I am so NOT a shopper. My son very uncharacteristically fell asleep in his stroller (read: for the first time ever) while we were at the mall. At first I was panicked. I had a proofreading gig I had planned to work on while he napped. This wasn't in the plan at all! Finally it dawned on me that his was not a problem, but rather an opportunity...to shop in peace for the first time in over a year. And I even had gift cards to spend! So, I finished up my business at Target and headed over to Macy's, where I had $75 free money to spend (well, free to me). I had already decided, though that I'm a terrible shopper; not to be trusted in picking out things I'd like once I got them home. I've been pondering asking a friend or friends for help, but I hate to drag someone else shopping with me, to buy stuff for myself. Maybe it is my indecisiveness that gives me pause; I'd hate to waste their time and come away with nothing. (Wow, that sentence alone was so indecisive!) So, I really had no intention of actually spending my gift cards (which, by the way, I've had for four months). This was an intelligence gathering mission (we've been watching Alias on DVD, can you tell?). I expected to get some clue of what I might like to buy, or what I might be looking for, but I came away absolutely convinced that I need help! Oooh, maybe a trip to a show like "What Not to Wear" wouldn't be so bad after all....although I absolutely cringe at being the center of that sort of attention. Anyway, the point is, my fashion sense is not to be trusted and I really need someone to walk me through what would even look halfway decent on me. I resisted the urge to just give up the whole thing and buy earrings...which was helped by the fact that even the earrings were way more than I would normally spend on even the most vital necessity.
I had finally decided I'd had enough browsing and was headed for the door when I decided I'd better use the ladies lounge, since my new, and more comfortable destination was by the fountains outside to write down everything about the experience that I then wanted to share here. Alas, it took me 20 minutes just to reach the bathroom and return to the exit (Macy's really is the world's largest department store), and by then my boy was up. No reflecting by the fountains while I sipped an overpriced mocha. Nope, off to the pet store to be entertained by wrestling kittens. As for Macy's, I feel a little like I did after my first day of Junior High..."you mean I have to go back?" Don't get me wrong, I'm very grateful for gift cards to spend. I just have no earthly idea how to do it!
Monday, September 13, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Grandma's Memoirs
Could it be? Two posts in a week's time? Yes it could...as long as Luke doesn't get up before I hit "publish." It's been one of those days. I think I just got up on the wrong side of the bed and it's kind of gone that way ever since. Actually, even before that. Luke had been sleeping better, but now it feels like he's regressing. Argh! Who knew sleep could be such a problem?! Most parents, I'm guessing. And God bless people who have insomnia. Though it seems like there should be a co-op of people who can't sleep taking care of those who won't!
What I actually wanted to write about though was that I've been reading my Grandmother's memoirs. What a treasure. I have started them numerous times in the past, but for some reason I could never really get into them. That seems strange because I know all the "characters" and many of the places. It makes me think of trying to read Cannery Row while I worked on Cannery Row; I just couldn't do it. I think I needed to be a wife and mother before I could really appreciate Grandma's memoirs. Now I'm eating them up. It's so interesting, too, because not only are the places where I knew Grandma familiar, but I've now been to so many of the places she was before I knew her. She grew up here in San Diego, and had both of her children here. She lived in Brooklyn, and the D.C. area. So it's fun to hear her talk about places I know in a different capacity. I hope more of my family will write memoirs. Of course, I don't know if I'd ever sit down and do it in that way...though I might. But I have boxes of journals, and there's this.
There is nothing like reading someone else's life story to give you perspective on life itself, and how truly brief each of our lives are. Just a blink of an eye in the grand scheme of the world. That's sobering. Yesterday I read of the two month period in which my grandmother lost both of her parents. Heartbreaking. But it started me on this trajectory. They would have passed on before I was born no matter when they died. After all, they were in their 80's back then...in 1950...27 years before I was born. In some ways it helps to look at our lives with that perspective. Maybe we don't need to take some things so seriously, and maybe we need to take others more seriously. Maybe Luke's sleep problems really aren't that big a deal when compared to the man he becomes and what I do to guide him. (Of course that's an easier task when we're all well-rested). Anyhow, it gave me pause and I've shared it here...hopefully not depressing everyone along the way.
What I actually wanted to write about though was that I've been reading my Grandmother's memoirs. What a treasure. I have started them numerous times in the past, but for some reason I could never really get into them. That seems strange because I know all the "characters" and many of the places. It makes me think of trying to read Cannery Row while I worked on Cannery Row; I just couldn't do it. I think I needed to be a wife and mother before I could really appreciate Grandma's memoirs. Now I'm eating them up. It's so interesting, too, because not only are the places where I knew Grandma familiar, but I've now been to so many of the places she was before I knew her. She grew up here in San Diego, and had both of her children here. She lived in Brooklyn, and the D.C. area. So it's fun to hear her talk about places I know in a different capacity. I hope more of my family will write memoirs. Of course, I don't know if I'd ever sit down and do it in that way...though I might. But I have boxes of journals, and there's this.
