Distracted

I was right in the middle of a veritable cleaning frenzy.  And now I'm distracted by my blog.  I need to write things.  I love to read them later.  I just reread "Bounce" and it satisfied me to read it, silly as it was.  And so...

My older three children are on a little trip right now.  Dustin's parents met us halfway(ish) between our house and theirs and picked up Mac, Ella and Rohan.  This morning the kiddos got to ride on a passenger train of Union Pacific's.  I don't know details except that they were excited.  I can't wait to hear about it. 

This was important to Marsha, my mother-in-law, because her father was a train engineer for Union Pacific for a long long time.  He retired with UP.  She wanted her grandchildren to have an experience with trains and I wanted to be supportive of that desire.  Not to mention my kids were STOKED to ride a train.  I thought it sounded fun myself!  But the thought of driving anywhere of any distance with my newish baby and without my husband makes me sweat.  Brynja does not, particularly, enjoy riding in the car.  So, we met them halfway and they took our kids and are keeping them for a couple days, which is a nice little break for me, coupled with the duality of missing them.  *sigh*

Speaking of Brynja, she and I went on a long walk this morning.  One hour, to be exact.  I haven't moved my body very much since she was born.  (or before, for that matter)  It was excellent.  I am anxious to get myself moving and get my body back into shape.  Miss B seemed to like the stroller.  She hasn't liked it much so far, but she's almost three months old now and she's becoming more aware of the world beyond the 3 feet surrounding her person.  I think that made the difference in her stroller-enjoyment factor this morning, plus the fact that it was finally a pleasant temperature outside (hello, it's June 15th!  'Bout time, I say!). 

Garage sale is still pending.  I'm shooting for this weekend now.  It's rather an involved process, preparing for it.  And so, I best get back at it, the cleaning and yard-sale prep. 

Due Date

So today is my "due date"... whatever that means.  Just thought I should jot down a few thoughts about this pregnancy, pending labor and our up-and-coming baby.

I woke up this morning at 6:50.  Dustin has been working out of town since Tuesday of this week and he often calls me right at 7:00 to wake me (just in case I don't wake to my alarm) so I can wake up Ella for school. (that's normally his role when he's home.)  But today, Ella didn't have school, so I didn't want him to call because the phone would ring which would potentially wake up the kids and I had dreams of them sleeping in.  So, I beat him to the punch and called him first.  (which, by the way, kept the kids asleep for an extra twelve minutes... hooray.)

I could tell as soon as he said hello that he had been asleep, and, today being my "due date", he said hello in a bit of a panic.  I couldn't believe I woke my husband up from a dead sleep at 6:50 a.m!  He's ALWAYS awake by then.  He's what you might call a morning person.  (huge understatement)  I assured him that I was not in labor and offered my apologies and expressions of shock that I woke him up.  And then I got off the phone and promptly fell asleep again.

During that extra bit of sleep, I had a dream that I had my baby.  It was a boy and I had it at home (but really in some sort of swimming pool... you know how dreams are).  After the birth I got up, leaving the baby in the water where it was gently floating (I wasn't worried... you know how dreams are!), and went somewhere.  I remember feeling disappointed.  Not that it was a boy, but disappointed that it was so big!  The baby looked like it was about 8 months old rather than newborn.  It could sit up and it was wearing overalls and a striped T-shirt and looked like someone else's baby that I know.  It didn't feel like my baby.

Then, in my dream, it was the next day and I was laying in my bed with my very large baby.  I realized that I had no idea how much it weighed because we didn't have a scale to weigh it on.  I was guessing this baby weighed about 18 pounds.  I was trying to get used to this baby who felt like a stranger to me and I realized that it had my coloring.  It even had freckles.  (none of my kids have my coloring which is very fair and freckled, not to mention bright pink when exposed to the sun.  My kids all brown up nicely in the sun, but none are quite as dark as Dustin who gets so sun-darkened he looks like he could be some another nationality)  Seeing that it had my coloring was a small step toward feeling like it actually was my child, but I was still sad that I didn't get to have a newborn baby.  I also realized that we had the baby 24 hours ago and we hadn't called anyone!  So, I got out of bed to find the phone to call my mom and just then, in real life, Rohan called out to me and I got out of bed to help him with something.  I was still looking for the phone to call my mom after I was really out of bed and it took me a good thirty seconds to realize that it was all a dream.  I was actually still pregnant.  I was going to get a newborn out of this deal after all, and I would get the chance to love it from that newborn-mother connection point rather than that strange baby that looked like it was 8 months old.  My baby would weigh somewhere in a normal, I'm guessing, 7 pound range rather than an 18 pounder who already had freckles, teeth and the ability to sit up on it's own!  I was so relieved!

