Tag Archive: Emotions

Santa Secrets

I’m more excited about Christmas this year than I have been the past couple of years.  It’s hard not to be excited when a 2 1/2-year-old is running around like a tiny madman, acting as though the lights on the Christmas tree are the most incredible thing ever.

Even more exciting, he’s old enough to get that Santa will bring him a special present this year if he behaves well, which means we get to see that look on his face when he comes into the living room to find out just what he got.  It’s an absolutely incredible feeling.  It makes my heart melt.

Best of all, he’s young enough not to be asking for massively expensive presents.  He enjoys the unwrapping almost as much as anything else, and the smallest things sometimes make him act as though he just received a million dollars.  So when he comes in to find his “good Spiderman present” under the tree, it doesn’t have to be something specific or complicated.  It can be as simple as a lawn chair with Spiderman on it or a Spiderman hula hoop or one of those inflatable bop-it bags, and he’s going to love it.

No matter what we do, I know that with time, that will fade.  He’ll develop much stronger opinions about what he likes and dislikes, and he’ll learn how to express those likes and dislikes more easily and completely.  He’ll start wondering if it’s cool to let his excitement show.  And then gift-giving will get harder.

Until then, though, I plan on thoroughly enjoying every moment of Christmas morning and all these evenings when he starts asking about our Christmas lights as soon as I pick him up from day orphanage, I mean day care.


It’s Because He’s Two

I feel as though there comes a time in every parent’s life when they realize they are saying the same thing over and over and over again.  In our house lately, the rousing refrain is “It’s because he’s two.”

Seriously, I’m pretty sure I say this at least three times a day.  Usually when the Munchkin has thrown a fit over the fact that I still won’t let him eat the cats’ food or watch seventy hours of Elmo’s World in a 24-hour period.  Sometimes those four words are all that allow me to maintain my sanity when something as simple as asking him if he wants water or milk to drink prompts a meltdown.  It’s so easy to lose my temper over the constant whining and pouting if I don’t check myself from time to time.

The other thing that helps me not lose my mind regularly (aside from assistance from Big Pharma) is a reminder to myself that lots of little things in life piss ME off, and I have more than two decades’ worth of life experience to help me deal with it.  I’ve experienced having things not go my way today but turn around a few weeks later.  I know that “delayed gratification” can be fulfilling.  And I’ve had almost thirty years to develop a vocabulary to express myself, to make my wants, needs, and frustrations known.

He doesn’t have any of that.  Heck, half the time he can’t tell me what we did yesterday or what we plan to do tomorrow, so communicating the idea that we’re going to go to the zoo in a week?  Forget about it.  He just hears “We’re going to the zoo” and can’t figure out why we aren’t in the car and on our way ten minutes later.

So, until he starts catching up, everyone in our lives can expect to hear, at least once, a tired sigh and the words “It’s because he’s two” when he does something that just leaves us all shaking our heads.

Daddy takes charge and becomes numero uno.

It’s a little hard to take on coming home, especially knowing that I’m heading back out come Sunday, but it’s just what happens when they’re little.  He’ll certainly never remember it, but I have to admit it stings, more than a little, and it will take me a while to forget.

Sometimes this whole finding a balance between work and family thing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

This month has been a tough one from a work perspective: I was supposed to be gone at least one day a week every week this month, which got changed to being gone at least one day every week this month but one.  And did I mention being out of town almost all of this week and then for the next two weeks straight?

It’s the first time I’ve been away like this since the Munchkin was born, and it’s turning out to be a lot harder than I ever realized it was going to be.  I never used to have an issue with long-term trips.  Heck, it wasn’t until a year after we were married that we managed to hit the point where we’d lived together as much as we’d lived apart, and we’d been a couple for six years by then.

This time is different, though.  This time I can’t help thinking about all the things I’m missing out on while I’m gone.  All the good night kisses I’m not getting in.  All the books I’m not reading to the Munchkin.  His non-stop chatter on the way to daycare in the morning and back home in the evenings.  Heck, all the bathroom trips we’re working so hard to encourage him to make when he’s ready, which is so not glamorous parenting at all.

Tonight really hammered it home for me.  On this trip, in preparation for the two weeks solid I’ll be out of town, we both downloaded Skype; once the Munchkin got his bath tonight, we started chatting.

And it just hit me how much I wanted nothing more than to be there on the couch with them both, just hugging him and reading his tractor book and trying to get him to chew up his strawberries and oranges before he swallows them.  I don’t think it helped that I know that, when I get home tomorrow, he won’t be there because he’ll be having a Nana night, so I have to wait that much longer to see him in person.

