Dear Me,
This letter may freak you out, seeing as it?s from me - you,
whatever - in the future but there?s something you should be prepared for. You don?t know it yet, but you?re
pregnant. That?s right; you?re going to
have a baby. Now, don?t go and freak
out, it?s not like you weren?t planning for this. It?s a good thing, really, but you may want
to sit down while you?re reading this.
This pregnancy is going to send your life into a tailspin
but I figure you can handle this advance warning.
- First of all I?m sorry to tell you this, but you?re going
to be sick. Really sick. Throw out all your ideas about morning
sickness. I?ve got one word for you ?
Zofran. On the upside you won?t gain
much weight and you?ll save a fortune on maternity clothes.
- Second, don?t plan on going back to work after the baby is
born. Your bosses are going to take this
opportunity to screw you over. There
will be much stress and in the end you?re going to quit anyway. Save yourself some trouble and tell them to
take their job and shove it.
- Third, it?s not a picnic but labor and delivery are not as
bad as you think. Don?t get me wrong it?s
fairly horrible, but you?ll get through it. Get the epidural, you?ll thank me later.
You haven?t passed out yet, have you? Good. Here?s what you should know for after you?ve had the baby:
- In the beginning breastfeeding is going to suck (pardon
the pun). Stick with it. It gets better.
- No, you won?t break the baby.
- Um, you might want to do some research on Colic. Sorry.
- Don?t be afraid to ask for help and if you feel like
crying (hint, hint), dammit go ahead and cry. No, neither one will make you seem weak.
- Finally, that little girl ? Oops, you don?t know the sex
of the baby yet. Well, surprise! It?s a girl! ? is going to break your heart
into a million pieces time and again and then with one smile will put all those
pieces back together. I know you hate
roller coasters so you might want to hang on tight; it?s going to be a wild
ride.
I think that?s enough for now. Remember you?re tough, much tougher than you
think and this pregnancy and mommy thing will prove it. Since you?re so tough I think you can handle
hearing one more thing: George W. Bush is
going to be re-elected in November?s election. I know, it sucks big time, but on the upside the Red Sox are finally
going to win the World Series! No,
really, I?m serious! Would I lie to
you? Me? Whatever. I need to wrap this up
because this has gotten too confusing. Good luck, we?ll need it.
Much love,
You, Me, Whatever, circa November, 2006
****This post is part of October’s Blog Exchange and was written by Mrs. Chicky****
When she?s not working on her Way Back Time Machine, Mrs.
Chicky is trying to rid herself of the tics and
twitches she acquired as a result of her now 18 month old daughter?s colic.
Looking for CrankMama? You can find her here
That’s what I want to know… and where is my maid to prepare it? And who ARE these children?
Deep thoughts brought to you by Motherhood.
Goddess of Snark grant me the serenity
to accept the peeps I cannot change;
the cleverness to change the things I am not supposed to change;
and wisdom to embrace the differences between myself and the Other Mommies .
Living one hour at a time;
Enjoying one glass of wine at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to maturity and self-obsession;
Taking, as She did, this sinfully kooky world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting The Snark;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with my inner CrankMama
Forever in the next.
Amen.
For me, the thin line between contentment & crankiness is linearly correlated with the thin line between sleeping & not-sleeping. The past week, my daughters have tag-teamed my hubs and I, insuring that any wisp of REM sleep was interrupted with a call for water, new covers, a story, or anything at all in between. My youngest, wee V, has been making up for my lost work hours by trying to nurse again at Midnight (ack! ack!)… The horrors of sleep deprivation had been wiped so cleanly from my brain, I’d forgotten how terribly frail mommy’s world view and sauciness can become.
It doesn’t help that I had a horrible dream where a smart and adorably gorgeous twenty-something stole my husband from me. His blithe reply to my dream-state confrontation seemed so real: "You paid no attention to me, so I had no other option." I yelled out his name in my sleep and tossed and turned, waking with a terrible sense of dread and anxiety and crankiness — not the clever sassy kind.. the dreary defeated kind.
Bad dreams and interrupted sleep… a deadly combination.
I feel somewhat comforted by the fact that I kicked that hubs-stealer’s bony little ass, pulled her hair, and banished her from my huge Victorian mansion.
