealingly?
All these considerations are driving me insane. I'll find myself thinking, "Ok baby, X has transpired, you can come now. Except you should wait until ABC to come, because then that would be better. Except wait, that would mean that DEF would be the case, so maybe you shouldn't do that..." The only conclusion I can really come to is the fact that, no matter how much I'd love to be able to plan 2.0's exact arrival, I'm secretly glad I don't have to because I'd drive myself crazy trying to come up with the perfect day and time.
I think I'm just at my limit speculation-wise. It's so annoying to be up in my head all the time, wondering if this twinge or that ache was the beginning of labor. And if I've gotten my head worked up into such a state that even I don't want to be there, that's a little bit sad.
But seriously, every night I go to bed and I lay there for however long just waiting for something to happen. I've been reading too much crap online about early labor and how to distinguish between false and real labor, and it's further proof to me that there is definitely such a thing is too much information.
Somewhere in one of those articles, I read that the majority of women experience their water breaking while they're in bed. This was written to ease the minds of women who were afraid their water would bust open at work or in the mall. Leave it to me to turn something that is supposed to be comforting into something to obsess over. So now every night when I go to bed, I literally lay there waiting for my water to break.
Also in one of those articles, I was informed that only 10% of women have water breakage as their first indication of labor, without having any contractions or anything beforehand. Which is depressing because that's exactly what happened to me with L, and I never realized how rare it was. I really, really need to stop Googling this crap.
Even as I sit here writing this, I'm in turmoil and my mind is whirling.
"I really would like to make it to this weekend without having the baby because we have plans with friends on Saturday night. And then L has his 15 month check-up next Thursday and I'd really like to be there because I haven't gotten to meet his new pediatrician yet, so really, it would be best if 2.0 would wait until after that....But I don't WANT to be pregnant until next Thursday! I want the baby to be here now so I can stop having these awful practice contractions! But I don't necessarily want this baby to be here because that means it's back to exhaustion and leaky boobs and no routine or predictable schedule for at least two months..."
See what an awful place my head is? If it was a club or a restaurant or something, no one would want to be there and it would go bankrupt and close. But as the owner, I can't figure out how to shut it down and so I'm forced to sit there and listen to the awful, endless stream of techno bounce off the walls of the empty establishment and since I'm pregnant I can't even drown my sorrows in a nice sangria or glass of Moscato. So I sip my water as the crazy runs amok.
Maybe it would be best for everyone if 2.0 would just be born so I can stop the madness and just play with whatever hand is dealt to me. Yeah, I think that would really just be the best thing. So 2.0, listen up. You can come any time you want and I'll be ready for you.
Except could you wait until Wednesday or Thursday so I can tie things up at the office? And then, if you're going to wait until then, you may as well wait until Sunday so Dad and I can go hang out with our friends....
Monday, February 7, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Staycations
I think I may have mentioned this already, but D's and my 3 year anniversary is coming up on Feb. 2. We (I) try to make it a point to plan something special, preferably some sort of getaway.
The problem is, I was somewhat short-sighted when I decided that a February wedding was a good idea. Turns out, if you don't have lots of money, it's kind-of hard to find things to do in Michigan in the dead of winter. Right about this time of year, the cold starts to get really tiresome and the novelty of the snow has long since worn off. And all you want to do is go someplace warm and tropical.
Sadly, warm and tropical requires money. And also, not so easy to get away when kids are thrown in the mix. Especially when one kid is just about finished baking and could be popping out of the oven at any time.
For our first anniversary, D and I went to the west coast of Michigan to a bed and breakfast. Turns out, the town I had selected was actually more of a summer mecca and pretty much closed down in the winter. Which would explain why I had gotten such a good deal at the bed and breakfast.
This post is not about that trip, but I can't resist giving you an idea of what we were dealing with. First of all, it was basically a blizzard when we were driving into the town, trying to locate our B&B. It was just like a scary movie, where the roads are totally deserted and there's one lone traffic light blinking yellow in the distance.
Needless to say, we were the only ones at the B&B that weekend. Which was also eerie, because the B&B was a restored Victorian-style house and every time I opened the door of our room, I expected to see the scary girl from The Shining standing at the end of the hall.
Part of our weekend package was a gift certificate to a local restaurant. So we called the restaurant to see what time they closed and they said, "Whenever people stop coming in." And there was literally nothing else in this town except a bunch of boutiques that were closed and one other bar-type restaurant.
It was not a banner weekend, to say the least.
For our second anniversary, I don't remember what we did. When I started to write this post, I thought we went to Chicago, but then I started to remember that we went to Chicago in the summer for our babymoon before L was born, and not for our anniversary.
So please excuse my pregnancy brain, because I truly cannot remember what we did last year. I know L was here, so it can't have been anything exciting. And I was returning to work from maternity leave right around that time, so that seals it. We didn't really do anything for our 2nd anniversary. I think we exchanged gifts?
This year, I knew we'd need to do something. We're on the brink of having 2 under 2, I feel like I've been pregnant forever and I just want a weekend that is without a schedule and that doesn't have to be planned around nap time. So, I started thinking about it back in the fall, and looked ahead at the calendar to see what D's work schedule looked like.
Unfortunately, our actual anniversary falls in the red-zone for me pregnancy-wise. I'll be just about 37 weeks, and I think my doctor would lock me up and throw away the key if I mentioned to her that I was planning on going anywhere further away than an hour. But, since D was off weekends in December, it means he was on weekends for January. So the first weekend we could do anything would be this coming weekend, the last of January.
Not to be deterred, I announced to D that we would be taking a "staycation" and just go to a local hotel and bop around our home area for the weekend. At first, I had all these grandiose plans about how D would pick an activity to do on the Friday night and I'd pick something for Saturday night and we'd just play it by ear for the day on Saturday.
But then, as this weekend drew closer and closer, I realized that there was pretty much one thing I wanted to do: sleep. As it turns out, hotels are really awesome for that. So there's definitely going to be a lot of sleeping built into the agenda.
We do have other things planned, like dinner and a movie on Friday night. And then on Saturday, there's a home improvement show at the local expo center (with an arts and crafts fair built in) that happens to be a stone's throw away from the hotel. I'd tell you how unbelievably pumped I am about this, but it would quickly become apparent how much of a loser I am, so I won't go into that. Other than that, we have no plans except to just eat dinner and possibly bring our DVD player and watch a movie on Saturday night. Maybe order some dessert from room service or something.
But no matter what, we will have a complete and total lack of structure and schedule. This is so incredibly appealing to me that I can't even really put it into words. We're going to wake up when we want to wake up, eat when we want to eat, go where we want to go when we want to go there.....ahhhh.
Sorry, I just got a little bit swept away by the sheer bliss of it all.
I think I might be more excited about this staycation than I have been for a weekend in a long time. To be honest, I don't think I was this excited about Christmas. Or my birthday (even though this past birthday totally kicked ass).
I'm so excited that I think I've got myself convinced that staycations are just the way to go in general. Forget fancy trips to exotic locales. Why go countries (or even states) away, when a fun staycation could be yours?
Think of the perks. For one, you are already familiar with the area. If the hotel concierge tells you some sort of attraction or event is in a certain town, you already know where that town is.
You also have complete control over your travel time. You can choose a hotel 5 minutes away or 30 minutes away. And since you already know your area, you know which hotels are nice and which ones to avoid. So you eliminate the chance that you'll end up at some questionable hotel on the seedy side of town where they have the option of renting rooms by the hour.
Then there's the fun of exploring the area in which you live. You can go places you never even knew existed or always wondered about. You can eat at restaurants you've always wanted to try. (Or, in our case, you can eat at the restaurants you'd normally eat at because your husband is picky and relatively predictable and would rather eat someplace he knows he likes because if he's paying for it, he'd better like it or it will ruin his whole life.) And best of all, it's cheaper!
