Work Widowed, Again

Adam has started another round of traveling this summer, and though I don't have a school schedule to contend with when it comes to single-parenthood, this time around brings about its own challenges.  However, I am happy to report that we are managing just fine.  More than fine, really.  I'm getting good at this.  (I will never, ever tell Adam that.  There is no need to encourage his absences, voluntary or not.) 

The kids are clean, house relatively clean, and I even manage a few hours each night to study for my state boards (finally scheduled...and soon.)  However, there are drawbacks to not having our beloved Adam around.  Here are a list of pros and cons.

PROS
1.) Vegetarian meals every night, and nobody says, "This is it?"
2.) Limitless documentaries after the kids go to bed.
3.) I'm the favorite parent by default.

CONS
1.) I hate bathtime by myself. 
2.) Indy (the dog) gets crazy in Adam's absence.
3.) I have nobody with whom to have a real conversation.
4.) Sleeping alone...and waking up alone is the pits.
5.) No reinforcements, obviously.

So, while we have learned to manage while Adam is away, it'll never be as good as when he is here.  Work trips are no good at all.  This Mom still needs a break.  I'm sure Adam does, too.  Life is better when there are two of us.

Indecisiveness seems to have struck our newest little one.  Much unlike his/her brothers, this one has not found a position of choice and stuck with it.  (Patrick was breech until week 31.  Leo was vertex until week 38).  As soon as the baby was big enough to allow for a position to be noted, it was transverse.  No big deal.  Then it was vertex.  Then breech.  Transverse.  Breech.  Vertex.  Breech.  Transverse.  How is there possibly that much room in there to move around so much?  And, with every turn and flip, I can both see and feel what is going on.  It woke me out of a dead sleep this morning.  Since the baby also seems to have quite a bit of umbilical cord, I am now starting to worry that we're going to end up with a nuchal cord at the end of all of this.  Settle down, tiny one.  Find a spot and stick with it.  Oh, and if it could not be breech, that would be best for me.  As of this morning, I could feel kicks in places nobody should ever feel anything that jolting.  Wow.

I'll love you regardless.  But help me out here.

Pica...and Other Bothersomes

Fourty-four pounds of ice consumed in a week.  44. By me alone.  Hello, pica.  You have reached an all-time high.  I'm almost embarassed to admit that I actually ate this much ice in seven days, but it could be worse.  It could be cheese, or sour gummies, or brownies.  All things considered, ice doesn't cause any hard-to-shed pounds (though it will make your teeth bleed.  I know from experience.  Today.) 

I am now in my 33rd week, which means I am 32 weeks plus a couple of days pregnant (the whole counting system is very strange.)  Whichever way you look at it, he baby will be here shortly.  I am suddenly very excited and very, very nervous.  Very.  Patrick is so big and self-sufficient, and though I fear that this new baby will affect him more than Leo, I worry more about handling a new baby on top of our fort-building, obstacle-course-creating, ever-falling, house-tearing-upping littlest boy.  He's a mighty hurricane, and though he is about as sweet as they come, he's no joke.  He's made of steel and is not afraid to test it.  Oh, and his iron lungs and fierce temper?  Add those in, too.  We're going to be tired for a very long time. 

That being said, I again came across a new blog this weekend, which offered an outstanding viewpoint on pregnancy, parenthood, and kids in general.  As I mentioned in an earlier post, I seem to welcome unsolicited advice and comments from strangers--characters who comments range from the creepily-complimental to the downright inappropirate (need I bring up the gas station checkout guy who, in his very thick accent, pointed to my belly and asked if I had been doing "naughty things"?  I couldn't grab my Skittles and race out the door fast enough.)  For that reason, I appreciated this post so much that I absolutely had to share.  I offer you this:

DOMESTIC ENEMIES OF THE PREGNANT MOM

The Stephen King Storyteller. Gather round kids, it's Birth Story Time. Want to hear about a horrible episiotomy? No? Tough, you're pregnant so that means that it's compulsory for you to hear about every disgusting birth detail from the woman in line at the bank. After all, it's important to know how your next door neighbor lost her mucus plug at a BBQ. (Gork)

The Lame Namer. It’s doubtful that you and your partner have put a lot of thought into choosing a name so it’s important these folks weigh in on this decision with a couple of names they thought of on the way into work. Plus, they hate the name you were thinking of because if reminds them of a girl in high school that had a funny birthmark on her chin. Just nod and say you'll consider KanDi with a heart over the "i" and leave it at that.

