Log in

No account? Create an account
July 2018   01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31
3 kittens

A couple of blue-hairs

Posted on 2014.10.26 at 10:03
Three more weeks of being pregnant! Ever, in my life!
Obviously not, because:
1. None of the babies have arrived on their due date. Hawaii and Ace were about five days late, Pokey was two days late.

2. It's conceivable that I could get accidentally pregnant in the future. I'm full of Never Again! statements about pregnancy, like "I will never fly pregnant again!" and "I will never be pregnant in the summertime again!" and my little superego homunculus has to insert an asterisk, and remind me that I could always get accidentally pregnant. What would I do, abortion-wise, if I got accidentally pregnant? I'd probably get one. But let's really, really assume that we won't have to cross that bridge.  The point: Humor me with my never again statements; I am clinging to them at the moment.

(Three more weeks and then never again! Nine more pregnant Xfit classes! Never again will I lumber around with this medicine ball belly. I will have energy and spark and be effervescent. Never again, maternity clothes. It's hard to overstate how much I loathe maternity clothes.)(And since I basically did not lose any weight after Ace, I will be able to fit right back into those clothes, at least.)

(I will only have my ladyparts for about eighteen more months, before oophorectomies and mastectomies render this fear of pregnancy moot. So it is reasonable not to fret unnecessarily about getting pregnant accidentally.)

The eldest:

Hawaii got her first frowny face at kindergarten.  She wrote the word "penis" on the board. Isn't that great? Then she got in more trouble for smirking and having an attitude when the teacher talked to her and her partner-in-crime. That part is not so great, but exactly what five-year-old Heebie would have done in that situation, too.

The next day she got another frowny face, this time for nothing interesting - being disruptive at music class, that sort of thing.  After two months of anxiety-driven best behavior, clearly Hawaii now feels at home at kindergarten.

The middlest:

Pokey: "We don't drink ink because ink is a paint."  Good advice!

Pokey also has an imaginary friend, a squirrel named Cutie.

On the whole, Pokey is doing a bit better with anger management. He still explodes, but he seems to get the strategies that his teacher is working with him on.  She has taught him to get a stress ball, or something sanctioned to destroy, and calm himself down by tearing at the destructible object.  At school, he'll regulate the whole process by himself.

At home, we've kind of half-assed supplying him with these stress relievers. We've got a bucket with some plastic poppers and stress balls in it, but frankly: when the teacher was rattling off useful stress relievers, they all sounded terribly messy. "Give him strips of cardboard to tear up! Give him a balloon filled with sand! Set up a water table! Moon sand out of flour and I forget!" and so on. All these wonderful tactile things and all they sound like to me is giant messes to be cleaned up.

Also the cat eats plastic, so the bucket is high up on a cabinet where Pokey can't reach it, at the moment. Because we're model parents.

Jammies took the big kids to watch a women's soccer game. Pokey spent the entire two hours practicing the following soccer move: you put your foot on top of the ball, then pull your foot back and roll the ball on your foot, so that you can kick it up in the air. He sometimes does it, sometimes fails, but I'm just pleased as punch that he practiced it for two hours straight.

(Jammies is, too. Jammies is more passionate than I am about sports. As a ten year old on the football field, his coach would occasionally yank him off and bark "JAMMIES! WHY ARE YOU CRYING!" and Jammies would breathlessly respond, aggressively swiping the tears away, "Put me back in coach! Nothing's wrong! I'm just worked up! I want to play!")

The littlest:

Is so delightful and happy. And a ham.  Ace calls Hawaii "Ree-ree" and Pokey "Mahl". Which are loosely derivative of their real names, but mostly I'm just recording these so I don't forget them.

When Hokey Pokey was born, Hawaiian Punch was nineteen months old.  I wasn't particularly worried about displacing her because she was so tightly bonded with Jammies.  When Ace was born, Hokey Pokey was two and a half years old. I was a bit worried about him, but he was old enough to talk to.  Next month, when new baby arrives, Ace will be nineteen months old. She is equally bonded to me and Jammies both, and has no clue what is coming, and I'm a bit sad about displacing her. It's a little heart-breaking.