There is nothing like reading someone else's life story to give you perspective on life itself, and how truly brief each of our lives are. Just a blink of an eye in the grand scheme of the world. That's sobering. Yesterday I read of the two month period in which my grandmother lost both of her parents. Heartbreaking. But it started me on this trajectory. They would have passed on before I was born no matter when they died. After all, they were in their 80's back then...in 1950...27 years before I was born. In some ways it helps to look at our lives with that perspective. Maybe we don't need to take some things so seriously, and maybe we need to take others more seriously. Maybe Luke's sleep problems really aren't that big a deal when compared to the man he becomes and what I do to guide him. (Of course that's an easier task when we're all well-rested). Anyhow, it gave me pause and I've shared it here...hopefully not depressing everyone along the way.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
I was just telling my best friend, when she mentioned that I never post (you mean someone actually checks this?) that my blog is quarterly. That made me think I better look and see when exactly it was that I last posted. NOVEMBER! Eeek. I guess the downsized economy of time to myself has meant that we are now combining issues. However, I still deeply desire to be a better, more committed, and consistent blogger! In our work with engaged couples we talk about the difference between ideals and values. We have a lot of ideals, but unless we are willing to make sacrifices in order that those ideals can be lived values, then they are merely ideals, not values. So far, my life as a blogger has been an ideal, but certainly not a lived value. I'm still trying to strike the balance between mommy and homemaking tasks so I feel guilty spending time writing. I'm thinking, though, that since our social activities are so often postponed because of someone's illness (our son's, other people's kids, etc.) then maybe that is how I'll develop my blogging...it'll be a necessary outlet! We have made some sleep improvements that have freed me up, too. Of course, right now I am sacrificing time with my husband. That can't be good. But I do love to write, and it's helpful to me on so many levels. I wrote in my journal last night, which I previously did daily, or at least five days a week. I think my life is missing something when I don't have that outlet for introspection. I can't just sit around and process my thoughts; I do best when I'm able to write them. Honestly, the other place I process best is while washing dishes...but don't tell my husband that! :-) Maybe I need to put myself on a schedule...alott a certain amount of time to writing, either here or in my journal. I like that idea. Hope to see you again, sooner rather than later!
Saturday, November 14, 2009
I am a Good Mom, I am a Good Mom . . .
Well, I guess it's about time for my quarterly entry. I don't mean for months to pass by between posts, it just sort of seems to happen that way. Maybe once my son is on more of a schedule...or maybe that's just one more excuse.
Motherhood has been much more of an adjustment than I ever imagined. A good adjustment, but boy they aren't kidding when they say it's the toughest job in the world! And that's for a number of reasons. Of course "hard" is so relative. But parenthood, and motherhood in particular, is "hard" because it's difficult on every possible level: physical, emotional, mental, emotional, spiritual, emotional. Perhaps it's the emotional aspect that makes the others so hard. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely LOVE being a mom. They were also right when they said it's the best job in the world. I am 100%, head-over-heals, irrefutably, in love with my son. I could go on for days about that and tell you every cute little thing he does. I have to check myself in conversation with other moms (or anyone in general) to make sure I'm not constantly saying, well then my son did this, etc...
I have recently realized that the biggest challenge to my role as his mom is my own level of self-confidence. I am my own worst enemy. Every moment I am down or question my ability as a mom is of my own doing. No one is standing over my shoulder saying I'm not doing this or that right...I only imagine the critics. So my goal for this week is not to second-guess myself. I love my son and want what is best for him, so I'm naturally going to make decisions based on that fundamental principle. I'll make mistakes at times, and that's something I have to accept. I definitely have perfectionist tendencies. But I'm going to stop the self-defeating talk. If we don't leave the house for a day, (or two, or three) it doesn't mean I'm a failure. If my son starts crying in the grocery store, well, that's what babies do sometimes. It doesn't mean I'm a bad mom.
You get the point. No more beating myself up. I will be a better mom if I believe myself to be a good mom. And at the end of the day, I really do believe I'm a good mom. It's just those little daily doubts in the minutia of it all that drag me down. Well, they're going down now.
Motherhood has been much more of an adjustment than I ever imagined. A good adjustment, but boy they aren't kidding when they say it's the toughest job in the world! And that's for a number of reasons. Of course "hard" is so relative. But parenthood, and motherhood in particular, is "hard" because it's difficult on every possible level: physical, emotional, mental, emotional, spiritual, emotional. Perhaps it's the emotional aspect that makes the others so hard. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely LOVE being a mom. They were also right when they said it's the best job in the world. I am 100%, head-over-heals, irrefutably, in love with my son. I could go on for days about that and tell you every cute little thing he does. I have to check myself in conversation with other moms (or anyone in general) to make sure I'm not constantly saying, well then my son did this, etc...
I have recently realized that the biggest challenge to my role as his mom is my own level of self-confidence. I am my own worst enemy. Every moment I am down or question my ability as a mom is of my own doing. No one is standing over my shoulder saying I'm not doing this or that right...I only imagine the critics. So my goal for this week is not to second-guess myself. I love my son and want what is best for him, so I'm naturally going to make decisions based on that fundamental principle. I'll make mistakes at times, and that's something I have to accept. I definitely have perfectionist tendencies. But I'm going to stop the self-defeating talk. If we don't leave the house for a day, (or two, or three) it doesn't mean I'm a failure. If my son starts crying in the grocery store, well, that's what babies do sometimes. It doesn't mean I'm a bad mom.