But I’ll get through this week and be extra glad to pick him up from daycare on Friday.  And then we’ll get through the next two weeks.  I keep hoping it will get easier, especially since this likely won’t be the last time that I have to be out of town for extended periods of time for work.

Hello, nesting!

To say that I am unused to this random urge to clean stuff and make stuff is an understatement.  But I had to give in tonight.  In the middle of a conversation with Southern Honey, I looked up at the ceiling, spotted the line of cobwebs lining the wall, and decided I had.had.enough!

“Where’s the broom?”

My poor puzzled husband: “It’s by the dryer [implied: where it always is].”

Off I went to get the broom.  I returned and began vigorously attacking the cobwebs.  Seriously, this was the most vehement effort I think I’ve put into something in months, especially something I just abruptly decided to do.  Even more than when I scrubbed the guest bathtub last weekend.

It was kind of frightening, the way I was waving the broom kind of wildly at the walls.  The only thing scarier was the fact that the cobwebs lined the entire room, on all the walls.  I spared a moment from my cobweb-attacking nesting insanity to contemplate the fact that I’m a lousy housekeeper to allow my entire living room to be decorated by spiders in a manner most people only want to see at Halloween.

Southern Honey was thoroughly amused.

At least the cobwebs are gone…

As though things weren’t busy enough with getting ready for the Munchkin and dealing with the insanity of work, we’ve recently decided to look at starting a new business venture with some friends.  And opening by May.  Yeah, within a month of having a baby.  Yes, I’m pretty sure Southern Honey and I have lost our damn minds.

I about cracked up at my mom on the phone this afternoon over the whole thing.  Work has been ridiculously stressful this week, but it’s nothing I can really go into outside of the office, so it’s hard to let off that steam that needs to be let off.  We still haven’t really gotten started on the nursery yet, although our artist friends were just over last night doing a survey and getting an idea of what we want to do (once it’s drawn on, I think Southern Honey’s going to work at it bit by bit).  The crib/changing table is still hanging out in its box in the living room.  I’ve only gotten one side of the crib blanket hemmed.  But my mother’s giving me weekly updates on the state of our registries (which, let’s face it, nobody aside from her and us is actually going to use) and wanting to know if we’ve decided on a name yet.

Clearly I need more sleep.  And I cannot WAIT to go for my prenatal massage.  Or to go into town by myself tomorrow to get my hair colored and cut professionally (I always color my hair myself, but I just really don’t want to this time around).  And I’m going by a couple of thrift stores to look for better maternity jeans and a rocker/glider for the nursery.  Then I’m going to come home and veg out while hemming the darned blanket.

Then I’m going to sleep.

Ups and Downs

This weekend had its fair share of both.

On the upside, I finally got some maternity pants, and they may be the most comfortable things on the planet.  Either that or I have been in serious discomfort for the past couple of weeks and hadn’t really noticed.  I got black pants for work (they’re pretty cute — pleated down the front and cuffed at the hem) and some jeans that I did not want to change out of in the dressing room.  I almost asked if I could just take the tags off, pay for them, and wear them home.

I also baked some sugar cookies with Southern Honey’s help.  Yum!

On the downside, I had some spotting on Saturday morning for the first time, and that kind of scared me.  Actually, it really scared me — I had a bad dream a week or so ago that I lost the Munchkin, so it was bad timing for my self-assurance.  But it was probably a one-off, if the past sixteen weeks and the following two days are any indication.  I’m going to talk to the doctor about it at our appointment at the end of the week, though, to ease my mind.

We also didn’t get to spend anywhere near as much time cookie-ing as I wanted.  I had planned on going all out and icing half of them (the other half I decorated before baking with colored sugar and sprinkles) with all sorts of colored frosting, but we got invited to a local orchard, and we just ran out of time.

And my Halloween costume didn’t want to hold up.  I’ll post some photos in a couple of days when I get Southern Honey to take them for me.  But at least I didn’t scare any small children…

Now I’m off to bed.  My sinuses are being just lovely, I spent five minutes dry-heaving in the shower after gagging myself on my toothbrush again, and I still somehow managed to bang out almost 2000 words for NaNoWriMo.  I have this overwhelming desire to go collapse face-down on the darned bed.  After I check to see what we need to take to tomorrow’s parenting class.  *sighs*  It really never ends, does it?

Get outta my way!

Dude, the hormones!

I knew I was a goner today when I went to Barnes & Noble after work.  And can I take a minute to say that the worst thing that’s happened recently was the closure of Waldenbooks, a subsidiary of Borders, back after Christmas.  It really narrowed down the field in terms of choices for booksellers.  Like, to one.

But back to B&N.

