Pregnant is the new drunk...

Ok, so I might not be slurring when I speak (at least not yet), but I'm pretty sure that my brain is confusing "baby" with "booze," because I. am. not. right.

The thoughts in my head, they just don't stay straight anymore, probably since my short-term memory now only extends about four seconds into the past. This makes intelligent, sophisticated conversations difficult. Who am I kidding- it renders *coherent* conversations completely impossible.

For example, yesterday, or maybe it was last week, I was talking to my friend at playgroup, or perhaps it was my husband, or the neighbor lady who looks like my husband, and we were talking about something about the thing that she was saying and I was like "Oh wow, that's so great!"

Yeah so I don't remember anything about anything.

See, I can follow what's being said, for a moment anyway, but I have no way of keeping track of how to formulate an appropriate response. And because I won't be able to remember what I say anyway, I've started to not even care.

Loss of inhibitions? Check

And I've already talked, um... ad nauseam, about feeling sick.

So, nausea and vomiting? check

Difficulty walking a straight line (or at least staying on my feet)? Check

How did this get here again?

Then there's my short-term memory, which I could swear cuts out like every four seconds so that I can't remember what I've just said or done. Thankfully, there's my trusty camera to capture my moments of greatest triumph. Like when the refrigerator into which I placed the mayonnaise turned into the pantry overnight, probably miraculously.

Oh, and all these preggo hormones have got me feeling alternatingly weepy and crazy sentimental for Mike and girls, so yeah, I maybe cry for no reason and tell everyone around me how much I love them and how great they are.

My brilliant conclusion: Pregnancy = drunk.

Wow, I should probably stop driving now before something like this happens. On the plus side, if I was to get pulled over, that would give SuperFunnyInsightfulMomBloggerHeroSimchaFisher and me something in common, right? Hmmm, on second thought, I do need to get some more mayo, so maybe a trip to the store's in order.

If I could only remember where I left my keys.

Friday through Wednesday blogging

I meant to post a weekend update on Monday from our time in S-town, but since I took zero pictures and I know you would like more deats on my life than just  the weekend, I will instead give you a detailed account of life since Thursday. Ready, set, read:

• Thursday after wasting much time on my computer, I finally got my shiz together and got us on the road for  said Ville trip. It was glorious, and by glorious I mean nauseatingly exhausting. 
• Friday: I slept for probably a total of 5-6 hours then began a great day of time with my family, mostly my sisters- always my favorite. For this pregnant wimp of a woman who usually hits the pillow no later than 10 to rise no earlier than 7- the 6 hours were not cutting it and I was done with the fun by 9. 
• Saturday was wedding time. I will not go into deats- but it was absolutely beautiful- both the wedding and the fact that Mike and I spent almost 8 solid hours sans stinklings- absolutely beautiful.
• Sunday. Some might call this the day from h-e-double hockey sticks, but I will just call it a bad day. After waking with a migraine and doing some major scrambling to get in the car with all our stuff packed ready to head home shortly after Mass we experienced one of the most horrendous Mass experiences ever. It ended with me carrying a screaming Naomi out during a letter being read by the deacon who STOPPED the letter and STARED at us as we walked out of the PACKED Church. Needless to say Mike and I were both pretty soured on the whole taking our kids to Mass ever ever ever again thing, but we've recovered I think. As if the Mass exhibit were not enough, our 2 short hours spent with Mike's family ended similarly with us carrying a screaming Naomi and Bernadette and throwing them placing them in the car seats and hitting the road with tires screeching and yelling back that we loved everyone and apologized for the embarrassing display... (exaggerated a little.)
• Monday, after professing that I was pretty sure that I was done with morning sickness, I had quite possibly the worst sick-day thus far, more intense than all the others. It really showed me. Fortunately I found a food item that sounded good (bagel sandwiches) and ate to my little heart's content to stave off constant nausea.
• Tuesday was much better and I spent the day catching up with a friend and my sister-in-law and eating bagel sandwiches and store brand toaster pastries (another fantastic find). 
• Wednesday we will be venturing out to the zoo where I am sure I will again take no pictures, but it should be fun. One picture I did take is this one of my rapidly expanding jumbo tummy at 13 weeks, thank you bagel sandwiches and toaster pastries:

Wow, you didn't think a belly picture could get any worse than my last, I am always outdoing myself.