You get the point. No more beating myself up. I will be a better mom if I believe myself to be a good mom. And at the end of the day, I really do believe I'm a good mom. It's just those little daily doubts in the minutia of it all that drag me down. Well, they're going down now.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
A Home isn't a Home Until it's seen a Football Season
Shortly before I met my husband, I had come to the realization that I hated football. I had no use for it whatsoever. Then I met Sal. I had two choices when I met him...accept football, or give up the relationship altogether. Well, I suppose there was a third choice, but a lifetime of resentment wasn't appealing. I'm glad I kept Sal. I can live with football. And now the year is defined by our lazy Sundays where he camps out on the couch and we indulge in pizza.
Fall has always been my favorite season. We were married in the Fall, and maybe that's why Fall feels like home to me. It was in the Fall that we first became a family.
We moved into a new apartment in March and it's never quite seemed like home. I had thought that part of that was that everything was new and different, with the arrival of the baby and adjusting to parenthood; I felt insecure and vulnerable in my new surroundings with my new job. During that time I had this odd sense that fall was just around the corner, even though it was only May when Luke arrived. The weather wasn't particularly fall-ish, and so the only thing I can figure is that it was Divine Encouragement that fall and comfort and a sense of home and, normalcy, and, well, football, were coming eventually.
I still don't love football itself; but I don't loathe it either. And I welcome the feeling it brings...of cool weather, relaxing Sundays, the holidays approaching. When I lived back east I enjoyed fall trips to Amish country. For some reason it just felt right to go there in the fall and buy homemade jams for stocking stuffers. Now I associate that cozy, safe feeling with football and even though it means I lose a large portion of my husband's attention to games and blogs, I welcome the feeling it brings. His passion for the game is fun to watch...most of the time. I guess we're a Fall family. I love the holidays and the weather and he loves the game that defines the season. Of course we live in an area that has one season, but luckily the mountains are only a daytrip away, and the remote is even closer.
Fall has always been my favorite season. We were married in the Fall, and maybe that's why Fall feels like home to me. It was in the Fall that we first became a family.
We moved into a new apartment in March and it's never quite seemed like home. I had thought that part of that was that everything was new and different, with the arrival of the baby and adjusting to parenthood; I felt insecure and vulnerable in my new surroundings with my new job. During that time I had this odd sense that fall was just around the corner, even though it was only May when Luke arrived. The weather wasn't particularly fall-ish, and so the only thing I can figure is that it was Divine Encouragement that fall and comfort and a sense of home and, normalcy, and, well, football, were coming eventually.
I still don't love football itself; but I don't loathe it either. And I welcome the feeling it brings...of cool weather, relaxing Sundays, the holidays approaching. When I lived back east I enjoyed fall trips to Amish country. For some reason it just felt right to go there in the fall and buy homemade jams for stocking stuffers. Now I associate that cozy, safe feeling with football and even though it means I lose a large portion of my husband's attention to games and blogs, I welcome the feeling it brings. His passion for the game is fun to watch...most of the time. I guess we're a Fall family. I love the holidays and the weather and he loves the game that defines the season. Of course we live in an area that has one season, but luckily the mountains are only a daytrip away, and the remote is even closer.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
The Munch is Here!
Quarterly posts were not exactly what I had in mind when I started this blog. The only excuse I can think of is the same lame one everyone uses...life has been busy.
So, the little guy is here and he's precious. All of the fears I have of taking care of him and keeping him safe remain. I knew lack of sleep would be a huge challenge, and I was right. But we are slowly getting more comfortable in our roles as mother and son. It will be six weeks tomorrow. The trauma of labor and delivery are beginning to feel like a distant memory rather than a raw wound. I seemed to take labor and delivery rather hard. I hesitate to say too much, not wanting to scare my friends, or solidify the memories so much that I fear doing it again. :-) But it is indeed very difficult! Hardest thing I have ever done, physically. Spiritually, too, I would venture to say. Of course motherhood will probably prove to be the hardest thing I've actually done.
Currently my cute little munchkin is sleeping on my lap after having some dinner. Feeding him has also proven to be a challenge. But we are still learning all about that as well!
I have to say, too, that I am so, so grateful for some answered prayers to the intentions of my labor. Two friends who struggled with infertility are now pregnant. Praise God. What a miracle!!! The funny thing is, I think they were both about six weeks when I had Luke. God is amazing!!
Well, hopefully I can get into some sort of routine and write more frequently...especially since I will now be a full-time homemaker and will probably need this outlet. So, so looking forward to settling into this new job!
So, the little guy is here and he's precious. All of the fears I have of taking care of him and keeping him safe remain. I knew lack of sleep would be a huge challenge, and I was right. But we are slowly getting more comfortable in our roles as mother and son. It will be six weeks tomorrow. The trauma of labor and delivery are beginning to feel like a distant memory rather than a raw wound. I seemed to take labor and delivery rather hard. I hesitate to say too much, not wanting to scare my friends, or solidify the memories so much that I fear doing it again. :-) But it is indeed very difficult! Hardest thing I have ever done, physically. Spiritually, too, I would venture to say. Of course motherhood will probably prove to be the hardest thing I've actually done.
Currently my cute little munchkin is sleeping on my lap after having some dinner. Feeding him has also proven to be a challenge. But we are still learning all about that as well!
I have to say, too, that I am so, so grateful for some answered prayers to the intentions of my labor. Two friends who struggled with infertility are now pregnant. Praise God. What a miracle!!! The funny thing is, I think they were both about six weeks when I had Luke. God is amazing!!
