i'll tell you mine if you tell me yours...

i was inspired by another blog to do this... i thought it was so perfectly funny and refreshing to read another woman airing out her "top 5 quirks" of the year.  immediately i thought, i should do that.  and although i have many... oh-so-many things that make me quirky... i will name the top 5 i've noticed in myself this year.  in other words, they've probably existed in me for a long time... but i'm only now beginning to dust off the surface of my very crazy self.

i hope you feel inspired to do so as well.

1.) i'm sure every mother has their thing that they obsess over with their child.  for some it's body temperature... which i don't really care about, as my mother likes to point out every time she sees her grandson and thinks he's freezing to death (even though he's just fine to me).  for others it's a sleep schedule... and leif has forced me to throw my hands up in the air on this one.  i've spent the last 20 months of his life trying to figure him out and finally gave in because he is not like all of your perfectly sleep trained children (read... he is STUBBORN)  he fights sleep and i'm tired of fighting him to conform so i gave up.  as long as he takes a nap at some point and goes to bed before 9 (but preferably 8) i'm happy.  tonight i had him in bed by 8... he finally went to sleep at 9:30.

see?

i. give. up.

nope.  for me it's something else... choking... on food more specifically.

the child will be starving to death and i'm over at his plate sawing his food into tiny pieces because lord help us all if i have to perform the heimlich on him.  if he were to choke, i'd probably run around in circles asking myself if he qualifies for the infant method or the adult method.  it's so bad, that when others give him chunks of food, i break them into smaller pieces when they're not looking because i'm just sure they are the obstruction his little throat has been waiting for.

it doesn't help that a couple of times, when i've tried to relax about it, he's choked.  for instance, the other night he was in the bathtub and i was chewing on crushed ice from a cup (a pregnancy craving, i guess).  he likes ice too.  this evening in particular he was asking for pieces of ice and then watching what happened when they hit the water.  at first i was giving him tiny pieces, in case he stuck them in his mouth.  but after several pieces going straight into the bathwater i loosened the reigns.

bad move.

when he asked for another piece i gave him a larger piece so that it would last longer in the bathtub.  what did that child do, you ask?  plopped it straight into his mouth.

breath monica, i told myself, he's almost 2 years old, he chews on ice all the time.  

he's fine.  

you. need. to. chill.  

so i sat back and pseudo-relaxed while my little man sat there happily bathing and sucking on ice.  and then he gagged on it... the dirty rat.  just when i start to let go of my obsession he sucked me back in.

of course, he cleared it himself just fine and didn't even hardly wince.  i, on the other hand, was getting ready to pull out my iPhone and start searching for how-to videos on clearing ice from your toddlers throat.

he'll probably be the only kid in elementary school whose sandwich will fit in a tiny container instead of a ziplock bag because i will have cut it for him into small, bite size pieces.  not really... i mean, i actually let him eat a 1/2 of a sandwich this week without cutting it up.  i stood their in the kitchen admiring the mastery of his whole sandwich-eating-ability and patting myself on the back for being such a great mother.  he's so brilliant, i thought to myself.

but i'll still probably puree his raw vegetables.

just kidding... or am i?  :)

2.) my kitchen has to be clean when i go to bed.  i repeat... i can not go to sleep unless the kitchen is immaculate... well, that may be too strong of a word now that i have a child.  but even still, the dishes must be loaded (the correct way) into the dishwasher, hand washed items must be cleaned and on the drying rack, crumbs wiped off of the counters and tables and i would prefer that all of the days work, receipts, papers, etc. are tucked away.  i don't care whether you tuck them down your pants or put them where they belong... i just don't want to see them. (although this is why i have so many little baskets all over the place because my husband is the king of receipts and papers that i cannot get rid of).  i want the illusion of cleanliness.  it helps me to feel in control and able to handle what you throw at me.

the minute my kitchen gets "undone" i feel my soul start to itch and scratch.  i'm pretty sure my left eye twitches and i probably start giving the look to kjaer when i see him set things on the counter.  in fact, my high-metabolism man often eats an evening snack before going to bed and i just cannot understand how that certain dish can't make it into the dishwasher.  he sets it on the counter above the dishwasher... not in it.  when i see this, nearly every night, my blood boileth over.  i've tried to just quietly put it away or mention it in passing... but it's clearly not a quirk of his that he sees as very important because he just handsomely smiles at me and shrugs while he says i was going to take care of it later.  (i hate that word... later... blech).  and he probably has every intention of doing it later... but later has a different meaning to kjaer than it does to me.  later might mean tomorrow morning or three days from now.  but me... i want it done NOW (another quirk that will probably not make the top 5 cut).  

the kitchen is my domain. i am its ruler.  and it must be respected by all who enter.