With all these revelations, I've got myself about 75% convinced that all our future family vacations will be staycations. If we get started with this now, our kids won't know anything different. When they're in school and their friends are talking about Disney World and cruises and beach houses, our kids will be like, "For our summer vacation, we went to Ann Arbor." (To any non-local blog readers, Ann Arbor is maybe 30 minutes from us.)
And then, if we ever do dare to venture out of state for a vacation, our kids will be in total and complete awe. By that point, we wouldn't have to go far to impress them. I'm pretty sure Cedar Point would do the trick. And Chicago would probably blow their minds. (But seriously, Chicago is awesome. Chicago blows MY mind.)
So that's the plan for the distant future. The near future holds a wonderful sleep and relaxation-filled weekend with my sweetie of 3 years (well, married for 3. Together for much longer than that. I've lost count.) Probably the last one of it's kind for a while once 2.0 gets here.
But I won't think about that. D and I made a pact that, while we can talk about L and 2.0 and general baby stuff, we aren't allowed to stress or bicker or talk about the lack of sleep that awaits us or discuss anything un-fun (specifically, money). There will only be relaxation and enjoying each other's company.
And dreaming of all the changes we want to make to our house while we're at the home improvement show.
The problem is, I was somewhat short-sighted when I decided that a February wedding was a good idea. Turns out, if you don't have lots of money, it's kind-of hard to find things to do in Michigan in the dead of winter. Right about this time of year, the cold starts to get really tiresome and the novelty of the snow has long since worn off. And all you want to do is go someplace warm and tropical.
Sadly, warm and tropical requires money. And also, not so easy to get away when kids are thrown in the mix. Especially when one kid is just about finished baking and could be popping out of the oven at any time.
For our first anniversary, D and I went to the west coast of Michigan to a bed and breakfast. Turns out, the town I had selected was actually more of a summer mecca and pretty much closed down in the winter. Which would explain why I had gotten such a good deal at the bed and breakfast.
This post is not about that trip, but I can't resist giving you an idea of what we were dealing with. First of all, it was basically a blizzard when we were driving into the town, trying to locate our B&B. It was just like a scary movie, where the roads are totally deserted and there's one lone traffic light blinking yellow in the distance.
Needless to say, we were the only ones at the B&B that weekend. Which was also eerie, because the B&B was a restored Victorian-style house and every time I opened the door of our room, I expected to see the scary girl from The Shining standing at the end of the hall.
Part of our weekend package was a gift certificate to a local restaurant. So we called the restaurant to see what time they closed and they said, "Whenever people stop coming in." And there was literally nothing else in this town except a bunch of boutiques that were closed and one other bar-type restaurant.
It was not a banner weekend, to say the least.
For our second anniversary, I don't remember what we did. When I started to write this post, I thought we went to Chicago, but then I started to remember that we went to Chicago in the summer for our babymoon before L was born, and not for our anniversary.
So please excuse my pregnancy brain, because I truly cannot remember what we did last year. I know L was here, so it can't have been anything exciting. And I was returning to work from maternity leave right around that time, so that seals it. We didn't really do anything for our 2nd anniversary. I think we exchanged gifts?
This year, I knew we'd need to do something. We're on the brink of having 2 under 2, I feel like I've been pregnant forever and I just want a weekend that is without a schedule and that doesn't have to be planned around nap time. So, I started thinking about it back in the fall, and looked ahead at the calendar to see what D's work schedule looked like.
Unfortunately, our actual anniversary falls in the red-zone for me pregnancy-wise. I'll be just about 37 weeks, and I think my doctor would lock me up and throw away the key if I mentioned to her that I was planning on going anywhere further away than an hour. But, since D was off weekends in December, it means he was on weekends for January. So the first weekend we could do anything would be this coming weekend, the last of January.
Not to be deterred, I announced to D that we would be taking a "staycation" and just go to a local hotel and bop around our home area for the weekend. At first, I had all these grandiose plans about how D would pick an activity to do on the Friday night and I'd pick something for Saturday night and we'd just play it by ear for the day on Saturday.
But then, as this weekend drew closer and closer, I realized that there was pretty much one thing I wanted to do: sleep. As it turns out, hotels are really awesome for that. So there's definitely going to be a lot of sleeping built into the agenda.
We do have other things planned, like dinner and a movie on Friday night. And then on Saturday, there's a home improvement show at the local expo center (with an arts and crafts fair built in) that happens to be a stone's throw away from the hotel. I'd tell you how unbelievably pumped I am about this, but it would quickly become apparent how much of a loser I am, so I won't go into that. Other than that, we have no plans except to just eat dinner and possibly bring our DVD player and watch a movie on Saturday night. Maybe order some dessert from room service or something.
But no matter what, we will have a complete and total lack of structure and schedule. This is so incredibly appealing to me that I can't even really put it into words. We're going to wake up when we want to wake up, eat when we want to eat, go where we want to go when we want to go there.....ahhhh.
Sorry, I just got a little bit swept away by the sheer bliss of it all.
I think I might be more excited about this staycation than I have been for a weekend in a long time. To be honest, I don't think I was this excited about Christmas. Or my birthday (even though this past birthday totally kicked ass).
I'm so excited that I think I've got myself convinced that staycations are just the way to go in general. Forget fancy trips to exotic locales. Why go countries (or even states) away, when a fun staycation could be yours?
Think of the perks. For one, you are already familiar with the area. If the hotel concierge tells you some sort of attraction or event is in a certain town, you already know where that town is.
You also have complete control over your travel time. You can choose a hotel 5 minutes away or 30 minutes away. And since you already know your area, you know which hotels are nice and which ones to avoid. So you eliminate the chance that you'll end up at some questionable hotel on the seedy side of town where they have the option of renting rooms by the hour.
Then there's the fun of exploring the area in which you live. You can go places you never even knew existed or always wondered about. You can eat at restaurants you've always wanted to try. (Or, in our case, you can eat at the restaurants you'd normally eat at because your husband is picky and relatively predictable and would rather eat someplace he knows he likes because if he's paying for it, he'd better like it or it will ruin his whole life.) And best of all, it's cheaper!
With all these revelations, I've got myself about 75% convinced that all our future family vacations will be staycations. If we get started with this now, our kids won't know anything different. When they're in school and their friends are talking about Disney World and cruises and beach houses, our kids will be like, "For our summer vacation, we went to Ann Arbor." (To any non-local blog readers, Ann Arbor is maybe 30 minutes from us.)
And then, if we ever do dare to venture out of state for a vacation, our kids will be in total and complete awe. By that point, we wouldn't have to go far to impress them. I'm pretty sure Cedar Point would do the trick. And Chicago would probably blow their minds. (But seriously, Chicago is awesome. Chicago blows MY mind.)
So that's the plan for the distant future. The near future holds a wonderful sleep and relaxation-filled weekend with my sweetie of 3 years (well, married for 3. Together for much longer than that. I've lost count.) Probably the last one of it's kind for a while once 2.0 gets here.
But I won't think about that. D and I made a pact that, while we can talk about L and 2.0 and general baby stuff, we aren't allowed to stress or bicker or talk about the lack of sleep that awaits us or discuss anything un-fun (specifically, money). There will only be relaxation and enjoying each other's company.
And dreaming of all the changes we want to make to our house while we're at the home improvement show.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Advice to my daughter
Ok, so I don't have a daughter. We don't know if the bun that's cooking is a boy bun or a girl bun, but it doesn't matter. Even if I never have a daughter, I'll probably one day have a daughter in law. And I'll try to remember that even if we get along better than any mother and daughter in law in the history of the world, there's always going to be a line as to how much advice I can give her before she starts complaining to my son about how I won't stop putting my nose in her business and could he please talk to me and tell me to knock it off already.