I tell that story because, in all honesty, I've been very nervous about this baby... in all aspects.  I've been nervous about the birth.  I've been anxious about the change my lifestyle is about to take.  I've been in a state of constant disassociation with the whole thing like it's not really real.  Like it's someone else's life that's about to change, not mine.  Even with my very large belly and very awkward body, I have continued to feel a sense of denial that this is actually happening to me... and soon.  VERY soon at this point! 

However, this dream was reassuring to me somehow.  When I realized it was just a dream and that I would get my sweet, tiny little newborn rather than that big baby that didn't feel like my own, I was SO relieved!  And I was excited!  Excited to see what it would really look like.  Would it really be a boy or would it be what Dustin has been so sure of all along, a girl?   I was happy that I would be able to experience the birth and wonder of this brand new resident of Planet Earth!  I couldn't stop thinking of that baby in my dream, but I didn't want to think of it anymore.  I just wanted to see my own baby!   I wanted to see that newborn one whom I will fall in love with... when we are both covered in all the stuff of birth that goes completely unnoticed in that magical moment of connection of mother and child.  With those thoughts, I felt a thrill that I have not felt, except perhaps vaguely, in the last 9 months.  


I think today I finally feel ready.  Maybe that's what my "due date" was for this time around.  It was the scheduled date for this reality to find it's way into my heart and become something tangible and exciting for me, rather than a nebulous, anxiety riddled unknown in my life.  And it's really interesting to me that I can write this and express it now.  I haven't wanted to write anything!  And here it is... cohesive thoughts forming and flowing and wanting to find their release.  

Dustin is on his way home right now from working out of town, and I feel like I can do this now.  Dustin will be home. (having him gone so close to this date has made for several anxious days)  I can cope with natural childbirth one last time, with my sweetheart's incredible help and his strength and power to lean on.  I can have this baby come into my life with complete joy, excitement and acceptance rather than the reserve, fear and denial I've been experiencing off and on up to this point.  Of course there will still be an adjustment period.  Of course!  There always is.  A whole new element is being added to the dynamic of our family and that takes adjustments on all levels and for all of us involved, but I feel a thrill at the thought of it, rather than the skewed sense of fear I've been experiencing. 


And I might, just might, even miss this body when it's all over.  Dustin keeps reminding me that... to enjoy this for this last time.  Enjoy those internal kicks and thumps... the continual reminders of the miracle occurring within me.  He also watches me and tells me all the time how beautiful I am, how he loves my round belly, and how I am the embodiment of feminine power.  (Golly, I love that man of mine.)  I will try to enjoy this complete expression of feminism for however long I have left, despite any pain and awkwardness I feel.

Thank you, Due Date for this gift, and thank you to the unknown baby of my dream who allowed for this expression and excitement to find it's way into the dark fear-places of my heart and bring light. 


And for posterity... some photos of the belly.  These were taken two weeks ago.

This is my "I feel like a retard standing here smiling for the camera" face! 

For this picture Dustin climbed onto the arm of our couch for an 'arial' view... 

hence my look of "what the heck are you doing?"

Happy Friday everyone, and Happy Happy Due Date, me!  ☺

Grumble

We've done one lesson.  ONE!  And already he's in his room because I'm angry at him for his stinky attitude.  Mondays suck in many worlds, but none more than homeschooling.  For me, anyway.

My method of coping with the bad attitude is to send him away from me or go away from him myself.  I tell him that I'm not going to sit here and fight his bad attitude when I have plenty of things that need doing in my world.  (laundry, dishes, showering, nesting, etc...)  So, here we are... he, in his room, and I, blogging about it all.

It's amazing the difference attitude can make.  I watch him when his attitude is good and he's amazing!  He picks up concepts quickly.  He laughs and has fun.  He answers his school-questions with quick repsonses, making it clear that the concept is absorbing right into his brain.

But.

