I really don't even know what that title means.
I realized what I dislike about myself the most today. No, it isn't my nose. No, it isn't even those 15 (ahem, ok 30) pounds that like my hips and thighs. It isn't even my boobs (which have finally proven themselves necessary). It's that I can let people guilt me into anything. I've known this about myself for awhile, but I have just realized that I hate it.
It is possible that this comes from being in a family of the all-time best guilt-trippers. EVER. Well, between my given family and my married one, anyway. My sister in law likes to say that it is people's way of being southern. In other words, asking if we have something as a way of getting someone to get it for you. As in, "Honey, are you cold?" Code for get me a dang blanket before I put my cold feed on your butt. Or when you are driving past anywhere (usually Dairy Queen, hello Butterfinger Blizzard) and ask, "Honey, are you hungry?" Code for, I'm freaking hungry and if you don't say you are too then I will feel like a fat cow and you should probably just pull over and get us both something even if you just ate Christmas dinner if you don't want to deal with my sulk after you say you aren't hungry. Any my personal favorite, which was actually uttered by my husband, "Honey, do we have any water?". Well, sweetie, I'm sure that since we live in the age of running water we do. I think that was my actual response to him. I don't think I actually got him that water. Hey, I may be the easiest person in the world to guilt into something, but no one said I wasn't a smart aleck.
So back to the point. I'm having a really (REALLY) hard time dealing with the fact that I spend less time with my most wonderful child than the person taking care of him. The person is irrelevant. I would have a hard time regardless who it was. And now I feel bad that I feel that way. What is wrong with me??? Well, I feel bad that she knows and I feel bad that she feels bad. Seriously? It sounds stupid to even utter that sentence. So I looked up the definition on dictionary.com. Not because I didn't know what it meant but because I needed a blog post.
guilt
–noun
1. the fact or state of having committed an offense, crime, violation, or wrong, especially against moral or penal law; culpability: He admitted his guilt.
2. a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime, wrong, etc., whether real or imagined.
3. conduct involving the commission of such crimes, wrongs, etc.: to live a life of guilt.
So I've decided that I need to read this whenever I feel guilty to know that I haven't done anything wrong, committed no act to feel guilty about.
Maybe I should just print this out for easy access.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
A riddle
What do you get when you have a tired, lazy, working person?
Me. And my excuse for not posting.
Me. And my excuse for not posting.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Plans don't compute
It surprises me how much my life has been turned completely around in the last 5 months. I had a plan for my pregnancy, delivery, child. Why didn't this compute into reality? Because that just isn't how it works.
Most of you know that we decided moving while pregnant was a good idea. Trust me when I tell you it isn't. Too much stress and heavy lifting. It looked like all would be great until the contract on our house fell through and we had to relist our house. In our new house we had a bed (on the floor), a tv, two dog beds complete with dogs, a cat (and litterbox) and dishes. I think we also brought an armoir. It wasn't the best way to start in a new house. Well, our house sold and we were finally able to move the rest of our stuff in. But the putting away was slow going.
Then I had a pretty traumatic event happen. I won't go into detail, but know that I was worried about continuing to carry Aaron, going into early labor, and pretty much every thing else bad. I was afraid this event would shape my pregnancy and the rest of my life. The good news is that I really don't dwell on it anymore. The birth of Aaron really helped erase a lot of the trauma from it. It still hurts, but it is insignificant in comparison.
Then the birth. Talk about plans not going accordingly. I went from wanting a natural water birth to having almost every medical intervention. When I say stubborn runs in the family it doesn't even begin to describe it. I was in labor for 24 hours, 20 hours without medication and the whole time I was at the hospital they had to monitor Aaron because they were worried about his heart rate. Put this on top of not progressing (and I mean staying at 5 cm for about 12 hours) and you have a recipe for c section. But I couldn't stop there. No. I had to get a spinal block b/c the epidural didn't take. Then I thought I was going to die because I felt like I couldn't breathe. Turns out I could, but my lungs were numb. I don't recommend a spinal block.