So here's what I'm thinking. D and I have our 3rd anniversary coming up on February 2. It feels like we've been married for much longer than that, and I truly mean that in the best way possible. And I've been thinking about our wedding and how amazing it was and how I was such a naive fool about so many things. And that got me to thinking about what I'd do differently. And then I thought I'd write a blog post about it, so one day, when my son is getting ready to get married, I can casually drop into conversation about how I once wrote a blog and wow, what a brilliant idea, why don't you check it out, future daughter in law? And I'll conveniently have this post all pulled up and ready to go. (Note to daughter in law: Obviously my brilliant plan is now completely foiled because you're reading this, so just humor me, ok?)
So, my future daughter (and/or daughter in law), here are some things I wish I would have known when I was getting married, as well as some things that I think are helpful for a young bride to know.
- If someone buys you some nice pots and pans that are anything better than cheap, do not return them. Even if you still need so many things for the house and you could return the pots and pans to get cheaper pots and pans and some other stuff you need, don't do it. Trust me. Good pots and pans are so easy to take for granted. In fact, what I'm going to do for you is save the pots and pans that D and I currently own so that you can cook with them and see what a difference there is between nice pots and pans and crappy pots and pans. (Did you ever think it would be possible to say the phrase "pots and pans" so often in just a few sentences?) Trust me, keep the nice pots and pans.
- Same thing as above, except for bed sheets. Nice bed sheets are a true luxury, and unless you are starting out with all your financial ducks in a row and have plenty of excess money, you will probably not be buying yourself nice sheets for at least 10 years (possibly longer). If you find yourself needing sheets within the first 10 years of marriage, you'll end up at Target and you'll be like, "What?!? $70 for sheets? No thanks, I'll go with the jersey sheets that feel just like a nice t-shirt for $20." (On a related note, those jersey sheets suck. Yeah, they are soft, but they stretch out like mad and I don't recommend that you purchase them unless you like waking up to find that you are laying on your bare mattress because the stupid sheet stretched out so much that the corner popped off in the middle of the night.)
- Don't stress about the little details of wedding planning. For about 2 months when I was planning my wedding, I was obsessed with the idea of getting colored contacts because I wanted my eyes to look super blue in my pictures. The only thing that stopped me was the fact that my insurance wouldn't cover them because I'd already gotten glasses that year. Now that I look back on that, I realize how ridiculous it was to want to alter the color of my eyes for a day. And how everyone would be coming up to me and commenting on how my eyes look frighteningly blue, instead of commenting on how gorgeous my dress was.
- Speaking of my dress, I can't imagine it ever looking old or out-dated, but chances are that by the time you are getting married, it will be both. This will likely be partially due to the fact that I am cheap and still can't bring myself to get it preserved, but it's on my list of goals for the next 5 years, so hopefully it will get done eventually. But I promise, I'll never pressure you to wear it. If you want to, I'd be thrilled and honored, but I would never dream of trying to deprive you of the joy of trying on wedding dresses and finding the one that seems as though it was made for you. All I ask is that you let me come along once or twice. I promise not to be annoying or overbearing. I just love wedding dresses!
- I know I said don't stress the small stuff. But the big stuff (i.e. reception venue and photographer) is worth sweating. Don't settle for less than what you want. If you'd like to hear a story emphasizing this, just ask D (your dad/future father in law) about our wedding cake and what I thought about it. Seriously, ask him. Don't ask me, because even now, 3 years later, I still get whipped into a tizzy just thinking about it and how it wasn't AT ALL what I asked for and how the heck could the bakery even screw it up when I brought a freaking picture for the love of pete and we spent 45 minutes talking about the details and how they are lucky that it tasted so damn good because if it hadn't I probably would have gone bridezilla on their butts. I hope that in the roughly 23+ years it will be until your wedding that I've gotten over it, but you never know.
- Take a honeymoon. I don't care how broke you are, make this one of your top priorities. It doesn't have to be a big, elaborate trip - it can be anything. But just do it. I promise you, if you're thinking you're not going to take a honeymoon right now, whatever reasons are currently holding you back will only get worse and harder to overcome after you get married. Money and time only get harder to come by after you've tied the knot. And some new reasons are likely to present themselves once you do get married (like babies, for instance). And let me tell you, those new reasons are a lot harder to work around than the reasons you currently have.
But, if you really, truly can't take a trip right now because you can't get enough time off work or you honestly don't have the money, then at the very least, please put down a non-refundable deposit on a trip that is booked for sometime in the next year. Because if you just get married and say you're going to take a trip for your 1-year anniversary but don't take actual steps to book that trip, you probably won't do it. But really, there is nothing that can compare to taking a vacation immediately after your big day as a freshly married couple. It's awesome and special and amazing. So please, just do it. I don't know where D and I are financially as you're reading this, but I believe in this so passionately that you could probably wrangle at least a little bit of money out of us for the trip. Unless you're our daughter and we're footing the bill for the rest of the wedding. In that case, you're on your own.
- Marry a man who cooks. If you fail on this front, then know how to cook or prepare at least 10 meals that can be passed off as dinners before you get married. You won't regret it. And if you already know how to do this, where did you learn it from? Because it sure as heck wasn't from from me. And if you're marrying my son, he probably doesn't know how to cook since I'm his mother, so you're going to have to take the reigns in the kitchen.
- No matter how long you're married before you have children, savor each moment that is just you and your husband. Children are wonderful blessings and you will never regret having them. But the special time where it is just you and your husband is something you won't ever get back. So enjoy it and learn from it and love each other with all that you've got. Because let me tell you, kids are the biggest game changer you could possibly imagine.
- Don't argue too much over the guest list. Don't let it get out of control, but choose your battles. If it's really important to your future husband that his best friend from junior high whom he hasn't spoken to in 12 years is there, maybe just give him a pass and let him invite the guy. In the grand scheme of things, it isn't a big deal to tack on two more names to the list. And if your husband is anything like D, you might want to save your vetoes for more important things like what silverware to register for. Because he might surprise you and have deep, abiding opinions about such things that differ from your own.
- And above all else, if you ever find yourself thinking, "I just can't wait for this whole thing to be over" at any point in the planning process, take a step back and regroup. NOTHING (not one, single detail - except maybe the church and the priest) about your wedding day is so important that you should stress so much that you're wishing the day would just come and go. All that matters is that you are going to marry the man that you love. That is it. Because truly, in the grand scheme of things, it really is just one day, and whatever is causing you panic or anxiety will probably matter very minimally on the actual day. Never let it get away from the true importance of the day - your MARRIAGE. Not your wedding. Your wedding is important, but your marriage is infinitely more-so. And if you're to the point where you're thinking how happy you'll be once the day is all over, there's a good chance that you've lost sight of that. So do everything in your power to get back to that center.
I hope this was helpful! I'm super pumped for the wedding. I love weddings. And if I am ever getting too overbearing and involved in the process, just let me know and I'll try to contain myself. Just know that I really do mean well. You can be 97% sure that anything I'm doing that is annoying is not on purpose and is not meant to piss you off.
Love, Mom (or future mom)
Friday, January 7, 2011
Seven things I would like to do in 2011
I don't usually make a big deal out of trying to make New Year's resolutions, mostly because I know myself too well. I tend to set these big, grandiose plans and then crap out half-way through. Or I don't even start. Then I go through the guilt and all that jazz, and it's just not too much fun. (Also? I know I'm late to the game on the New Year post. Good thing "be a better blogger" was not my resolution or I'd already be a massive fail, only 7 days into 2011.)
