Still on baby watch. I have three days until my due date and the reality of what is about to happen to me is starting to set in. Finally.
I joke about not being ready, but it is not a joke. I AM NOT READY!!! Mentally, I have not wrapped my head around going into labor, giving birth, and then bringing a new little person into my chaotic life. Physically, I have no idea what I am going to experience because no one really tells you anything except to prepare for the pain. Emotionally, I have no words.
The other day I posted a question in a FB group of mothers and several realizations occurred. First, I sought advice in a public forum! Second, I appreciated receiving said advice! Third, by participating in this very public forum on a topic related to my impending motherhood am I embracing the inevitable???
Holy cannoli!
For the last month, I have been slowly transitioning to life in the slow lane, but it has been a struggle (slowing down). I took dance classes until the end of March. I pulled a couple of classic Busy Black weekends by going from activity to activity without breaking too much of a sweat. I went to the early church service on Palm Sunday and stayed for the second service. I've taken my mother on outings, including one to the mall last week. I shopped (twice) for my niece's Easter outfit. I cooked my traditional Good Friday dinner. I got all dolled up for Easter and by the grace of God, got my mother dressed and out of the house and off to church as well! I hung out with the Niece all day on Monday. And I literally just got off a conference call. I still have to file our taxes and take care of a few other loose ends...
And this baby is still coming. And that hospital bag still needs to be packed. And well, so many other things still need to be done.
But, I am sitting down. I am writing. I do not plan to sneak out of town. I will do a little nesting around the house (tomorrow). I will work on the next round of thank-you notes (tonight). I will not go to Target for anything else. Ditto the grocery store. I will go to bed early (maybe), but if I don't I will sleep in (if I can). I will not sweat the small stuff or the scary stuff.
We will be just fine.
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
Fix the Leak!!!
Still on baby watch and of course, the most popular question that we get is "Are you ready?" to which, I politely smile and respond no.
We are procrastinators of the highest order, as in the Tom Cruise level of Scientology highest order. I have been packing my bag for the hospital for weeks. Stuff is laid out but not a lot has been put into the actual bag. And it is still blocking the doorway to the room that is supposed to be the baby's room once I put away all of my shoes and clothes and other stuff. And then there is the leaking tub...
My husband, like many men out there, accuses me of nagging whenever I mention that something in the house needs fixing. Or if he does something slightly inconsiderate, like eating an entire bag of chips except for the crumbs. Or if I ask him to do anything during baseball season.
So when the tub in our bathroom began dripping a few weeks ago, I waited to see if he would notice. When I placed a cup under the spigot to catch the dripping water, I expected him to inquire about the cup. After I mentioned that the water was no longer dripping, but flowing he said "Oh yeah". And when I placed the stopper in the tub and it filled with water, he simply pulled out the stopper.
Yes my fellow Busy Black Sisters, unless you are married to Tim "The Toolman" Taylor, it is a crap shoot whether your man will fix anything around the house that requires immediate attention. He will do the grocery shopping when there is nothing in the fridge except for rotten fruit (but he will not discard any of it); he will mow the lawn in anticipation of rain (but he will not pick up any of the broken pots that are littering your front lawn); and he will keep using the same dirty dishtowel on the dishes even though there is a stack of clean ones available because you did not tell him it was well past time to change towels (but at least the dishes are done, he will argue).
Matters of mutual inconvenience tend not to require multiple requests for remedial action. Last fall I insisted on going to the laundromat one night because two loads of wash needed to be dried. Unbeknownst to me our 12-year old dryer had conked out, which I realized only after running the machine twice to dry a load of towels and had another load of clothes waiting. "Why not just hang them up," he asked as I loaded the car. "Because we do not have a clothes line," I responded. "What about hanging them outside on the fence?" Blank stare as I searched for a roll of quarters; agitated sigh as he accompanied me to the laundromat. We sat through about half an hour of America's Home Video, watched as children awake past their bedtimes played hide and seek, and a week later he ordered brand new machines.
But back to our leaking tub as a metaphor of our readiness for parenthood. Yeah we are totally ready...
We are procrastinators of the highest order, as in the Tom Cruise level of Scientology highest order. I have been packing my bag for the hospital for weeks. Stuff is laid out but not a lot has been put into the actual bag. And it is still blocking the doorway to the room that is supposed to be the baby's room once I put away all of my shoes and clothes and other stuff. And then there is the leaking tub...
My husband, like many men out there, accuses me of nagging whenever I mention that something in the house needs fixing. Or if he does something slightly inconsiderate, like eating an entire bag of chips except for the crumbs. Or if I ask him to do anything during baseball season.