Here's a thing I muse about: Pokey and Hawaii have a full, complex sibling relationship.  Ace is just now starting to have relationships with each of them, but for the most part she's a baby still.  So right now there is one intact sibling relationship.

Someday there will be SIX sibling relationships! Hawaii-Pokey, Hawaii-Ace, Hawaii-New baby, Pokey-Ace, Pokey-New baby, and Ace-New baby. That is a lot of complexity yet to come.

The imminentest:

I'm super excited to cuddle a little newborn during the winter months. Such a cozy state. I love Thanksgiving and pretending that the weather is cold. I bought swaddles, orangey-yellow and brown. They seemed like fall colors and also old-fashioned football team colors.

Remember the tension between pregnancy ending and sabbatical ending? That  the former necesitates the latter, but only one of them makes me happy?  The arrival of new baby is trumping the end of the sabbatical. I'm more excited for the new baby and end of pregnancy than I am unhappy about going back to work.

Going back to work will be okay. The only part I'll hate is trying to make time to pump milk at work. That is awful.

Our old secretary got transferred, and we got a new building secretary.  She signs all her emails "Have a blessed day!" so I assumed she was in her fifties.

On Friday I met the new secretary, who turned out to be a be-pierced PYT of about 25 years old.  Who signs her emails for us to have a blessed day? Weirdo. Anyway, she seemed sharp and helpful.

The Jammies:

On the plane last weekend, Jammies sat in between Hawaii and Pokey, and had Ace on his lap. I sat across the aisle by myself. Ace went back and forth between the two of us, but truly Jammies took three kids on the plane and let me sleep.

The reasons I love Jammies pre-date his super-human parenting and household skills. He was great before we shared a household and started to raise kids, and I wanted to spend my days with him for all the personality and appealing things specific to Jammies.

But! Good lord, the super-human parenting and household skills are amazing. I don't want to reduce him to those service-based personality traits, but I don't want to take those parts for granted, either.

(It's a good thing he can handle all three on a plane, because he's taking all three to his cousin's wedding in Kansas in two weeks. I am not attending that wedding. Never again will I fly pregnant!)

More about me!

I stopped running at Xfit. I managed to run until last week, when I bailed three-quarters of the way through a mile.  I feel pretty good about all this.

I mentioned to my dad that I've been putting on muscle, that my old personal best records are currently easy for me. He confirmed that this could be due to pregnancy - "You've got extra androgen in your system, along with everything else. You could easily be putting on extra muscle, if you're lifting weights."

I got very excited. "Tell me," I asked, "Will I keep all the muscle, if I keep up this training, post-partum?"

"Of course not," he said, dismissively. "You'll go back to your pre-pregnancy muscle mass, from training alone. You won't keep any boost you're getting from the androgen."

I find this unbearably depressing. Nine months of killing myself, and it's not going to make much of a difference post-partum, compared to my other pregnancies where I half-assedly used the elliptical machine for nine months.

Even more about me.

Occasionally I'll get asked, "Is this your first?" (meaning my first pregnancy, baby, etc.) I don't get asked it very much, probably because I'm 36 and have no zing left in my step. I remember getting asked it a lot more, six years ago.

Anyway, this time I have an answer all lined up: "No, it's my last!" which I think is hilarious but no one else cracks up very much.  Until Friday! I was at Joann's Fabrics, being chatted up by two old ladies, and they duly asked if this was my first. With a celebratory fist pump, I wryly delivered my line, and they both cracked up and laughed really hard. (I was so pleased. All I want in life is for people to laugh at my jokes.)

I wonder if it spoke to them on some generational level - "when we raised our kids, everyone knew it was a shit job, but today's parents all pretend that it's rainbows and Pinterest boards" - and so struck them as the right sensibility. (I really wanted to call them "a couple of blue-hairs" in the paragraph above, but that would obscure the story and be bad narrating. Perhaps that can be the post title.)