This is one of those days I wish so much that one of my fabulously clever email/blog galpals lived nearby so we could grab a drink and talk about shoes…
While it’s fairly obvious to me that I need to work to survive emotionally, intellectually, and economically, I have learned to live with a deep-seated ambivalence about the whole Career Mommy endeavor (less like "ambivalence", more like being ripped apart by two wild boars running in opposite directions). A low, dull ache of longing, freedom, and confusion all mixed together in a watered down and expensive cocktail.
While I was home for three months this Summer, I nearly went to a home; and not the pretty kind with the nice people in bathrobes calmly taking pills. More like the one with the screaming people chained to walls being fed dry biscuits and rocks.
And while I’m not "I am Woman. I am Mother," I’m also definitely not "These kids ruined my figure, damn them!"… I’m lost in the hinterlands somewhere between Cranksville, Scary Mommy World, and Self-Sacrifice Suburbs.
But on days like today, when the rain and dark is mixed with the memory of smelling the spun gold of Violet’s hair as I sang her a bedtime lullaby, I have no mixed feelings whatsoever. I want to stay home, cuddle up in a big bed full of daughters, and see what wonders befall us. I want to make pumpkin pie, talk about giggly monsters, and be a short-order peanut butter chef.
The best parts of motherhood are the immensely private times that occur between me and my daughters. I never get misty and devoted all over again on play dates, at grandma’s house, or Gymboree. It is always at home on days like this, when we stay in our jammies and do whatever we like, with neither a schedule nor a spreadsheet to stop us.
When I came home from work today, the twins were in their jammies cuddled in front of the fireplace playing with their new stuffed cats "Butter" & "Sugar." V ran in from the living room to greet me with her playmate F (Babysitter’s daughter) in tow smiling and calling out "MAMA! MAMA!" Babysitter was sitting and reading a book aloud to all the playing kids. It was peaceful and quiet and orderly. It felt like home.
Our babysitter is a woman around my age, who is almost my exact opposite in beliefs, temperament, and life experience. She’s an outspoken Christian, a high school graduate who married young and who, except for babysitting jobs, has stayed home with her kids since they were born (her oldest is now 16 - her youngest is 18 months). Her demeanor, when I first met her, seemed almost too mousy and shy and I nearly crossed her off the list of possible sitters.
Unlike me, she’s reticent to express her opinions loudly, swear, or say mean things about overly cheerful neighbors. She’s kind, patient, and very soft-spoken. And I’m honored that she watches my children for me while I work, even though I’m a potty-mouthed heathen who is going to Hell.
In her gentle, soft way, she’s taught me a great deal about the joys of laid back parenting. Her style is Type Z. There are no overachieving flashcards, or reading of developmental psychology books in her world. She leads the kids with quiet authority, believes in good manners and obedience, and doesn’t feel obliged to engage the kids in "enriching activities," preferring to let them play imaginative games independently.
She’s my kind of girl.
And even when she talks about Jesus, I just smile and say "Oh? Is that right?"
I’ve been on a quest to discover tales of blended families on the blogosphere. Thus far… very little luck. As has already been discussed, CrankMama loves blended families because it means she’s not the only person with an interesting past AND because some of her favorite people are stepparents. Of course, blended defined as "nontraditional" can also mean any number of other fascinating arrangements.
So out yourself, baby! Tell me allll about your unusual family, step-kids, step-parents, step-siblings.. your first, second, third husband… any old thing you like to blend at all… lay it all out for me. Because we’ve got to bring the truth soup back to the dinner table about what is REALLY going on around here.
Here’s one you probably already know about. Check her out!
Suburban Turmoil
And just because you’ve never been divorced or had children out of wedlock or lived in a hippie commune memorizing beer bottles doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It just means I probably won’t marry you…
In the spirit of having a blogroll that reflects the latest and greatest of "Cranky Mamas" & "Cranky Daddies" blogs, I’m updating my lists.
I’m also only going to link to folks with whom I have some sort of communication and who occasionally come by and visit.
Thus spoke Queen Crank.
If you’d like to be included, let me know.
Evidence that baby brothers (even if they are 34) should never be allowed near your cell phone:
