Sunday, August 19, 2012


This part of the process is the worst.

"We did do this on purpose" I tell myself.  Repeatedly.  I think it would be less awful if I didn't have to entertain a two year old.  I feel guilty that I want all of our play time to be couch-centric, that way I can be either sitting or lying down.  I'm pretty good at coloring from the couch, block building and ball rolling are good ones too.  A two year old wants to frolic, however, and that is most definitely not a possibility.  I hear myself saying, "I can't", or "Go ahead and do it on your own" and I get a little sick inside.  How can I possibly explain it to her?  The blessed thing hasn't even complained that I'm dud lately.  She even asks if I feel sick.

Then there's the cat who can't get enough of me.  Walking across my tender chest in an effort to breathe in my same air, because curling at my hip just isn't close enough.  For a girl who's in a scent-sensitive state, cat breath ain't always what I want coating my nostrils.  I toss my beloved fur ball from my space over and over and over again.  She's the epitome of cool, calm persistence.  Unfazed.  Still purring like I've invited her to become a part of me forever and she couldn't be happier.

Rosanna's elbows are becoming an issue too.  Why are they so pokey?  Why are they always in my uterus?  In a boob?  The kid has no sense of her impact on other's bodies with her own.

Lastly, all my hair is falling out.  It's extraordinary, really.  Gobs of hair each time I shower or brush it.  I remember reading that exactly the opposite is supposed to be happening right now.  Not cool, body.  I also used to be able to wash my hair every-other day and not look like a hobo, now I'm sporting vagrant quality greasiness within hours.  Ugh.  My body odor is changing too.  Time to increase the power level on my deodorant.

That might be the end of my list of complaints.  Oh, wait.  I forgot the dishes that stay in the sink for days and the bathroom that desperately needs to be cleaned.  I'm over having my face in the toilet and ready to re-establish my old habits as a buns-only zone.


Thursday, August 16, 2012

"A whisper"

I was paying for my items.  One container of Annie's organic bunny shaped gummies and one container of ginger chews (I'll try anything to soothe the nausea).  I get my receipt, gather the items and Ro is asking me to come down, she needs something.
I'm feeling a bit flustered, I'd refused a bag because I didn't need one, I'm trying to get myself out of the way and now my kid needs me to get on the floor to tell me something.  I think with raised hormone levels comes a lessened ability to deal with regular life stuff.  So I ask her what she wants.
"Come down so I can tell you a whisper."
Ah.  Interesting.  I'm game.  So I kneel down and she aligns her face right up next to mine and whispers, "Guess what?  I love you!"
Oh, dang.  Now if that isn't a heart stopper.  She pulls back and looks at me, beaming and waiting.  I often play that game with her: Guess what?  I love you!  This is the first time she's taken the lead.
I pull her to me and smooch on her soft, squishy cheek.  I tell her I love her too.