Well, hopefully I can get into some sort of routine and write more frequently...especially since I will now be a full-time homemaker and will probably need this outlet. So, so looking forward to settling into this new job!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Funny Fears
January can't be that long ago, right? My time has been eaten away by checking Facebook, I think. That and working, moving to a new place, sleeping.
So, things are moving along here. I don't feel like I have anything particularly profound to write, which is my best excuse for my negligence. I feel like I have tons to do before the little guy arrives. The first trimester seemed to take a while, second flew by and now the third is somewhere in between. I'm super excited to meet my little baby face-to-face, but also terrified of taking care of him on the outside. It's comfortable having him inside...but how do I keep him safe once he's in the world apart from me?! And I find myself ridiculously worried about dropping him...probably because I seem to drop just about everything these days. Everytime I go to throw something away it ends up on the floor next to the garbage! The worst was the other day at dinner. First I knocked over my husband's water glass and then a few minutes later I spilled a bowl of salsa all over my plate. The latter worked well for dipping, but it was absolutely ridiculous. I think I even caught an expression on my husband's face that said, "Are you for real? How on earth did you just do that?" He was quite gracious when he spoke though. So, I'm thinking my clumsiness is the root of my fear that I'll drop the baby! For now, I'm just going to enjoy having him right where he is for now!
So, things are moving along here. I don't feel like I have anything particularly profound to write, which is my best excuse for my negligence. I feel like I have tons to do before the little guy arrives. The first trimester seemed to take a while, second flew by and now the third is somewhere in between. I'm super excited to meet my little baby face-to-face, but also terrified of taking care of him on the outside. It's comfortable having him inside...but how do I keep him safe once he's in the world apart from me?! And I find myself ridiculously worried about dropping him...probably because I seem to drop just about everything these days. Everytime I go to throw something away it ends up on the floor next to the garbage! The worst was the other day at dinner. First I knocked over my husband's water glass and then a few minutes later I spilled a bowl of salsa all over my plate. The latter worked well for dipping, but it was absolutely ridiculous. I think I even caught an expression on my husband's face that said, "Are you for real? How on earth did you just do that?" He was quite gracious when he spoke though. So, I'm thinking my clumsiness is the root of my fear that I'll drop the baby! For now, I'm just going to enjoy having him right where he is for now!
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Food, Glorious Food
You would think that the best part of being pregnant is being able to eat whenever you want, as much as you want, and, for the most part, whatever you want. Interestingly, I have found this to be the biggest challenge of pregnancy. Well, maybe if you don't count the twice-a-week progesterone injections.
Honestly, it's a challenge to think about what to eat all the time. I could easily beat myself up over what I eat, that I don't eat enough, that I eat the wrong things...or at least not enough of the right things. I'm trying to let go of these little neuroses and just revel in this brief period where I'm actually expected to gain weight. It's such a paradigm shift!
Because I was so surprised by the challenge of this eating all the time, I thought it warranted mention here. Who would have thought! Not me, certainly. And meanwhile my poor husband is hungry too, but dieting so without the luxury of actually being able to indulge the desire to eat. So, I try not to complain too much. Honestly, I can't complain at all. I love being pregnant and if that's the worst I can say about it, that I have to eat all the time, it's pretty laughable. I'd take that any day!
Honestly, it's a challenge to think about what to eat all the time. I could easily beat myself up over what I eat, that I don't eat enough, that I eat the wrong things...or at least not enough of the right things. I'm trying to let go of these little neuroses and just revel in this brief period where I'm actually expected to gain weight. It's such a paradigm shift!
Because I was so surprised by the challenge of this eating all the time, I thought it warranted mention here. Who would have thought! Not me, certainly. And meanwhile my poor husband is hungry too, but dieting so without the luxury of actually being able to indulge the desire to eat. So, I try not to complain too much. Honestly, I can't complain at all. I love being pregnant and if that's the worst I can say about it, that I have to eat all the time, it's pretty laughable. I'd take that any day!
Miracles
I just read my friend, Aubree's, post about being the world's most negligent blogger. I think I win that one. So at my last post, I was 12 weeks pregnant, tomorrow we'll be 21 weeks! Half way there, which seems so unreal. I think when this adventure started I thought it would last forever. At our third appointment, which was at 12 weeks, our doctor asked if we planned to take childbirth classes. I literally thought, "Isn't it kind of early to be thinking about that?" An element of denial, or more likely, just complete disbelief that I am actually pregnant.
The reality is setting in a bit more as my belly expands and I feel precious little brushes and kicks inside. There was a time when I wasn't sure I would ever be so blessed and priveledged to feel another human being living and growing inside of me. I am in awe of the miracle of such a thing and I treasure every little bump and move he makes. It is simply the best feeling in the world! Thank you God!
We had an extensive ultrasound the week of Christmas and learned that our precious little bundle is a boy! His daddy was super excited at the thought of having a little football buddy. Mommy is excited, too, though she wasn't sure at first that she'd know what to do with a boy! Now I can't imagine him being anything else! The depth of love I feel for him is just beyond measure and I look forward to his arrival...though it scares me as well! For now I am treasuring being able to carry him with me without lugging a car seat and diapers. Pregnancy truly is a beautiful thing and the miracle of new life is just that...a miracle.