The XS XL Examiner. This is the person that will ask you if there's two in there or are you sure you aren't due tomorrow instead of three months. This is the same person that will point out how tiny you are if they feel this the case as well. "Where are you hiding it?" "It looks like you've swallowed a grape." It's hard to say if it's supposed to be funny or a compliment but they usually make you feel like you should either be shot and mounted over a fireplace or that something is wrong with your now creepy, peanut baby.

The Eliza Boo Little. Just you wait Henry Higgins! This person jumps in anytime you look like you're  just a little too happy about having a baby and says "Just you wait until the baby comes. You'll never sleep, eat, laugh, breathe, screw, or go to Cincinnati again!". Clearly you don't realize how difficult it is to have a baby so it’s up to them to make sure you don’t get too excited. Babies are awful. Stupid babies.

Dr. Oz It really is amazing that you made it as far as you have considering how reckless you're being with your diet and daily routine. Normally, they wouldn’t care of course, but seeing as there’s a baby involved, they'd better get in there and smack that coffee out of your hand; or better yet, just give some dirty looks and shake their head. That will teach you. After all, they don’t want their tax dollars going towards your kid’s tail removal some day.

The Accidental Whorist. Such a charming question to ask someone if their pregnancy was an accident. It's important for these folks to let you know that they don't approve of your reproductive schedule and perhaps you should consult them next time. Clearly you are too young, old, fertile, fat, funny or tall to have a baby at this juncture in your life and frankly, they are surprised at your utter lack of judgement. These are the same people that say, "Didn't you see that?" when you stub your toe and who don't like pizza. They're just pointless.

The Sex Obessesed. Surely if you already have a girl, you're going to want a boy and vice versa. If you don't have any children they may assume you want a girl and your partner wants a boy because that's how it works. These are also the people that will swallow their tongues if you say you aren't finding out the sex. "Don't you want to know?!", "That would drive me crazy!" Perhaps it has, Asshat. Perhaps it already has.

The Egg Inquisitioner. This is the person that asks you if you've conceived naturally. It's classy because, if you've used fertility treatments you have to reveal a very personal, private part of you life and if you didn’t, then you also has to reveal a very personal, private part of you life. It's a delicious catch 22 and there is no tactful way to answer this so feel free to just fart and walk away.

The Surprised Blow Up Doll These are the folks that chime in around 37 weeks and say things like “Are you STILL pregnant.” and “Haven’t you had that baby yet?” and extra helpful “I guess it just doesn’t want to come out” – which is nice because it points out the delivery you are *clearly* putting off and it’s a little gross too.

The Silver Back Belly Toucher. Oh, you just knew if was coming. We all love the folks that just walk up and start molesting your stomach. It's especially nice when your cousin's boyfriend who smells like cheese does it and makes a “MMmmmm” noise at the same time.

This is my personal rule of thumb with this one: if you would be comfortable with them touching your thigh when not pregnant, then they would probably be okay to touch your belly....with permission.....and a hazmat suit......holding chocolate. You know, like when your girlfriend taps your leg at the movie theatre and says, "Oh my God, I forgot to tell you that I slept with David Beckham!" – I feel she would be okay to touch your belly.