Then the fight. Lets just say the c section threw a wrench in our plans. Our original plan was to have time to ourselves to bond and nurse, etc. When that didn't happen it caused a big issue with a family member because I was going to be the first person to hold my child, regardless of what time it was. So this family member and I spent quite a few weeks not really speaking and it is time that neither of us will get back.
Then nursing. Oh my...shouldn't this be more intuitive than it is? I'm happy to say everything is great with it now, but it sure can be stressful. I understand why people do formula. I felt like something (either Aaron or a pump) was always attached to me. My cousin nursed twins...I have so much respect for her right about now.
Then kitty. If you've read my blog you know about kitty. We had to put her down. I didn't think I would be as sad as I was, but I still catch myself thinking I see her and missing her. It was like a piece of Brad and I died. We've always had her, our entire married life and most of our dating life (minus just a few months). She got much sweeter in her old age and loved for me to pick her up. She would meow at my feet for me to do it. I was the only one she ever let do that. Possibly because everyone else was terrified of her. That was probably the only time I wasn't. Makes no sense...when her teeth are right beside my face, I wasn't scared. I loved her. There. I said it.
And now. The ultimate in betrayal. I have to go back to work. I cried last night while Brad and I were talking about our options. You just know that no one will do it the way you would exactly, even though their way isn't bad. The U.S. is severely lacking in maternity leave. I can't bear to leave him every day. And only have an hour or so with him at night. I know every working mother goes through this. But you don't plan for daycare. You plan for a child. An addition to your family. You plan picnics in the park and playing catch and beach trips. You plan for the good times, knowing you will have to accept some bad while hoping they are few and far between. You plan for their college future (kid better not even THINK about Duke) and who they will end up looking like. You don't plan for the day you have to drop them off at someone else's house for them to help raise your child.
So I need some prayers today as I work up the courage to let go a little bit. And maybe that is the best part of daycare. To allow me to let go. But all I want to do is hold him as long as possible.
Most of you know that we decided moving while pregnant was a good idea. Trust me when I tell you it isn't. Too much stress and heavy lifting. It looked like all would be great until the contract on our house fell through and we had to relist our house. In our new house we had a bed (on the floor), a tv, two dog beds complete with dogs, a cat (and litterbox) and dishes. I think we also brought an armoir. It wasn't the best way to start in a new house. Well, our house sold and we were finally able to move the rest of our stuff in. But the putting away was slow going.
Then I had a pretty traumatic event happen. I won't go into detail, but know that I was worried about continuing to carry Aaron, going into early labor, and pretty much every thing else bad. I was afraid this event would shape my pregnancy and the rest of my life. The good news is that I really don't dwell on it anymore. The birth of Aaron really helped erase a lot of the trauma from it. It still hurts, but it is insignificant in comparison.
Then the birth. Talk about plans not going accordingly. I went from wanting a natural water birth to having almost every medical intervention. When I say stubborn runs in the family it doesn't even begin to describe it. I was in labor for 24 hours, 20 hours without medication and the whole time I was at the hospital they had to monitor Aaron because they were worried about his heart rate. Put this on top of not progressing (and I mean staying at 5 cm for about 12 hours) and you have a recipe for c section. But I couldn't stop there. No. I had to get a spinal block b/c the epidural didn't take. Then I thought I was going to die because I felt like I couldn't breathe. Turns out I could, but my lungs were numb. I don't recommend a spinal block.
Then the fight. Lets just say the c section threw a wrench in our plans. Our original plan was to have time to ourselves to bond and nurse, etc. When that didn't happen it caused a big issue with a family member because I was going to be the first person to hold my child, regardless of what time it was. So this family member and I spent quite a few weeks not really speaking and it is time that neither of us will get back.
Then nursing. Oh my...shouldn't this be more intuitive than it is? I'm happy to say everything is great with it now, but it sure can be stressful. I understand why people do formula. I felt like something (either Aaron or a pump) was always attached to me. My cousin nursed twins...I have so much respect for her right about now.
