Yo Mama

If only I had seen this ad campaign from American Apparel, the totally confusing and overpriced artsy/hipster clothing brand that all the cool kids are wearing these days. Turns out they make maternity! I could have been wearing a comfy and flattering one-piece for the last nine months. WITH leg warmers. This would have looked so awesome to wear to work.



Okay, for real. Someone explain this to me, because I am too old. Are they being ironic? Is this some sort of retro performance piece, or tongue-in-cheek play on the maternal form? Or is this an ACTUAL fashion suggestion for a gestating mom? I can only imagine the looks I would get picking up Jafta from preschool in this get-up.

Especiall if there was a long walk from having to park a block away.

the birth story

For those of you who enjoy this kind of thing, here are the [not so] gory details of Karis' big day:

I was scheduled to be induced for Monday, April 27th. I've always been a fan of going more natural when it comes to stuff like this, but my belly was already measuring at 44 weeks at my 40 week appointment. I knew I was gonna have a big baby, and it became a question of trying to induce to avoid a c-section, or waiting it out to avoid pitocin. My doctor persuaded me to schedule the induction, but to be honest, I was really second guessing it on Saturday, after I heard all the rules involved in an induction. An induction basically meant violating every single request on the birth plan we had come up with months prior. *But it also meant getting this baby out*. Hence, me conflicted, and desperate to get labor started on my own.

On Saturday afternoon I went to a massage clinic that does accupressure to induce labor, figuring I would try anything. On Saturday night, I felt great, but nothing really seemed to be happening. I slept soundly that night, and woke up the next morning with a few contractions around 8am. I had been having contractions throughout my last trimester, but never in the morning. I started getting hopeful.

I spent the morning trying to get the house as clean as possible, and finishing a few things on my to-do list. The contractions kept coming, but I kept thinking it might be false labor. I didn't want to show up to the hospital and be sent home. So I kept working, and then stopped in between to breath through the contractions. I was trying to be really quiet about it, so I wouldn't freak the kids out. So I would be swiffering, and then just stand and lean against the wall when a contraction came. Or I would be writing an email, and then just sit back and breath for a minute or two until it passed. This went on for about two hours, with me starting to wonder if maybe this was it. I wasn't timing the contractions, so it didn't feel like a big deal. I also had 18+ hours of labor with India, so I figured I had plenty of time. I wanted to spend most of my labor at home. Mark kept telling me we should head to the hospital, but I kept saying I wasn't ready.

At about 11:30, the contractions got to the point where I was really having to monitor my breathing to get through them, and the kids were taking notice. I had Mark call his mom to come get them, and I figured maybe I should start timing them. There is this awesome website that lets you just push a button at the beginning and end of a contraction, and then does all the calculations for you. I started timing them and within 3-4 contractions realized they were coming less than 5 minutes apart. My doctor wanted me at the hospital when they were 10 minutes apart. Um, GO TIME.


We loaded up the car, and by then I was hurting. We got to the hospital a little before 1pm. I had to spend nearly an hour in a room they call "triage", which is basically a room full of beds seperated by curtains, where they check you to make sure you are really in labor before they admit you. Triage was jumping that day, so I sat in a corner bed for a long time, waiting to be seen. It was pretty miserable, and I was alone for most of that time because they wouldn't allow Mark back until someone came around with a clipboard and asked if I was being abused in any way. WHY YES. I'M BEING ABUSED BE BEING FORCED TO SIT ALONE IN A TRIAGE BED DURING ACTIVE LABOR. Mark was determined to be no threat and allowed back When they finally checked me, I was 7 cm dilated. The nurse apologized, saying "you were so quiet back there, I thought for sure you weren't very far along".

NOTE TO SELF: When in labor, now is the time to use that background in dramatics to let the nurses know you mean business. Quiet yoga breathing just means you will be passed up by the loud lady behind curtain #3 who is barely dilated and should still be at home, or the hysterical woman behind curtain #2 who isn't even in labor, but just has a bladder infection.

NOTE TO HOSPITAL STAFF: We can hear everything you say in triage. So much for patient confidentiality.

