I have been thinking about my son a lot lately. I am not really sure of the reason why. It has always kind of been like this for me....while I do think of him each and every day, there are periods of time when I seem to be more consumed by it. (Side note here...I never thought that it was possible to think of someone who was deceased every day when I was a child. I remember reading something about a woman who had miscarried and how she did this and distinctly remember thinking, "Yeah right. Surely there are SOME days she does not think of that." Boy, was I wrong...) Sure, there are the obvious ones...the day he was born, my due date, etc. But the end of February/beginning of March has no obvious correlation to anything to do with Gabe, really. It seems to come and go with out rhyme or reason; sometimes triggered by a song or a movie or an innocent comment. Sometimes triggered by nothing at all. This is one of those times.
As I was driving to work yesterday, I heard on the radio Carrie Underwood's "This is Just a Dream". While the song actually appears to be about a woman who loses her husband to a war, it has always resonated to me with regards to Gabe. It did and still does feel like a dream. I still can't believe the events that have sprung from losing him. I lost so much more after I lost him. A child; most definitely...but also my innocence when it comes to pregnancy, my beliefs that I do in fact have my health, and lastly, my sisters-in-law on my husband's side.
Honestly, that last one is mostly not that big a loss to me. I never had much use for my husband's sisters. I tried, truly I did. We are just cut from very different cloth. So I kinda went along with having a semi-good relationship with them until they both made the decision to not come to Gabe's funeral. I have no use for them now. People tell me to forgive and move on, but I lose no sleep over losing these relationships. I actually have significantly LESS stress than I did before. In a way, cutting them off also enabled me to take a look at other relationships in my life and evaluate what I was getting out of them. This may seem cold, but I learned a valuable lesson here...you DON'T have to stay around people that are sucking you dry. Conversely, I learned that you can't expect perfection out of people. You do, however, have the choice to weigh whether the good outweighs the bad. In this case, the answer was that it did not.
I am speaking of this because tonight my husband told me that his one sister wants to see Charlie. My first reaction is why the hell should I allow them to see her? Fair weather family is what that is...only wanting to be a part of our lives when things are all good. I am sure for people around me that it is hard to acknowledge my son. I even wrote about having to forever apologize to people for his existence in past posts. But IMHO, a TRUE family member won't try to brush the uncomfortable under the rug. My husband's family has a habit of doing this. I won't allow it when it comes to my son. He existed, and it hurt the hell out of us. So sorry if that is not convenient for you. Life SUCKS sometimes.
My second reaction was that it is always like this with her. She has moved out of state, and every time she comes back she expects everyone to fall all over themselves to run out and see her. It was like this even before Gabe, and quite frankly, it annoys the shit out of me.
My third reaction was one of concern for my husband. I know that if he takes Charlie over there, his mother will have thought that she has "won" and that he will magically forgive his sisters and all will be all better and she can pretend that nothing is wrong. While there may come a day when he decides to attempt a relationship with them again, it is not now and nor will it be because his mother demanded it. As irritating as her thinking that is, my main concern is that he will get hurt, again, because of the selfishness of his sisters. That they will demand from him now what he is not willing to give yet. I asked him to not let Charlie be alone with them if they do go. He has agreed; this shows me yet again how much this man truly loves me. He is willing to stay in a room with someone that hurt him deeply (and mind you, he was closer to this sister as well...) so that I don't have to go through that discomfort and pain again.
That is the final thing I learned from Gabe. How very lucky I am.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Expectations
I went to the doctor today because I was dying (or so I thought...) Turns out that I have a raging sinus infection. When the doctor was getting ready to write a prescription for me, he asked if I was breastfeeding or not (I had Charlie with me).
My first instinct was to respond, "I was, but I had to stop because my rheumatologist wants me on a baby aspirin and Charlie's pediatrician won't let me take aspirin and breastfeed because of the risk of Reye's". WTF? Why did I feel the need to justify my parenting choices to a physician? Why wasn't my first instinct to simply respond, "No"?