Then kitty. If you've read my blog you know about kitty. We had to put her down. I didn't think I would be as sad as I was, but I still catch myself thinking I see her and missing her. It was like a piece of Brad and I died. We've always had her, our entire married life and most of our dating life (minus just a few months). She got much sweeter in her old age and loved for me to pick her up. She would meow at my feet for me to do it. I was the only one she ever let do that. Possibly because everyone else was terrified of her. That was probably the only time I wasn't. Makes no sense...when her teeth are right beside my face, I wasn't scared. I loved her. There. I said it.
And now. The ultimate in betrayal. I have to go back to work. I cried last night while Brad and I were talking about our options. You just know that no one will do it the way you would exactly, even though their way isn't bad. The U.S. is severely lacking in maternity leave. I can't bear to leave him every day. And only have an hour or so with him at night. I know every working mother goes through this. But you don't plan for daycare. You plan for a child. An addition to your family. You plan picnics in the park and playing catch and beach trips. You plan for the good times, knowing you will have to accept some bad while hoping they are few and far between. You plan for their college future (kid better not even THINK about Duke) and who they will end up looking like. You don't plan for the day you have to drop them off at someone else's house for them to help raise your child.
So I need some prayers today as I work up the courage to let go a little bit. And maybe that is the best part of daycare. To allow me to let go. But all I want to do is hold him as long as possible.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Remember me?
Apparently no one writes posts for you after you have a baby. No one cleans your bathroom either, but that is ok with me. That is one room I'll clean myself.
So life is a bit different now that I have the most awesome little boy. It's only fitting, given my awesomeness. At least he got that from me. Actually, he looks like me too. Brad wonders what he gave the little boy. I swear he got Brad's colon. And that ain't a good thing.
Aaron is eight weeks old now. Eight weeks! That means I have to go back to work soon. I should think about it as "I have four more weeks at home!". But all I can think is "Oh dear Lord, I have to leave him with someone other than me in four weeks. I don't think I'll be ready." And then he wakes up and starts to cry and I see how work may not be so bad after all.
So for now I'll just leave you with a picture and a promise that I remember my password and I'll write again!
So life is a bit different now that I have the most awesome little boy. It's only fitting, given my awesomeness. At least he got that from me. Actually, he looks like me too. Brad wonders what he gave the little boy. I swear he got Brad's colon. And that ain't a good thing.
Aaron is eight weeks old now. Eight weeks! That means I have to go back to work soon. I should think about it as "I have four more weeks at home!". But all I can think is "Oh dear Lord, I have to leave him with someone other than me in four weeks. I don't think I'll be ready." And then he wakes up and starts to cry and I see how work may not be so bad after all.
So for now I'll just leave you with a picture and a promise that I remember my password and I'll write again!
Isn't he just perfect???
Thursday, December 9, 2010
You're pressing your luck, kid
Dear Baby,
Fashionably late really only applies when you are a girl (you've got a 50/50 shot), are in your 20's, and going to a party. So stop pressing your luck and get here already.
Love,
Mommy
Fashionably late really only applies when you are a girl (you've got a 50/50 shot), are in your 20's, and going to a party. So stop pressing your luck and get here already.
Love,
Mommy
Monday, November 29, 2010
One Week
Dear Baby,
I am officially ready to meet you. I want to be able to name you and hold you instead of just having you taunt me at your arrival. I guess it means you will fit into this family well. As I was talking to your dad the other day I finally admitted how scared I am. When you are trying for a baby you are thinking about the excitement of life, the cuteness of babies. Then, apparently when you are a week out from delivery (again, anytime is JUST FINE), you realize what having a baby actually means. Or you think you know. The only thing I know is that I really have no idea. But I will learn.
I thought I'd go ahead and tell you what you will be coming home to. First, a house that isn't quite ready. We moved recently and haven't completely finished getting it ready. But you will have somewhere to sleep, food to eat and diapers so I'm not sure you will know the difference. Your room gets the best sunlight so I will probably be in there more than you would like. So far everyone likes to be in your room. Here is proof.
Calabash is the cat. I can't say for sure if you will like her or vice versa. She is very old and quite odd. She kind of runs the house. She is your dad's cat.