After I was checked, they moved me pretty quickly to a room and called my doctor right away. Things moved so fast after this point that everything is still a blur. I thought my labor would drag on and on, so I had in my mind that we would unpack the room, watch some Arrested Development on DVD, take a bath and labor in the tub, call all our friends, and then wait some more. Mark went down to move the car out of temporary parking, and while he was gone they checked me again. I was at 10 cm! Suddenly they were setting up the room for delivery. Mark came back, and the nurse asked me to do a "practice push". I guess that was pretty effective because she immediately told me to stop and lay on my side until the doctor came. The doctor showed up a few minutes later, and had me start. The whole time, I kept asking if she was sure, and telling her I didn't really feel ready yet. I was in shock that things were moving so fast. My mother-in-law showed up about now, but my sister-in-law still wasn't there, because we had just called her.





My water broke, and it was determined there was meconium - which meant a team from the NICU was called in. This happened with India, and I had really been hoping it wouldn't happen again. It makes for a stressful birth. The doctor had me start pushing. Sarah walked through the door right at that moment. So did about 14 med students. Karis knows how to draw a crowd. After about 4 sets of pushes, she was crowning! Because of the meconium, the doctor wanted to partially deliver her, and then sunction her mouth and nose before she came all the way out. This made for one of the most painful few moments of my life. Then, Karis' shoulders got stuck, and the doctor and a nurse played a little game of tug-of-war to get her out. Ouch. Finally, she was out. They whisked her away to the warming table for examination, and after what seemed like an eternity we finally heard her crying. Which sent the rest of us to crying. What a relief.

They took FOREVER doing all the examinations, and Mark was taking pictures of her with our digital camera and then running it over to me so I could see what she looked like. Finally I was able to hold her, and overcome with emotion. She was so perfect, and so worth the wait.

Karis is here

Born April 28, 2009 at 2:40 pm
9 lbs 5 oz 21 inches






















This is an outrage!! (white people problems)

The other day, a letter came home from my son's preschool urging the parents to take action. The title of the letter was "This is an outrage!!". I was pretty curious to read it, since they rarely send non-preschool related letters home. What on earth could be so big a deal?

As it turns out: suburban parking. My son's school is in a really nice, very expensive area of Orange County. (We do not live in this neighborhood). Apparently there is a city ordinance proprosed that everyone is up in arms about for this particular suburb. It involves some parking issue about only being able to park in front of driveways . . . or was it not being able to park in driveways? (It was hard to read because my eyes kept involuntarily rolling). The letter used very strong wording, imploring us to get involved. In bold letters at the bottom, it read "remember, this will affect you and your children forever".

Now, lest I sound like a completely unsympathetic person, I can see where this scenario might be annoying. There are people who may have a really tight squeeze trying to get both the Hummer and the Escalade in one parking spot. The nanny might have to park down the block. If people throw a dinner party, their guests' Jimmy Choo shoes might leave a blister by the time they walk from their cars. This is serious!!!

Okay, wow. I really am a completely unsympathetic person. I can't even write about it without mocking. I actually intended that paragraph to be sincere, and couldn't even muster the strength to care about this.

I guess the whole thing smacks of priviledge, and there seems to me to be quite a myriad of actual outrages going on in our world today. It reminds me of a video I saw recently:





Admittedly, I am prone to this, too. I have abused my facebook status updates (and the exclaimation point) asking people to write their congressman over a lack of fashionable maternity clothes, and stewed about ordering white paper towels that arrived decorated with hideous 1980's geometric patterns. I hope it's obvious I'm joking - but there is always just a wee kernel of truth about the ridiculousness of issues that get my own blood boiling sometimes.

So this gets me thinking: what is really worth our exclaimation points? What would make me not roll my eyes if sent home in an urgent letter with my kids?

What is something that I should truly feel outraged about?

  • There are 129,000 kids in US fostercare waiting to be adopted
  • Marital rape was just made legal in Afghanistan
  • Children are being kidnapped and forced to live as soldiers in Uganda
  • 2.7 million people in Darfur remain displaced
  • An estimated 75% of children in the Gaza strip could be clinically diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
This are just a few of the things that I really do feel disgusted by. Send home a letter urging me to take action on some of these issues, and I may actually respond. Parking . . . not so much.

What about you? What is worthy of your exclaimation point?