Society seems to have this expectation that mothers sacrifice all for their children. You must breastfeed, you must have the best car seats on the market, and GOD FORBID if your baby accidentally catches a glimpse of TV. On days when a SAHM is feeling crappy because of, say, a sinus infection, and her 4 year old watches a little too much TV, she also feels guilty because of the rotting of the brain that is going on. When our 13 year old wants a cell phone, we are made to feel horrible if we don't get the best one on the market...but then when we do get them a phone, we are made to feel horrible because OMG, you are giving your child BRAIN CANCER!!! (On a side note, it is really probably the 13 year old trying to make you feel like crap for not having the best phone...but that is besides the point.)
Never, ever, in a million years, would any of these actions be judged horrible and awful if they were performed by a man. Men, you see, have this reputation of being clueless, and therefore just the fact that they were aware that the child was a.) in the house, and b.) watching TV/having a cell phone/eating crappy food/etc. means that they deserve the superhero awesome totally cool that he is so involved title for the ENTIRE YEAR.
No one ever stops to think of the disservice that we are doing to each other with this kind of thinking. All that people who judge your parenting are thinking of is the guilt that they carry, and how looking down on someone makes them feel better. Women are expected to be consumed by their children, and men are expected to not be involved. Neither option is very good, both for the child and the parent involved. Yet we continually perpetuate these as the only choices for each as we bemoan the fact that things are like this. What has got to give? The answer to that is probably a lot more complex than people realize. It goes way deeper than a simple "we must support each other". It lies in the notion that you must be strong and independent and pull yourself up by your bootstraps. It lies in the notion that there are biological differences in the sexes that make it impossible for men to be nurturing and women to be independent (though when women ARE independent and assert themselves thusly, there is something incredibly wrong. Same for men who are nurturing...) It lies in the notion that despite all kinds of lip service to family values and supporting families, children and those who raise them are still very much at the bottom of the totem pole.
So did I try to justify myself to that doctor? Nope. I caught myself and simply responded "No". I highly doubt that he realizes that like so many other things in life, my "No" was the very simplified answer to a highly charged question. I also highly doubt that he cared about the back story to why I was not breastfeeding. His main concern at that moment was that I was sick and he needed to know the proper medications to prescribe to get me better. Why wasn't that my focus? Right. Maybe I need to read my own posts...
My first instinct was to respond, "I was, but I had to stop because my rheumatologist wants me on a baby aspirin and Charlie's pediatrician won't let me take aspirin and breastfeed because of the risk of Reye's". WTF? Why did I feel the need to justify my parenting choices to a physician? Why wasn't my first instinct to simply respond, "No"?
Society seems to have this expectation that mothers sacrifice all for their children. You must breastfeed, you must have the best car seats on the market, and GOD FORBID if your baby accidentally catches a glimpse of TV. On days when a SAHM is feeling crappy because of, say, a sinus infection, and her 4 year old watches a little too much TV, she also feels guilty because of the rotting of the brain that is going on. When our 13 year old wants a cell phone, we are made to feel horrible if we don't get the best one on the market...but then when we do get them a phone, we are made to feel horrible because OMG, you are giving your child BRAIN CANCER!!! (On a side note, it is really probably the 13 year old trying to make you feel like crap for not having the best phone...but that is besides the point.)
Never, ever, in a million years, would any of these actions be judged horrible and awful if they were performed by a man. Men, you see, have this reputation of being clueless, and therefore just the fact that they were aware that the child was a.) in the house, and b.) watching TV/having a cell phone/eating crappy food/etc. means that they deserve the superhero awesome totally cool that he is so involved title for the ENTIRE YEAR.
No one ever stops to think of the disservice that we are doing to each other with this kind of thinking. All that people who judge your parenting are thinking of is the guilt that they carry, and how looking down on someone makes them feel better. Women are expected to be consumed by their children, and men are expected to not be involved. Neither option is very good, both for the child and the parent involved. Yet we continually perpetuate these as the only choices for each as we bemoan the fact that things are like this. What has got to give? The answer to that is probably a lot more complex than people realize. It goes way deeper than a simple "we must support each other". It lies in the notion that you must be strong and independent and pull yourself up by your bootstraps. It lies in the notion that there are biological differences in the sexes that make it impossible for men to be nurturing and women to be independent (though when women ARE independent and assert themselves thusly, there is something incredibly wrong. Same for men who are nurturing...) It lies in the notion that despite all kinds of lip service to family values and supporting families, children and those who raise them are still very much at the bottom of the totem pole.
