Musings

Happy Valentine’s Day!

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!!!

This time last year, I was 39 weeks pregnant and ready to meet my little guy! Little did I know that he would actually arrive SIX DAYS after his estimated due date. (Exactly why it’s ESTIMATED, right?) An extra six days may seem like a walk in the park to some of you Mega Moms… but me? Me, I was in agony. That was six extra days of bloating, back pain, insomnia, waddling, swollen ankles, and achy bones. Even my TOENAILS were in pain.

Valentine’s Day ‘09

Seriously, I don’t see how some of you do it. You make pregnancy look so easy and… fun! But for me, during the first four months, I was so weak that it put even a bad case of the flu to shame. I didn’t have the energy to WIPE OFF THE COUNTERS.

That’s some serious fatigue.

But hey. It takes a lot of energy to GROW A LUNG, right?

And oh, the morning sickness. I couldn’t keep anything down. Nothing. I remember before I could even get out of bed in the mornings, Paul had to bring me a glass of apple juice and some saltines. And he was not allowed to jostle the  bed. And yes, that included NO WIGGLING HIS TOES.

The morning sickness was so over-the-top vicious that just the SOUND of someone farting made me throw up. Seriously. Whenever I heard someone fart, even if they were in the other room, I would puke. And everything, I mean EVERY. THING. made me gag. But not just a regular old gag. No, I would gag like I was about to projectile-puke up a massive hairball. WHO DOES THAT?? Well, folks. Apparently I do when I am pregnant.

And get this. I would throw up and the very sight of it would make me throw up even more… so before you knew it, I was on this vicious cycle of throwing up, which made me throw up, which made me throw up… so yeah, I was in the bathroom constantly. It was becoming my second home.

Then there was the second trimester. It was easier than the first for me because the extreme fatigue and nausea finally subsided when I was about 18 weeks pregnant… but then the body aches started. And I had this uncontrollable urge to thoroughly clean and reorganize the entire house.

Only I had this intense back pain that only abated when I wore HEELS.

As in, HIGH HEELS.

So here I was, in my second trimester with a bulging belly and sweat pants (because you know how important comfort is to pregnant women) and high heels, cleaning the kitchen.

The third trimester?

IT FELT LIKE DEATH.

Oh, the pain. Pain, pain, pain. Every single step I took was agony. My feet were swollen. My toes cramped a lot. And my back? It felt like someone had jammed a hot poker into my lower back and left it there, jostling it every couple of minutes for some extra oomph. And constant peeing. The most sleepless night I ever had, I got up to pee nine times..

NINE TIMES. IN ONE NIGHT.

But you know what? Even though I had a painful pregnancy that was nothing like the giddyness that I had imagined, I wouldn’t give any of that up for anything, though. My little guy is so worth it! And I would go through all of that and worse just to have him here with me.  And I know there are so, so many women out there who would give anything to be able to get pregnant. I am very fortunate… and all the “negatives” about pregnancy just give me something to joke about later.

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The Laughing Baby

Babies are great. They are so precious and sweet, and not to mention, hilarious. Not only because they cause mini-catastrophes such as mega poops and fountains of pee, and not even just because they have hilarious facial expressions when they taste new foods, but also because they will find humor in the slightest things.

Last night was one such night. I was getting Nathan ready for bed, following his nightly routine of a bedtime story and a song. I was singing “You Are My Sunshine,” and every time I said the word happy, he would start laughing. Especially when I said the word happy with a long, breathy “H.”

So I couldn’t help myself. I sat him down in the glider and started saying the word happy, just to hear him laugh.

 

As I watched him smiling and laughing, I felt simultaneously euphoric and sad at the same time. Euphoric because my son is such a happy, carefree child. But sad because he is growing so fast and is turning into a little boy right in front of my eyes.

I can’t believe he’s nine months old already!

It seems like just yesterday Paul and I brought our screaming bundle of joy home from the hospital. The hospital we went to and the experience they provided me, however, was horrible (click here to read about it.) It doesn’t seem like nine months ago, I thought I was on the brink of losing my sanity due to sheer exhaustion.

Sometimes the colic seemed like it would never end.

But, eventually, it did end. The sun came out. Butterflies started dancing again. That ominous black cloud hanging over my head dissipated.

Now? Now, Nathan hardly ever just cries for no reason. Now, it’s usually because his diaper is dirty, he’s hungry, uncomfortable, tired, not feeling well, etc. It’s become a process of elimination, which is SO MUCH more manageable than having no idea why your infant is screaming as if he’s in the worst pain of his life.

I’ll take days like last night ANY DAY. I love those laughs and smiles. I enjoy interacting with him, teaching him new things, and watching him learn and grow. Even if he is growing up so quickly.

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Happy Thanksgiving!

We had a marvelous day, chowing down on delicious, and I do mean DELICIOUS food and taking a million pictures of Nathan on his very first Thanksgiving at Paul’s grandmother’s house (Nathan’s great-grandmother.)

I even gave him a bite of banana pudding.

He loved it. He moved it slowly around in his mouth, chewing the soft graham-cracker pieces and making delightful “Mmmmmm” noises.

After we ate, I sat with Nathan on the couch and took this video:

I think he wanted to tell me just how delicious that banana pudding tasted. It was good a taste of heaven.

All in all, Nathan had a wonderful day, even though he didn’t take his nap. Not only did he really enjoy that bite of banana pudding, but he even thrilled himself by running his hands along the couch’s upholstery, feeling the texture. But when his exhaustion with all the excitement started getting to him, all I had to do was whip out the camera.

HE STOPS CRYING.

He really loves having his picture/video taken. He’ll even cry when I put the camera away. So to keep him pacified, I alternated between taking his picture and recording videos.

Hey, whatever works, right?

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Stay at Home Moms vs Working Moms

I think this continuous war between some stay-at-home moms (SAHM) vs working moms is completely asinine.

I have the DVR set up to record all the Dr. Phil shows… then when I have time to watch an episode or two, I’ll go through them and delete the ones that don’t seem interesting and I’ll watch the ones that catch my eye. Today I watched an episode about SAHM’s vs working moms and let me tell you… the debate got a bit intense.

Well, pretty intense for the Dr. Phil show…

SAHM’s were seated on one side of the audience, and working moms were seated on the other. Both sides were throwing words back and forth like invisible daggers. Admittedly, the worst were the SAHM’s… they were really attacking the working mom’s with a vengeance. There was this one lady in particular who was vocally opining about how ALL mothers should stay at home to raise their children, and if they have to go back to work, then they shouldn’t have had children in the first place. It was insulting and I could feel myself trying to melt into the couch from sheer embarrassment from just watching people behave so childishly.

I am a SAHM.

Because that’s what is right for me and my family.

But it certaintly doesn’t mean it’s right for everyone. I know that I am not nearly perfect enough in my own life to have the audacity to shove my views on someone else, judging them when I have no idea what their life is like behind closed doors.

You can’t judge someone until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes.

And I don’t really want to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes.

I don’t get what the big deal is. I don’t understand why women engage in these Mommy Wars.

I don’t understand why moms try to EAT OTHER MOMS’ SOULS.

Why does it matter if one mom chooses to go to work? Who cares if another mom chooses to stay at home with her kids? Each mom is doing what she truly feels is the best for her and her family.

To moms who bicker about how other moms choose to raise thier kids, I say get a life. If you’re gong to EAT SOMEONE’S SOUL, eat one belonging to a rapist or a murderer. Leave all the well-meaning moms alone.

Ah, if only I could rule the world, right?

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