3.)  number two reminds me of another thing that is quirky.  my house could have dust an inch thick on its furniture, floors that haven't been vacuumed in 2 weeks, laundry piles the size of everest... but if my kitchen and living room floors are swept i feel so. much. better.

i remember after i had leif one of my biggest frustrations was my house felt like it was falling apart.  i felt totally responsible for keeping it clean to my old standards (i think because i was home and not working).  these standards have sooo-ho-ho changed since b.b. (before baby) but i could not figure out how to balance cleaning with a brand new baby (and the increase leif brought in laundry, changing the sheets nearly every day because of my crazy milk supply, and just functioning in general!)  

one time, my mother in law had taken me to a doctors appointment (because i still couldn't drive).  when i got home i was a wreck.  i went to the bathroom and bled on our white bathroom rug and then i had to nurse leif, which at the time was like asking me to lead the entire nation in a prayer meeting.  i was very stressed out, sitting in the nursery trying to figure out how i could accomplish one thing that would make me feel better since everything else was a fiery disaster.   my mother in law had been kind enough to clean the blood off of the rug for me and she came in and asked if there was anything else she could do for me before she left. 

i couldn't help myself.  deep down i heard all of the wisdom of new-mothers-past whispering in my ears; when people ask what they can do for you, be honest and tell them what would help.

and yes, you guessed it...  i asked her to sweep my floors. 

i just knew if they were cleaner, i would feel better. 

and seriously, i could have kissed her feet for sweeping them. (still could)

she turned my whole day around with a broom and a dust pan.

i'm still so grateful for that kind gesture of hers.  she'll probably never understand what that meant to my fragile little self on that day.  

4.) strangely, in spite of kind gestures like that... i have a very hard time accepting help in any form from people.  some of this has to do with my control issues.  when leif was born people were helping by folding my towels and putting them away, folding his diapers and putting them away... just little jobs they thought i would appreciate.

and i really tried to appreciate them.

really... i did.

but nobody folds my towels and puts them away the way i do.  and only a handful of people know how to fold the diapers and stack them the way i like.  so, if you are kind enough to do these things for me, i'll appreciate your gesture... but i can only live a day or two before refolding and restacking these two items.  but don't worry too much, because i'll feel guilty the whole time.  i can feel my husband's eyes boring into the back of my neck as i busily refold things and i can hear him thinking they are just towels and diapers, woman!  let it go.  but i know he is very particular about other things like the exact cup he drinks from for each beverage he consumes, water spots on the bathroom sink and how to hang his clothes... so he can't be too hard on me.

the other reason i can't accept help is because i feel like i need to be independent all of the time.  i think this is a trait i've picked up on from my mom, because my dad travelled for work most of my life so she was responsible for everything.  just the other day i was getting stuff ready for my thirty-one mailing, working on washing and drying diapers, cleaning the kitchen (duh) and getting ready to leave for a lunch date with a dear friend of mine.  i already felt like a champ because i had asked for help (gasp) by seeing if kjaer could return something to costco he was unhappy with and pick up a few items there.  but i wanted to handle the rest... i was going to go to kinkos to run copies for my mailing, pick up more laundry soap (we have to buy a special kind for our diapers) and go to lunch.  kjaer very kindly took my copy and asked me how many copies he could make for me while i was out to lunch and i practically snatched it from his hands exclaiming i can do it, you don't have to. kjaer kind of stood there shell-shocked because he was just trying to be nice, after all, and here i was not letting him be nice to me.  i could tell from the look on his handsome brow that he couldn't understand why i wouldn't just accept his kind gesture and just let him help me out.

and then i found myself back peddling... copies are no big deal, i'll be going right by the kinkos store on the way home, blah, blah, blah.  but the whole time i was b.s.-ing i was thinking, what the heck is wrong with you?  you always complain how overwhelmed you are and here this man is trying to let you have an enjoyable afternoon with your friend while he shows his love for you by doing errands for you and watching leif.  

it's a sickness, i suppose.  very unhealthy.  

i definitely need to improve upon this before baby k2 arrives, because i'll need more help than ever and kjaer is my teammate.  

when i asked kjaer the other night about my quirks (because i was thinking about this blog) and i mentioned this one... he whole-heartedly agreed.  the speed in which his agreement came almost validated how bad i really must be.  

i'm working on it, people... really.