So did I try to justify myself to that doctor? Nope. I caught myself and simply responded "No". I highly doubt that he realizes that like so many other things in life, my "No" was the very simplified answer to a highly charged question. I also highly doubt that he cared about the back story to why I was not breastfeeding. His main concern at that moment was that I was sick and he needed to know the proper medications to prescribe to get me better. Why wasn't that my focus? Right. Maybe I need to read my own posts...
Monday, February 7, 2011
Hostage
Dear Rhinovirus,
I must say, I do not appreciate being taken hostage by your wily and unanticipated infection of my sinuses and throat. I do not appreciate the violation of my body. As someone who fully supports the right to bodily autonomy by ALL human beings, I must say that your hostile attempts to override my immune system is all the evidence I need to tell you that you are a hater. I hereby order you to vacate the premises and never to return.
Sincerely,
Management
I must say, I do not appreciate being taken hostage by your wily and unanticipated infection of my sinuses and throat. I do not appreciate the violation of my body. As someone who fully supports the right to bodily autonomy by ALL human beings, I must say that your hostile attempts to override my immune system is all the evidence I need to tell you that you are a hater. I hereby order you to vacate the premises and never to return.
Sincerely,
Management
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Useless
Have you ever stopped to think about how many truly useless products we have in the US? Take, for example, the Chia Pet.
Who the fuck ever thought that it would be a good idea to take a ceramic sculpture and to spread some wet seeds that look like tar all over the top of it to grow into "fur" or "hair" or whatever? What purpose, besides being a colossal waste of money, does a Chia Pet have? And furthermore, what chance does a person like me have of ever actually being able to grow one of those things successfully? I mean, I am the woman who has actually been able to kill a hosta....without trying to kill it! Roses look at me and commit suicide. I have never ever been able to nurture a houseplant long enough for it to be decorative, let alone bloom or to have my cat eat it. (Annuals in my garden, however, are another story. I can grow the shit out of an annual. Anything that requires a longer term commitment, definitely a no go. Not quite sure what that says about me, but whatev.)
Another example: Those pads that you put on your feet to pull out the toxins. Really? Cause honestly, my feet are so callused that I highly doubt that a little sticky pad is going to pull sweat out of them, let alone heavy metals. Give me an invention that will stop my husband's feet from being the next weapon of mass destruction. Then we can talk.
Who the fuck ever thought that it would be a good idea to take a ceramic sculpture and to spread some wet seeds that look like tar all over the top of it to grow into "fur" or "hair" or whatever? What purpose, besides being a colossal waste of money, does a Chia Pet have? And furthermore, what chance does a person like me have of ever actually being able to grow one of those things successfully? I mean, I am the woman who has actually been able to kill a hosta....without trying to kill it! Roses look at me and commit suicide. I have never ever been able to nurture a houseplant long enough for it to be decorative, let alone bloom or to have my cat eat it. (Annuals in my garden, however, are another story. I can grow the shit out of an annual. Anything that requires a longer term commitment, definitely a no go. Not quite sure what that says about me, but whatev.)
Another example: Those pads that you put on your feet to pull out the toxins. Really? Cause honestly, my feet are so callused that I highly doubt that a little sticky pad is going to pull sweat out of them, let alone heavy metals. Give me an invention that will stop my husband's feet from being the next weapon of mass destruction. Then we can talk.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Rituals
I realized the other day that I always wash my body in the shower in the exact same order. I realized this when, for some reason, I mindlessly started to wash my right thigh instead of my left arm first. This threw my ENTIRE shower into a downward spiral of catastrophe; it very quickly disintegrated into an almost comical farce of what a shower should be. I am lucky I got clean that day. (And I wish that I was being facetious here...)