Most of you are going to totally get this list yet there are always a few people that think they just can't win when it comes to pregnant woman. I would argue that pregnant gals have to deal with things like heartburn, nausea, hemorrhoids and learning what perineum is and none of us should have to know about the taint, so no. No, you can't win. Sorry. I hate to be the one to break it to you but it's best you know [insert thigh pat here.]

As for what we all should say to a pregnant woman, I love this comment that was left on the blog:

"I could see this guy eyeballing me in the elevator despite my best efforts to focus on the numbers. Right before he got off the elevator. He paused, looked at me and said, 'I bet you will have a beautiful baby.'"

I like to think he looked like David Beckham.

The majority of this post brought to you by the very clever mothers at http://www.rantsfrommommyland.com/.

Honestly in Blogging

I have begun to appreciate the honesty that can be found in the blogs of people I know (or even don't know.)  As Facebook is seeming to run its course, the pretty-perfect facade that is created by the ever-positive profiles is growing old  This is not to say it's avoidable...I really don't think it is. Who doesn't want to paint a pretty good picture of his/her own life? Who hasn't un-tagged bad pictures, kept quiet during rough times, and been over-the-top excited during the good ones?  It's just normal, I think.

However, in reading the blogs of friends or even friends of friends, it's refreshing to see how alike we all really are.  Not that we share the same tastes, but that we all deal with life's day-to-day struggles.  We are driven crazy by our kids.  We suffer from infertility.  We've thought/said/written terrible things and want to take them back.  We don't like everyone.  We fight with our spouses.  We make mistakes.  We're human. 

As I sit here, the kids are eating lunch.  Cucumbers, asparagus, and BBQ pizza, followed up by yogurt stars.  We've had a great day.  Still, the kids aren't dressed yet and neither am I.  The dishes are done, but the laundry isn't.  I look a mess.  I have eaten nothing but Swedish Fish today.  But my toes are painted and my shirt smells nice.  I'm not perfect at all.  Neither are my kids, my husband, our house, our cars.  We do well in some areas and fail in others.  But we do what we can and we do it simply.  I do things I regret and I've cried out of exhaustion.  But I wouldn't change a thing. 

I do wish I was that perfect mom.  You know the one...she always looks great, her kids are dressed to the nines (in clothes obviously folded as soon as the dryer finished its cycle), perfectly mannered and well-behaved.  She smells like soap.  I'm not her.  Case-in-point:  Saturday morning, Patrick and Adam were enjoying some superhero cartoon that I probably had no interest in watching.  Instead, I was in the bathroom putting on my makeup.  I heard Patrick talking to Adam.  It went like this:

P: Daddy, can I say "shit"?
A: Absolutely not.  You know that's a bad word.
P: But Mom says it, you know.
A: Your mom says that word?  She knows better than that. 
P: Yes, she said it when she was driving.  And she didn't say she was sorry. 

Cringing, I walked out of the bathroom.  I read Adam's lips, "Catie...your mouth."  I wanted to tell him that it was only because I almost hit the basketball goal on the way out of the driveway and it had been a truly terrible day up until that point, but it wouldn't have mattered.  I was guilty.  I mouthed back, "I know.  Sorry."  Case closed.  No awards for me that day. 

Less recently, while on vacation, I was watching Adam in the lake with the boys.  While one was riding on his back, he had the other one on his hip.  The kids were squealing, hanging on tight.  They were all laughing (Patrick very nervously, as the water scares him a little.)  I was sitting on the dock, reading, and as I looked over at Adam, I thought to myself that, if I wasn't married to him, I would wonder what it was like to be married to someone like that.  It made me so proud of him.  I did well for myself, despite my occassional trucker's mouth.  While eating dinner one night, I happened to tell Adam what I thought on vacation.  He just laughed a little and said, "I'm really happy to hear that.  Sometimes, when we're out in public, I look at you and think I married out of my league."  Sigh.  Classic Adam.  Good answer, honeybee.  Good answer.