The reality is setting in a bit more as my belly expands and I feel precious little brushes and kicks inside. There was a time when I wasn't sure I would ever be so blessed and priveledged to feel another human being living and growing inside of me. I am in awe of the miracle of such a thing and I treasure every little bump and move he makes. It is simply the best feeling in the world! Thank you God!
We had an extensive ultrasound the week of Christmas and learned that our precious little bundle is a boy! His daddy was super excited at the thought of having a little football buddy. Mommy is excited, too, though she wasn't sure at first that she'd know what to do with a boy! Now I can't imagine him being anything else! The depth of love I feel for him is just beyond measure and I look forward to his arrival...though it scares me as well! For now I am treasuring being able to carry him with me without lugging a car seat and diapers. Pregnancy truly is a beautiful thing and the miracle of new life is just that...a miracle.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Turn of Events
I have been the world's most negligent blogger! The waiting game has changed a bit. I'm still in awe that the Chlomid and the HCG shots actually worked. Oh me of little faith, I know. But they did and I am now 12 weeks pregnant! My negligence has everything to do with fatigue and trying to tell everyone the good news in a more personal way than just posting it here on my blog...which I pretty much failed at due to the fatigue.
I took a three hour nap today. It was glorious! My weekend naps are my saving grace and I miss them terribly during the week. I sleep so much better during the afternoon than I do at night...mostly because I'm up every couple of hours and turn from side to side numerous times throughout the night. My poor husband.
So, I have transitioned from the pain of infertility to the joy of motherhood and I feel so unworthy. I'm truly humbled by the mercy God has shown us. And I still feel intensely for all who struggle to conceive. I am grateful, even as I was when I was going through it myself, for the insight into what that struggle is like. I feel like I have an understanding that so many others do not. For that I am truly grateful. And I certainly understand what a miracle the creation of new life is. How people can take that for granted is beyond me. It is such a miracle and not to be abused or disregarded.
I shall try to be better about writing more frequently.
By the way, my meal planning is on hiatus. My husband is on a diet and I can barely find anything I can stomach, so I'm back to winging it...and am indebted to NutriSystem for feeding my husband so I don't have to think about it!
I took a three hour nap today. It was glorious! My weekend naps are my saving grace and I miss them terribly during the week. I sleep so much better during the afternoon than I do at night...mostly because I'm up every couple of hours and turn from side to side numerous times throughout the night. My poor husband.
So, I have transitioned from the pain of infertility to the joy of motherhood and I feel so unworthy. I'm truly humbled by the mercy God has shown us. And I still feel intensely for all who struggle to conceive. I am grateful, even as I was when I was going through it myself, for the insight into what that struggle is like. I feel like I have an understanding that so many others do not. For that I am truly grateful. And I certainly understand what a miracle the creation of new life is. How people can take that for granted is beyond me. It is such a miracle and not to be abused or disregarded.
I shall try to be better about writing more frequently.
By the way, my meal planning is on hiatus. My husband is on a diet and I can barely find anything I can stomach, so I'm back to winging it...and am indebted to NutriSystem for feeding my husband so I don't have to think about it!
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
The Waiting Game
I realized this morning that I've never really written about this critical element of the struggle to conceive...waiting. I took my last injection last Friday morning. All in all, they weren't too bad; and like I've mentioned elsewhere, I did feel much better, so that made it worth it. The unfortunate thing is that the medicine can lengthen the post-peak phase. In other words, it can make the waiting longer. Ugh. You also can't take a home pregnancy test and instead have to wait a little longer and go for a blood test. Waiting, waiting, waiting. That's the name of the game. So, we wait.
The waiting is where the torture part comes in. A woman's mind can be a terrible place...imagining all of the possible outcomes, clinging to the ones she hopes will come true despite whatever signs may point in the opposite direction. That constant question..."Do I/you feel pregnant?" Well, I have no earthly idea what that might feel like, so how the heck am I supposed to answer that? I can read all of the supposed "symptoms" of pregnancy, but then you hear, "but everyone is different." So, really, there isn't any way to know, except that I would imagine that when I am, I will know. People will also say not to focus so much on it, but in the same way people train for careers as doctors and lawyers and accountants, I've trained for this. Motherhood is the only career I've ever aspired to...well, that and being a wife.... I just want to know when graduation is and I can finally start the job.
The waiting is where the torture part comes in. A woman's mind can be a terrible place...imagining all of the possible outcomes, clinging to the ones she hopes will come true despite whatever signs may point in the opposite direction. That constant question..."Do I/you feel pregnant?" Well, I have no earthly idea what that might feel like, so how the heck am I supposed to answer that? I can read all of the supposed "symptoms" of pregnancy, but then you hear, "but everyone is different." So, really, there isn't any way to know, except that I would imagine that when I am, I will know. People will also say not to focus so much on it, but in the same way people train for careers as doctors and lawyers and accountants, I've trained for this. Motherhood is the only career I've ever aspired to...well, that and being a wife.... I just want to know when graduation is and I can finally start the job.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
What's for Dinner?
My mom was a master meal-planner when we were growing up. After I got married, I remember my parents mentioning that my dad got paid once a month when they were first married, so my mom didn't have any choice but to plan ahead. She did one big shopping trip once a month, filling in with the necessary milk run in between. When I was a kid, my mom had all of our meals planned out; I want to say a month at a time, but that might be an exaggeration. Point is, she had it all written down. Every dinner was accounted for.