My husband has a quirk like this as well. That man has to have all of his day to day essentials (his wallet, his leatherman, his chapstick, his keys, and his pistol...hey, I did say that he was my polar opposite in a lot of ways. I was not joking...maybe it is our similarity in our idiosyncrasies that keeps us together...) in exactly the same spot. He gets up in the morning and does the exact same thing every.single.day. To deviate just the slightest bit from his morning ritual is akin to starting one of those nuclear war drills that they used to do in the 60's, then realizing that OMFG, IT'S NOT A DRILL!!! There would seriously be THAT much chaos, weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth. I could also see him trying to get some sexual favors from me out of the deal similar to guys back then, but that is for a different post...
It makes me wonder how much of our beliefs are part of a ritual of thought. We get so used to believing that, for instance, abortion is wrong, or that people who are on unemployment are not looking hard enough for a job and should just get a job at Walmart for Chrissakes, that it is almost earth shattering when those beliefs that are ritualistic for us are challenged. Do you try to get back to the status quo when challenged? Do you look for things to support your original belief with a desperation that makes Sarah Palin's attempts to remain relevant appear like they should be taken seriously? Or do you allow yourself to grow, to maybe entertain the possibility that yes, you CAN wash your left thigh first and the whole shower will not end in a disaster that rivals anything sung by Ke$ha? I am not saying here that you need to change your mind. God knows that my family has tried to cure me of my liberal leanings the way that most fundamentalists try to cure someone of homosexuality. Both propositions are an exercise in futility, by the way...but do you ever try to entertain an understanding of the other viewpoint? I know I am guilty of automatically dismissing views that are different from mine. However, is there something to be said from trying to learn from the other side, even if you don't agree? I struggle with this sometimes, because I firmly believe that the other side in my case is a side steeped in unearned privilege, racism, ethnocentrism, and hate, all finely gilded with a thin layer of promise of a better time like before even though it never existed (similar to a lead charm coated with a thin layer to platinum). In my case, I don't know that I would seek to understand the viewpoint to simply understand it as much as I would seek to understand it to know how to OVERCOME it. Would the other side be saying the same thing as well? And really, how does that make me different or better?
My husband has a quirk like this as well. That man has to have all of his day to day essentials (his wallet, his leatherman, his chapstick, his keys, and his pistol...hey, I did say that he was my polar opposite in a lot of ways. I was not joking...maybe it is our similarity in our idiosyncrasies that keeps us together...) in exactly the same spot. He gets up in the morning and does the exact same thing every.single.day. To deviate just the slightest bit from his morning ritual is akin to starting one of those nuclear war drills that they used to do in the 60's, then realizing that OMFG, IT'S NOT A DRILL!!! There would seriously be THAT much chaos, weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth. I could also see him trying to get some sexual favors from me out of the deal similar to guys back then, but that is for a different post...
It makes me wonder how much of our beliefs are part of a ritual of thought. We get so used to believing that, for instance, abortion is wrong, or that people who are on unemployment are not looking hard enough for a job and should just get a job at Walmart for Chrissakes, that it is almost earth shattering when those beliefs that are ritualistic for us are challenged. Do you try to get back to the status quo when challenged? Do you look for things to support your original belief with a desperation that makes Sarah Palin's attempts to remain relevant appear like they should be taken seriously? Or do you allow yourself to grow, to maybe entertain the possibility that yes, you CAN wash your left thigh first and the whole shower will not end in a disaster that rivals anything sung by Ke$ha? I am not saying here that you need to change your mind. God knows that my family has tried to cure me of my liberal leanings the way that most fundamentalists try to cure someone of homosexuality. Both propositions are an exercise in futility, by the way...but do you ever try to entertain an understanding of the other viewpoint? I know I am guilty of automatically dismissing views that are different from mine. However, is there something to be said from trying to learn from the other side, even if you don't agree? I struggle with this sometimes, because I firmly believe that the other side in my case is a side steeped in unearned privilege, racism, ethnocentrism, and hate, all finely gilded with a thin layer of promise of a better time like before even though it never existed (similar to a lead charm coated with a thin layer to platinum). In my case, I don't know that I would seek to understand the viewpoint to simply understand it as much as I would seek to understand it to know how to OVERCOME it. Would the other side be saying the same thing as well? And really, how does that make me different or better?
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Things...
...I wonder about.
1.) I read all of the time that breastfeeding is HARD, but I wonder why I never read anything in all the info available about how to fix it about how HARD it is to fix it.