So, this year I am going to do something different. I'm just going to make a list of things that would be good to work for or do. That way, there's still a goal but there's less pressure to attain those goals. And if it's one thing I love, it's setting the bar low, then breaking my arm as I pat myself on the back for soaring over it.
Seven Things I'd Like To Do In 2011
1. Take 3 months off work, still get paid for the first 6-8 weeks and maintain my health insurance for the entire duration. - This one is looking pretty good. Some people much more formal than I would refer to this as "maternity leave" or "FMLA", but I'll let them go on with their fancy selves while I pretend that it's a vacation. I'll deal with any shattered illusions after the fact.
2. Birth only one baby. And not get pregnant with another one. - If you're my friend on FB, you already know about this goal. If I fail on this front, I'm 175% certain we'll be making my parents' home our long-term address.
3. Lighten up. - I don't know what happened, but something stole my sense of humor this past year. I can't seem to write anything funny, and I don't laugh as much as I should. I don't understand me. I'll go a long time without laughing, and then D will be watching America's Funniest Home Videos (which I usually hate to my core) and I'll laugh forever at a video of a bird flying into a window. And they'll take 3 commercial breaks and I'll still be laughing at the bird video. I think all my funny gets pent up and then is released at inappropriate times. So if I could just lighten up a bit and laugh more regularly, maybe my funny will return.
4. Participate in a marathon relay. - Something about being pregnant makes me really motivated to start running. There's a marathon (or half marathon, I don't know) relay in October in my area, and it's divided up into really unfair and inequitable legs. One person has to run something like 7 miles, another person has to run 5.5 miles, another one 3.5 miles, etc. There are 5 runners in all. I want to do this. My mom said she'd do it with me. We have three other women in mind whom we plan to invite to run with us. Too bad for them, I've already claimed the 3.5 mile leg. I don't know why I want to do this as I've previously despised running. But I think it would kick ass to be able to say that I ran 3.5 miles, especially because I currently get winded from climbing the stairs (I blame the pregnancy for this).
5. Get in the neighborhood of my goal weight. - In order to do this, I'm going to have to first abandon my completely unrealistic idea of getting down to my wedding weight. It would be nice if this somehow happened, but let's be honest: my wedding weight is not a maintainable weight for me. If I could be within 5 pounds, however, I would be happy with that, and I think I could maintain it without feeling like I'm constantly on a diet. To do THAT, however, I'm going to have to really get on board with the idea that Weight Watchers is actually a lifestyle change and that once I lose the weight, it won't be a good idea to go on a week-long binge which results in gaining back hard-won pounds. Suck.
6. Adjust my attitude about my job. - I am already on this path. Being home with L for almost 2 weeks straight has led me to realize that I may not, in fact, be cut out to be a full time stay at home mom. Maybe I could handle part time. Regardless, I am slowly seeing that the job I have, while it may not be fulfilling or inspiring or entirely satisfying, is a legitimate and genuine gift. I am blessed with fair pay, great health insurance, a flexible schedule, and understanding bosses. And the more it dawns on me how great this job actually is for a mom, the more I am able to be thankful for it. So one of my goals for 2011 is to continue along this path of gratitude. (Would you listen to me? Not even on maternity leave yet and I'm already starting to sound like I watch too much Oprah.)
7. The word "gratitude" in number 6 inspired me. I want to adopt a "Grattitude". - I love making clever word play. Love it. When my kids are old enough, I'm going to reward the crap out of them when they can make a clever or witty play on words. That's just a side note. But yeah, I want a "grattitude" (attitude of gratitude). I am freaking blessed, people! And it's time that I stop always complaining about it. Something tells me that when I can stop focusing on the negative and start focusing on the positive, a lot of the negative is just going to fade away. So Mission 7 for 2011 (hey it even rhymes!) is to get me a grattitude!
And on that happy note, this is Pollyanna, over and out.
So, this year I am going to do something different. I'm just going to make a list of things that would be good to work for or do. That way, there's still a goal but there's less pressure to attain those goals. And if it's one thing I love, it's setting the bar low, then breaking my arm as I pat myself on the back for soaring over it.
Seven Things I'd Like To Do In 2011
1. Take 3 months off work, still get paid for the first 6-8 weeks and maintain my health insurance for the entire duration. - This one is looking pretty good. Some people much more formal than I would refer to this as "maternity leave" or "FMLA", but I'll let them go on with their fancy selves while I pretend that it's a vacation. I'll deal with any shattered illusions after the fact.
2. Birth only one baby. And not get pregnant with another one. - If you're my friend on FB, you already know about this goal. If I fail on this front, I'm 175% certain we'll be making my parents' home our long-term address.
3. Lighten up. - I don't know what happened, but something stole my sense of humor this past year. I can't seem to write anything funny, and I don't laugh as much as I should. I don't understand me. I'll go a long time without laughing, and then D will be watching America's Funniest Home Videos (which I usually hate to my core) and I'll laugh forever at a video of a bird flying into a window. And they'll take 3 commercial breaks and I'll still be laughing at the bird video. I think all my funny gets pent up and then is released at inappropriate times. So if I could just lighten up a bit and laugh more regularly, maybe my funny will return.
4. Participate in a marathon relay. - Something about being pregnant makes me really motivated to start running. There's a marathon (or half marathon, I don't know) relay in October in my area, and it's divided up into really unfair and inequitable legs. One person has to run something like 7 miles, another person has to run 5.5 miles, another one 3.5 miles, etc. There are 5 runners in all. I want to do this. My mom said she'd do it with me. We have three other women in mind whom we plan to invite to run with us. Too bad for them, I've already claimed the 3.5 mile leg. I don't know why I want to do this as I've previously despised running. But I think it would kick ass to be able to say that I ran 3.5 miles, especially because I currently get winded from climbing the stairs (I blame the pregnancy for this).
5. Get in the neighborhood of my goal weight. - In order to do this, I'm going to have to first abandon my completely unrealistic idea of getting down to my wedding weight. It would be nice if this somehow happened, but let's be honest: my wedding weight is not a maintainable weight for me. If I could be within 5 pounds, however, I would be happy with that, and I think I could maintain it without feeling like I'm constantly on a diet. To do THAT, however, I'm going to have to really get on board with the idea that Weight Watchers is actually a lifestyle change and that once I lose the weight, it won't be a good idea to go on a week-long binge which results in gaining back hard-won pounds. Suck.
6. Adjust my attitude about my job. - I am already on this path. Being home with L for almost 2 weeks straight has led me to realize that I may not, in fact, be cut out to be a full time stay at home mom. Maybe I could handle part time. Regardless, I am slowly seeing that the job I have, while it may not be fulfilling or inspiring or entirely satisfying, is a legitimate and genuine gift. I am blessed with fair pay, great health insurance, a flexible schedule, and understanding bosses. And the more it dawns on me how great this job actually is for a mom, the more I am able to be thankful for it. So one of my goals for 2011 is to continue along this path of gratitude. (Would you listen to me? Not even on maternity leave yet and I'm already starting to sound like I watch too much Oprah.)
7. The word "gratitude" in number 6 inspired me. I want to adopt a "Grattitude". - I love making clever word play. Love it. When my kids are old enough, I'm going to reward the crap out of them when they can make a clever or witty play on words. That's just a side note. But yeah, I want a "grattitude" (attitude of gratitude). I am freaking blessed, people! And it's time that I stop always complaining about it. Something tells me that when I can stop focusing on the negative and start focusing on the positive, a lot of the negative is just going to fade away. So Mission 7 for 2011 (hey it even rhymes!) is to get me a grattitude!