I've always known the value of having a plan. For the past two years my meal planning has been taking place primarily in my head. Last Sunday, however, I actually sat down and wrote out a plan. Thanks to the beginning of football season, I now have a guaranteed three hours to sit and plan on Sundays. So, I looked through cookbooks and, with the help of an awesome magnetized "What's for Dinner" notepad I found in the dollar bin at Michael's, I made my very first real meal plan.
What a difference it made to have it all written out! I had no idea. I knew it was important and would help, but this was downright life changing. I can't tell you how many meals out we avoided by this simple written plan. It also helped me be more flexible. When I made my husband salmon and potatoes on Wednesday but cut one more potato than I needed, I was able to cook it up and make the potato salad that, though originally on the menu sometime the next week, was moved to the next night. After moving that dinner to Thursday night, I was able to make the potato salad and the cucumber salad for Thursday night on Wednesday, knowing I would have to work late Thursday night. My darling husband was then able to cook up the chicken and we ate when I got home. Without a plan, I would have been begging to go out and then a.) angry we spent the money to do so, or b.) bitter that we couldn't afford to and I had to whip up some crummy last minute dinner. Three cheers for sanity!!!
Now if I could only get motivated to sit down and make that financial plan that we so need!
I've always known the value of having a plan. For the past two years my meal planning has been taking place primarily in my head. Last Sunday, however, I actually sat down and wrote out a plan. Thanks to the beginning of football season, I now have a guaranteed three hours to sit and plan on Sundays. So, I looked through cookbooks and, with the help of an awesome magnetized "What's for Dinner" notepad I found in the dollar bin at Michael's, I made my very first real meal plan.
What a difference it made to have it all written out! I had no idea. I knew it was important and would help, but this was downright life changing. I can't tell you how many meals out we avoided by this simple written plan. It also helped me be more flexible. When I made my husband salmon and potatoes on Wednesday but cut one more potato than I needed, I was able to cook it up and make the potato salad that, though originally on the menu sometime the next week, was moved to the next night. After moving that dinner to Thursday night, I was able to make the potato salad and the cucumber salad for Thursday night on Wednesday, knowing I would have to work late Thursday night. My darling husband was then able to cook up the chicken and we ate when I got home. Without a plan, I would have been begging to go out and then a.) angry we spent the money to do so, or b.) bitter that we couldn't afford to and I had to whip up some crummy last minute dinner. Three cheers for sanity!!!
Now if I could only get motivated to sit down and make that financial plan that we so need!
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Mutant
My husband and I watched one of the X-Men movies on TV last week. I hadn't seen any of them before and I sort of watched this one while doing odds and ends around the house. My husband is a fan of the Catholic mutant...the one who prays the rosary throughout the film; it was an interesting take and a pretty positive portrayal of religion, so that was good. I had trouble getting over the fact that it was "Bloody Sean Walsh" from Circle of Friends. But I like Colin Firth now (for those of you who haven't seen Circle of Friends he was a JERK in that film), so I suppose I can get past seeing Alan Cumming as a creep and find the Nightcrawler endearing...though the name gives me pause.
I contemplated the movie after it was over and realized that I feel like a mutant. My body doesn't work the way it is supposed to. I think of all of the people who can say that and know that I'm lucky. For the most part my body is fine. I'm fairly healthy etc. etc. But I still feel like a mutant. Women are supposed to bear children; that's one of the main points of most of the stuff we've been given, at least all the things that make us women. So it's frustrating. I wallowed in that self-pitying mutant image for a bit. It feels so dramatic to consider myself a mutant. Ridiculous, I know. There's no accounting for feelings. Or rationality.
Speaking of rational...I started my hormone injections on Saturday. I have to admit, I feel a bit calmer, and more rational. That feels nice. More and more, though, I am coming to believe that stress is my biggest problem. I think that if I wasn't so stressed, if certain specific factors in my life were altered (i.e. quitting my job) then my hormones would fall back into line and do what they're supposed to do. But I'm scared to up and quit...even though I imagine walking out every day. Change is due, and soon. Somethings gotta give.
I contemplated the movie after it was over and realized that I feel like a mutant. My body doesn't work the way it is supposed to. I think of all of the people who can say that and know that I'm lucky. For the most part my body is fine. I'm fairly healthy etc. etc. But I still feel like a mutant. Women are supposed to bear children; that's one of the main points of most of the stuff we've been given, at least all the things that make us women. So it's frustrating. I wallowed in that self-pitying mutant image for a bit. It feels so dramatic to consider myself a mutant. Ridiculous, I know. There's no accounting for feelings. Or rationality.
Speaking of rational...I started my hormone injections on Saturday. I have to admit, I feel a bit calmer, and more rational. That feels nice. More and more, though, I am coming to believe that stress is my biggest problem. I think that if I wasn't so stressed, if certain specific factors in my life were altered (i.e. quitting my job) then my hormones would fall back into line and do what they're supposed to do. But I'm scared to up and quit...even though I imagine walking out every day. Change is due, and soon. Somethings gotta give.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Seeds of Discontent
Yea!! My first comment! That's what best friends are for. I have so many things I want to post here...and I'm practically jumping out of my skin trying to figure out where to start. I am convinced that the success of my future lies in looking to the successes of my past. That being said, I'm going to post something I wrote earlier this year. It took 8 months for the seeds of that discontent to sprout, here in this blog...