As of today, we're back to one income.  Our disposable income may as well be non-existent, and I am most bummed about this.  I don't have a job lined up (not officially, anyway), nor do I have any immediate plans to get licensed (out of my control).  I'm sleep deprived because our youngest sprouted two new teeth over the weekend and I desperately want to move.  The boys have finished lunch and are now fighting over the canopy to a flotation device.  We're so not perfect.  But we're good.  Normal.  Happy. 

Update

I have still not gotten up to find my keys.  Thanks to some internet research I chose to do instead, I did happen to learn that:

There are 42 Catherine Walden's in the US

There are 26 Adam Walden's in the US

There are 24 Patrick Walden's in the US (25 including ours).

and

There are 4 Leo Walden's in the US (five including ours).

I really do need a hobby. 

What Now?

This is my first real week with nothing to do...and I am painfully bored.  Sort of.  What now?  I've finished school, left and returned from the Annual Walden Family Vacation (pictures to come), registered for the NCLEX and state licensure (about a week later than everyone else), interviewed for a fantastic job, enrolled our tiny Patrick in preschool, and got a very dark but much-loved spray tan.  Again, what now? 

First on my list: find my car keys.  I lost them last Friday, after returning from getting my make-up done at M.A.C. (probably my new favorite place.)  Either I threw them out as a result of pregnancy brain or the kids have hidden them someplace I just cannot seem to fathom.  Either way, Adam likes to remind me that it's a rather costly mistake I have made if we cannot find them.  I know, I know.  Damn this brain and its forgetfulness.

Things have been excellent here, though.  Life is good for us.  It just seems to have hit a lull.  An exceptionally quiet one.  I made a nice dinner last night (honey dijon salmon, grilled asparagus, and steamed rice).  I did some laundry.  I watched a movie.  I ran a lot of errands.  I never shook the feeling of restlessness.  I wonder when I will.  Adam is happy to have me around and accessible. So are the kids. 

I'm at such a lull that I really don't know how much I have to say.  Here are things in a nutshell.

1.) I am approaching 31 weeks of pregnancy.  Things are fine.  My back hurts from time to time and the heartburn has eased a little bit.  I don't feel as though I have grown much the last 8 weeks or so, but so goes it.  That being said, based on the amount of movement I feel and the distinctive baby parts that jut out from time to time (knees and elbows), I would guess that little Walden is just fine.

2.) Patrick is super-ready to go to school.  We went and saw his new classroom yesterday.  He begged me to leave him there overnight and come and get him in the morning.  I'm as proud as I am saddened that he is so ready to fly the coop.  However, I was equally impressed with the community at his new school.  Just getting out of the car, I was struck up in conversation with several parents who were helping to get the school ready for the new year.The school secretary actually shed a tear when she realized who Patrick's father was, and again when she found out who my sister was.  Apparently, this little boy will be well-received.  Thank goodness for Colleen and Adam's good reputations.  I pray that Patrick won't let them down.  (I'm kidding, honey.  Kind of.  I just hope that mouth of yours doesn't get you into trouble.)
 
3.) I'm starting to get a little bittersweet feeling about the prospect of putting the house up on the market this year.  Truthfully, we've outgrown it, but I'm starting to think about all of our memories here.  From our (second) first kiss in the kitchen to Patrick's first steps to Leo's homecoming...it's a little strange to think about a home that's been a part of so many memories.  Then again, unless we're interested in living on top of each other, it's time to move forward.  Adam requires a basement and hopes for a pool.  We'll see what we can do.  I'll just be happy with an extra bedroom.

4.) I hate that I'm not working again, but am trying to enjoy a little free time.  My very first interview went really well and I believe that I'll have another this week.  Though no offers can be made until I actually pass my boards, I have reason to believe that I'll have a job to start after this little one joins our family.  That's the best that I can hope for and, truthfully, I'll be thrilled with a paycheck in time for Christmas. 

That's about it.  Not the best post, but it's what I've got.  I just got a reminder phone call to look for my keys.  Sigh.  Fine. Curses.