Random and Unrelated Bullet Points

  • I am still pregnant. I am scheduled to be induced on Monday. I cannot express how uncomfortable I am, and what my feet and ankles look like right now. If I weren't so vain, I would post pictures of my feet and you could all have a laugh at my expense. A medical induction without a midwife is not how I pictured my ideal birth. But I am letting that go. Moving on to Project Evacuate My Uterus.


  • Mark and Jafta were rear-ended today. They are fine, thank God. Our car is not. The other car was a small car and actually went under our CRV, causing a lot of damage to both. We are now trying to navigate how to pay for this accident. We have insurance - but using it will end up in a DMV report. The other car is owned by a very sweet and very scared couple who could be deported for something like this. Mark spent the day getting estimates that are half the value of the car's worth, and talking to this couple to try to figure out a solution for all of us. A tad bit stressful.

  • There was a car parked about 3 feet from our door today, with a couple smoking pot inside in plain view of my kids. They sat there for about an hour, and we finally decided to call the police. We live fairly close to a motel that houses lots of drug addicts, so I assumed they were just a couple who lived there, driving around for a place to use. When the cops came, we peered out the windows like a couple of nosey old ladies and watched what happened. I even took a picture. It was the most excitement we've seen in a while. They were searched, drugs and syringes were confiscated, and they were cited. Apparently being arrested these days is a self-service thing. They were instructed to drive themselves in to me fingerprinted and photographed. When the police left, the couple got out of the car and walked into a house down the street. OOPS!! I had no idea they were neighbors. I have a feeling my house might be egged in the near future. But seriously. Do your drugs in your own house.


  • India has started this new thing were she wakes up every around midnight every night screaming and unconsoleable for about 30 minutes. She just screams at the top of her lungs. Loudly. I don't know if this is a night terror, or what, but she doesn't seem really aware of my existence when this is going on, and nothing I do will calm her down. She is like a feral child when this happens, she hits and throws herself around and won't talk or make eye contact. And then she wakes up perfectly happy in the morning. It makes me sad. It is also really bad timing, since I soon won't have the luxury of moving her to another bedroom when this is happening. I wish I could figure out what is triggering this.

  • I am reading The Year of Living Biblically and I'm loving it. It's about a guy who spends a year trying to follow every law in the Bible. Pretty interesting, and very funny.

  • This morning I actually played my piano. India wanted me to play while she did ballet in her tutu. Mark told me about a song from the movie Amadeus that I should play. He started humming a little Mozart tune and said "play that one." Like I can just pull a Mozart sonata out of my butt. Then India asked me to play High School Musical. My family grossly overestimates my musical abilities. I got through one botched version of Hey Jude and called it a day.

  • I found a Black superhero at Target. In the store. Without having to special order it. His name is Cyborg and I can't wait to give him to Jafta. It's the little things that make me happy.

How the UPS man saved the day

There are some days as a stay-at-home mom where I wake up and wonder how I'm gonna entertain the kids for the entire day. At 40+ weeks pregnant, that is my dilemma pretty much every day.
Enter our dashing UPS guy, who delivered a large box with a lot of bubble wrap (and a breast pump, but I didn't let the kids play with that). The kids spent the first part of the day playing with the bubble wrap. They popped it with their fingers, and then put it on the ground and stomped on it, and then wrapped themselves in it, and then cut it into small pieces. It absorbed their attention for hours.
(And yes, they were closely supervised as they covered themselves in plastic.)
Once they bored of that, they turned their sights to the box. They used it as a fort, then it was a spaceship. They read books while sitting inside. Then they started taking turns wearing it and pretending to be a monster.



They played contently until naptime. AAAAAAHHHHHH. I needed that today.

corrective emotional experience

There is a whole school of therapy based on the premise that people just need empathy for their childhood wounds. The assumption is that most parents are unable to give empathy or apologize to their children for things that are difficult, which leaves them with a gaping hole that a therapist can fix by providing a corrective emotional experience in adulthood. I have seen a lot of people come to therapy with the underlying issue of never feeling understood or validated by their parents. So as I became a parent, I wanted to provide a lot of empathy for my kids. It is surprisingly not that easy for me. Partly out of my own guilt (if I apologize I have to change) and partly out of my own pride (if I apologize I'm saying it's my fault).