I went to take back Your Pregnancy Week by Week, sadly without the receipt, which had gone AWOL.  So, I got store credit for that and wandered back to the pregnancy section to look at the journals.  Annoyingly, while I was perusing one, an employee came over, inserted himself next to me to get to a different journal in a way that left me pretty much no choice but to shift over, and handed it over to another couple.

Okay, that wasn’t the annoying part; there was plenty of room for more people to look at the books there.  The annoying part was that they then proceeded to take over the entire two stacks, him standing in front of one and her seated on the step stool in front of the other, leaving barely any room for me to put the journal I was looking at back, much less pick out another.

I wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere, so I wandered over to the children’s section to check out the board books.  I love board books.  This is where the hormones took over, and I found myself tearing up over Goodnight Moon and a Winnie the Pooh boxed set of color and alphabet and animal books.  Said teariness carried over into the pregnancy journal perusal when the other couple finally moved on.

In the long run, I picked out The Belly Book.  It looked like the most fun and had the most spots for foods that make me feel like puking.  *grins*  Besides, it made me almost cry when I looked at the back, where you put the baby photos and make notes about seeing the Munchkin for the first time.  How could I pass that up?

Now if I can just remember to fill it out…

Tomorrow morning I’m making granola bars and maybe some plain granola.  The bars I’m going to take with me on our trip to see Southern Honey’s friends.  I’m only partially looking forward to it because we’re not telling them yet, and it’s going to make the whole eating thing difficult, for a host of reasons.  Somehow I do not think this is going to be a relaxing weekend…

Almost that time…

I haven’t posted too much recently because I haven’t had a lot going on on the pregnancy front, and I wasn’t sure how much of anything else anyone would want to read or I would want to share.  Some things are better left unsaid, you know?  Besides, I haven’t been reading many books, and work has kept me from having much time to think about anything else.

Anyway, it’s coming up on time to either pee on a stick or wait on tenterhooks for every woman’s favorite aunt.  I hate to do the latter, as she can be a less-than-punctual bitch when she wants to be, and I’m not known for my vast quantities of patience.  But I have some mixed emotions about the former.  I mean, I’ve never picked up a home pregnancy test in hopes of the response being anything other than, “Congratulations!  The carefree life of a college student is not yet over for you!”

I’m also not sure how I’m going to feel about the results either way.  I suspect I’m not going to be excited if it’s negative, and I doubt I’m going to be disappointed if it’s positive, but stranger things have happened, right?

More, I’m not sure when to take the test.  It’s supposedly most accurate when done first thing in the morning, but what if it’s negative and I get all depressed?  That’s not a good way to start the workday.  I could take it at night, but then I’d be wondering until I could get my hands on another one if the results were skewed by the fact that I didn’t take it in the morning.

No matter what, it looks like I won’t be making a decision tonight or tomorrow morning, as I didn’t make it to the store and therefore have no sticks to pee on.  But who knows?  Maybe said aunt will show up and render the whole thing moot.

The only thing I’m not sweating at this point is what kind of test to get.  These days, one is pretty much as accurate as another.  Even the Dollar Store ones.  So, provided my period doesn’t make a somewhat unexpected entrance, stage-right, I’ll stop by WalMart tomorrow and maybe have a new post by Thursday.

A Moment of Doubt

This weekend we went to my grandfather’s big birthday bash, complete with all my cousins’ new little ones.  I have second cousins who are eleven, not-quite-three, ten months and nine months (yeah, I know that’s a big gap), and the younger three were all there.  It was mostly awesome, kind of eye-opening, and all-around food for thought.  And maybe a few doubts.

You see, my dad’s family, at least this generation, is all about getting a later start on having a family, with the exception of one cousin.  By comparison, we’re really, really young to be thinking about having children.  Almost scarily so.  I mean, if they didn’t feel comfortable getting started until now, how are we supposed to do it?

Okay, it’s not that bad, but you have to understand the age schism in my family.  There are my older cousins, who are all in their thirties — actually, my oldest cousin is nearing forty.  There are my younger cousins, the oldest of which is getting ready to turn twenty-one.  And then there’s me, smack-dab in the middle at twenty-five.  So, for me to be thinking about having a child who will only be a couple of years younger than his or her cousins (second cousins?) but whose parents might be a decade older seems strange.

So last night I got home and I wondered: Are we really ready?  It took my cousins years to get to this point.

Fortunately, before I chased all of this too far down the insecurity rabbit hole, I remembered something.  I met Southern Honey when I was eighteen; we got married when I was twenty-four.  I don’t think any of my cousins got married until they were in their late twenties or early thirties.  So of course they ended up having kids later than us.  And we can do this.