And on that happy note, this is Pollyanna, over and out.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
A minor meltdown
You know what the funny thing about pregnancy is? That it eventually comes to an end. And you know what awaits you at the end of pregnancy? A kid. I know this seems basic, but after a brief but frightening conversation with my 22 year old brother during which it came out that he had no clue that a woman doesn't get her period during pregnancy, I'm just not sure what everyone knows or doesn't know.
Any woman who has kids can attest to to fact that God totally designed the 3rd trimester to be so uncomfortable that you are willing to go through anything (even labor) to be done with being pregnant. This is how I felt when I was pregnant with L. I was huge and uncomfortable and ready to be finished.
Only this time, I'm not sure how to feel. It's not that I'm not uncomfortable. I am. Actually, within the past 48-72 hours or so, I've gone from feeling pretty good to "Wow, not sure I can last for 7 more weeks like this". When I got home from work Tuesday night, I took off my coat and said to D, "LOOK at my belly. Seriously, try to honestly tell me that it has not grown today." And he looked at me like maybe it was a trick and warily said, "Yeah, you do look bigger today." And then he shielded his face with his hands and waited for me to get all hormonal and angry at him. But I didn't, because I was happy to hear that I wasn't just crazy and that my belly had, indeed, grown out of nowhere.
I've also suddenly developed the waddle. I thought I was going to get away without it this time, but no go. Again out of nowhere, I can't walk normally even when I try. It's strange to me that I was actually aware of the onset of the waddle this time, because with L, D had to tell me that I was waddling (and even then, I denied it). And last night, the little one was hanging out so low in my belly that it was actually painful to walk. My mom thought I had hurt my ankle and was limping.
And while I am having trouble sleeping these days, my arms, legs and hips are having absolutely no problem in that department. Just when I can manage to comfortably arrange myself on my 4 regular sized pillows and 1 body pillow, one of those body parts chooses to go completely numb on me, forcing me to switch positions.
So with these and a few other complaints, you would think that I would be ready to just be done being pregnant. But honestly, I'm not so sure.
It's definitely true what all those women say: you do forget the pains of labor and delivery pretty quickly after it's all over. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I forgot about it immediately, but it wasn't like the memory of those awful contractions was keeping me up at night 3 months later.
However, lately I've been finding that the memories are returning, and it seems to be directly proportionate to how far along I am. The further along I get, the more I remember. It also doesn't help when I watch shows about pregnancy and babies being born. Actually, I'd say that watching those shows does the opposite of help. I used to cry when I saw babies born because it was such an emotionally poignant moment. Now I cry and slam my legs together and think, "I don't wanna". So, in a rare moment of rational thinking, I decided not to watch these shows anymore.
But aside from the labor part, I'm getting really freaked out about the actual "having a newborn" part. Well, no that's not exactly it. More like, I'm getting really freaked out about the "having a baby and a very active toddler" part.
Not like I wasn't freaked out about having a baby when I was pregnant with L. But when I was pregnant with L, I had the advantage of being blissfully unaware of what was about to happen to my life. I thought to myself, "Yeah, it will be hard, but how bad can it really be?"
And you know what? I'm not going to sit here and be one of those moms who tries to scare the crap out of any first-time expectant mother and be all like "Oh my gosh it's sooooo hard, you're going to be sooooo tired and soooo overwhelmed and you better sleep now because you won't be sleeping when the baby comes." Because yeah, it's hard, but it's not impossible.
And there's something to be said for experience and actually knowing what is about to happen and having the perspective to know that whatever hell you feel like you're going through at some particular stage is only temporary. So that makes me feel a little better. But I don't have any perspective or experience with raising two very small children, and that scares the crap out of me.
Thinking about having to return to "dread time" - when you're ready to go to bed at 10 or 10:30 and the baby decides it's time to wake up and stay awake until 2:30 - is scary for me, because this time, I won't have the luxury of sleeping until 9 or 10 when the baby gets up again. This time, I'll have L crying to get up at 7:30 or 8, and he won't care that I was up with the baby until 2:30, and then again around 5:30. He'll want to get up and play. And he's not content to let me sit or lay on the couch and observe him. He wants active participation, people! He wants me to show him approximately 158 times that the tractor is, in fact, still in the book next to the dump truck. And he's now down to one nap a day, which doesn't happen until noon or so.
Forgive me if I start to panic a little bit. But maybe now you can see why I'm not in a great big guns-blazing hurry to evict this kid from my uterus. Because as uncomfortable as I am right now, I know in a very real way that this baby is currently as low-maintenance as she'll ever get. A very irrational side of me thinks that I might not mind being pregnant for just a little bit longer. (Please, whatever you do, do NOT remind me that I said that when I'm 4 days overdue and a raging bitch, complaining to anyone who will listen that I just want this kid out of me! It's for your own good, I promise.)
Even though I'm starting to freak out, I know I'll do this. Sometimes, that's what parenting is - just doing it. I totally understand now why, when my pre-motherhood self would ask new parents how they did it, they'd shrug and say, "You just do."
Even if you think you're the kind of person who absolutely needs no less than 8 hours of sleep every night. Even if you think that you're the kind of person who'd sooner climb the walls than listen to a baby scream for 4 hours straight because nothing you're doing is working. Even if you think you're the kind of person who is too selfish to put someone else first all day, every day.
Somehow, you just do it.
Any woman who has kids can attest to to fact that God totally designed the 3rd trimester to be so uncomfortable that you are willing to go through anything (even labor) to be done with being pregnant. This is how I felt when I was pregnant with L. I was huge and uncomfortable and ready to be finished.
Only this time, I'm not sure how to feel. It's not that I'm not uncomfortable. I am. Actually, within the past 48-72 hours or so, I've gone from feeling pretty good to "Wow, not sure I can last for 7 more weeks like this". When I got home from work Tuesday night, I took off my coat and said to D, "LOOK at my belly. Seriously, try to honestly tell me that it has not grown today." And he looked at me like maybe it was a trick and warily said, "Yeah, you do look bigger today." And then he shielded his face with his hands and waited for me to get all hormonal and angry at him. But I didn't, because I was happy to hear that I wasn't just crazy and that my belly had, indeed, grown out of nowhere.
I've also suddenly developed the waddle. I thought I was going to get away without it this time, but no go. Again out of nowhere, I can't walk normally even when I try. It's strange to me that I was actually aware of the onset of the waddle this time, because with L, D had to tell me that I was waddling (and even then, I denied it). And last night, the little one was hanging out so low in my belly that it was actually painful to walk. My mom thought I had hurt my ankle and was limping.
And while I am having trouble sleeping these days, my arms, legs and hips are having absolutely no problem in that department. Just when I can manage to comfortably arrange myself on my 4 regular sized pillows and 1 body pillow, one of those body parts chooses to go completely numb on me, forcing me to switch positions.
So with these and a few other complaints, you would think that I would be ready to just be done being pregnant. But honestly, I'm not so sure.
It's definitely true what all those women say: you do forget the pains of labor and delivery pretty quickly after it's all over. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I forgot about it immediately, but it wasn't like the memory of those awful contractions was keeping me up at night 3 months later.
However, lately I've been finding that the memories are returning, and it seems to be directly proportionate to how far along I am. The further along I get, the more I remember. It also doesn't help when I watch shows about pregnancy and babies being born. Actually, I'd say that watching those shows does the opposite of help. I used to cry when I saw babies born because it was such an emotionally poignant moment. Now I cry and slam my legs together and think, "I don't wanna". So, in a rare moment of rational thinking, I decided not to watch these shows anymore.
But aside from the labor part, I'm getting really freaked out about the actual "having a newborn" part. Well, no that's not exactly it. More like, I'm getting really freaked out about the "having a baby and a very active toddler" part.
