Panic!!

Do you have any idea what I realized yesterday? DO YOU??

I am already THREE DAYS into my THIRD trimester!

Somebody get me a paper bag to breathe into, because I am not ready! Not ready, I tell you! Not ready!

We don't have a house, yet. Noah has no bedding, no newborn clothes, no pacis, I still need to order new tubing for the breast pump, I haven't preregistered at the hospital yet, we haven't bought any diapers, we need to get Sweet Pea a new bed so we can move Buddy into the toddler bed and...Oh, Lordy, we have to start that whole transition process and why in the world do you look so calm???

Do you remember this conversation between Monica and Chandler?

Monica: "Chandler, you're panicking."
Chandler: "Uh, huh! Join me, won't you?!"

Yeah, I'm Chandler and DWH is Monica. This is what I wanted to say to him yesterday when I shared my third trimester epiphany with him, and he informed me that he thought my third trimester started last week, anyway. Of course, he rarely panics and panicking seems to be what I do best. Good thing we have each other to keep things balanced, huh?

Still, EEK! We're running out of time, here!

In less than three months, I will be a mom of three. My natural inclination toward anxiety and perfectionism - and maybe a few stray hormones - have convinced me that the youngest one will be naked, diaper-less, paci-free, and sleeping in the bathroom linen closet. But, that's not going to happen, right? RIGHT?

Maybe I should just go get a pedicure. Or, maybe this Saturday's lunch with one of my dearest friends in God's creation will be good for me.

I know I should put it in my prayer box.

I know I should do that first.

Then, I'll have a long-overdue lunch with Nina.

Just breathe.

This Week's Thoughts On Being a Mom

File this one under, "The Flotsam and Jetsam In My Head."

Sometimes, random thoughts on this incredible journey as the mommy of the house invade my head. It happens to the best of us. So, again, to let you in on the craziness that is the inside of my head, and perhaps to make you wonder why you read this blog in the first place, I'll share.

1. Sometimes, when you're a mom, it's ok to hear your dad's voice coming out of your mouth, instead of your own mother's. For instance, it's perfectly fine to sing, "Blue Eyes Crying In the Rain," while rocking your toddler to sleep. Also, the following phrases are acceptable to use when admonishing your preschooler:
"Don't yell across the house like some little redneck. Come in here if you've got something to say." "Quit dragging your feet. Pick 'em up and walk."
 And, the one I heard most frequently as a child, "Watch where you're going before you break your neck!"

2. The Harry Potter series teaches many valuable lessons about friendship, love, and doing the right thing. But, we often overlook the lessons we learn from the series about being a mom. I know you're thinking about Lily, and how she died for her son because she loved him so much. Or, perhaps you have Narcissa Malfoy in mind, given that she did risk her life by lying to You-Know-Who in order to protect her child. And, yes, those are important mom moments. I can't imagine a mom who wouldn't do the same thing.
But, there are other, more subtle references to a great mom. Yeah, she defeated Bellatrix Lestrange with just a flick of the wand to save her only daughter, but long before that, Molly Weasley was a truly awesome mama. Why do you think all her kids turned out so great? Having seven fabulous children is not an accident. (Yes, seven. All. Percy came around and fought the good fight, didn't he?) I'm reminded of Harry's thought on the Burrow - and honestly, you can say what you want about me, but this has helped me chill out about my momming skills more than any other testimony I've heard or read. After growing up in the stark, spotless, loveless environment of the Dursley's, Harry muses that, and I'm paraphrasing, he feels home at the Burrow when he sees the Wellington boots on the stairs and the dishes in the sink, because it reminds him that a real family lives there and that they love each other.
So, yeah. I have dishes in my sink and my house currently smells like the chicken chili in the crock pot, because I love my family enough to feed them without worrying about keeping an immaculate kitchen. There are toys all over my living room floor because my babies like to play in here.
Oh, and there are some rain boots by the stairs. I keep them there as a reminder of why there are dishes in the sink and toys on the floor - and that's OK.

3. Gender-based double standards are stupid. No need to elaborate. It's just a fact.

And, that's what's floating around between my ears, folks.
Thanks for letting me ramble.

Happy Birthday, Little Buddy!

 

Two years ago today...

One year ago today...

And we love you more than ever. Happy Birthday, sweet boy!

Another Countdown Begins

This one's more exciting, though.

Today, we begin the 100 day countdown to Baby Noah's due date. (Sorry, but there's no middle name, yet.)

My sister-in-law suggested I make a paper chain to remove a link each day. Can you tell her mom's an elementary school teacher? ;-) Thanks, E!

Still, it's not a half bad idea. I could let Sweet Pea and Buddy remove a link every day. Sweet Pea is already so thrilled about having a new baby in the house. She's so cute, putting her hands on my belly and trying to feel him. She goes through her toys and lets me know which ones Baby Noah will be allowed to claim as his own. When we go to Target, she wants to buy bottles so she can help feed him and has picked out some outfits that she thinks he needs to have. She's concerned that his blankets might not be soft enough and - like her mother - a little worried that he doesn't have his own room, yet.
Such a fantastic big sister!

Buddy, on the other hand, when confronted with the notion of another Head in the house, responds with complete indifference or, as this morning when someone mentioned the new baby, "No new baby. Yucky!"
Oh, well. He'll come around. What choice does he have, right?