5) i'm terrified of antiperspirant and microwaves.  this has only developed in the last couple of years, i'm pretty sure because i witnessed the horrific cancer death of my father.  as i've walked away from that experience, much stronger and wiser in many ways... i've also walked away with several fears.  the biggest one being that i will get... or someone i love will (again) get... cancer.  if somebody i love has a weird sore or something weird going on (like when trooper was sick this summer) i go into crazy-cancer mode.  (just ask kjaer about the time he found me laying on troopers dog bed with him crying because i was sure he was dying of cancer... maybe i'll save that for another blog).

of course, i do the only logical thing... i blame it on antiperspirants and microwaves... even though there are sooooo many factors at stake (and clearly trooper doesn't wear deodorant... although his food IS by the microwave).  actually, i have to say i've always been a little teensy bit jumpy around microwaves.  that probably started back in the day of disney afternoons with my brothers after school.  we'd make snacks and watch tailspin and gummy bears while waiting for my aunt to come home to watch us.  one day i got the bright idea to microwave chocolate chips on a mound of peanut butter covered in tin foil.  apparently no one informed me about metal in microwaves.  well, a spark was thrown and i turned off the microwave faster than... well, i don't know... but fast enough that everyone and everything was ok.  when i called my mom at work to tell her of said spark, she quickly schooled me on microwave safety and probably breathed an audible sigh of relief that her daughter didn't burn down her house with her other more well behaved children inside.  

so ever since then i haven't trusted those things.  

when leif was born, my microwave conspiracy theory heightened.  every morning when i made my oatmeal before work, i would press start and take leif into another room... or at least scooch his high chair AWAY from that side of the room.  i'm particularly scared of kjaer's microwave i inherited through marriage, as it has the tendency to scorch something if you cook it the recommended way.  i have to cook it at reduced power (80%) for everything.  

i knew my aversion to microwaves had gone too far when i casually brought up said fear to my dear martha after dragging leif's high chair across the floor to nuke my coffee before leaving for work.  (see? we even say "nuke"... shouldn't that tell us all something?)  she kind of giggled at me.  then i proceeded to tell her i never prepared any of leif's food in the microwave.  i could tell she knew i was on board the crazy train when she asked if i prepared food for myself in the microwave and i responded... "well... yes..."  we both sort of laughed and i told her that in THIS particular case, it was better off left as "if i don't know about it, i won't care."  thereby giving her full reign of the microwave.  as long as we both understood that i didn't want to know because i knew i'd go a little crazy thinking about my little dudes brains getting "nuked".  

this is around the same time my armpits began to get sore in the lymph node region.  i'd sigh and toss and turn at night worrying that i had cancer of the armpits because of my deodorant. i'd google cancer findings on antiperspirant and scare the crap out of myself every time i'd read something else about it.  i'd rub my armpits and exclaim i had cancer to kjaer every day.  i couldn't understand why, when i went to buy kjaer's deodorant, HE could get it without antiperspirant and still smell like a dream by the end of the day... but the ENTIRE aisle of women's deodorant was antiperspirant ONLY.  i mean... i guess that just lends itself to the whole pressure of society on how perfect women have to be because they AREN'T EVEN ALLOWED TO PERSPIRE!  we started shopping for deodorant's without aluminum at health food stores, trying to find one that left me feeling as fresh as possible.  all i have to say about this endeavor is although my friends and family never said anything about my smell... i still felt not-so-fresh.  so i'd cheat and use my secret lavender which was chock full of aluminum and then spend all day worrying that i'd have cancer.  it was and is a vicious cycle.  

now that i work part time i wear my antiperspirant on days that i work and on days that i don't i use the crappy deodorant that doesn't work nearly as good as my husbands (don't ask me why) because usually on those days it's just him, leif and the people i run into at the grocery store who have to see me... and i don't know about you but they don't hug me when i pay for my groceries, so i'm ok with not smelling like a goddess on those days.  i still worry about my three days of using (sometimes 4), but figure that less exposure is better than 24/7 exposure.  

6.)  i have a terrible aversion to any sort of light after i've gone to bed.  i learned this after living with my dear husband... who wakes up in the middle of the night, goes out to the kitchen, turns on a light,  eats a bowl of cereal, comes back to bed and is back asleep in no time.  he does the same thing when he goes to the bathroom.  i mean, we're talking direct exposure to light, people!!  

i just can't even make sense of him!

i'd be laying in our dark room and the light in the kitchen would go on... i'd practically arch my back like a pissed off cat and hiss.  if light even touches my irises, i'm doomed.  i'm awake.  

for this reason alone, i mentally map out every environment i sleep in so that i can find my way to the bathroom, use said bathroom, and return back to bed without touching a single switch.  in some places (like my home) i've even done part of my bathroom trek with my eyes closed because of a nightlight or kitchen light that i thought was too offensive.  when leif was a newborn i could change his diaper in the dark or by light of a cell phone.  only on very rare occasions would i reach around the doorway into another room to turn that light on and close the door almost all of the way so that i could have a sliver of light to see with...  although, i would have fallen asleep standing up in broad daylight during those days as i was so exhausted.  don't know what i was so worried about.  it must be that it isn't even the falling back asleep factor, which sometimes plays a big part.  it's also just the sight of light when it's SUPPOSED to be dark.  it's just bad for business.  

i'm so bad that before leif was born, when kjaer would be going into our closet to get clothes early in the morning for himself he'd have to say "LIGHTS" and i would cover my head with a pillow until i heard the switch go off.  (he's up about an hour before me).  even now that kjaer and i have been living together for several years, he's so good at getting up and getting what he needs in the dark, shutting the door behind him and then turning the bathroom light on.  i still can manage to lay there, bothered by the light coming from under the doorway.  

the weirdest part about this is that i was terrified of the dark as a little girl.  in fact, i had to sleep with the hall light on until i was in the 8th grade.  is that even normal?  i always figured that most kids got over that fear earlier than i did.  