Not like I wasn't freaked out about having a baby when I was pregnant with L. But when I was pregnant with L, I had the advantage of being blissfully unaware of what was about to happen to my life. I thought to myself, "Yeah, it will be hard, but how bad can it really be?"
And you know what? I'm not going to sit here and be one of those moms who tries to scare the crap out of any first-time expectant mother and be all like "Oh my gosh it's sooooo hard, you're going to be sooooo tired and soooo overwhelmed and you better sleep now because you won't be sleeping when the baby comes." Because yeah, it's hard, but it's not impossible.
And there's something to be said for experience and actually knowing what is about to happen and having the perspective to know that whatever hell you feel like you're going through at some particular stage is only temporary. So that makes me feel a little better. But I don't have any perspective or experience with raising two very small children, and that scares the crap out of me.
Thinking about having to return to "dread time" - when you're ready to go to bed at 10 or 10:30 and the baby decides it's time to wake up and stay awake until 2:30 - is scary for me, because this time, I won't have the luxury of sleeping until 9 or 10 when the baby gets up again. This time, I'll have L crying to get up at 7:30 or 8, and he won't care that I was up with the baby until 2:30, and then again around 5:30. He'll want to get up and play. And he's not content to let me sit or lay on the couch and observe him. He wants active participation, people! He wants me to show him approximately 158 times that the tractor is, in fact, still in the book next to the dump truck. And he's now down to one nap a day, which doesn't happen until noon or so.
Forgive me if I start to panic a little bit. But maybe now you can see why I'm not in a great big guns-blazing hurry to evict this kid from my uterus. Because as uncomfortable as I am right now, I know in a very real way that this baby is currently as low-maintenance as she'll ever get. A very irrational side of me thinks that I might not mind being pregnant for just a little bit longer. (Please, whatever you do, do NOT remind me that I said that when I'm 4 days overdue and a raging bitch, complaining to anyone who will listen that I just want this kid out of me! It's for your own good, I promise.)
Even though I'm starting to freak out, I know I'll do this. Sometimes, that's what parenting is - just doing it. I totally understand now why, when my pre-motherhood self would ask new parents how they did it, they'd shrug and say, "You just do."
Even if you think you're the kind of person who absolutely needs no less than 8 hours of sleep every night. Even if you think that you're the kind of person who'd sooner climb the walls than listen to a baby scream for 4 hours straight because nothing you're doing is working. Even if you think you're the kind of person who is too selfish to put someone else first all day, every day.
Somehow, you just do it.
Friday, December 31, 2010
In and Out for 2011
There are some things that I hate, that just irritate me to my very core, and yet I can't stop subjecting myself to them. Like the idiotic comments that people make on news articles and on Yahoo's Shine page. Seriously, many of those comments make me worry for the future of the human race.
More specifically, and the point of this post, is that I'm addicted to lists that come out around New Year's that talk about the "Best Of" the year we're finishing up or things that were "in" in the year that is closing that are now "out" and things that will be "in" for the upcoming year. I guess the "Best Of" lists don't really bother me that much. Sometimes I'll read them and wonder why a certain thing or event was included or left out, but for the most part the don't stir up much of a reaction. It's the "In and Out" lists that drive me nuts.
I think my main problem with these lists is that I really resent the implication that I need some faceless (and often nameless) writer telling me what is cool or not cool, like I'm supposed to immediately discard anything on the "out" list and promptly adorn my life with everything on the "in" list.
There was a feature insert in the paper from today that included one such list. I could give a sarcastic and snarky response to every single item on the list, but there was something like 40 comparisons and I think it would just end up getting redundant. So here are the highlights.
In: Jeggings Out: Bell bottoms/flares - Ok first of all, I don't think bell bottoms have truly been "in" since I was in junior high, and even then, not so much. Second of all, don't even start with the jeggings. They look good on maybe 2 people in the whole world, and I don't care how "in" they are - no one wants to see my flat, wide mommy butt in jeggings. (You see, newspaper author, one of the keys to writing a good piece is knowing your audience. You might want to work on that.) Finally, don't try to tell me that flared leg pants are out. A tastefully flared leg is going to do way more for my body than an airtight jegging ever will, and I will rock my flares even if you think I'm "out". So there.
In: Cell Phone Cameras Out: Digital Cameras - Seriously? Digital cameras are out? I'm going to take a wildly uneducated leap here and say that I'm pretty sure the cameras on our phones are digital, so strike one for lack of accuracy. Strike two is because there is no way I will ever believe that a camera phone can take as good a photo as a real camera. And strike three for the sheer idiocy of this statement.
In: Neighborhood Bistros Out: Chain Restaurants - I am ALL for buying local, supporting local entrepreneurs, keeping the money in the neighborhood, etc. But try to tell me that it is "out" to eat at Olive Garden and you're looking at a punch in the nose.
In: Teen Designated Drivers Out: Drunks - This must be the one that Captain Obvious wrote. And also, Captain Vague. (Is it possible to be obvious and vague at the same time? I didn't think so, but this one proved me wrong.) Are they trying to tell me that if I want to go out and get drunk (which, believe me, I do. I want to get drunk real bad but I've been pregnant for the better part of my recent life and it's just not possible right now.) that I should get a teenager to be my designated driver? Is it saying that if teens are going to get drunk, they should have a designated driver? Either way, I'm thinking they're saying that drunk driving is out. To that, I'll offer a big, fat DUH!
In: Purple and Jewel-toned Cookware Out: Matte Gray Cookware - Oh yeah, I forgot that part about me being rich and having the luxury of buying new cookware every season in the latest trendy colors. For some reason, I thought I was the opposite of rich and I also forgot that the cookware I do have is total crap and that I've wanted new cookware since I first pulled the crappy cookware out of the box after I got married. So I've been using the same crappy cookware for over 3 years, but yeah, this brilliant list has inspired me to go out and buy purple pots and pans. I mean, not that I wouldn't buy purple pots and pans, but what I'm trying to say is that this one is just stupid.
In: Red Bull with anything Out: Four Loko, aka "Blackout in a Can" - Hello, List? The nineties called, they want their reference back. Something tells me that the author just wanted to say that Four Loko is out and they really couldn't come up with something comparable to put as the "in". I love how they are telling me to drink Red Bull with anything, as if Red Bull is the latest and greatest earth-shattering invention in the drink market. And honestly, I could just drink four beers then down a couple Red Bulls and it would have the same effect as a Four Loko, so I just beat you at your own game, List. And you won't have anything to say about it because you told me that Red Bull with anything is "in".
In: Cork Wine Pub Out: Detroit's Breakfast House and Seldom Blues - I've never been to either of these restaurants, so it's not like I have a pre-existing loyalty or anything. But seriously, how pissed would you be if you were Detroit's Breakfast House and Seldom Blues?
In: Tax Breaks for the Rich Out: Empathy for the Poor - In fairness, I'm sure this was meant to be sarcastic and/or tongue in cheek. But it's already difficult to translate sarcasm in print, and the fewer words you have to work with, the more likely you will be taken seriously. So this just makes the author sound like an a-hole.
In: Velvet Out: Corduroy - Crap, there goes my entire summer wardrobe.
Well, there you have it. The worst of a really bad list. But I've got to run, it's time for me to go drink a Red Bull and buy velvet jeggings in purple and jewel tones. Don't worry, I'll be sure to take a picture for you all with my phone's camera while I'm eating at the Cork Wine Pub.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Christmas is coming and my eyes are beginning to twitch
Right around Thanksgiving every year, I get all giddy and little-girl excited for the holidays. Since my extended family is so large and since there are so many other people who are far more capable than I, I never have to live in the fear and stress of actually hosting Thanksgiving. Therefore, I'm able to happily bring the rolls and enjoy not having to deep-clean a house in preparation for dinner for 30. Also, I don't have to make a turkey. Which is good for everyone.