Cardi: super old target brand
Tank: recent gap maternity clearance find (you can't see the orange leopard print on it, your eyes are really missing out.)
Pants: lent by friendly blogger friend, Grace and are easing the pain of already being in maternity pants.

One day I will post something good, I promise.

Mary Poppins Days

A few weeks ago I discovered something that has saved me on many occasions since then: that the movie Mary Poppins is almost 2 and a half hours in duration. This would not have a been a good thing about 6 months ago since that is kind of a ridiculous length of time to plop young minds in front of a screen, but then I miscarried and then 4 weeks later I was pregnant again and then 2 weeks later I could barely get off the couch due to alllllll day sickness.

Ever since this current semester happened (I still measure my life in terms of semesters) I have dubbed way too many days "Mary Poppins Days", a day where I cannot imagine NOT sticking my girls on the couch for this length of time. I will try to spare you all the complainy details of why things are so hard right now, I know you've heard it enough if you've stuck out reading this blog since it's turned into one big pregnancy complaining fest, but suffice it to say that heaping a crazy itchy pregnancy rash (diagnosed recently as PUPPS) and bad cold given to me by 18 month old (who ever said these kids don't give me gifts?) on top of the constant nausea and crazy fatigue -yes, I am the most pathetic pregnant women ever- has made almost every day a "Mary Poppins Day". A day where I need 2 1/2 hours to do things like lay on the couch and blog, which is my only social outlet at all anymore, and maybe eat something without sharing.

The point here is that I am in survival mode, and while I am all too eager to be done "just surviving" every day, it's been helpful to realize that for this season in life, this is ok. I read this post recently which I found as a result of reading Hallie's chapter in this book and really being struck by her identification of different seasons in life and allowing yourself slack in certain seasons. I wrote this post recently about how too much is being asked of me and it all came together this morning that I am the one who is expecting too much of myself (it would have been helpful to put all this together a few weeks ago as I am nearing the "out of the woods" point in terms of nausea). I wake up every morning expecting myself to get out of bed, shower, get dressed for the day, and put makeup on and yet I am so nauseous and exhausted from being up all night scratching my rash that the thought of even getting out of bed kind of crushes me. Then, when all of those tasks are not accomplished, I am beating myself up and getting down on myself for not being the woman of Proverbs 31. What if my only expectation of myself was just get out of bed? Then when it happens, I have accomplished my goal. If I just expect that several days of the week right now are going to be "Mary Poppins days" then when I plop the girls on the couch with their juice and snack cups for the entire morning, the crushing guilt that generally follows for failing to be the mother I am expecting myself to be might be eased a bit since this was the expectation anyways. As soon as I let go of the the expectation of working out everyday while feel like crap, the better I felt at the end of everyday about not doing it. You get the point.

Now I will stop ranting and take advantage of the remainder of my 2 1/2 hours to do some more laying, eating, nothing too productive, etc...

And for your enjoyment

How much is too much?

I found myself saying a lot this week that "too much is being asked of me". Between constant nausea and fatigue and 2 girls in constant need of attention and for me to get them things (one with the croup all week and sleeping terribly) I have been feeling totally burnt out. We would be outside and trying to enjoy ourselves in the sunshine and all I would be thinking about is how tired and sick I felt, how all I really wanted was to be in my bed not pushing my girls on the swings. Naomi asked me something while I was swinging them and I just said to her "no, too much is being asked of me". I know I said it to Mike on at least one occasion as well. That is how I have felt all week, stretched thin and barely able to function, let alone make life sweet and pleasant for the people I am serving all day.

Fitting, isn't it that I've felt this way the entirety of Holy Week? I've shed quite a few tears because of my own sufferings this week and have not flinched at the sufferings of my Lord for me. I sat to pray this morning. I figured it's Good Friday, I should probably pray. I read this in my little prayer book "In Conversation with God": "He was not content to suffer a little; he wished to drink the chalice to the dregs without leaving a single drop behind, so that we might learn the greatness of his love and the baseness of sin, so that we may be generous in self-giving, in mortification and in service of others". He did not say "too much is being asked of me", he did not stop at the first fall, at the second, at the third. He has given me the only example of generous self-giving that I need.

