Fruit in my dessert

Counting the ways

Seriously. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but thank you for quietly being patient with me - over and over again. Today's topic: window coverings. You listened, looked, and responded to countless "if, then" scenarios over two different sittings in an effort to help me try to figure out which window coverings will be best when you don't really care very much which one gets chosen. And, somehow, you managed to keep a straight face when the final decision was to order several swatches of the version you would not have chosen in the first place. You know what not to say and how to not say it and how to keep me sane while I'm likely driving you insane, but you somehow stick with me, far after I'm done sticking with myself.

And, to cap it off, you suggested and made tea - with just the right amount of honey - for me at the start of our evening and delivered three cookies when I asked for one or two at the end, just because.

Thank you.

Yoga thoughts

So, when I wasn't just "being" during Savasana at the end of yoga class tonight - my first class in months and my first during this pregnancy, I had some time to be alone with my thoughts and here's some of what came to mind:

1. Oh my goodness, there is a baby in there. There is just so much less time as the mom of a toddler to spend thinking about the baby inside. I mean I think about it, as in, I shouldn't eat a tuna sandwich - again, or I wish I could have some coffee, or be careful H, you're kicking me in the belly and there's a baby in there, or my aching back, there's a baby...you get the point. But there's been no being "one" with the baby. Not to say I spent much time meditating or bonding with H in utero, but I think I'd be willing to pay for the yoga classes this time just to spend some time alone with the baby.

2. I should really blog more, maybe about this.

3. I wonder if this is the most comfortable way for me to be laying down.

4. It's probably not sanitary for me to be laying my head down on this blanket.

5. I learned a lot during my last pregnancy (and the first, which ended in an early-ish miscarriage) about the lack of control that comes with parenting and I really think it's helped me be a more calm parent and person. I have no illusions about being in a Zen state as a mother or person (and yes, I know mothers ARE people, but you know what I mean), but I do feel like the roller coaster of my pregnancy with H, with supportive aids from the Hypnobirthing course that I took (but did not fully "use" with my breech-caused-c-section), really put the whole, "you just never know what's going to happen or when or how and you can't do anything about most of it" thing into perspective for me. It's not a new revelation for me, but I've been thinking about it more during this pregnancy. I'm grateful for the early hospital visits, the preterm labor, the hospital stay, the bed rest, and yes, even the c-section. I think in some small way it all helps me be a better mom to H, and hopefully a better person overall. At least some of the time.

6. My back hurts.

He's just not that into you (or rather, me)

I'm sure I've posted about this before...before he had words. Before he could say, "I want mommy go out there," as he steps into the hallway and points toward the living room. It has long been a ritual in our house for B to do the bedtime thing. This started when I was home full-time and counted the minutes until his arrival at the front door, feeling like a 1950s cliche, handing off the baby with more enthusiasm than I thought I could muster. We would take turns of course, and whenever B would travel - which was and is fairly frequently - I would do the whole bedtime thing. And many nights we would share it and use the time to catch up with each other a little as well.

Well, the time has come when post-bath, H tells me to "go out there" so he and daddy can read their story and daddy can put him to bed. We've come close to forcing the issue on a night or two when mommy has needed some H love, but don't get very far before something clicks in my brain telling me that I should be at least partially grateful: for this time to myself and for the relationship H and B have. I have many friends who have the opposite issue where they can't get the child to go with daddy and they feel trapped by that (as would I). When I'm feeling extra insecure I do "blame" it on the fact that B will indulge him more at bedtime than I will in terms of extra moments of interaction before it's time to say goodnight, but I know if that's part of the story, it's likely a small part.

So, here I sit, blogging freely, and I'm grateful, but still a little sad (at least for the moment) that I'm not raising a "momma's boy" as my friend who has the same "issue" said to me the other day. At least for the moment.