I realized that all these years, I had been dreading a giant toad, lurking offshore, waiting to suck me under and drag me out to sea.
I’ve had this strange feeling looming in the back of my mind for a few days now. For a while I assumed it was the UnderToad, and pushed it away, believing it would resolve itself as long as I didn’t acknowledge it with too much thought.
It isn’t the UnderToad.
I’m lead believe this foreign and somewhat uncomfortable feeling is that of guilt.
I wrote this post a month ago, on the day that it happened. At the time, for whatever reason, I didn’t want to publish it, and wondered if I ever would. To spoil the ending, everything turned out just fine. Better than fine, in fact.
So I’m having a mommy melt-down right now.
Of course, it is Friday, which means my five year old will not get out of bed. This means the entire morning went the usual way it goes when Eliott decides not to do anything. But my new approach to this attitude is to tell her one time, “If you do not do all your jobs before school today, or if you are not ready when it is time to go, you will ride in the car to drop Carter off and come back home with me.” (Thankfully, school is currently a reward in her mind.)
I’m not going to apologize for the lack of posting, structure, or general theme to my recent updates. Those of you who understand morning sickness, all day, for sixteen weeks, are impressed that my current children are still alive. Forget about this silly blog, which needs no food. But to those of you who echo the sentiments of my baby sister (at dinner a few weeks ago), sounding something like this: “You know I can’t even remember the last time I had the flu. I just can’t imagine, or even remember really, what you must feel like. And since I never really get sick, I honestly don’t think I’ll have a rough pregnancy,” I would like to paint a word-picture that the migraine prevented me from creating that night when I politely agreed that your pregnancies would probably be easy, and silently prayed for the ability to projectile puke all over you across the table at that very moment.
Pregnancy fun fact #302: During pregnancy, lots of women become more sensitive and reactive to the scents around them. The increase in estrogen leads to a highly acute sense of smell.
I spent a four day weekend without my children or John in Washington state, catching up with my sisters, sleeping in a hotel, and not cooking any of my meals, all under the excuse of the dedication to a new elementary school building on the same campus as my K-12 high school.
It was a great weekend. Minus the flying part.
I like to think that I take customer service pretty seriously, when it comes to the places I choose to patronize. Certainly, in food service, there is no such thing as returning to a restaurant where the service is poor. The fact that most restaurants charge more than twenty dollars for a steak I could easily make for myself at home, and just as good, I’m only paying for service and a night free of dishes.
Grocery stores, however, are a different story. I hate to announce that I will never shop at Lowe’s Foods again, because the truth is, they have the best discount produce and bakery rack in town, and are in a terribly convenient location for a quick in-and-out after dropping the girls off at school. But every single time I go there, I want to announce, “I WILL NEVER SHOP AT LOWE’S FOODS AGAIN!”
I’ve come to the point where achievement of just one task in a day is truly something upon which I can hang my hat. I’m a slightly obsessive vacuum-er. What can I say, I like a lint free floor, and when running the Bissell Versus (stupidest invention this side of 2009) takes half the time of sweeping, I’m not above busting that thing out once or twice a day.
Normally, it would bother me that my floors are this dirty. But today’s task was huge, even by non-pregnancy proportions, so Saturday morning’s bagel crumbs will simply have to wait. Today, I tackled the seasonal closet clothes swap.
**WARNING: This post alludes to the subject of poop. Stop eating or stop reading.**
I’m not very good at keeping up with old wives tales or superstitions or whatever. But I feel like somebody is out to get me.
Can I just say for the record, that if punishment is necessary, pregnancy is absolutely enough. God didn’t condemn Eve with this affliction in the Garden for nothing.
So I’ve done some serious considering, as of late.
I’ve decided that a public service 3rd pregnancy announcement via Facebook is exactly as trite and cliche as starting a mommy blog to chronicle the news of something as rare as triplets. But seeing as how I am not just starting this blog (and not, to my knowledge, carrying triplets), it does not feel trite nor cliche at all to announce here, that we are expecting our 3rd baby, some time in December. (This is according to the ever medically accurate iPeriod Ap on my once dreaded but now necessary for life iPhone).
There is something equal parts joyful and concerning about watching your not-quite-two-year old try to hug his bath water. On the one hand, here is this kid who just loves being alive and wants to enthusiastically give everything a hug; on the other hand, he’s hugging water that I’m eighty percent sure he’s peed in. -Andrew Hachey
I do not love animals. In the same way that I’m not a very big fan of other people’s children. I wasn’t born with a natural inclination to love all babies, nor all things covered in fur. Or feathers. Take your pick.
Yes, it has been a while since I’ve posted. Yes, last week was Spring Break, which means I was on full time entertainment of children mode. I spent every afternoon napping with the girls. Writing simply wasn’t happening. Same goes for laundry.
I’m nearly certain it was about this time last year that I was taking stock of the patches of jungle that are growing wild in my once (apparently) very diligently planned and tended yard. I would hate for the former owners of this house to come back and see what we’ve allowed the place to become. Continue reading “Holy Herbs”
The UnderToad 