When his attitude is poor, like it has been this morning, his brain is like oil and school is like water.  They just repel eachother.  Concepts do not penetrate.  Even concepts that he already knows that we're reviewing... they must not be able to get out through the barrier he's put up.  His only focus is on being grumpy, not on learning anything or even just speaking something he already knows.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

As his "teacher" it's infuriating.  As his mother, it's even worse.  You know that your kids don't do this to their teachers at public school.  (Maybe some kids do, but I know from reports that Mac was nice, respectful and hard working at school, if a little rambunctious.)  Because I'm his mother, he "acts up" if he doesn't feel like doing what I tell him.  And I, being his mother, deal with these flare-ups with varying degrees of self-control.  Like I said, mostly I just send him away.  Other times I yell at him a little.  Other times, A LOT.  I have refrained from yelling for the most part today. 

Even when we have days like this, I'm so glad that he's home with me.  Is it a sacrifice?  Yes.  I am rather tied down during the day and my schedule is rather dictated by his school.  I don't get so much "me" time as I used to, perhaps.  But, whenever I think of the alternative, of sending him back to school, I am so grateful that he is here with me where it is safe to have some volatile feelings now and then.  I still love him at the end of the day, no matter what.  I can't explain it well, but I know that this is an important thing in his life right now.  To have him home with me, his mother, who loves him more than anyone, who will support him through these sassy, stinky-attitude times.  Even if it means taking a few deep breaths and steeling myself for another Monday homeschooling morning. 

And How About....

.... some more happenings?  Because I'm sure you've just been DYING to know what it is that I've been doing with myself.  Well, you see, a few days after Christmas I had a Dr. appointment for the little child growing in my body.  (midwife appt, but you get the idea)  At this lovely appointment, I had the joyous pleasure of taking my "glucose tolerance test" which (for anyone who has not had the JOY and pleasure of this) is a test where you drink this stuff that's basically like the syrup that they hook to a pop machine BEFORE it mixes with the bubbly carbonated water.  Can you say NASTY?  Ick.

Guess what?  I failed it.  Turns out the highest your blood should go from drinking the nastiness is about 40.  Well, my little blood sugars were up at 55.  I was not happy.  Especially because I got to go back and do the in depth test.

"In depth" means that you have to come to your appointment fasting (which means as early as possible in the a.m., of which I am not so much a fan), get your finger lanced to check your blood, AND then you get to drink the sugary nastiness AGAIN but this time on your fastingly-empty stomach.  BARF.  Literally.  I almost did.  In fact, just writing this is making the muscles at the back of my jaw clench up and my saliva run.  I decided to chug the last little bit of it because I thought it would be better faster.  It did get it over with, but it did almost come back up.  But, I managed to keep it down.  (GO ME!)

SO then, after you almost barf, you get to sit there and wait for an hour for your blood to do whatever it is your blood does with sugary nastiness.  Then a different finger gets bloodied and they test that.  Then you get to sit there for ANOTHER hour and they bloody yet another finger.

So, yeah.  It's pretty much a party.  There was three good things that came of it.

1)  Turns out, I do not have gestational diabetes.  Hip-hip HOORAY!
2)  An "in depth" glucose tolerance test makes for good reading time for any new, large books you might have gotten for Christmas!  (which I just finished last night and I think I'm grumpy today because it's over and the author opened a big old can of worms in this book and left it completely open with all those little worms writhing in the can and then had the nerve to END the book!  AND it's probably going to be something like three years before she'll come out with the next book!!  Grrowl.)
3) Since my Midwife's office is in the same city as my husband works, I got to go break my barfy fast by having lunch with my sweet Dustin!  That never happens because he works about 30 miles from home.  By the way, Great Harvest's Turkey Pesto sandwich is really good.  You should try it.

So, there's another snippet of happenings in Clancy's life.

I'm down to 8 1/2 weeks left of pregnancy.  THAT is trippy.  I'm on the Dr. appointment fast track... we're now going every two weeks to see the Dr. (midwife) and that only lasts for a month and then it's every week until the baby is born!  Where does the time go?  I'm not really ready for a baby, I'm pretty sure.  But that's another post for another day.

Over and out.