7.)  sometimes, when i run by myself... i count.  it's hard to explain and it's been such a long while since i've actually been able to run long enough to get into a rhythm (sigh)... but it's like i count my steps and breathing and how they synch up together.  it sounds, if i remember correctly, a little like one-un-un, two-oo-oo, three-ee-ee, one-un-un, two-oo-oo, three-ee-ee.  don't ask me to explain anymore... it gives me a rhythm, keeps my feet moving and my mind off of the work i'm doing.

well... there you have it.  my quirks.  those things you probably wouldn't know unless you were a fly on the wall. and yes, i realize that i originally wanted to tell you 5 but then the 6th and 7th ones sort of just jumped onto the page.  i can count, i just can't stop blabbering on about myself!   

but now i'm curious.

 i know we all have these little things others might find odd... so let me hear yours... if you dare. 

perfect mommy-itis...

i am your typical firstborn child through and through. 

i am an overachiever to the max.  i exhibit this behavior in just about everything in my life.

even looking back early into my childhood i can see these patterns emerge.  i went to a private elementary school where we received "S's" for satisfactory (instead of A's).  i can remember the pang an S- brought me as it glared at me from that blue report card. and it hurt... it hurt REAL bad. i mean... i thought i was made of S+ material only.

well... i made sure THAT never happened again.

i'm sure this wasn't the first of many brushes with imperfection... although i know you find that hard to believe. 

i went to a summer camp at our church... probably around 2nd or 3rd grade.  instead of earning A's we worked hard on earning a "small F" or a "big F", which we would get at an awards ceremony at the end of the two week camp.  (looking back, the adults probably thought it was hilarious we were busting our tails to earn F's)  it was a patch that looked like it belonged on a letter jacket... and i wanted that big F so bad i could taste it.  there are some of us who just know that we'll never get a varsity jacket and "letter" in something later in life... so i figured this was my one shot at being cool.  you earned your f by completing tasks that had been leveled out by degree of difficulty... most of them involving athleticism... which, i'm sorry to say, was and is not my forte.  i worked SO hard to earn that big F.  i memorized all of my bible verses, learned as many different sports as i could.  it all came down to landing a front flip on the big trampoline to complete the advanced skills and clench the big F. but alas, i could not stick that darn front flip and missed my big F by one stupid point. 

i cried.

OHHHH did i cry!

in fact, the director almost gave me a big F because she felt so sorry for me.

but my mom told her "no"

she wanted me to earn it fair and square like all of the other kids.

looking back, i can't believe i cried because i didn't get an F... funny coming from a girl who cried over an S-!

 (also... props to my mom for letting me learn a life lesson.  i hope i'm that wise with leif.)

as an adult i've continued this strange pattern of perfect dysfunction.  when i started running i followed a regimented plan.  if i skipped a day i'd feel like a failure.  no joke.  i probably was so successful at losing weight years ago because i am ridiculous about what i control.  i like to have a clean house with everything put away.  and by everything i mean the receipt my husband JUST brought home from the gas station.  i give him no mercy on his paperwork and putting away skills. in fact, i was just all over him about some empty boxes he set in the living room because they bugged me.  even my classroom has to be just-so... my teammates lovingly tease me and try to get me to stop staying late in my quest for perfectionism.

and now i'm a mommy... which means a lot of my control and my need to be perfect are intensifying. 

and... to make it worse... i'm not in control of most anything anymore... as those of you seasoned mothers might remember when you reflect on your earliest days as a madre.

first of all, as i type, my son is finally sleeping... rocking away in his swing.  instead of doing the laundry list of stuff i would normally want to get done, i'm sitting in my living room writing my blog.  there are dog toys and lint spread out all over the floor from trooper, who's taking comfort in his toys because his parents are currently pre-occupied.  there are dishes on the coffee table (a cardinal sin in THIS house), my make-up bag from my quick application this morning is under said table and pillows everywhere with piles of miscellaneous objects around...  (stupid empty husband boxes).

so.

not.

my.

style.

it's secretly driving me crazy...

but i have other fish to fry!

because what is eating away at me is this unrealistic idea that i think i need to be a perfect mom.