I'm 36 and have no zing left in my step. How has motherhood changed me? I used to have more interest and energy in being whimsical and sparky.  I'm still very silly, but not so...youthful.  I'm more like a pillow now - if you make the effort to come sit on me, I'll engage and be fun and silly.  But I'm not going to get off the couch and put myself out there.

I'm not unhappy with this evolution. Just saying that most of my time and energy is responsive instead of proactive, if that makes sense.

Oh and:

When we were flying home last weekend, the bride texted me: her parents had each written her a letter, running about five pages, which she described as "horrifying and cruel".  The letters had been in the mailbox for a day or two, but neither the bride nor her fiance had bothered to check the mail. Clearly they were intended to be read on or just before her wedding day.

This is just shockingly cruel. I can't imagine setting out to wreck your child's joyful day. I know her parents pretty well - they came to visit a lot when we were in graduate school - and they were loving, supportive, and so on. What I mean is that they haven't been alienated from each other aside from this one, gay issue.  But holy shit, way to scorch and salt the ground behind you, parents. 


Kelly Jennings
Kelly Jennings at 2014-10-27 02:41 (UTC) (Link)


Ha-ha, penis!

I'm with Hawaii, I would have smirked too.

All this to avoid the major anger I have toward those parents, who are even more horrible than I had thought. Good God.

I know some demented Xtians around here that I can see doing such a terrible thing -- Quiverful and other really unfortunate sects here in Bible Land -- but other than that, what sort of broken person do you have to be to do this to your child?
heebie_geebie at 2014-11-03 01:28 (UTC) (Link)

Re: Penis!

My theory is that they're somewhere on the gay spectrum themselves, and this has stirred up all sorts of self-loathing which they're redirecting onto their kid. But broken person to try to ruin your kid's happy day is right. I can't fathom.
puzzlement at 2014-10-27 06:48 (UTC) (Link)
I also talk about being never pregnant again-asterisk. I think my issue is that I've heard too many stories of the child who was an unplanned pregnancy and it coloured their whole self-image. I have to talk very very softly in case I have a third child in the future and they find out. (I also know a whole lot of people who were unplanned pregnancies whose reaction is "yup, indeedy". So I am not being rationale.

I tell you what, not-pregnant is amazing!

Also HULKSMASH to your friend's parents.
heebie_geebie at 2014-11-03 01:30 (UTC) (Link)
I cannot wait. I think about not-pregnant constantly. As for the hypothetical oops-kid, Jammies himself was one - and is pretty unbothered by it. (Like you acknowledged.) Although it would be creepy to know your mom contemplated aborting you. God I hope none of this comes to pass.
rebeccastob at 2014-10-30 04:54 (UTC) (Link)

lol - penis!

oh boy that is a horrible thing to do to your child.

Yay not-pregnant. I am still so happy to not be pregnant and basically no desire for more babies. Up until now I've been using condoms as BC since the divorce but a late period made me realize that I want some more heavy duty backup for that and I am getting the copper IUD (again I had it for about a year after Morpheus was born) over 10 years of no effort birth control with no out of pocket cost because of the ACA!
heebie_geebie at 2014-11-03 01:31 (UTC) (Link)

Re: lol - penis!

I am sooooo done. I am so done that the only thing that keeps me from writing a blog post exclusively obsessing over these last few weeks is that it would be way too boring for anyone else to read. But that is all I'm doing in my head, so it would reflect reality, at least.

Hooray for ACA and IUDs!
parodie at 2014-11-05 23:21 (UTC) (Link)
Your postscript is just so horrible. I've had this window open for days trying to find something to say, but that's the gist of it. I'm so sorry for your friend, and I trust that the love and support of their community at their wedding was enough to lessen the sting of parents who really don't understand.
heebie_geebie at 2014-11-09 03:01 (UTC) (Link)
It really is mind-bogglingly cruel. I think she's been braced for relations to be completely severed for a while now, and seems ready to cut them out entirely. She also had a set of surrogate parents in attendance - her parents' best friends, who she'd grown up with, who have actually ended their friendship with her parents over this issue. Which none of this actually makes up for her parents' behavior, but I was still very glad for the surrogate parents, one of whom officiated the ceremony.
Previous Entry  Next Entry