Nonetheless, I have been trying very hard in this department but realized today that I haven't really submitted myself to my kid's feelings about my pregnancy and the way it has affected me. India very kindly pointed this out to me last night when Mark took the kids to the mall to give me a break. She said to me as they left, in a not-so-nice, preteen voice, "Just stay home and watch tv, mommy". Suddenly I realized that not only is she noticing the sidelining effects of my pregnancy, but she might actually be a little bitter about it. And that in her little mind, she may be thinking that I am just not wanting to participate, and sitting at home watching tv as an active choice.

It is realistic to admit that I am a lame mom right now, and have been for several months. I don't go on family activities because I am tired and can hardly walk. I look at photos from last summer and barely recognize that active mom that went to the beach with the kids all the time, and took them to parks, and actually participated instead of just trying to get through the day. We stay home most days now, and have since I battled with morning sickness at the beginning of my pregnancy. I am short with them. I snuggle them less because I can't just crawl into their bunkbeds anymore. Daddy does the bedtime routine. I yell across the house instead of getting up because getting up is painful. I threaten them with punishment if they get out of bed during their naptime. I am parenting very differently than I used to, and I just realized I never had a sit-down with them and acknowledged that this is their truth, and that I feel badly about it. Why? Because I do feel badly about it, really badly about it, and part of me wants to be in denial that it is affecting them.

So, yesterday I sucked it up and layed out my apology for being a seemingly lazy, distracted, and indifferent mom. I told them I was sorry for how I stayed home a lot, and how much I missed doing fun things with them. I told them how proud I was for how they were learning to play at home, and how I realized how hard it must be to not be involved in the outings we used to do. I told them I was looking forward to being able to do things together after the baby comes. I also got out their own baby pictures and talked about their own baby stories, because sheesh, there has been a lot of Karis talk and these kids have already taken a backseat to her. I told them it was okay if they were frustrated with me, or sad about it.

It seems basic. But it was hard for me. It's hard to be that vulnerable with my kids, and to acknowledge that I might even be causing them pain. I am hoping that in talking about it, they have experienced a corrective emotional experience; that even though I can't change things, I can empathize and listen and be sorry, and that we can all sit in that pain together.

Because you asked

I know I've been posting a lot of cute pics of the kids, and some of you have asked that I post a picture of myself. I've been avoiding it because I am so, so huge. But then I thought, what the heck. It's not like I'm carrying 8 or something. So here is a little tummy shot of me at 40 weeks pregnant:

I told you I was huge.

How the Howerton family wastes a Sunday afternoon

With bubble wrap, a spiderman costume, and some new video editing software . . .

video

I love that we could dub this with music, so you can't hear India screaming, "Leave me alone, Spiderman!" when he goes in for his rescue/tackle.

The Staycation

About a year ago, my friend Ali and I started a "mommy blog" called Mama Manifesto. It's been a fun adventure, a huge learning experience, and a whole lot of work for pretty much no money. The upshot is that often, companies will solicit us for promotional consideration, and we get some fun swag. So when a local beach resort offered us a little getaway, I was like, um . . . . YES. Last weekend we got to stay at a nice hotel that is about 5 minutes from our house and overlooking the beach. We had a swanky room, a great view, and a fun wagon filled with smores materials at our disposal.






It was all fun and games until we tried to sleep that first night, with Mark and I in one double bed and the kids in another about three feet away from us. Mark and I were totally squished (especially with huge pregnant belly taking up half the bed), and somehow Jafta and India were either kicking each other or tumbling off the bed all night. India even puked around 2am (presumably from too many smores), and Mark had to use the laundry room to wash her security blanket in the middle of the night while I tried to keep her from screaming her head off in the room. I think I slept about 2 hours.


So, we did what any reasonable family would do . . . we cheated. We went home that afternoon and all took a big long nap. Then we went back to the hotel, had a comped dinner, bathed the kids - and drove home just in time for bedtime - where everyone slept perfectly through the night in their own beds. The next morning, we went back, let the kids swim, and then went home again.



I think it might be my new favorite way to do vacation.

Teaching Tolerance

Last night the news covered the story of an 11-year-old who committed suicide due to relentless bullying about his sexual orientation. Again - he was ELEVEN YEARS OLD. The news program I watched featured a myriad of resources for parents of children who might be bullied. But for me, I think this is a wake-up call to ALL parents, to make sure that our children are not the ones committing acts of bullying and hate to other children. From what I gathered watching the news, a majority of the children in his class were engaed in this kind of taunting towards him.