2.) I wonder how it is that these so-called tea partiers cannot see the hatred, bigotry, and vitriol that they spread. Is it that they truly are fucking blind, or that they truly believe what they preach? Either way is way scary...
3.) I wonder how some people can live with another human being that they pledged to love and honor, and never ever say please or thank you to them.
4.) I wonder how different my life would be if I had not decided to go into the social services field.
5.) Ditto if I had not married a very country, blue-collar man.
1.) I read all of the time that breastfeeding is HARD, but I wonder why I never read anything in all the info available about how to fix it about how HARD it is to fix it.
2.) I wonder how it is that these so-called tea partiers cannot see the hatred, bigotry, and vitriol that they spread. Is it that they truly are fucking blind, or that they truly believe what they preach? Either way is way scary...
3.) I wonder how some people can live with another human being that they pledged to love and honor, and never ever say please or thank you to them.
4.) I wonder how different my life would be if I had not decided to go into the social services field.
5.) Ditto if I had not married a very country, blue-collar man.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Poop
I imagine that for the next few years, my life will be filled with all kinds of shit. I am talking literal and figurative here, folks. But for right now, I want to concentrate on the fact that I feel that I deserve a fucking trophy for having moved my bowels this morning for the first time since the birth of our daughter, Charlie. I mean, granted, she is a great prize and all for what I went through, etc., etc., but really, that first poop that you take after childbirth is a doozy. I now can say that I have a pretty good idea of what it would feel like to shit razor blades.
Thank God they tied my tubes. That's all I gotta say.
Thank God they tied my tubes. That's all I gotta say.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Busy
It has been a while since I have written anything on here. I could use the excuses that quickly come to mind, like my soul and time-sucking job, topped off with my emotionally exhausting pregnancy, two girls who are very needy in very different ways, and trying to maintain the great groove that my marriage is in...but the reality is that I really have no excuse why I have been neglecting my blog. Really, if I were to go all therapist-y on myself, the answer is in the fact that I simply did not want a record of the past few months of my pregnancy just in case things did not go very well. I am still in shock about how I am, in just a few short weeks (and despite all of those pregnancy-induced hysterical "OMG, I AM GOING TO BE PREGNANT FOREVER HAHAHA AND I REALLY REALLY NEED A STIFF DRINK AND CURSE YOU PLACENTA FOR ALLOWING ALCOHOL TO PASS THROUGH" moments...) going to have three children.
I am not one who enjoys being pregnant anyways. I don't like the extra attention, people treating me differently (like the lawyer who tried to carry my work bag for me into a conference room...WTF? Would you have done that if I were not preggers?), and the questions, oh the endless questions...When are you due? Do you have any names picked out? Three girls! Oh what is your husband going to do? etc., etc. I hate gaining weight. I hate the fact that my pants can't stay up, the fact that my boobs are now bigger than Alexis's head, the fact that I have had to adjust every single thing that I do to accommodate this huge ass belly. Feeling this child move, while reassuring on one hand, is actually quite painful...literally. She must have an octagon set up in there because I swear to God she is cage fighting. Either that or she is going to be FREAKING HUGE. I prefer to imagine the cage fighting.
There are people out there who will tell me to shut the fuck up. That I should be grateful that we figured it out, that I carried the baby this long. That I should be mourning, not celebrating, the fact that this is the last time EVER that I will be pregnant. To those people, I say....come here and let me kick you in the crotch. Numerous times.
I think that I have earned the right to say, "I have been busy" and ignore the obvious fact that I am totally ignoring a large chunk of my emotions regarding my life at this point. If I did not, honestly....I think I would have cracked up a long time ago.
So yeah, let's say I have been busy. Let's say that life got in the way. Let's say that instead of saying that waiting for this miracle is the most stressful thing in the world and that I am terrified. I don't always have to be a therapist, right?