So when the tub in our bathroom began dripping a few weeks ago, I waited to see if he would notice. When I placed a cup under the spigot to catch the dripping water, I expected him to inquire about the cup. After I mentioned that the water was no longer dripping, but flowing he said "Oh yeah". And when I placed the stopper in the tub and it filled with water, he simply pulled out the stopper.
Yes my fellow Busy Black Sisters, unless you are married to Tim "The Toolman" Taylor, it is a crap shoot whether your man will fix anything around the house that requires immediate attention. He will do the grocery shopping when there is nothing in the fridge except for rotten fruit (but he will not discard any of it); he will mow the lawn in anticipation of rain (but he will not pick up any of the broken pots that are littering your front lawn); and he will keep using the same dirty dishtowel on the dishes even though there is a stack of clean ones available because you did not tell him it was well past time to change towels (but at least the dishes are done, he will argue).
Matters of mutual inconvenience tend not to require multiple requests for remedial action. Last fall I insisted on going to the laundromat one night because two loads of wash needed to be dried. Unbeknownst to me our 12-year old dryer had conked out, which I realized only after running the machine twice to dry a load of towels and had another load of clothes waiting. "Why not just hang them up," he asked as I loaded the car. "Because we do not have a clothes line," I responded. "What about hanging them outside on the fence?" Blank stare as I searched for a roll of quarters; agitated sigh as he accompanied me to the laundromat. We sat through about half an hour of America's Home Video, watched as children awake past their bedtimes played hide and seek, and a week later he ordered brand new machines.
But back to our leaking tub as a metaphor of our readiness for parenthood. Yeah we are totally ready...
Thursday, April 2, 2015
Let It Go
For Lent I signed up for a purging challenge as a way of doing something affirmative that would have a life-enhancing impact (mainly cleaning my house finally). I was supposed to toss out or donate 40 bags of stuff in 40 days. But here we are, roughly at day 38 or so and I have only succeeded in emptying all the gift bags I received at my baby showers.
And that produced one (1) measly bag of trash.
I want to purge. I look at the piles of papers, clothes and other stuff in my house and I feel like a hoarder. I have convinced myself that I can do this in a week (or two) if I really dedicated the time, but who am I kidding? I need Niecy Nash.
But before I admit to that level of dysfunction, can I just say that my life is really complicated? In between barely getting enough sleep, wrapping up various Busy Black Woman projects, helping out with my mother, going to doctor visits, finishing up childbirth classes, shopping for Easter and however else I waste time, something has got to give. Given the choice between cleaning and purging or doing almost anything else, I will do almost anything else.
Ok, not really a valid excuse, so how about this one: I am not ready to start nesting yet.
Except that I am, kinda. I did all of my baby laundry two weeks ago. I got my brother to install my car seat base. I put together the stroller and one of the playpens. I am ready to unpack and unload and rearrange stuff. I am packing my baby bag for the hospital.
Yet the reality...nesting implies that I am ready for this baby to be born. Nesting means that I am ready to send this kid to preschool. Nesting suggests that I will survive middle school and adolescence with a really good dye job. Nesting requires me to accept the fact that one day, my nest will be empty.
Yeah, I watch way too many car commercials.
But I am running out of excuses and time. Everything that I put off until tomorrow becomes more stuff that has to be done or else the baby will have no where to sleep (not exactly). Or else I will be forced to admit that I am a messy Mommy (or I will just blame it on RC). So I am giving myself permission to just forget about the 40 days challenge...for now. I will simply get to it eventually, right around the time when the baby goes reaching for something that I should have tossed. Either way, it will get done.
And that produced one (1) measly bag of trash.
I want to purge. I look at the piles of papers, clothes and other stuff in my house and I feel like a hoarder. I have convinced myself that I can do this in a week (or two) if I really dedicated the time, but who am I kidding? I need Niecy Nash.
But before I admit to that level of dysfunction, can I just say that my life is really complicated? In between barely getting enough sleep, wrapping up various Busy Black Woman projects, helping out with my mother, going to doctor visits, finishing up childbirth classes, shopping for Easter and however else I waste time, something has got to give. Given the choice between cleaning and purging or doing almost anything else, I will do almost anything else.
Ok, not really a valid excuse, so how about this one: I am not ready to start nesting yet.
Except that I am, kinda. I did all of my baby laundry two weeks ago. I got my brother to install my car seat base. I put together the stroller and one of the playpens. I am ready to unpack and unload and rearrange stuff. I am packing my baby bag for the hospital.
Yet the reality...nesting implies that I am ready for this baby to be born. Nesting means that I am ready to send this kid to preschool. Nesting suggests that I will survive middle school and adolescence with a really good dye job. Nesting requires me to accept the fact that one day, my nest will be empty.
