Change of Heart

I am a chatter. I am the person that makes small talk with people in the grocery line, on an airplane, in the doctor's office, where ever I see an opportunity to crack wise with a stranger. I have no idea why I do this, and I think it sort of drives my little introvert husband batty, but whatever. I really can't seem to help myself.

So, yesterday I was in the middle of nowhere, Missouri getting gas and about to head back to St. Louis when this HUGE truck and even HUGER (trust, it's a word) trailer/camper thing pull into the pumps across from me. I am not exaggerating when I say that the whole set up between the truck and the camper took up two whole dispenser islands and then some hanging off the back. This thing was sweet. No cheesy decals with deer and lake scenes to be had on this puppy. Even the tires on the camper had nice rims! There were new, cute bikes hanging off the back. It looked like something straight off the Showcase Showdown. You know, the second one they show, that kicks the ass of the first one that contained a year's supply of mayo and a push lawn mower.

A nice looking older lady stepped around the side of the camper while her husband spent $1,000 in gas to fill up his truck. I had to say something.... 

K: Wow, I want to go on road trips with your family!
OL: Well, work really hard and save lots of money and you can!

.....
.......
Crickets. Slow turn back to my previously scheduled gas pumping.

Um, if the road trip involves lessons on fiscal responsibility and long term savings plans, with a heaping dose of condescension, then I think I'll take a rain check.

But those rims were sweet.

Evolution of an Addiction

I never thought it would be my child. She just didn't seem to have the personality for it. It just didn't fit. I didn't see the signs. We were caught unaware. All the parenting clichés you hear when you find a child has fallen deep down the well of addiction.....

 

...to face painting.

 

The first one was free. They always are. And it was a pretty simple design as far as face painting goes. The fact that she sat as still as a statue should have been my first red flag.

 

The next time, it was free, but with the price of admission. And there was glitter.

 

Free, but not without cost. My normally antsy and impatient child waited over 30 minutes for this masterpiece. Glitter and butterflies. All over the face.

 

This happened at school. Clearly the descent into madness has begun. I am still not certain who is behind this little number.

 

 

And then there was this weekend. Yes, there was face painting, but it wasn't free. The evil genius behind this operation had a big board with pictures of various designs and their associated prices attached. Prices ranged from $3-$9. Rick immediately balked. Why should we pay for something that we've been getting for free for so long (or the past four weekends)?

 

Uh, because she's freaking out and we told her there would be face painting. We didn't qualify that she could only do FREE face paining. And, I have to admit, I kind of am entranced by watching my child sit motionless for five minutes. I even contemplated how much it would be to just have a face painter come live with us full time. You should note that a smile is never cracked during any of this. It's all business and has seemed to already lost some of its luster. We are in the maintenance phase of the addiction at this point.

 

 

Ultimately, the face was painted. The design is more elaborate, but the level of entertainment/excitement did not increase. Her tolerance is up. I am not sure what the end game is here. Perhaps we just wait out the Halloween season and hope she tapers off.  

 

One thing is for certain: there's no such thing as a free face paint.

 

True Story

 

Anyone who was around me after Annie was born witnessed my "new Mom out-of-it" zombie-like state. I think it's safe to say, I was like that for a good six months. I remember being thrilled when I actually got to shower and thinking the only occasion for which blowing my hair dry would ever be worthy again was to attend the Oscars. I wore mis-matched flip flops in public and was a general mess.

 

And I didn't care.

 

Not in a "give up on life" kind of not caring, but in a "survival mode, do what is important and the rest will have to wait" level of not caring. I just cared about our baby and feeding her and being with Rick and maybe getting some sleep in here or there. I vividly remember eating cold lasagna (made by our neighbors) straight out of the fridge with my hands because ain't nobody got time for a plate or a fork!

 

But then things got better, as someone told me they would, and eventually I was showering fairly regularly and even BLOWING MY HAIR DRY, even though I had not yet received my invite to the Oscars. And then I started even having time to search the internet again (a task I had completely thought was in my past life, along with reading US Weekly and drinking coffee that was actually hot). And I saw all these cute crafts that people had done with their ultrasounds and hospital bracelets and I thought "I should do something like that!".

 

So I went to where I thought I had put all things special and important and the ultrasounds and bracelets weren't there. And then I realized I didn't even remember taking off those bracelets, so how could they be in Annie's special box???? And then I starting tearing apart the house and storage bins, frantically searching for these hospital bracelets because, dear God, what kind of mother would throw out her hospital bracelets and if I did, surely I should anticipate a visit from Child Protective Services because there was no way I was fit to be a mother.

 

And maybe I wasn't completely out of the woods on the sleep deprived new Mom thing either.

 

But just when I was about to slap on the cuffs and call CPS to turn myself in, I looked up on the wall in Annie's room.



 

Quite literally, staring me in the face.

 

 

Rick. My sweet Rick.

 

Thank you for knowing what is special and important and for keeping it safe and knowing exactly what I need, even when I don't (at the time). I don't know what I would do without you.

 

Happy Anniversary.

30 weeks

Well HELLOOOOO there, belly! It looks like I ate Waldo.

 

We are 30 weeks pregnant as of today. That's 75% complete. Those who know me and my scholastic career know I would never settle for 75% so we will continue to press forward until we are as close to 100% as possible. I am not looking to be any spectacular over-achiever like I was with Annie's pregnancy, so I will settle for not exceeding 100% of my allotted pregnancy time this go round.

 

John/Boom is about 18 inches long, a little over 3 pounds and is almost the length he will be at birth, which is nice to think about. Given the lack of real estate in my "vessel", I don't like to think of him getting too much longer.

 

I was wrong when I stated previously that we had another month until we went to visits every two weeks. We are now going every two weeks to be measured and listen for the heart beat. Then, at 36 weeks they will start checking me for "progress". That's when the real invasive fun starts to ramp up. At yesterday's appointment I measured 31 weeks, which I think happened with Annie as well. Dr. J didn't seem alarmed by it. I then went through my list of ailments to make sure I am not missing some opportunity for relief. It basically sounds like everything I am feeling is perfectly normal, although admittedly cause for discomfort. The most notable new development is the sensation of being stabbed in a part of my female anatomy that shall not be mentioned in a blog that is read by my in-laws and my grandfather. And the "stabbing" word was the Doctor's, not mine, but I find it 100% accurate. Apparently that's just pressure on nerve endings. No big deal. Unless it causes you to cry out in pain in the middle of a conference call. They needed to be paying closer attention anyway. It's fine.

 

Dr. J did make one comment that I am holding on to. He said "we just need for you to stay pregnant for six more weeks. That's all you have to do."

 

Six weeks.

 

6 more Saturdays with just the three of us. I can't think too much about this without getting choked up/freaking out.

 

What seemed like an eternity before that comment now seems to be a blink away. I find myself torn between wanting the time to go by quickly and wishing it would just stand still so I can soak up every bit of these last weeks with Annie.

 

I need Team Botanical to make me a punch list of to-do things before the baby gets here, but my mind is too all over the place to even figure that out. We have clothes, we have a bed, we have a car seat (that needs to be cleaned-add that to the list, Debbie), but we have a boat load of stuff that I loaned out that I need to retrieve. That's the last major piece of this puzzle.

 

And then after that, I can be found at home, washing my heartburn medicine down with my fiber drink, making trips to the bathroom every 14 minutes, loving on my soon-to-be-big-sister and waiting for 6-10 weeks to pass. Here's to hoping it goes by fast...but not too fast.