1.25.08
This has been an interesting week for me. I feel like the Lord is trying to tell me something, or help me rediscover who I am and what my passions are. I took this job basically to bide my time until I had a baby and could leave to be a full-time wife and mother. But that has taken so much longer than I ever imagined it would. And still there is no end in sight.
Along the way, pieces of me have been chipped away, or covered up. I know how to do this job, it’s comfortable, and I’m competent, but it doesn’t bring me any joy. There are moments I like, or maybe the best way to put it is, don’t mind. But more than that, I have come to realize over the past few days that it has really dampened my spirit because all of the things that make me “me” have been covered up. I can play on certain strengths in this job, but not on my passions and talents. I figured that since I was in a ministry that was serving and honoring God, this was a sacrifice He wanted. But now I see that by denying the joys he has put in my heart, I fail to honor Him; and I take the place of someone better meant for this work. The other repercussion is that I have become moody, exhausted, and short-tempered, none of which helps my vocation as my husband’s wife.
As I was working this morning, I thought about the magazine I used to work for. My husband started his own website this week and it didn’t cost much. It made me think that perhaps it was possible for me to also begin my own site, like I always wanted to, dedicated to the intersection of popular culture and faith. Even writing this makes me feel more fulfilled.
Today, another occurrence made me question my current situation and what the Lord might be desiring of me. An actor I once interviewed called our office. I went up shortly thereafter to relieve the receptionist who was on the desk and she was amazed and giddy at having spoken with him. It made me sad. I don’t think so much because I didn’t get to speak with him, but because I missed the excitement of my past jobs. Anyhow, it was further fodder for the thoughts unfolding in my head about where I am to go, what I am to do, and when. Lead me Lord!
Monday, August 4, 2008
Hysteria
A few months ago, I sat in bed sobbing. I was an hysterical mess. Recognizing this, I wondered about the root of that word, hysterical. I though about the word hysterectomy: the removal of a woman's uterus. Maybe our emotions are tied much more profoundly to our reproductive capabilities than anyone would care to admit. It was, after all, that very topic that led to my own hysterics. About once a month I go through this, to varying degrees. The easier months are usually so because I am more contented in other areas; I don't loathe my job and I feel like we can pay our bills.
But the really bad months usually come with a hatred of my job, a hopelessness about our finances, and, more often than not, news of another friend's pregnancy. The last of these ticking points is often exacerbated either by the friend's young age or her (lack of) marital status or circumstance...all situations that make me cry, "Why?!"
So, there I was, bawling my eyes out, certain my dear husband must be thinking, "What the hell happened?!" He was consoling and comforting. He held me and let me cry. When I asked him how he felt, he said, "Happy." Happy? I didn't understand how someone in such close proximity could be feeling such an opposite emotion, or how someone witnessing my purge could not take on the residual sorrow. So I think I looked at his smiling face a bit cockeyed, but also grateful that though I was lodged deep in the pit, he was above on the surface, basking in sunlight I couldn't even imagine existed.
The next morning, I still felt the periphery of the pain, though a good cry cleansed me of the overflowing sense of sorrow. The issue still remains and has continued to resurface each month with the ebb and flow of my hormones. At the time, I struggled with knowing what action to take. I knew there were things I could do that might provide answers to the "Why?" of my dilemma. But these actions would focus us intently on our fertility issues. All I really wanted to do then, and still want to do now, is forget about it and have it happen, like it seems to for everyone else. Why is it so easy for others? Even accidental. I don't want to live and breathe this quest. Indeed , such focus only makes it worse in my opinion. Then there is nothing else.
Before I started to pursue answers, when there were only questions and a lot of negative pregnancy tests, I still thought about it all the time. But it was new then, too. It was a possibility that had never before existed. A "might-be" that was impossible prior to that time. So, the question remained, if I were to forgo all testing at that point, would I still think about the possibility constantly, or would I focus on other pursuits? I wanted to think that it would free me to focus on something else--like finding a new job or becoming the writer I always perceived myself to be. But I also knew that my mind could be a terrible place and that thoughts of my reproductive failure can creep up without warning. I stood on the precipice, believing that less focus on the problem might be the solution; but the fear of some actual physical impediment beckoned me away from leaping into what might or might not be freedom from an all encompassing torment. I feared taking a break from the investigation only having to start all over months down the road. More valuable time wasted. Did my desire to give up the treasure hunt make me a bad pre-mom? Mom. I'd always imagined myself in this role. But my repeated attempts at joining the club had been met with consistent rejections. It's hard to come to the realization that I don't belong to a group I had always associated myself with. The perception had become a deception.
This specific incident of hysteria, and the journaling I did the next morning, took place in February. Not much has changed. There are more answers; still the same unknowns. We have been through a number of tests, all in line with Catholic teaching, which is of the utmost importance to us. Next month we take the next step. The first part is a breeze...merely swallowing half a pill. The second part, injecting myself, gives me chills, at which point I relegate the thought of it to the far, far back of my mind. It seems strange to me that they let any old joe schmo stab himself with a needle. Silly, I know. People do it all the time...sometimes not even because they have to. It's a strange world. Anyhow, I'll let you know how it goes.
But the really bad months usually come with a hatred of my job, a hopelessness about our finances, and, more often than not, news of another friend's pregnancy. The last of these ticking points is often exacerbated either by the friend's young age or her (lack of) marital status or circumstance...all situations that make me cry, "Why?!"