Pretty much every Thanksgiving of my married life has been the same. I eat, I visit, I enjoy. And I bask in the delight of the coming Christmas season. In theory, Christmas is my favorite time of year. I like the colder weather because I can wear cute sweaters and pants that hide my ever-expanding butt. (Side note: Having been pregnant in both summer and fall/winter, I vastly prefer winter so far because it's a lot easier to look chic and polished when you're working with pants, rather than capris and skirts that show off your pregnancy-induced cankles and varicose veins.)
I love the lights and the snow and the hot cups of apple cider. I love buying gifts for the people in my life, and I especially love searching for the gift that I just know will make their day. I love the wrapping. I love the baked goods (refer back to expanding butt). I love the music. I love the decorating and the parties and the friends. I love, love, love it.
In theory.
But sadly, theory and reality don't often seem to match up. Need an example? Ok, in theory, laying out clothes for the day for myself and L the night before saves time. Simple, right? In reality, morning comes and I dress myself and L in the clothes I've laid out the night before. Then I give L his banana and sippy cup of milk. L turns his sippy cup upside down and pounds the spout on his highchair tray until pools of milk form. When he reaches across the tray for his banana, he soaks his sleeve in said milk pools. Then, he mashes the banana in his hand, puts it in his mouth and smears it in his hair and on his face.
In reality, instead of being 5 or 10 minutes ahead because I've pre-selected his outfit, I'm actually 15 minutes behind because I have to once again wrangle his squirmy, uncooperative body, take off the now dirty clothes, mourn the fact that those perfectly clean clothes are now relegated back to the overflowing laundry basket, search for new clothes (which, depending on how long ago laundry was done, can take a significant amount of time - thus the PURPOSE of setting out clothes the night before) and somehow put them on L's person. And if I'm being honest, reality also includes hastily smearing a wet paper towel over his face, hands and hair and combing his mysteriously golden locks over the places where the banana was a bit more stubborn.
So there's just one example of how "theory" and "reality" don't even out. Back to the point.
Around Thanksgiving, I get all swept away by the "theory" of December. In theory, I'll have endless evenings where I can sit with D, warming my hands on a mug full of hot, delicious cider, talking and cuddling and watching Christmas movies by the glow of the fire and Christmas lights (aka my definition of bliss). In reality, every second of every day seems to be booked to the gills, leaving no time for fire gazing and cider drinking.
This year is particularly mind-boggling. I know it seems obvious why I would be much busier this year - I have a one year old. But really, I can't blame it on L. D and I made a commitment to each other that we would not get carried away with the unnecessary hullaballoo of the season, especially since L won't remember it. We aren't going berserk buying him tons of gifts. I saw this little rhyme someplace online - "Something to play with, something to read, something to wear, something you need" - and D and I agreed that it was a great way to keep ourselves in check. So we bought L one thing to fall under each category and that was that.
And even still, this year seems to be nothing short of pure madness. D and I don't buy each other a ton for Christmas, and we try very hard to stick to a feasible budget. (Actually, we kick butt at sticking to our Christmas budget, and I had to throw that out there because it's just about the only budget we somehow manage to stick to and I want to pat myself on the back a little.) And every year seems to follow a pattern. Right around Thanksgiving, when all the sales start showing up, D will usually decide that he never buys himself anything and that right before Christmas is the perfect time to go out and get himself a few things he wants. Right before Christmas. Right when I want him to give me a list of things he wants so I can buy them for him as presents. Knowing this about my husband, I usually can just go out and buy him whatever I want him to have, since he seems to think that it's a-ok that he is his own Santa.
This year, I finally saw fruits from all the nagging and teasing I subjected D to about his habit of buying himself presents at an extremely inopportune time. D has not bought himself a single thing. But not really because he listened to me; more-so because he couldn't commit to wanting anything specific. So instead of doing what I usually do and making my money stretch as far as possible at my annual outlet shopping trip with my mom, I waited until he could tell me what he wanted, thinking it would be a bigger gift that would use most of his budget.
And do you know what he wants? A wallet. That's it. A wallet. That's all he could come up with. So now I'm scrambling to not only figure out what else to get him, but also find the time in which to do it. No small task. I literally had to pull out my calendar this morning, grab some paper and do a good deal of creative planning. And basically what I could come up with was shopping on the 3 lunch breaks I have between now and Christmas that do not have meetings or appointments or work lunches scheduled. Now if I could get those 3 hours in one chunk, it might be productive, but having them spread out over 3 different days? Not so much.
And the decorating the house and putting up the tree? Unfortunately, it's become something my mom and I are trying desperately to "squeeze in". We both had to come together and enforce an iron-clad blocking off of this Sunday afternoon (in addition to the baking I need to do in lieu of gifts for my bosses and co-workers) because if we don't do it then, we seriously doubt it will happen at all.
Which makes me sad, because decorating for Christmas has always been one of my most favorite things to do. So I'm vowing to myself that it will be a cheerful, enjoyable time. I'm going to make sure there's Christmas music playing and a ban on any Grinchy moods will be enacted. No irritation, frustration or general unhappiness allowed. And of course, hot cider will be made. We will have fun decorating the house for Christmas if it kills us.
Then there are the Christmas cards. I actually really wanted to do Christmas cards this year, but the universe seems to be working against me in this one as well. I had planned to do a photo card with a printed message on it so that I didn't have to do anything but stick the card in the envelope and address it.
But that means there has to be a good, holiday-ish photo to use, and since there was no way in the world I would ever get D to agree to professional holiday pictures, it would be up to us (us = me) to come up with something. Unfortunately, our camera is one small step up from a rock, and the quality of pictures it takes is not so good. Further unfortunately, we don't have the $600 it would take to buy a semi-decent SLR camera that takes better pictures. And perhaps most unfortunate of all, I can't even find the crappy camera that we already own. Needless to say, all of this combined with the fact that it's already December 7 means it's not looking good for the Christmas cards this year.
This morning at work, I realized just how stupid I've been rendered by all the hustle and bustle (and I mean "stupid" as literally as possible). I have a new boss (and I know I'm not allowed to talk about work because I don't want to lose my job, but I have to say - you know those distant "Hallelujah" choruses you've been hearing and you can't figure out where they're coming from? Yeah, it's me.) and it's been a little crazy for me trying to help him get settled into our office.
One thing I had to do was order him a wall clock. So the clock comes this morning and I'm taking it out of the package and getting the time set and everything. And I get it to the right time but the hands aren't moving. And I'm looking all over the clock, trying to figure out why the heck it's not working, and I'm reading the little pamphlet that came in the box, trying to see if there's a special tab I have to pull or some magic words I have to say to get it ticking. And I'm getting pissed off that the pamphlet doesn't have any instructions on how to set it or how to get it going, because it's not like it's common sense or anything.
Want to know why the stupid clock wasn't working? It didn't have a battery in it. I. Am. An. Idiot.
I am going to make a conscious effort to take it a little bit easier and not put so much pressure on myself to get everything done. What gets done gets done, what doesn't, doesn't. This is usually the attitude I adopt approximately 2 or 3 days away from whatever event is stressing me out, when I'm completely fried and my brain is on overload and I'm ready to burst into tears at the smallest thing. But I'm going to adopt it early and give myself a break.
I want to enjoy Christmas this year, and every year in the future. I don't want to be the scary mommy who yells and self-medicates with cheap wine from Kroger. (Well, I don't want to be the scary mommy who yells, anyway.) So I'm resolving to be more go-with-the-flow, less crazy lady from the Target commercials.