I am not one who enjoys being pregnant anyways. I don't like the extra attention, people treating me differently (like the lawyer who tried to carry my work bag for me into a conference room...WTF? Would you have done that if I were not preggers?), and the questions, oh the endless questions...When are you due? Do you have any names picked out? Three girls! Oh what is your husband going to do? etc., etc. I hate gaining weight. I hate the fact that my pants can't stay up, the fact that my boobs are now bigger than Alexis's head, the fact that I have had to adjust every single thing that I do to accommodate this huge ass belly. Feeling this child move, while reassuring on one hand, is actually quite painful...literally. She must have an octagon set up in there because I swear to God she is cage fighting. Either that or she is going to be FREAKING HUGE. I prefer to imagine the cage fighting.
There are people out there who will tell me to shut the fuck up. That I should be grateful that we figured it out, that I carried the baby this long. That I should be mourning, not celebrating, the fact that this is the last time EVER that I will be pregnant. To those people, I say....come here and let me kick you in the crotch. Numerous times.
I think that I have earned the right to say, "I have been busy" and ignore the obvious fact that I am totally ignoring a large chunk of my emotions regarding my life at this point. If I did not, honestly....I think I would have cracked up a long time ago.
So yeah, let's say I have been busy. Let's say that life got in the way. Let's say that instead of saying that waiting for this miracle is the most stressful thing in the world and that I am terrified. I don't always have to be a therapist, right?
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Heartbreak
Today was Elizabeth's first day of middle school. I think I was more anxious than she was. I spent most of the night last night worrying about her day...would she get lost? Would she be able to open her locker? How will she know where to go? What if she gets bullied? What if she goofs off in class?
I imagined her having this wonderful send off from home...she would get up and get ready, nervous but excited. Giggling a little bit in the oh so grating ways that middle schoolers can. She has had her outfit picked out for a while now. God forbid that she show up to school looking anything but her best cause you know, the WORLD might END if that happened! (My first day of middle school...God, I probably threw on the first thing I came across and maybe slapped my hair into a pony tail. I get the feeling that Elizabeth's middle school experience will be markedly different from mine...) She elected to ride to school with a friend today...why I don't know because tomorrow she will have to get on the bus and figure that out! Way to spread out the stress there, kiddo...but maybe that is not stressful to her. It sure as hell is to me.
Anyways, I had this image in my head of how things would go for her...the way they were supposed to go. It was going to be so perfect, her send off, and she would go to school and have this wonderful day and life would be all pissing sunshine and farting rainbows. The reality is, not so much.
She got to bed late last night. She did not wake up when her alarm went off. At 5:30 AM. Which then woke me up. And I am not a morning person. I am an epic-not-morning-person, if you are into the over-usage of epic. Luckily a bit of sense prevailed over me and I just went up to her room and shook her awake. Luckily for her, it did not wake Alexis up :p The rest of the morning went ok...I got up, worked out, lifted some. Got Alexis breakfast, got her dressed, etc. Took a pic of my big girl middle schooler. Her ride arrived.
Now school starts at 7:30, and they needed to be there by 7:24 for when the doors opened. I get a call at 7:10. "Mom, my agenda! I forgot my agenda! You never gave it back to me!"
OMG, I saw red. I had in fact given it back to her, with the repeated admonishment to "Put this in your bookbag." I had given it to her at the same time I gave her her emergency medical form. And anyways...it is your fucking agenda kid. Not mine. YOU keep track of it.
I did not take it to her. It will make her first day harder...and makes me worry that by doing this I am giving her the message that she can't ever ask me for help. But I am big on natural consequences, and not having your agenda because you did not put it in your bookbag is a natural consequence. It will be interesting to see a couple of things...first, if this happens again. Second, what kind of attitude she comes home with tonight.
I will admit I did pick a little (OK, a lot) when she called. I did not yell, though. I did tell her I was disappointed in her. But that was only a part of it. I so wanted her to have a good start to middle school. I wanted her to be nervous, but to have things work out. I can't protect her from everything, and this just so very clearly illustrates that to me. It pains me to see her in pain, even if it is of her own doing. I no longer have that control over her life and it terrifies me. What if I have not done enough to overcome what she got from her father? What if she turns out to be one who blames everyone but the person at fault (i.e., herself!) like him? What if she makes mistakes that I can't fix? And furthermore, why do I still feel the need to fix her mistakes? Does that feeling ever go away?
Does the heartbreak?