Yeah, I watch way too many car commercials.
But I am running out of excuses and time. Everything that I put off until tomorrow becomes more stuff that has to be done or else the baby will have no where to sleep (not exactly). Or else I will be forced to admit that I am a messy Mommy (or I will just blame it on RC). So I am giving myself permission to just forget about the 40 days challenge...for now. I will simply get to it eventually, right around the time when the baby goes reaching for something that I should have tossed. Either way, it will get done.
Baby, Baby, Baby
No, the kid is not here yet.
No, I haven't exactly slowed down, but I have started to check out. I forget things that are unrelated to the baby. That conference call that I scheduled to settle some long-standing issue? Totally forgot about it and have yet to reschedule. Emails that I have been meaning to send? Still unwritten. And don't even get me started on thank you notes.
Yes, I've got baby on the brain and while I patiently await the arrival of my bundle of joy, I am more focused on doing baby laundry and building playpens; yet I am also plotting my post-birth life as if I can simply strap the kid into a car seat and keep doing what I do.
I am excited and terrified. I am tired and restless. I am all over the place. And this kid is due in less than 10 days!
For example, when I started this piece last week, I was feeling a little melancholy because I felt that no one cared about the bambino except for me. On other days, I do not feel that way, but not because I suddenly received an avalanche of attention--the moon is probably in a different position.
But one thing is for certain--my entire orientation is about to change. I am going to become a Busy Black Mama!
At some point in writing this piece I had intended to say something profound about what that change would mean, but honestly, I think the real point is that the closer I get to giving birth, I feel more distracted and unhinged. Distracted by things that should occupy my focus (like getting 'ready' for this kid) and unhinged by the reality that this kid is really coming. I had an ultrasound the other day and I looked up on the screen still in a state of disbelief because there was this huge head and these moving limbs, and not to mention this BELLY, and my mind is just blown.
At times I feel a foot glide under my ribcage or I watch my belly suddenly tilt lopsided and I wonder--who will this little person be? The other day when I was sifting through baby clothes, I wondered what will this kid think about that big fluffy snowsuit that an Auntie bought (and that s/he will have to wear, in April regardless of the temperature just because). Will the kid enjoy being toted around the city to everything that I want him/her to experience like jazz at the Sculpture Garden, the fireworks on the Mall, softball games to cheer on Daddy/Papi (what will we actually call RC), church on Sundays, to the zoo, to the park, to the beach, or on outings with various cousins without me? What about going to New York? Will Baby C be bilingual?
Are you sure God?
No, I haven't exactly slowed down, but I have started to check out. I forget things that are unrelated to the baby. That conference call that I scheduled to settle some long-standing issue? Totally forgot about it and have yet to reschedule. Emails that I have been meaning to send? Still unwritten. And don't even get me started on thank you notes.
Yes, I've got baby on the brain and while I patiently await the arrival of my bundle of joy, I am more focused on doing baby laundry and building playpens; yet I am also plotting my post-birth life as if I can simply strap the kid into a car seat and keep doing what I do.
I am excited and terrified. I am tired and restless. I am all over the place. And this kid is due in less than 10 days!
For example, when I started this piece last week, I was feeling a little melancholy because I felt that no one cared about the bambino except for me. On other days, I do not feel that way, but not because I suddenly received an avalanche of attention--the moon is probably in a different position.
But one thing is for certain--my entire orientation is about to change. I am going to become a Busy Black Mama!
At some point in writing this piece I had intended to say something profound about what that change would mean, but honestly, I think the real point is that the closer I get to giving birth, I feel more distracted and unhinged. Distracted by things that should occupy my focus (like getting 'ready' for this kid) and unhinged by the reality that this kid is really coming. I had an ultrasound the other day and I looked up on the screen still in a state of disbelief because there was this huge head and these moving limbs, and not to mention this BELLY, and my mind is just blown.
At times I feel a foot glide under my ribcage or I watch my belly suddenly tilt lopsided and I wonder--who will this little person be? The other day when I was sifting through baby clothes, I wondered what will this kid think about that big fluffy snowsuit that an Auntie bought (and that s/he will have to wear, in April regardless of the temperature just because). Will the kid enjoy being toted around the city to everything that I want him/her to experience like jazz at the Sculpture Garden, the fireworks on the Mall, softball games to cheer on Daddy/Papi (what will we actually call RC), church on Sundays, to the zoo, to the park, to the beach, or on outings with various cousins without me? What about going to New York? Will Baby C be bilingual?
Are you sure God?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)