Late

I was late. Very late. Images of my exasperated children popped in my head. I could just hear their little voices as they opened the car door. "Mom! Why are you always late?!" In the way of internal conversations, I answered their ghost-question with a mental sigh, "I don't know, my little loves. I don't know. I ask myself the same thing all the time."

As my mind continued conjuring these images, my foot pressed a little harder on the gas. Not that the ten or so seconds gained by going faster would make my children have a mother that was on time, but it made me feel better.

With all that brain-chatter interference, my normally acute cop-radar was not functioning at peak performance. I saw the cop car with my eyes, but it did not register in my brain. Well, it did, but my brain said, "No, Clancy... no need to stomp on the brake. It's parked in front of a house, meaning that the cop lives there." My brain forgot to mention that I've driven this route every day of the week for three years (excluding summers) and never before has there been a patrol car in that spot. I simply continued at my illegal speed, distracted as I was, coming up fast on said police car.

Thinking the car void of inhabitants, I was shocked to suddenly see an arm shoot out of the window, skeletal structure in a straight line to the wrist, ending in a single pointed finger aimed at the ground. The shoulders along with pectorals, lats and countless other muscles unseen by my eyes, forced the prostrate arm and pointing finger up and down in a very exaggerated, very clear message. SLOW DOWN.

It's a rather amazing thing, the adrenal system at work. Before my brain really registered what the signal meant, my heart was pounding and it felt as though it had jumped to my throat, leaving a watery feeling in my arms and stomach. Then my brain (so slow!) finally said, "DUDE! That's a cop sitting there waiting for unsuspecting speeders like you!!!" and it proceeded to send a little message down the pipe (which pipe, by the way, brings to mind those drive through bank teller tubes) causing my foot to stomp on the brake. I slowed down to the speed limit before I reached him and waved in gratitude as I passed without turning my head. After all, I can be grateful without having to show the shame in my eyes to the owner of the warning arm, right?

As I passed and waved, I started giggling rather hysterically. I was suddenly a child, eight, maybe ten years old, caught in some act of stupidity by an adult who rightly gives me a silent but firm rebuke, thus sparing my embarrassment from everyone save myself and the chastising adult. It must have been the combination of that mental image and the blood surging quicker-than-normal through my veins, but I couldn't stop the laughter. The giggling was accompanied by an ear-splitting grin.

I can't explain it, but as I drove to my children, slightly under the speed limit, I was rapturous. Joyous. Happy beyond measure. My insides felt warm, like a cheery fire had been lit in my lower abdominal cavity. The smile on my lips went bone deep and I marveled at this simple gift of sweet exuberance wrapped in the very strange and surprising package of warning and adrenalin. It makes no sense to me, even now. But for reasons unknown, I was unequivocally happy this day.

From the Jar... #16

Describe the most serious illness you've ever had.

I have always been as healthy as a horse. A healthy horse, that is. The worst I've seen is a very bad flu when I was in 7th grade. I had a high fever for about five days (around 103) and on the fourth day it spiked to over 104. I was hallucinating and delirious. There was a hornet that I could see and it was buzzing and stinging the "tight" air. "Everything's tight", I said over and over. The air looked like a hornets nest, papery and gray and swirly. And then it was wood, swirled with the grain and that hornet was trying to drill into it with it's stinger. I was fidgety. I couldn't stop twirling my gold ring on my finger. My eyes darted everywhere taking in the brown paneling on our kitchen walls, the stools haphazardly strewn around the table, the blue of my clothes they were putting on me, the way my mom's fingers looked as she tied my shoelaces. My ears hurt. Likely my parents were talking softly, but sound of their voices was sharp to my tender ears.

My parents were getting me dressed to take me to the E.R. and while they were doing so they called my grandpa, who is a doctor. He told them to put me in a lukewarm bath to try to break the fever. They did that before they took me to the hospital and it did, indeed, break the fever. I never left the house.

I believe that was a Wednesday... possibly a Tuesday. Regardless, shortly thereafter was Thanksgiving. I was on the mend after that night of hornets and swirls, but I remember feeling weak and "puny" on Thanksgiving and only eating nibbles. It was my own personal measure of how sick I was that I didn't eat one bite of pumpkin pie.


