Getting Over Myself
When the kid was first born Amy asked me if I was going to be one of those moms who actually stay at home all the time. I’d thought about that a lot before she asked me. I envisioned myself strolling outside with him all the time, going to the park even if he couldn’t really enjoy it yet, spending plenty of time of time with my other mommy friends, taking care of the shopping while Jud was at work and volunteering for all sorts of worthy causes. And then I realized how much work it is to do all of those things, how much time it takes just to get him and me ready to walk out the door for a day, how awkward it is for me to cart around a screaming baby, how much he likes to be in familiar surroundings and how much work I need to get done. So, even though I told her no, I mostly stay at home now.
Today, however, I made a trip to Walmart, just the two of us. It’s not that big of a deal, I know, but I get a little twitchy at the thought of him melting down in stores. He did it once when I was at Super Target with my mom and I immediately started sweating and heading toward the nearest exit. I just really don’t want to be that woman. I don’t want people’s ridiculous advice, disapproving stares or clucking tongues. I just want to shop like a normal person and have no one notice me.
That wasn’t quite the way it happened today. He screamed a little bit. He eventually nodded off in his car seat. And everything was fine. It takes less to get us out the door now and I have slightly less anxiety about him screaming in public places.
I still like being in our house together, though. That’s when I get to see him like this…
Sleepy and content
Happy and awake
Suspicious and funny
Gangsta – all the way
Dander
Tonight we went to a bbq that had to be moved inside due to impending rain and the humidity that rolled in with the storm clouds. There was an official agenda for the bbq, which was totally fine because people knew in advance that a presentation was going to be made. However some of the people apparently thought that the Q&A portion of the evening would be a good time to grill the presenters. It was a little odd. I hope that the presenters did not feel badly about the event.
While listening to the pitch, I was sitting next to Jud on a love seat and I’d started to feel kind of sick. A little tired. My face was swelling a little. My throat started to get scratchy. I started looking at the love seat and I saw it. Cat hair.
I did ten years of allergy shots (woot! woot!) but the air force refused to give me shots to immunize me toward cats (Doctor: “just stay away from them” Me: “that’s what I try to do, but when they are some place unexpected and I can’t breath, am I supposed to just stop breathing?” Doctor: “Bascially.”). So the cat hair is eating away at my sinuses and my lungs and I am feeling sorry for myself but, not wanting to interrupt the presentation, I keep sitting there. The nose is running. The eyes are too.
And then the choking began. Not me. Gideon.
His eyes were red and puffy. He couldn’t properly clear his air way.
He’s totally allergic to cats.
Good thing these don’t bother him…
Because we know who would win in this guy’s heart.
The Writing’s on the Wall
By principle I am not superstitious. It’s not biblical. It’s not logical. It’s not good. But in practice, it’s there. Somewhere in the back of my head I think things like “oh, don’t say that” or “not today.”
I knew I was this way when it came to sports. The Huskers lost this one game when I made a black bean tortilla casserole and it has since been banned during the season. I also frequently try to sit in the same place as the last time when they won. I know it’s crazy. I know I shouldn’t think that way. But I do. And I laugh at myself because I know it’s all a farce.
Motherhood has not helped the superstitiousness. If I say something out loud, then it won’t be true anymore. Or, conversely, if I don’t notice how great something was, perhaps it will go away entirely. But usually, it is the former.
Take, for instance, the post I wrote where I told you Gideon doesn’t take pacifiers. Guess what he took the next day? And now? He’ll eat from a bottle without protest.
Or tonight, as we sat down to eat dinner, he was asleep and just as we went to pray I said with glee “we’re eating dinner and the baby is sleeping!” and as the prayer began, who do you think started crying? Yeah, not Jud.
And then there is the vomit. He didn’t. Ever. Sometimes he would vurp (vomit + burp = vurp) but he would just swallow it back down and we would never see it. Granted, his eyes got a little bulgy and he didn’t look so great after that, but he didn’t throw up. And then I told someone “It’s okay to bounce him like that. He doesn’t throw up.” I think you know the punchline here. Do you have any idea how sad it is to pick your baby up out of their crib with white stickiness all over their face, in their ears, matting down their hair, soaking their crib sheet?
Makes.me.feel.terrible.
Worst mother ever.
Because I jinxed him.
Mama’s Sorry.
Of Mastitis and Falling
Starting on Monday night I went another round with mastitis. It came on really quickly and one minute I was putting the baby to bed…the next I was falling down the stairs in an attempt to get some water. I barely remember the falling down part, but I freaked out the family, so I’m sure they won’t forget it.
Yesterday was spent sleeping while Grandma skipped work to take care of the behbeh. And thank goodness because I was one sorry excuse for a person yesterday.
While sleeping the day away, I had two intense dreams that have stuck with me. The first one was all about my attempt to become the “Queen of the Fair”. It involved having to complete a competitive food competition (where one of the items to eat was a chocolate cake shaped like a boat, filled with cherries) and making snickerdoodles. (Jenn – I think this may have sort of been like being crowned the Noodling Princess. Don’t worry, though. That one’s still for you!) The other dream involved Dwayne Wayne (did you watch “A Different World”?) teaching people how to do that wierd climbing up cloth thing that’s so cool while in a bizarre metal structure in western Nebraska. Dwayne Wayne got really mad at the people he was trying to teach and blew up the building. I survived and was trying to escape back to Omaha. This girl, Stacey, from college wouldn’t let me get in her car and I was forced to keep running while carrying a cot. I finally ran into some people who were RVing in a field and was trying to convince them to take me back to Omaha. Then I woke up.
I’m feeling much better today.
I Don’t Even Have a Mastercard
Three in one ebony baby crib that will grow with him, unless some other little baby steals it away; two hundred nineteen dollars.
Matching ebony changing table that was purchased from an online store for a fraction of what the furniture store wanted; seventy-nine dollars.
Room darkening red curtains, hung with care by his father; thirty-three dollars.
A happy, well rested baby who sleeps way longer than most college students; unbelievably, without a doubt, priceless.
There are some things money will never buy, but it really helps to make for a super cute nursery, and, of course, for everything else…there’s cash (because, people, if you don’t have the money to buy it, leave it at the store).
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