leif is 3 months old now.  i can hardly believe how much he has changed in such a short amount of time... and i'm so thankful that as time passes, i seem to be getting the hang of bein' a mama a little more.  i mean, i couldn't even get a dishwasher unloaded during the day a couple of months ago.  now i can unload the dishwasher, take a shower, get my make-up on AND make the bed... on a good day.   i might even venture out for an errand or two if i'm feeling really sassy.  success is measured in tiny increments around here.

but several weeks ago, when leif was about 6 weeks old, i had one of those days that sets you back.  and i don't mean two steps forward, two steps back... like paula abdul.  i mean two steps forward, five steps back.

i think it's because that particular morning leif woke me up at 3:45 to feed.  when i crawled back into bed at 4:30, i just laid there, wide awake.  i could not get back to sleep.  i kept thinking about my dr. appointment, how i wish i could go for a run (i needed to go get some running clothes that i could actually fit into... whatever).  OK... my point being that i never fell back asleep.

my appointment was good, i was healing up from surgery great... except that i cried.  weight gain is hard... and starting over sucks.  i wanted to be perfect in this aspect too, but i'm not.  i mean... didn't all of you mommies out there fit into your size 6 jeans 6 weeks after giving birth?  (if you did... don't EVEN tell me or i'll throw up!)

this is all i'm sayin' about weight for now... but as i start to become my more recognizable, less puffy self, i'm sure i'll post more about it.

i came home exhausted and ready to see my little one.  i had left him in the very capable hands of his daddy.  (it was also my first time away from leif without feeding him... which was harder than i thought it would be for me).   kjaer had some things he needed to get done that day, so after we had lunch together, he took off and i was left alone to my laundry list and leif.  i had decided that the laundry list could wait.  i was so tired and just wanted to take a nap with my little man.

p.s. - this is one of my most favorite things about being a mommy.  if you have yet to experience mommy-hood... just wait.  there is nothing better than napping with your little babe on your chest. i loved that sacred time...  and he doesn't do it very often anymore.  boy, they grow so fast.  anyways...  as i set my little guy against my heart, i was mentally patting myself on the back for letting go of other stuff so that i could take care of myself.

but leif had other plans.

even though i had JUST fed him, he started crying because he wanted to eat again.  he was fussy afterwards.  then, like an idiot, i took a phone call from the hospital to answer survey questions.   actually, i looked at my phone to see who was calling and accidentally hit the answer button... damn it.  it was a very stressful 10 minutes... all the while leif was wailing in the background, inconsolable.

clearly, a nap for mommy wasn't in the cards.

so when my girlfriend, lindee called and asked if i wanted to go for a walk... i said "what the heck? a walk might make me feel better"... at least that's what i thought.  but, by the time she got here i was frazzled. i should have just taken a rain check, because i was in a sorry state.  i started right in with my complaining about leif.  then i grabbed trooper's leash because... well, he's been neglected so i thought he should walk with us and get out a little pent up energy.  i attempted, like a fool, to walk my dog with leif's stroller solo.  lindee had her own stroller to push and i figured that since trooper is 11 years old... he'd be a champ because he's so mature... right?

ummmm.... no.

we'd be carrying on our conversation (actually, more like my one-sided sob story) and trooper would yank me and the stroller over to the nearest squirrel, dog behind a fence, suspicious leaf... you know... whatever he deemed worthy of barking at.  this only heightened my frustration.  not only was i an imperfect mother, but i couldn't control my own dog on a walk.  poor lindee.  you remember when you were a kid playing nintendo and you had the crappiest game ever?  you'd hit that reset button... right?  and don't say no, because we ALL hit the reset button in the 80's.  well, i called lindee a few weeks later to ask if i could hit the reset button... because on that day, i was a walking disaster.

after lindee left, i reflected on my bad behavior and writhed in my own embarrassment over my attitude during our walk. kjaer helped me dig to the nitty gritty of what was bugging me.

first of all... it had been a challenging day.

a few hours of sleep + post partem hormonal emotions = train wreck of a woman. 

i could have handled it on a good day with some yawns and mild complaining.  but that wasn't how my day went.  and as i watched myself crumble under the challenges, i lost faith in myself as a mother.

i mean... how can i be a good mom if i can't even walk my dog in a straight line without losing my patience?  somebody tell me please?

and that's when i was reminded, kindly, by my husband that nobody is perfect and i seem to think that i should be.  when i'm not, i feel out of control.  he stated, rather matter of factly, that he thinks we're doing an awesome job of being parents.  but we are going to have days where we complain about our kids, even though we love them to pieces.   

*gasp*  complain about our kids?  well i NEVER!

yes you have young mommy... i think we all do.  whether it's inside of our heads or out loud to a caring friend.

what i'm learning is, it's OK to feel frustrated with your child, your dog, yourself.  heck... you don't think the Lord himself got frustrated with the Israelites back in the days of Moses?  even GOD gets frustrated. i know there were several times in my life where God wanted to slap me up side the head.  i can just imagine Him going for a walk with Jesus and the Holy Spirit.   I can almost hear Him say to them, "What was up with Monica today?"  and Jesus would reply, "I know... right?" while the Holy Spirit nods heartily in agreement.

where did i catch this perfect mommy-itis?  i have no clue.  i think it's a combination of my perfectionism and my perception of other mamma's that i watch so carefully.  after all, i'm one of the last of my girlfriends to become a mama.  i've been watching my lovely ladies that i love so dearly do this for years.  i think there were the first early few before i was even thinking of kids (let alone marriage)... lynette, cassie, carrie and then those in the years after i became a wife and knew that a family wouldn't be far behind... heather, jill, melissa and lindee.  to all of these wonderful girls (and many more of my girlfriends whom have gone unnamed) i have watched you so closely.  you gaze at your children so sweetly.  you smile so big when you talk about them.  sometimes it was easy for a girl like me to fantasize about the joys of motherhood.

you girls just made it look so easy.

and, as i have found out over the past few months, it most definitely isn't.

crazy amazing... yes.  but lots of work.

and here's the crux...  and it's sort of beautiful in a strange way.  those of you that came to see me after i had my own little one... you girls who i've made such "perfect" moms in my brain...  when i let out my dirty little secrets of the first few weeks of motherhood... like some of the fears, concerns or messed up thoughts and feelings i was having... each and every one of you nodded and said amen sister.  it was like i had joined the club and learned the unspoken secret of being a mother.  because you all gathered around me with wide open arms and whispered "you are not alone" into my ears when i was afraid i was the only mother on earth who felt this way.

and then a fellow mama lent me a book by one of my favorite authors that i didn't even KNOW existed... Operating Instructions by Anne Lamott.  i spent countless hours feeding leif with one hand and holding that book in the other as she recounted her first year with her little one.  i connected with her highs and lows.  she writes one night, "it has been a terrible day.  i'm afraid i'm going to have to let him go.  he's an awful baby.  i hate him.  he's scum."  and then a few pages later, "and also - this is almost too much to handle-when i hold him now, he puts his arm around my neck.  it's very casual.  he just kind of slings his arm around me, like he's Sam Shepard or something.  it makes me woozy."  

word anne.  word. 

the truth is, the good days far outnumber the ones where i thought i sucked.  the beginning was tough.  when i put on my "mommy" hat those first few weeks, i couldn't see out from under it.  it was too big, fell down around my ears and i couldn't hear people (like my husband, friends and family) cheering me on.  it seemed all i could do was listen to thoughtless comments said in passing that probably weren't said to mean any harm and follow my "perfect mommy checklist."  those days where i couldn't check off the boxes (and there were a LOT of those days in the beginning) i felt like a failure.  

but now i've been wearing my hat for a few months... and it mostly stays on top of my head... though there are still a few days where the enormity of it makes it fall over my eyes and ears.  but those days are becoming less and less... and i'm so crazy about our son i can hardly see straight.  i watch his little hands work together like a worried, little, old man as he contemplates world peace... and i'm amazed that he came from me.  such a miracle.  some of the happiest moments in my life have have happened in the last three months when i change his diaper.  he smiles and kick, kick, kicks his legs.  then, he talks to me... "hey mom!  i lOVE this!  i LOVE you!  look at these strange things you call hands!  look how fast my legs can move!  is that DAD?!?  hey dad!  look what i'm doing!  i LOVE this!  i LOVE you!"  kick, kick, kick.  

w.o.o.z.y.

i see his gummy grin and know to my core that our kid loves us.  we're doing a good job.  if i can just bring myself to throw that mommy checklist away every day when i crawl out of bed... i will be inoculated against that dangerous strand of perfect mommy-itis.  

and then i can enjoy our little miracle as i take 

one. 

day. 

at.

 a.

 time.

nesting...

photo by my dear friend, lynette tidewell

maternity leave has been bliss...

don't get me wrong.  baby k's delayed arrival has definitely been frustrating.  especially when he or she is so cozy that it has literally dropped into my pelvis and then proceeded to move back up inside of me, causing the dr's to say, "usually they don't do that."

  apparently i'm a very comfortable host!

and, i'm not going to lie... every time i wake up in the morning, still pregnant, with no labor in sight, i get a tad bit disappointed.

but i'm having a difficult time being completely sad.

because maternity leave pre-baby has been amazing.

last week i went to work on monday morning.  baby k was low-riding back then, so i was rather uncomfortable.  but more than that... i saw my sweet little 2nd graders come traipsing through the door and my eyes glazed over.  i was done.  i just couldn't look at one more child.  my energy level was gone.  so i started my maternity leave 3 days earlier than planned.