I've always been very healthy and I feel profoundly grateful for that today. I read about NieNie for a long time the other night. I read her blog and saw her joy in her husband and her children and her life. My heart ached as I read about she and her husband laying burned in a Phoenix hospital while their children are lovingly cared for by her sister. There are no mistakes in this life. This family, whom I've never met in person but feel like I know on some personal level through the magic of blogging, has challenges ahead of them that will not be easy but they have so much to gain. The lesson and the growth is always compensatory to the challenge. Imagine how much they get to gain and grow and love in this "tragedy"! They are expanding their capacity in this moment, as are you and I. But we do get to choose to expand and learn and grow. Or choose to not learn, be bitter, stagnate or even shrink our capacity. The choice is ours, and that, my friends, is the hardest and best choice we face everyday.

Rundown

Sometimes I have about 5,000 things to post about that I don't really feel like posting about, but I feel like I SHOULD post about for posterity. So, here's a quick rundown of some of the events of the last couple weeks (or a not-so-quick rundown!).

August 16th we baptized Mac. It was an incredible experience. Stressful, but incredible. We didn't do the normal Stake baptism thing. My parents were out of town on the weekend of the Stake baptism, and I used that as an excuse to break the norm. I wanted to do it at my parents' house. They have a creek that runs through their property. It's a lovely thing- edged with willows- and I thought it would be such a neat memory to be baptized in Grandma and Grandpa's creek. I asked Mac what he thought of that and he agreed that it would be "cool".

Turns out, it was "cool". Beyond cool! It was an incredible experience. Sadly, I didn't take a single picture the whole day. I was an anxious mess. (Dustin's mom did take some pics, so hopefully I can get them from her.) Not only were we doing the baptism there, but we did a "program" and had food for the thirty-something people who attended. (Thanks to all of you who brought food! You saved my bacon!) My parents decided to paint there back porch a couple days before which, of course, took WAY longer than it was supposed to, so they had stuff all over their yard just hours before the big event. I was a train wreck with my anxiety. It all turned out perfect and beautiful, but it was much more emotionally taxing than I EVER could have anticipated.

As if that weren't enough, my little sister asked my mom and I to sing the Star Spangled Banner with her at a community luau that her company was hosting. No big deal under normal circumstances, but it happened to be the evening after the baptism. UGH! I was so tired. But, it went off without a hitch, excepting the fact that Lacy pitched it too low. She was the one that suffered there because she had the low harmony... poor girl! It was fine, even still.

The following Monday I got a cold. I think it was a serious crash from the weekend's anxiety. It's been a nasty one. It was just starting to come on on Monday. Tuesday it hit full boar and my voice was all squeaky, which was bad because Lacy asked Mom and I if we could join her again in the National Anthem, this time at our local minor league baseball game on Wednesday (my birthday!). Her work is a sponsor and they had asked her to sing at the game. They liked our performance at the luau and wanted all three of us at the game too. So... I hit the Wellness Formula and EmergenC hard. By Wednesday, the cold had moved from my chest (burning, couldn't breathe feeling) to my head (stuffed up so bad that NOTHING would move, but my chest felt WAY better!). It made for interesting singing, but it too went off without a hitch. It was pitched better too, and I think that one was our best one yet!

Since it was my birthday, my mom said she'd watch our kids so Dust and I could go out. After the Anthem singing, we left the game to go drop off the kids. (No, we didn't stay for the game... we aren't baseball people!) As we were pulling up to my parents' house, I asked Dustin if he had a plan for where we were going or what we were doing. Yes, of course he did. He didn't inform me what it was though. We pulled up and I expected that Dustin would leave the car running and drop Ella and Rohan off. Nope. He turned off the car and got everyone out. I left my purse in the car because I would be right back in the car in a minute. I walked slowly up to the house, walked in and my mom was standing in the living room. There were streamers on the ceiling and a Happy Birthday banner across the wall. 'Weird', I thought to myself. My head was rather blank... then suddenly people jumped out and shouted "SURPRISE!!!" and "Happy Birthday!" It scared/shocked me so bad that I fell back a couple steps and slammed my shoulder blade into the corner of a shelf. That left a big ol' bruise that is just now starting to feel better. It was a strange thing to have a surprise party. I'd wanted one my whole life and about a month ago I told Dustin as much. I asked if he would arrange one some time in my life. I didn't expect this year. It was crazy that I was so oblivious, but I was glad. It was AWESOME! Thanks to all who came and who helped arrange it...