The harassment of children who may or may not be gay is not a political or religious issue, and really has nothing to do with our own ideologies or moral convictions. This is one of those situations where we need to set aside our polarized feelings. Teaching and modeling tolerance has nothing to do with how you voted on Prop 8 or how you interpret scripture regarding homosexuality.

Gay slurs (and racial slurs) should have no place in our children's vocabulary, and yet this is a plague that spreads across our country. Children often learn these attitudes from adults in their life, whether overt or covert. We as parents are culpable if our children are spreading hate. While it's easy to say that kids learn to tease others from each other, this child's death is an example that we should be more proactive in teaching our children that we will not tolerate intolerance. We can't ignore the issues of bullying and let them learn it from their peers. Eleven year olds don't pick on people because they feel they are "sinning" or are trying to exhort them - eleven year olds pick on people because they are "different" and have not been taught that this behavior is unacceptable. If we follow a Christian ethic, we are taught to love others, and to show God's love through our actions. Today I am reminded that this needs to be an ongoing conversation with my children, and more importantly, something I model for them through every word that comes out of my mouth.

The Ugly, revisited

So when I blogged about my nesting frenzy, I got a little lost in describing my label-making efforts, and completely forgot to write about the truly ugly part. The part where I lost all self-control and spent upwards of of the price of two Kindles on random crap at Amazon.com.

You see, I have a wee bit of anxiety about how I will manage to get any errands done with three kids. Getting to the store is already a struggle, and I cannot figure out how to fit three kids AND groceries into a cart. The other day, when my super-power nesting hormones took over, I started feeling panicked that I would never be able to leave the house again, and went into a little Y2K-stockpiling mode. And then I heard about Amazon's subscription services, and how you get free shipping if you subscribe and order things in bulk. I logged in and noticed that the 7th Generation diapers I like were much cheaper when ordered online. And then I sort of had a psychotic break and started ordering EVERYTHING that they offered, without looking at the price or thinking about how I would store all of these bulk items in our 1300 sq. ft. house with minimal closet space. I was in a gleeful trance of thinking about how prepared this was going to make me.

And a few days later, the stuff started arriving. I had ordered palettes, literally industrial quantities, of household items. The boxes were so big that I couldn't even fit them in the door. Dish soap, diapers, toilet paper, paper towels, dryer sheets, laundry soap, baby wipes, swiffer sheets, whole-wheat couscous, flax seed . . . the list goes on. All of these items in ridiculous number and completely overpriced, which I overlooked while ordering. (As I defended myself to Mark when he saw the bank account, it was a lot of math to figure out the individual price in bulk.)

So now, instead of feeling satisfied, I am completely annoyed with myself and trying to fit 24 boxes of couscous into my already full pantry. We have toilet paper hidden in every closet, and if you open the laundry cabinet, you might get hit in the hit with an errant box of dryer sheets.

But at least I won't have to go to the store for a while.

Easter from the Sidelines



I sat out on the Easter celebration this morning. Our church does a big, county-wide service at the Pacific Amphitheater. It is always artistic, always inspirational, and always kind of a zoo getting in and out with that many people. My end-of-pregnancy waddle has morphed into a slow, strained elderly gait, because my pelvis is basically coming apart. So there was no way I was going to be climbing stairs and walking up steep hills and then walking to and from an endless parking lot.

Mark decided to ride his bike over to avoid the parking mess, and borrowed a trailer to hitch the kids to. He DID offer to cart me in that trailer as well. But as much as I wanted to see Easter, I really wanted to avoid the 21 belly rubs and 52 comments as to how ready to pop I am. I've gone underground until this baby comes. I am refusing social context entirely for the next week. (God let this happen in the next week). Unless, somehow, I can get my hands on one of these:


So many advantages:
1) could get around without it feeling like my pubic bone has seperated entirely from my hips
2) could out-run anyone trying to touch my belly or find out if I'm having twins
3) could look awesome like GOB always did on Arrested Developed. (if you don't know what I'm talking about, you need to get with the program. Season 1 on DVD. Best show ever).


Anyways, I had a nice quiet morning at home, and then the family graciously came to my house, because I didn't think I could handle one moment in the car. We hid Easter eggs around the backyard. Here is a picture of the cousins listening to the rules. Mark might have taken the rules a little too seriously.