to be honest... because baby k was so low last week and i was experiencing a lot of contractions and discomfort, i was pretty sure i was going to go early anyways.  

but as you can clearly see, here i sit,  a week overdue.  a fully cooked, estimated 9 pound baby happily thriving away in my belly.  (ummm, yes... you heard me right... apparently i'm quite talented at growing big, healthy babies.  uh-oh... after all of that unmedicated childbirth talk i'm starting to question myself!  send me some love and encouragement people!)

but i digress...

because as i was laying in bed this morning, wide awake at 3 AM, i kept coming back to how amazing this past week has been.  first of all, it doesn't matter that my aching hips and churning brain have woken me up at 3 AM each morning, because I get to go back to bed around 6:30 AM, after sending my handsome man off to work, and cat nap.  after i wake up for a second time, i make breakfast, watch the news (which i'm obsessed with, particularly the weather) and start a project or two... making sure i take a couple of walks here and there to hopefully encourage baby k's arrival.

i finished a two day project Thursday, labeling our cd collection.  it's been something i've been meaning to do for months now.  back in the fall of 2011 i had convinced my husband that we should put our cd's in these cute little boxes from IKEA so that we didn't have to stare at ugly cd spines.  but to his dismay, because we had never labeled the boxes, he couldn't figure out how to find his favorite cds, even though i had alphabetized them.  

well, never fear my love, because your wife has saved the day and labeled our entire cd collection (which is impressively massive because two music junkies fell in love and married each other)! 

something that would never have gotten done after the arrival of our munchkin.

that's right, dust your shoulders off kirkegaard!

speaking of dust... the other day i found dust... DUST... in our kitchen cabinets!

heaven forbid!

they are open air cabinets that the hubs lined with a special rubber liner so that the dishes don't slide around in them.  as i was vigorously scrubbing dishes and my counter tops, i noticed that the liners were filthy.  kjaer came upstairs to find the cupboards being emptied and the liners being pulled out and rinsed in the kitchen sink. i could feel him eyeballing me as i worked... like, "uh oh... is she doing that nesting thing?"  he'd periodically walk through the kitchen, ever so casually, his eyes burning a hole into my very pregnant backside.  but i think he was making sure my water wasn't about to burst or something.  he's heard about the fabled "burst of energy before you go into labor" routine.  a few hours into this project, he found me perched on top of the counter, washing the top of the refrigerator (because... *gasp*... there was a lot of dust up there too!).  suddenly, his hospital bag (which has been lovingly filled with snacks and a few changes of clothes for a couple of weeks) came out of the closet and his travel sized hygiene items started to get packed.  i think he thought i'd be in labor by the time i waddled my way off of the counter!  (actually, i sort of wondered if i would go into labor too.  but alas, that was a week ago!)

but that's OK, you can still call me super wife.

did i mention that each afternoon, when i get a little tired, i get to go out to our sunroom and open all of the doors up and let the breeze come pouring in?  i then proceed to lay on what we affectionately call our napping couch, listen to the pond my husband put on our patio and take a nap.

divine.

it may not be pretty, but it's a good napping couch with a view!

every day i save a few jobs for myself to do.  yesterday i had quite a few things on the docket, so i was a little bummed that i had been awake since 3 in the morning.   i drove over to the fire station and had our car seat inspected, met with a third contractor for an estimate on heating and air conditioning, brought kjaer lunch and his sacred tupperware of homemade cookies that he left at home, got a letter notarized for a family of a student in my class, and went to see the acupuncturist (for the fourth time) to hopefully induce labor.

our house is clean.  i've kept up on laundry.  and i'm rested.

the other afternoon, as i was dozing on our patio feeling quite spoiled, it occurred to me that this will be the only time in my life where i can take off work and relax like this.  i mean, just think about this!  the next time i go on maternity leave i will already have another child, so i won't be able to nap on the patio and do projects such as organizing a massive cd collection or washing all of the shelf liners in my kitchen cabinets.  i'll be in the throws of caring for another munchkin... who will probably be a toddler by then... AND pregnant.  props to mommies who already do that everyday! 

so let's just say that even though i'm itching to meet our little pumpkin'... each day he or she doesn't arrive allows for another day to complete wild haired projects that would otherwise never get done and relax.  i think i just might be the luckiest lady in the world.   

three cheers for maternity leave!

confessions of a night owl

in the past few years, sleeplessness has plagued me.  but the circumstances of this sleeplessness have been so opposite of each other that it perplexes me. 

it started three years ago, when my dad was diagnosed with cancer.  even while he was still healthy, i'd find myself aimlessly wandering around in the wee hours of the morning, drinking large glasses of milk and reading a good (or bad, depending on how you look at it) book.