We'll see how it goes.
Pretty much every Thanksgiving of my married life has been the same. I eat, I visit, I enjoy. And I bask in the delight of the coming Christmas season. In theory, Christmas is my favorite time of year. I like the colder weather because I can wear cute sweaters and pants that hide my ever-expanding butt. (Side note: Having been pregnant in both summer and fall/winter, I vastly prefer winter so far because it's a lot easier to look chic and polished when you're working with pants, rather than capris and skirts that show off your pregnancy-induced cankles and varicose veins.)
I love the lights and the snow and the hot cups of apple cider. I love buying gifts for the people in my life, and I especially love searching for the gift that I just know will make their day. I love the wrapping. I love the baked goods (refer back to expanding butt). I love the music. I love the decorating and the parties and the friends. I love, love, love it.
In theory.
But sadly, theory and reality don't often seem to match up. Need an example? Ok, in theory, laying out clothes for the day for myself and L the night before saves time. Simple, right? In reality, morning comes and I dress myself and L in the clothes I've laid out the night before. Then I give L his banana and sippy cup of milk. L turns his sippy cup upside down and pounds the spout on his highchair tray until pools of milk form. When he reaches across the tray for his banana, he soaks his sleeve in said milk pools. Then, he mashes the banana in his hand, puts it in his mouth and smears it in his hair and on his face.
In reality, instead of being 5 or 10 minutes ahead because I've pre-selected his outfit, I'm actually 15 minutes behind because I have to once again wrangle his squirmy, uncooperative body, take off the now dirty clothes, mourn the fact that those perfectly clean clothes are now relegated back to the overflowing laundry basket, search for new clothes (which, depending on how long ago laundry was done, can take a significant amount of time - thus the PURPOSE of setting out clothes the night before) and somehow put them on L's person. And if I'm being honest, reality also includes hastily smearing a wet paper towel over his face, hands and hair and combing his mysteriously golden locks over the places where the banana was a bit more stubborn.
So there's just one example of how "theory" and "reality" don't even out. Back to the point.
Around Thanksgiving, I get all swept away by the "theory" of December. In theory, I'll have endless evenings where I can sit with D, warming my hands on a mug full of hot, delicious cider, talking and cuddling and watching Christmas movies by the glow of the fire and Christmas lights (aka my definition of bliss). In reality, every second of every day seems to be booked to the gills, leaving no time for fire gazing and cider drinking.
This year is particularly mind-boggling. I know it seems obvious why I would be much busier this year - I have a one year old. But really, I can't blame it on L. D and I made a commitment to each other that we would not get carried away with the unnecessary hullaballoo of the season, especially since L won't remember it. We aren't going berserk buying him tons of gifts. I saw this little rhyme someplace online - "Something to play with, something to read, something to wear, something you need" - and D and I agreed that it was a great way to keep ourselves in check. So we bought L one thing to fall under each category and that was that.
And even still, this year seems to be nothing short of pure madness. D and I don't buy each other a ton for Christmas, and we try very hard to stick to a feasible budget. (Actually, we kick butt at sticking to our Christmas budget, and I had to throw that out there because it's just about the only budget we somehow manage to stick to and I want to pat myself on the back a little.) And every year seems to follow a pattern. Right around Thanksgiving, when all the sales start showing up, D will usually decide that he never buys himself anything and that right before Christmas is the perfect time to go out and get himself a few things he wants. Right before Christmas. Right when I want him to give me a list of things he wants so I can buy them for him as presents. Knowing this about my husband, I usually can just go out and buy him whatever I want him to have, since he seems to think that it's a-ok that he is his own Santa.
This year, I finally saw fruits from all the nagging and teasing I subjected D to about his habit of buying himself presents at an extremely inopportune time. D has not bought himself a single thing. But not really because he listened to me; more-so because he couldn't commit to wanting anything specific. So instead of doing what I usually do and making my money stretch as far as possible at my annual outlet shopping trip with my mom, I waited until he could tell me what he wanted, thinking it would be a bigger gift that would use most of his budget.
And do you know what he wants? A wallet. That's it. A wallet. That's all he could come up with. So now I'm scrambling to not only figure out what else to get him, but also find the time in which to do it. No small task. I literally had to pull out my calendar this morning, grab some paper and do a good deal of creative planning. And basically what I could come up with was shopping on the 3 lunch breaks I have between now and Christmas that do not have meetings or appointments or work lunches scheduled. Now if I could get those 3 hours in one chunk, it might be productive, but having them spread out over 3 different days? Not so much.
And the decorating the house and putting up the tree? Unfortunately, it's become something my mom and I are trying desperately to "squeeze in". We both had to come together and enforce an iron-clad blocking off of this Sunday afternoon (in addition to the baking I need to do in lieu of gifts for my bosses and co-workers) because if we don't do it then, we seriously doubt it will happen at all.
Which makes me sad, because decorating for Christmas has always been one of my most favorite things to do. So I'm vowing to myself that it will be a cheerful, enjoyable time. I'm going to make sure there's Christmas music playing and a ban on any Grinchy moods will be enacted. No irritation, frustration or general unhappiness allowed. And of course, hot cider will be made. We will have fun decorating the house for Christmas if it kills us.
Then there are the Christmas cards. I actually really wanted to do Christmas cards this year, but the universe seems to be working against me in this one as well. I had planned to do a photo card with a printed message on it so that I didn't have to do anything but stick the card in the envelope and address it.
But that means there has to be a good, holiday-ish photo to use, and since there was no way in the world I would ever get D to agree to professional holiday pictures, it would be up to us (us = me) to come up with something. Unfortunately, our camera is one small step up from a rock, and the quality of pictures it takes is not so good. Further unfortunately, we don't have the $600 it would take to buy a semi-decent SLR camera that takes better pictures. And perhaps most unfortunate of all, I can't even find the crappy camera that we already own. Needless to say, all of this combined with the fact that it's already December 7 means it's not looking good for the Christmas cards this year.
This morning at work, I realized just how stupid I've been rendered by all the hustle and bustle (and I mean "stupid" as literally as possible). I have a new boss (and I know I'm not allowed to talk about work because I don't want to lose my job, but I have to say - you know those distant "Hallelujah" choruses you've been hearing and you can't figure out where they're coming from? Yeah, it's me.) and it's been a little crazy for me trying to help him get settled into our office.
One thing I had to do was order him a wall clock. So the clock comes this morning and I'm taking it out of the package and getting the time set and everything. And I get it to the right time but the hands aren't moving. And I'm looking all over the clock, trying to figure out why the heck it's not working, and I'm reading the little pamphlet that came in the box, trying to see if there's a special tab I have to pull or some magic words I have to say to get it ticking. And I'm getting pissed off that the pamphlet doesn't have any instructions on how to set it or how to get it going, because it's not like it's common sense or anything.
Want to know why the stupid clock wasn't working? It didn't have a battery in it. I. Am. An. Idiot.
I am going to make a conscious effort to take it a little bit easier and not put so much pressure on myself to get everything done. What gets done gets done, what doesn't, doesn't. This is usually the attitude I adopt approximately 2 or 3 days away from whatever event is stressing me out, when I'm completely fried and my brain is on overload and I'm ready to burst into tears at the smallest thing. But I'm going to adopt it early and give myself a break.
I want to enjoy Christmas this year, and every year in the future. I don't want to be the scary mommy who yells and self-medicates with cheap wine from Kroger. (Well, I don't want to be the scary mommy who yells, anyway.) So I'm resolving to be more go-with-the-flow, less crazy lady from the Target commercials.
We'll see how it goes.
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