Jesus did not stop half way through the way of the Cross and say, "no, too much is being asked of me". And as the Lord showers down abundant blessing on me: my husband, my children, my family, no real problems in life, so many blessings, do I ever push them away saying, "no, it's too much". Nope, I take them all, most of the time forgetting to even say "thank you". And when the sufferings come, when the sacrifices are asked of me, sure I take them because I have to- then I make sure to let everyone around me know how much I am giving and how hard it all is. I make sure to say to the Lord and to those around me that "too much is being asked of me". The gifts are not too much, but the sacrifices- too much. Clear evidence that I am not looking to the Cross enough, or following the example I have on every wall my house of being "generous in self-giving, in mortification and in service of others", of Jesus who never said "too much is being asked of me".

7 Quick Takes - "Bad Mother of 2012" Edition

I have been working really hard recently on mastering something that I am assuming most seasoned mothers end up mastering, whether consciously or unconsciously. Since becoming pregnant again and being in a constant stupor of nausea, my need to be horizontal has increased greatly. My preferred place to lay is our living room couch- it is the best but unfortunately there are no toys in the living room, so the children are generally off in another room playing or something. My need to eat constantly has also increased, and so too has the need to eat in secret without my girls' tiny mouths gaping menacingly toward my precious food.

As a result, I have been acquiring a growing knowledge of my kids' needs and their needs. I used run into the room at the first little cry for help by one or the other, but this can no longer happen. I have been working on an in-depth analysis of their needs based on different components of the given situation. I also ask myself a series of questions concerning the situation in order to determine whether or not I will need to summon the non-existent energy from somewhere in my body and attend to the crazies or whether I should let things work themselves out, despite the screaming. Here are some of my observations:

1) The early morning hours are unfortunately when my eldest always decided to relieve herself of all non-liquid bodily waste and therefore there are often cries from the room for me to come and fetch her to go to the potty or change her already soiled diaper. This is an instance that requires immediate attention- when immediate attention has not been given, it has generally led to the carpet needing to be cleaned and scrubbed later that day- not worth the extra minutes laying in bed. This can easily be assessed by the words she is using like "Mommy, I went pooo...!". Alright, on to the next.

2) The pitch of their screams. I am of the opinion that at least my girls, when they are crying, are crying wolf. A toy will be taken away by one and the other screams like someone just killed her puppy. I usually wait a good 3 minutes to see if the screams die down or build up.

3) If loud noises such as doors slamming or thuds and/or bangs accompany the cries, the child should probably be attended to.

4) I try to assess how quiet it has been and for how long? I have always heard moms say that when it is totally quiet, that is when you should be really worried. Going off of this advice, I have ruined many a peaceful moment by running into a room only to find perfectly happy, content children playing or reading or doing something harmless.

case in point

Once they see my face the contentedness leaves and the demands start: "I need juice!", "Beeka!!!!(blankie)", "Baaaoooo (bottle)"- whatever. I am there so they are no longer happy. So I do not go into a quiet room anymore, I listen for surrounding sounds (toys clanging, pages turning, etc) and if it has been a really long time I tiptoe over as silently as possible and attempt to peek in with one eye and not be seen. (If you're really serious you could purchase a picture frame or mirror to hang on a wall across from the doorway so you do not have to go into the room at all but can make sure all is well from their reflection.)

5) Sometimes other sounds will start to concern me, like toys banging together or on other surfaces or things dragging, but again, I try to wait this out and listen for any echoes or ripping- this will give you a good idea of what toy it is (super breakable or not) or if any real damage is being done.

6) If a child politely requests something from me from the other room, on the merits of good manners and sweetness, I generally get my butt up and get it for them. I am not so bad.

7) And if you just enjoy being with your kids and soaking up every second you can with them, you could just be in the same room as them and not worry about any of these things. I love them, but I love my couch perch too.

I think I win the Bad Mother of 2012 award.

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Rock slide

Today I woke up with my 2nd cold in 3 1/2 years of marriage. I knew that eventually all of my annoying bragging about my rock solid immune system would come and bite me in the bottom, no I didn't actually think it would. I am a bit of a baby whenever I do get sick since I never do, so I pampered myself today.

Dinner literally thrown in crock pot and fake homemade bread

Once I stopped pouting on my bed and got myself together this afternoon, I took the little tykes outside to "muck" around in the mud and rocks and what not, and mucky it was.

I also decided to finally alter the last of my thrifted men's button down shirt collection. It was the one I wanted to do the most because I can wear it under my fav mustard sweater.

And... that's about all. I am off to sleep off this plague,

P.S.
Here's another pic of the cutsie hair clip I will make for you if you win my little giveaway!

It's open until Sunday, good luck!