I imagined her having this wonderful send off from home...she would get up and get ready, nervous but excited. Giggling a little bit in the oh so grating ways that middle schoolers can. She has had her outfit picked out for a while now. God forbid that she show up to school looking anything but her best cause you know, the WORLD might END if that happened! (My first day of middle school...God, I probably threw on the first thing I came across and maybe slapped my hair into a pony tail. I get the feeling that Elizabeth's middle school experience will be markedly different from mine...) She elected to ride to school with a friend today...why I don't know because tomorrow she will have to get on the bus and figure that out! Way to spread out the stress there, kiddo...but maybe that is not stressful to her. It sure as hell is to me.
Anyways, I had this image in my head of how things would go for her...the way they were supposed to go. It was going to be so perfect, her send off, and she would go to school and have this wonderful day and life would be all pissing sunshine and farting rainbows. The reality is, not so much.
She got to bed late last night. She did not wake up when her alarm went off. At 5:30 AM. Which then woke me up. And I am not a morning person. I am an epic-not-morning-person, if you are into the over-usage of epic. Luckily a bit of sense prevailed over me and I just went up to her room and shook her awake. Luckily for her, it did not wake Alexis up :p The rest of the morning went ok...I got up, worked out, lifted some. Got Alexis breakfast, got her dressed, etc. Took a pic of my big girl middle schooler. Her ride arrived.
Now school starts at 7:30, and they needed to be there by 7:24 for when the doors opened. I get a call at 7:10. "Mom, my agenda! I forgot my agenda! You never gave it back to me!"
OMG, I saw red. I had in fact given it back to her, with the repeated admonishment to "Put this in your bookbag." I had given it to her at the same time I gave her her emergency medical form. And anyways...it is your fucking agenda kid. Not mine. YOU keep track of it.
I did not take it to her. It will make her first day harder...and makes me worry that by doing this I am giving her the message that she can't ever ask me for help. But I am big on natural consequences, and not having your agenda because you did not put it in your bookbag is a natural consequence. It will be interesting to see a couple of things...first, if this happens again. Second, what kind of attitude she comes home with tonight.
I will admit I did pick a little (OK, a lot) when she called. I did not yell, though. I did tell her I was disappointed in her. But that was only a part of it. I so wanted her to have a good start to middle school. I wanted her to be nervous, but to have things work out. I can't protect her from everything, and this just so very clearly illustrates that to me. It pains me to see her in pain, even if it is of her own doing. I no longer have that control over her life and it terrifies me. What if I have not done enough to overcome what she got from her father? What if she turns out to be one who blames everyone but the person at fault (i.e., herself!) like him? What if she makes mistakes that I can't fix? And furthermore, why do I still feel the need to fix her mistakes? Does that feeling ever go away?
Does the heartbreak?
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Girl
So we had the big ultrasound last week. It looks like another one for Team Pink here in this household. I am kinda relieved, as I would have no idea how to raise a boy in this incredibly misogynistic area that we live in...my biggest fear is that he would become one of the little country boys that I see running around who like to pat women on the head and patronize them and who truly think Sarah Palin is a feminist. Then I would have to go all off on the poor boy and give him who knows how many Mommy issues...best to stick with what I know, I guess. At least I can understand a girl's issues because, well, I am a female myself. That and I already have the baby clothes for a girl...
I think that Charles is secretly relieved as well, though probably a bit disappointed. He truly thought that this baby was a boy. Elizabeth too...in fact, she is still insisting that it is a boy. Since I will be having numerous ultrasounds after this one, we will definitely know for sure. Wouldn't that be something if they were wrong? The tech was pretty good, though, and said that she could CLEARLY see what sex the baby was. At first that made me think boy too...
Now the next hurdle: Naming this child. This is going to be hard...
I think that Charles is secretly relieved as well, though probably a bit disappointed. He truly thought that this baby was a boy. Elizabeth too...in fact, she is still insisting that it is a boy. Since I will be having numerous ultrasounds after this one, we will definitely know for sure. Wouldn't that be something if they were wrong? The tech was pretty good, though, and said that she could CLEARLY see what sex the baby was. At first that made me think boy too...
Now the next hurdle: Naming this child. This is going to be hard...
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