So, there I was, bawling my eyes out, certain my dear husband must be thinking, "What the hell happened?!" He was consoling and comforting. He held me and let me cry. When I asked him how he felt, he said, "Happy." Happy? I didn't understand how someone in such close proximity could be feeling such an opposite emotion, or how someone witnessing my purge could not take on the residual sorrow. So I think I looked at his smiling face a bit cockeyed, but also grateful that though I was lodged deep in the pit, he was above on the surface, basking in sunlight I couldn't even imagine existed.
The next morning, I still felt the periphery of the pain, though a good cry cleansed me of the overflowing sense of sorrow. The issue still remains and has continued to resurface each month with the ebb and flow of my hormones. At the time, I struggled with knowing what action to take. I knew there were things I could do that might provide answers to the "Why?" of my dilemma. But these actions would focus us intently on our fertility issues. All I really wanted to do then, and still want to do now, is forget about it and have it happen, like it seems to for everyone else. Why is it so easy for others? Even accidental. I don't want to live and breathe this quest. Indeed , such focus only makes it worse in my opinion. Then there is nothing else.
Before I started to pursue answers, when there were only questions and a lot of negative pregnancy tests, I still thought about it all the time. But it was new then, too. It was a possibility that had never before existed. A "might-be" that was impossible prior to that time. So, the question remained, if I were to forgo all testing at that point, would I still think about the possibility constantly, or would I focus on other pursuits? I wanted to think that it would free me to focus on something else--like finding a new job or becoming the writer I always perceived myself to be. But I also knew that my mind could be a terrible place and that thoughts of my reproductive failure can creep up without warning. I stood on the precipice, believing that less focus on the problem might be the solution; but the fear of some actual physical impediment beckoned me away from leaping into what might or might not be freedom from an all encompassing torment. I feared taking a break from the investigation only having to start all over months down the road. More valuable time wasted. Did my desire to give up the treasure hunt make me a bad pre-mom? Mom. I'd always imagined myself in this role. But my repeated attempts at joining the club had been met with consistent rejections. It's hard to come to the realization that I don't belong to a group I had always associated myself with. The perception had become a deception.
This specific incident of hysteria, and the journaling I did the next morning, took place in February. Not much has changed. There are more answers; still the same unknowns. We have been through a number of tests, all in line with Catholic teaching, which is of the utmost importance to us. Next month we take the next step. The first part is a breeze...merely swallowing half a pill. The second part, injecting myself, gives me chills, at which point I relegate the thought of it to the far, far back of my mind. It seems strange to me that they let any old joe schmo stab himself with a needle. Silly, I know. People do it all the time...sometimes not even because they have to. It's a strange world. Anyhow, I'll let you know how it goes.
New Kid on the Block
I'm new to the blogosphere...well, the action part of things. I'm naturally analytical, so I've been considering this foray for some time; there was research to do, decisions to make, and that final leap. I have to give credit where it is due and thank my husband and friends for their encouragement to finally just do it! Some would call my slow progress procrastination, but I think that would entail ignoring the call altogether rather than doing intensive research...well, perhaps that does describe me; thinking about research occupied more of my time than actually doing it!
I once read somewhere that the dread of a task is worse than just doing it, and that's certainly proven true in my life. Not that I dread doing this...I have just dreaded the vulnerability of putting my story and my writing online for all to see.
That seems strange for a writer. The presumption is that writers like to be read. I like to be read, too, I suppose; particularly if it can help people. I do love to write and share my thoughts, which is why I finally began this blog. The actual impetus for jumping online has been a very personal struggle my husband and I have been going through (the subject of my second post, and more than likely many others). But I can't promise that's all I'll write about. I've been writing for years and I'm excited to share some of what I've written in the past, and new thoughts that occur to me down the line. I'm a published writer, a proofreader, and an editor so this isn't a far reach for me. However, my "day job," is quite the contrary...all numbers and balance sheets. Ugh. I'm sure you'll hear more about that as well. So, the misery of my 9-5 has catapulted me into this creative outlet; an act of self-preservation as much as anything else. Well, that's me in a nutshell, and why I'm here. I do hope that people will enjoy what I write and benefit in some small way. Thanks for reading.
I once read somewhere that the dread of a task is worse than just doing it, and that's certainly proven true in my life. Not that I dread doing this...I have just dreaded the vulnerability of putting my story and my writing online for all to see.
That seems strange for a writer. The presumption is that writers like to be read. I like to be read, too, I suppose; particularly if it can help people. I do love to write and share my thoughts, which is why I finally began this blog. The actual impetus for jumping online has been a very personal struggle my husband and I have been going through (the subject of my second post, and more than likely many others). But I can't promise that's all I'll write about. I've been writing for years and I'm excited to share some of what I've written in the past, and new thoughts that occur to me down the line. I'm a published writer, a proofreader, and an editor so this isn't a far reach for me. However, my "day job," is quite the contrary...all numbers and balance sheets. Ugh. I'm sure you'll hear more about that as well. So, the misery of my 9-5 has catapulted me into this creative outlet; an act of self-preservation as much as anything else. Well, that's me in a nutshell, and why I'm here. I do hope that people will enjoy what I write and benefit in some small way. Thanks for reading.
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