after he passed away, this lack of shut eye intensified.  i tried to deal with it naturally (tea, exercise, blah, blah, blah) but as the months wore on it became harder to function... especially when i had to work with 29 first graders every day.  finally, it was suggested to me by a counselor that i was suffering from depression.  after several doctor visits, i was finally sleeping again.

last year, i came off the "hard stuff".  i felt like i had coped enough with the passing of my beloved da-doo (ie.- worlds best father) to face life again without the support of anti-depressants.  it took a couple of months of tapering under the watchful eye of a professional and i was successfully back to my ol' self.... sleeping like a rock and all.

until...

the first week of august.

i tried to blame it on going back to work.  that's always an exhausting time of the year, any teacher would attest to this.  but because it's so tiring, i usually slept from the moment my head hit the pillow until the snooze button had been hit about 5 times.

so i found it rather unnerving that during the most exhausting season of the year for me, i was waking up and staring at the ceiling for hours upon hours.

i couldn't figure it out.  i was happy, relatively calm, adjusted... as far as i was concerned.  i worried fretfully that i was slipping back down the slippery slope.  and though those years have made me stronger, i wasn't sure i wanted to go back to that mental space.

one particularly sleepless night, i woke up after a strange dream.  i had dreamed that i was pregnant and had told my sweet husband.  while i don't remember all of the details of the dream, the last thing that happened will ALWAYS stick with me.  he was sitting in our (then) office, i told him i was pregnant, and he kissed me on my belly.  i woke up thinking, "what the...?"

it was 2:30 in the morning.  i walked around our quiet house, shaken by my dream.  i just couldn't figure it out.  all the while, i worried i was back to my old ways.  i tried my old tricks (milk, reading, cuddling up with trooper and a couple of fleeces on a certain couch) but nothing worked.  i finally gave up and just readied myself for the day.  i went to work, bleary eyed and prepared for my last day of meetings before kids started school for the year.

i sat in our staff meeting, clutching my cup of coffee, fretting about how i was going to possibly stay awake during meetings all day.

suddenly... it occurred to me... an epiphany of sorts.

what if... i... was?

i leaned over to my friend and whispered a question in her ear.  it went something like this...
me: "when did your sense of smell change when you were pregnant?"
her:  "why"
me:  "just wondering..."
her:  "before i even knew i was"
me: *silence*  (my brain starts thinking about how i had told kjaer the night before that maybe we needed to wash (YES WASH... don't ask how my brain works but it made sense at the time) our grass because it smelled so bad like dog pee.  i had nearly passed out while grilling chicken and had taken to walking in and out of our house with my shirt pulled up over my nose)
her:  "you're pregnant... aren't you?"
me:  "no... i took a test a few days ago.  no."  (brain... uhhhhhhh.... but something's up)

of course, we were like two little school girls (yes i see the irony that we were IN a school and supposed to be acting like TEACHERS) as she grilled me on anything "strange" that may have been going on with me.

that night i went home, and my entire life changed... as did my husbands.  i learned that, in fact, i was pregnant.

since then, even though i've sleeping like a rock during the week (Thank You Lord!)... on weekends, school vacations... any day i'm supposed to sleep in... i have woken up extremely early. 

this morning, after my last bathroom trip, i laid in bed and waited for sleep to visit again.  after awhile i just gave into the madness, leaned over the best i could without my belly getting in the way to kiss kjaer and stated, rather matter of factly, "it's just not fair."  i got up, came down here and started a blog.

why not, right?

after all, i have wistfully stated many times that i wish i could write a blog like some of my very talented friends.   once, i said it aloud to my friend, super-blogger hannah, and she said, "then write one".  while i laughed it off (oh, i just couldn't possibly) her encouragement has stuck with me. 

so as i laid awake this morning i couldn't stop thinking about it.  wouldn't these sleepless nights/mornings be the perfect time to write?  ... and who cares if no-one reads it?

i mean, it's just me and "thumper" (aka baby k) awake anyway.  i can even hear trooper (ie - my other soul mate) snoring over there on his doggie bed and quincy (our beloved cat) is curled up, sleeping on a fleece on the chair.

and... i have a suspicious feeling that it'll be just me and baby k awake like this for awhile.

so why not use my night owl time to do what i love?  write.  talk.  feel.

the difference is... that unlike the last period of sleepless nights in my life... this time it has been sparked into existence by the creation of something so precious, so amazing, so joyful... that i'm beginning to think i need to retract my statement to kjaer this morning.  no more whining and complaining...in approximately 12 weeks, my nights are about to get a lot more sleepless.

what i'm trying to say is, my hope is that baby k and i will be here for some midnight laughs and cries for many, many nights to come.

cheers to this epiphany... not the first of my life... but certainly a substantial one!