It's funny how all pregnancies are different, isn't it? With Sweet Pea, I truly enjoyed my pregnancy and I knew she was safe inside me, so I wasn't sure I wanted to let her out. She wouldn't be as close to me if she joined us on the outside.
My pregnancy with Buddy was not nearly as enjoyable as the first one. Oh, he made up for all the swelling and heartburn and head-to-toe body aches once he got here with his near-constant smiles and warm baby cuddles, but from July to October 2011, I really wanted to serve him an eviction notice.
The pregnancy, itself, has not been too bad thus far. In general, I feel pretty good. But, I'm ready for Noah to be here. I want to hold him and feel his breath on my neck while he sleeps.

100 days. That's not so very long.

It's Not That Bad. Really.

OK, before I set off on one of my tangents, let me say that this is spewing from the aftermath of what I considered to be one of the most negative and discouraging talks on marriage I have ever heard, followed immediately by one of the most whiny devotionals on motherhood I have ever read. So, ignore me, bear with me, or take it all in. Whichever you prefer.

I do enjoy a good devotional and/or blog post that encourages me to be the best mom/wife/teacher (when I go back to work) that I can possibly be, because I believe with everything I am that God has called me to be all three of those things.

I just wish I found them to be more of an encouragement than the works of someone who is bitter and complaining about having a family.

Here's the general message I get from most of the "Mom encouragers" that I receive in my inbox or read in devotional books:
"We understand what it's like to be a mom. Oh, laundry is so horrible! It's the most awful thing in the world to do dishes! If I have to change one more diaper, I'll put my head through a wall! I can't stand to get out of bed in the morning, so I haven't showered in a week and I can't remember the last time I brushed my teeth or hair! It's such a miserable chore to be with my husband, especially since he's so incompetent and can't read my mind or do anything right - ever! Woe is me, the suffering mom! I know you feel the same way, but SMILE!! That's Jesus's butt you're wiping every time you change a diaper. Be thankful that your life is horrible! God wouldn't have it any other way."

Um...really?

Do you really think you're writing something I can relate to, just because we've both given birth?

Because, seriously, it's not that bad.

Do I need a break? Yes. Do I get tired of the monotony of loading the dishwasher and making sandwiches? Sure.

But, would I feel any differently about chores if I were single and childless? Nope. And, having been single and childless for the first thirty-one years of my life, I can say that from experience. I had to wash clothes even when it was just me and my dog. I didn't have the luxury of a dishwasher in my little apartment, so I did them by hand. I may not have been changing diapers, but I did take out the dog and pick up her poop. I know it's not the same thing, but they're still mindless chores that we can't escape - whether we have kids or not. Your dirty floors and dusty windowsills didn't just materialize when you got married and had children. It's not motherhood that's making you have to clean up after yourself. It's called not being a lazy bum.
Just thank God for the blessing of actually having clothes to put away and a floor to mop.

Of course I have days when I completely understand why women in the 1940's were prescribed (and addicted to) Valium. I'd never take it that far, but there are days - many, in fact - when I am just itching to go back to work. It has nothing to do with being a mom. It has to do with the fact that when I decided to take a hiatus from teaching to hang out with my babies, I had been working for literally half my life. It's difficult to go from engaging in a career you really, really love, to staying home and trying to fill the hours with meaningful activities. That, too, would be true whether or not I had children. It's not motherhood that makes me want to go back to work. It's called a desire for intellectual stimulation. Besides, I like talking about books all day. Except Lord of the Flies. Still hate that one.

I'm not going to lie to you. I will spend the next four to five years getting irritated with the tiny humans I have created and how they interrupt me every time I try to talk to DWH, and I will long for some only-child time. (If you are an only child, you understand why this is vital to everyone's well-being.) Then, there will be something else to irritate me. It's just a minor irritation, not the end of the world. But, would I rather have the alternative? What in the world would I do without my Sweet Pea and Buddy? If you ask me, not having them at all would be a lot more miserable than cleaning up their vomit.

OK, here's the big one. For those of you who can totally relate to the kinds of posts and devotionals described here, this may come as a bit of a shock. Are you ready?
My husband is not stupid.

Get the smelling salts, recover a little bit, and I'll continue.

He's not. He's actually a very intelligent man. He is not a bumbling idiot who is too dumb to understand how the dishwasher works. It actually annoys me when women portray their husbands in that way. Don't make your husband look like a moron to other people - especially your kids. Unless, of course, your husband is a moron, in which case, to quote my great-grandmother, "I don't believe I'd have told that."
As for my husband, he enjoys spending time with his children, and is a fantastic father. We're a good team. Yes, I said TEAM. This isn't a boss/employee relationship. He doesn't feel that my needs should be placed on the back burner to accommodate his. We're in this together.
Speaking of your husband, or of men in general, as if they are total idiots who can't breathe unless their wives tell them the correct way to do it, does not endear me to your devotional or your blog post. It just makes you look mean-spirited and petty.

Look, it's hard enough with all the moms out there who think their way is the only correct way, bashing anyone who does it differently. Do we really need to beat ourselves up and make our lives seem worse than they are?
Really, is it that bad?