So, so sorry. One of my new Years resolutions I didn't write about was to keep up better with my own blog and post a minimum of once a week. Does once every ten days, oh crap, eleven days count?
An update of sorts: AT&T Michigan doesn't suck as much, at least their field staff here in Detroit doesn't. Spent a long time at my house getting everything wired correctly, gave me a fancy new wireless modem, and bumped up my speed, all for what I am assuming to be free. Andre, of their field staff, ought to be running the damn company for as good a job as he did.
Of course, once I got the Internet back, I had to catch up on all the shit I couldn't do without it. And I am swamped right now--I figured out I am going to be making a large amount of my monthly income this week. Not a lot of posting as a result.
I'm still gestating, and have reached the point where I am not sleeping really well and turning over in bed is a project (or as Nikki, bookmarked at right, put it "You feel like, 'get out the crane'?" This is how cool a mom NIkki is--she drove from Pittsburgh to take her ten year old to see Hannah Montana here in Detroit. I am hoping to be so cool when Maggie is ten).
This will, more than likely, be my last pregnancy so I am trying to concentrate on all the things I forgot about last time. Some of those I was more than happy to forget about, like bleeding gums and this time, I got an actual nosebleed. Yikes. But I am trying really remember the trippy feeling of a baby moving around in there. And now he's even recognizable as a baby--I can feel arms and legs and a butt and hiccups. Amazing, and something I will miss.
I've had a phenomenally easy pregnancy, really, I cannot complain. And yet I will. Another thing I had forgotten about is how by this point, the baby has just taken over and your body is not yours anymore. To wit:
Emotions all over the map. Yelly Mommy (and her sister, Bitchy Wife) have made a few too many appearances around here of late. Drama Queen and Our Lady Queen Of Martyrs have been around far too much as well. In the middle of the whole Internet debacle, I was bitching and moaning to Paul about what a pain in the ass it all was, and he was sympathetically nodding and trying to make me feel better. I stopped, looked at him and said "I can tell you are trying to be really nice to me. Even thought I am acting like a crazy person. If I forget to tell you later, I appreciate it."
Bouncing between total denial and total panic about what lies ahead. Surgery. Leaving Maggie for four whole days. Breastfeeding again (it HURT last time). No sleep. But this time with a rambunctious three-year-old. Dealing with said rambunctious three year old whose world I have just blown apart, with all the love and patience I can muster, while sparing some for the baby, Paul, and oh yes myself. Knowing I will not be able to spend as much time with my sweet Maggie as I do now. Knowing that before I know it they'll be 10 and 13 and not care about time with me anyway.
My hair. Oh, my lovely lovely hair. Why can't I keep it? Why?
Sitting curled up in our cozy living room chair last week, talking with Paul. I get up to go to bed and almost fall down. My hip has slipped out of joint and it took me awhile to be able to get it back into where it should be. I suddenly realized it took a long time for that to go away last time. Must do yoga and other interesting stretchy things to take advantage.
I'm apparently making truly lovely whistling noises at night. It's like the War of the Roses in our room, where I am trying to stop Paul from snoring and he's trying to stop me from whistling. The other night, I woke up to find him reaching his hand across my face. "What are you... HEY!" I think he was totally asleep, because he didn't answer. Or that's what he wants me to believe.
In the coming weeks: a real rumination on saying goodbye to mothering one and getting ready for two. Maggie and her big girl bed. Maggie in general--she is delightful, but Paul and I have each had moments with her in the last week where we look at each other and say, "There will be TWO OF THEM. Clearly, we did not think this through." And, since some of you asked, photos of our "Organizing System For Two Grownups With ADD."