Then the boys decorated cookies.



The cousins got a little snuggle time with baby Peyton. I think they are ready for a new sister of their own!



And then the boys had a little skateboard time. (Yeah, Tanner's pink helmet may be distracting just a tad from the "cool factor".


We had a great afternoon and I felt blessed to have such an amazing family.



Nesting: The Good, The Bad, and the Labeled

I have been feeling really crappy though most of this pregnancy, but this week I got a burst of energy that defied the immobility and exhaustion that have been hallmarks of the last few months. I am finally at full-term, and something kicked into gear. I feel physically better, and I feel motivate to GET S#!$ DONE. And not just in a normal, let's complete a task kind of way. More like a compulsive, tweaking, crystal-meth-fueled way. It's like I look at the house, and every inch needs to be fixed, cleaned, reorganized, and/or labeled.


This would be the phase of pregnancy commonly referred to as "nesting". There are some theories about why nesting happens: your hormones kick in prior to labor, or your excessive energy manages itself in home projects.

I would disagree, in my case. For me, nesting is about trying to find structure and control in a scenario where I am completely out-of-control. I have no idea when this baby will come. I have no idea where I will be when labor starts, or how long it will take, or if the kids will be okay without us, or if Karis will come out healthy and normal, or even come out at all. The end of a pregnancy is full of ambiguity, but for type-A moms like me, the nesting serves a purpose. I may not know what day I will give birth, but dammit, I DO know where to place the white table linens because they are CLEARLY LABELED. I know which towels go where, which shelf in the pantry is for soup vs. beans, and which type of batteries get stacked in each compartment of the junk drawer.

In the last few days, I hung a towel rack, organized the linen closet (now with labels), labeled the kid's toy bins, installed a shoe rack, organized my own drawers (yes with labels too) and cleaned out the junk drawer. I refiled all of our files in the garage, sorted goodwill items, nested boxes, put random junk back on their shelves. I even went through old photos and started putting them,in albums.

I did a major overhaul of the closet in India's room, which will soon be the baby's room. There is no inch of this closet left bare. It is minuscule, so we needed every space to be maximized. Their hanging clothes are hung with matching pants pinned on. Their jackets are on coat racks and their shoes are in shoe bags that hang from the door. Each girl has a separate tupperware for future clothes, and four green (labeled) bins for socks, swimsuits, shorts, and tees. I have no earthly idea how this closet will every accommodate two teenage girls. But for right now, it is the pinnacle of functionality.

I have been a mad-woman of organization. And honestly, it is just the distraction I need right now to not be stressing about this pregnancy. So it serves it's purpose - even though my husband is slightly scared of me now.

NOW HIRING: a job opportunity


Please pass the word around. We are trying to fill this position asap.

JOB NOTICE

Title: Repetitive Inquiry Respondent

Responsibilities: Be available 24 hours a day to answer random and unending questions, such as "Do dragons poop while they are flying?" and "Why do we need to eat food every day?", so that parental figure can have a cohesive thought and complete menial daily tasks within their home environment


Skills Needed: a general and thorough knowledge of EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD, including but not limited to cars, trucks, dinosaurs, superheroes, lasers, pirates, monsters, and bank robbers.

Benefits: the satisfaction prolonging the life of a certain four-year-old and his mother

Salary: today I will pay any amount requested to stop answering these questions. (generosity of boss subject to change without notice.)

TO APPLY, leave a comment with the answer to the following question:

Why do Superman and Batman wear capes, but not Spiderman?

pregnancy and me: we just disagree

There are two kinds of women in this world. For some women, being pregnant is this amazing, earthy experience. They get the glow. They feel energized and organic. The look somehow sexier. They fit into their pre-pregnancy jeans before they drive home from the hospital. I have a few friends like this. Case in point: my friend Angela, at the hospital IN LABOR, wearing her high-heels and looking hot.

And then there's the rest of us.


For some of us, pregnancy feels like having the flu for 9 months. With a stuffy nose and heartburn and insomnia and heart palpitations. And as the tummy gets bigger, the thighs decide that they need to balance things out. And then the butt needs to get in on the action. And then you get so swollen that your chin grows to twice it's normal size. You can only wear stretchy fat pants and flip-flops. You get hip dysplagia and walk like a wounded dog.