Thursday morning I woke up and packed mine and my kids' stuff. My kids were heading over to my parents' house to stay with my dad for the weekend while Dustin and I and my mom headed to San Diego. My mom had two free tickets to a James A. Ray seminar, Harmonic Wealth Weekend. It was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G! It's almost impossible to describe, but I was blown away. I loved every minute of it! It was truly incredible. Thanks to Mom for the tickets and letting us crash her hotel room! You're the best! Love you!

We flew back on Sunday, drove back for three hours and picked up the kids. Rushed them home, got them to bed as quickly as we could so they could have plenty of sleep to START SCHOOL the next morning. Sadly, with all the craziness of the previous week, plus having no car... I forgot that part... I hadn't gone school shopping yet. So, I had to go at about 10:00 on a Sunday night. Not my idea of fun, but we do what we have to do. (and, it's now Tuesday night, 10:00 and I STILL don't have my van back!!! GRRRRR!)

Oh yes- in the middle of all that I was filing paperwork for eviction and small claims for the tenant of our little house. I go to eviction court on September 2 and the small claims date remains to be seen!!! Thrilling times, my friends, thrilling times!

Oh... I almost forgot. This bit deserves a post all to itself, but we have a new addition in our family... a baby squirrel! Ella found him the morning of my birthday. She said he was my birthday present! Isn't she the sweetest? LOL! I'll post pics later. Or maybe a video.

So, basically, I've been BUSY and that's why I've been such a slacker-blogger! :)

Cruise Control

Life is one big car ride. The trip starts with riding away your youth in your parents' car. Then, one day you learn to drive, but in mom and dad's vehicle. After a while you buy your first car and you're finally driving yourself. You are the one behind the wheel. You are making the decisions. You feel a sense of freedom previously unknown.

In time, you pick up a passenger. Someone who wants to sit permanently in the bucket seat next to you. The two of you drive around everyday, best friends. Sometimes you drive calm and relaxed. Other times you might experience a little road rage. Sometimes you and your passenger do silly things as you zoom around. Other times, even though your bucket seat is filled, you feel like you're driving alone. You are both looking out opposite windows... one seeing mountains, the other a desert. And yet another day finds you holding hands looking at the same beautiful scenery and enjoying the fact that you are together.

You come to a point where you pick up a few more riders for your car. They are young and sweet, pliable and soft, molding to the ways they watch you drive. They yell at cars like they've seen you do, or they tell you to pull over and change a strangers tire like the example you shown. Everything you do, they do as well. They ask innumerable questions all along the drive, and the driving becomes a little more stressful and joyous all at the same time. The noise level increases with giggles and screams. But, your bucket seat passenger is with you, and you take turns driving and quieting the screams or smiling at the giggles.

There are times where you are just running errands all day. Going from one place to another and then, perhaps, back to the place you started from. Sometimes you don't plan your route well and frustration looms in your side view mirrors.

Other times you fly with intention to a destination, pushing the accelerator as much as your car will allow. Your heart races with the pursuit of purpose. You get lost in the wind licking your face. You see the scenery whipping by your periphery. In your haste, you forget to check the fuel gauge, and before you know it the car is sputtering and you are coasting to a dead stop. You smack the steering wheel and cry at the lost time. Then, someone with a kind heart will stop and help you get your tank filled again. You marvel at the generous hearts of strangers and loved ones alike. Hopefully, you learn your lesson, check that fuel gauge, slow down and pull off to fill up at your favorite fueling station when you're low on fuel.

There are also those times that you just put it on cruise control. No accelerating, no passing, no feeling. Just cruising with your foot off the gas. You just zone out and steer.

Sometimes when you have to get your oil changed, fix a flat tire, or replace the alternator. But you know the magic of preventative maintenance and you try your best to keep your car running smooth and free of the need for major repairs.

And then there are times that you crash. You hope for just the minor ones... a few dings or scratches, but you drive away. No harm done. You hear about the major ones. Crashes where people get hurt. Maybe even die. You pray that they never happen to you or anyone you love.

Despite all this, the road and the scenery change and everyday you can find spots of color that make your heart sing. Yet, in the end, the greatest joys of the drive are the ones riding with you. You and your bucket-seat-best-friend holding hands as you smile at the picture in your rear view mirror... those soft sweet faces of your little passengers and the joy of this moment.