Lucy is the yellow dog. She will love you...she loves everyone. She hates loud noises. Just trust me on that. She will probably sleep in your room every night and protect you. Fiercely loyal and loving, she will be your best friend as you grow up. She isn't sorry for all the hair she leaves around the house.
Maddie is the brown dog. She will like that you will drop food. Until that point she will probably be indifferent to you. Unless you serve a purpose for her, she lets you know you have no purpose. Don't try and take one of her toys and you should be just fine.
Your daddy. He will be the one with a deep voice and dark hair. He is pretty freaking cute too. I imagine if there is someone changing your diaper and gagging at the same time, it may be him. He will no doubt spoil you. If you are a girl he will be the one wrapped around your finger. Please do not use this to your advantage. If you are a boy he will be the one to teach you everything important in life. He will sing to you and play guitar (both ways that mommy fell for him). He will be your constant, your strength.
Your mommy. I don't really know what to say about me. I'm sure I'll be the one with the food for awhile. And the one that cries at movies. But I hope I'm the one that makes you feel better when you are sick. I hope I'm the one that is the first person you want when there is a nightmare, or when the cat freaks you out as she often does to me. I hope I'm the one that makes you feel safe. If you are a girl, I hope I'm the one that you admire. If you are a boy, I hope I'm the one that always supports your choices in all things, even your future wife.
As a whole, we are your family. Your dad and I will teach you to love God, to love others, and finally, yourself. Your dad and I will hopefully be a testament to marriage and give you an idea of what love is. We will fail at all things at some point, but I hope we are the ones that teach you to fail with grace and dignity.
Waiting (im)patiently,
Mommy
I am officially ready to meet you. I want to be able to name you and hold you instead of just having you taunt me at your arrival. I guess it means you will fit into this family well. As I was talking to your dad the other day I finally admitted how scared I am. When you are trying for a baby you are thinking about the excitement of life, the cuteness of babies. Then, apparently when you are a week out from delivery (again, anytime is JUST FINE), you realize what having a baby actually means. Or you think you know. The only thing I know is that I really have no idea. But I will learn.
I thought I'd go ahead and tell you what you will be coming home to. First, a house that isn't quite ready. We moved recently and haven't completely finished getting it ready. But you will have somewhere to sleep, food to eat and diapers so I'm not sure you will know the difference. Your room gets the best sunlight so I will probably be in there more than you would like. So far everyone likes to be in your room. Here is proof.
Calabash is the cat. I can't say for sure if you will like her or vice versa. She is very old and quite odd. She kind of runs the house. She is your dad's cat.
Lucy is the yellow dog. She will love you...she loves everyone. She hates loud noises. Just trust me on that. She will probably sleep in your room every night and protect you. Fiercely loyal and loving, she will be your best friend as you grow up. She isn't sorry for all the hair she leaves around the house.
Maddie is the brown dog. She will like that you will drop food. Until that point she will probably be indifferent to you. Unless you serve a purpose for her, she lets you know you have no purpose. Don't try and take one of her toys and you should be just fine.
Your daddy. He will be the one with a deep voice and dark hair. He is pretty freaking cute too. I imagine if there is someone changing your diaper and gagging at the same time, it may be him. He will no doubt spoil you. If you are a girl he will be the one wrapped around your finger. Please do not use this to your advantage. If you are a boy he will be the one to teach you everything important in life. He will sing to you and play guitar (both ways that mommy fell for him). He will be your constant, your strength.
Your mommy. I don't really know what to say about me. I'm sure I'll be the one with the food for awhile. And the one that cries at movies. But I hope I'm the one that makes you feel better when you are sick. I hope I'm the one that is the first person you want when there is a nightmare, or when the cat freaks you out as she often does to me. I hope I'm the one that makes you feel safe. If you are a girl, I hope I'm the one that you admire. If you are a boy, I hope I'm the one that always supports your choices in all things, even your future wife.
As a whole, we are your family. Your dad and I will teach you to love God, to love others, and finally, yourself. Your dad and I will hopefully be a testament to marriage and give you an idea of what love is. We will fail at all things at some point, but I hope we are the ones that teach you to fail with grace and dignity.
Waiting (im)patiently,
Mommy
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