During this pregnancy, I have been pretty miserable. Morning sickness, migraines, braxton hicks . . . you name it. I am really excited about the baby coming, but I am also really excited to not be pregnant anymore.

I think it's hard for those of us who longed for a pregnancy to finally accept that there are many aspects to pregnancy that pretty much suck. I was such a martyr while pregnant with India. I never wanted to acknowledge how hard it was, or complain. But this time, I have given myself permission to be frustrated and complain just a little. Women having been complaining about pregnancy since the dawn of time. Just because I experienced loss doesn't mean my pregnancy will be devoid of frustration, or that I have to paint on a smile and pretend like nothing is bothering me. For one, because that is insane. But also, I'm just not the kind of person who says things like:

"Every time I heaved into the toilet, I thought about how much I loved my baby"
or

"I liked the nausea because it reminded me of God's blessing"

So here I am, complaining again. I want this to be done. SOON. It doesn't mean I'm not grateful. Disliking frequent nausea, pelvic pain, Braxton-Hicks contractions, or heartburn does not mean I cherish the pregnancy any less. It means I am experiencing pregnancy in the same fullness as everyone else: good and bad. I keep reminding myself that it's the end result that matters. But being so sick has really affected me, and it makes me feel depressed and useless. I struggle every day.

All that to say, I am ready for Karis to make her arrival, and I am ready to move on to complaining about things like how little sleep I'm getting, how sore my boobs are, and how hard it is to parent three kids. NONE OF WHICH WILL MEAN I LOVE THEM ANY LESS.

I wish this picture was full of crap

I am in somewhat of a conundrum.


On the one hand, I want to be that mom who is totally laid-back about potty-training. I think that pushing kids to train early is neither developmentally or psychologically appropriate. Plus, potty-training is a pain. So my motto has always been: wait until they are completely ready, and then wait a little more. They will get there. No hurry.
On the other hand . . .
I really really really really really want India to start preschool with Jafta this summer. I am so looking forward to a little peace and quiet a couple mornings of quality time with the baby. So I may have starting pushing the potty training just a wee bit.
(get it? wee?)
Which is making both mommy and India a little pissy.
(omg I am cracking myself up with the wordplay)
So any ideas for getting India potty-trained in the next two months, without making both of us crazy?

Before four

Oh boy. I just found this in my "drafts" section. These were the goals I wanted to accomplish before baby Karis made her arrival. I ended up never even completing this post, much less the things on the list. In fact, of this list, I have accomplished ONE thing. I know where the kids are attending preschool. Everything else has taken a back burner to my pregnant napping schedule. Do you thing I will be able to finish the whole list in the next two weeks?


1/2/09
This would be the New Year's Resolution post. Except that, come spring, I will have three kids under four, and I am hoping soon after that another one will be added to the mix. Since I assume that life as I know it will be over once that happens, I am trying to make realistic goals that I can achieve BEFORE APRIL. Before I am completely outnumbered and overwhelmed. As opposed to right now. Mwaaahahahaha.


In all seriousness, there are some things I would really, really like to accomplish before life turns totally crazy. I know that I may not seem like the most private person, given some of the things I talk about on my blog. But for some reason, personal goals are really hard for me to share with others. I think a part of it is pride, and a part of it is a fear of failure. I have this weird allegiance to follow through on anything I have spoken out loud, even if it becomes something I don't even want to do anymore. It's one of my unspoken rules from my own family of origin. If you have an idea, and then share it, you have do actually do it. Which has made for some fun times being married to Mark, who is a dreamer and loves to process and postulate and talk off the cuff about plans he never intends to pursue. A great combo for a implementation-oriented control freak. But I digress . . .



1. Get my piano tuned and actually play it. I'm not sure which is more of a waste: my years and years of piano training, or the huge piano sitting in the corner that is never played because it is so completely dissonant that it will make even the most tone-deaf person cringe.

2. Get licensed to do homestudies. I have a dream to be able to provide affordable homestudies for families who are wanting to adopt.

3. Get organized and find a place for everything in my house.

4. Enclose the side yard so our backyard is bigger, so kids can play more freely once baby comes.

5. Do an adoption fundraiser.

6. Figure out preschool.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...