Binkytown

Guess the week

In the interest of fairness and full disclosure, every Monday I advance another week.

This photo was taken last Thursday so there is a lag of a couple of days.

In case you don't stop here often this is my second pregnancy.

The picture sucks, I know, I'm sorry, I'm not trying to fool anyone, it's just a bad photo. There's a close up after this.

How many weeks am I?

The first person to guess correctly gets my signed (paperback) version of  In an Instant, by Lee Woodruff. I saw her speak recently. She's delightful. It's an easy read and you'll feel better about your life after you are done. 

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We have a winner! Denzyelle- you got it. 27 weeks and yes, I am big, I don't mind you saying.

Wouldn't you like to know

I've been tagged by the fabulous Gray Matter Matters who so far is the only person I know to share my King Henry crush as hard core as I do. In honor of his Majesty, and the Season II Premiere, I give you:

5 Royal Answers, presented as if I were in Court

First, the rules:
1. Each player answers the questions about themselves.
2. At the end of the post, the player then tags five people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves a comment letting them know they've been tagged and to ask them to play along and to read your blog.

What I was doing 10 years ago - 1998
1. April 1998- Met my husband
2. Having a lot of sex (with my then-future husband). King Henry would approve
3. Living in a Castle (two bedroom apartment) with my best friend
4. Spending a lot of time on my long hair
5. Not thinking about having sons

Five things on my to-do list today
1. Not get the plague (Son has been throwing up and/or threatening to. Husband has chest cold)
2. Gathering. Maybe eating with my hands. 
3. Finding someone (Old Navy) to tailor me some maternity Capri sweat pants
4. Take a nap. Probably won't happen-see number one
5. Sweep

Snacks I enjoy
1-5 chocolate

Things I would do if I were a billionaire
1. Buy and wear some serious bling
2. Not wear sweat Capri's
3. Have many many ladies in waiting (so I could have sex again and take naps and play with my son)
4. Build a country estate or two
5. Paint

Five of my bad habits
1. I yell too much. (But I'm passionate. Like Henry)
2. I eat too many sweets (He was like 300 pounds at the end. I'm not that bad)
3. I don't try hard enough to pay attention to my husband. That one I used to have sex with a lot. (But I wouldn't behead him)
4. I hate paying attention to my finances. Good thing I'm not a billionaire
5. I don't wash my hair all weekend. The Tudors wouldn't see anything wrong with that.

Five places I have lived
1. Here
2. Here
3. Here
4. Here
5. Oh my god- I've never lived anywhere but here! Thats so sad!

Five jobs I've had
1. Serving wench
2. Clerk
3. Letter writer
4. Merchant
5. Scribe

Put any twist on this that you like- I command you: NonLinear Girl, Wisconsin Mommy, Moosh in Indy, lifelongplaydate & The Gav Menagerie.

Something Else Town

What to do, What to do?

I haven't been trying to avoid my blog, but I haven't been trying to blog either. Maybe it's that winter just won't quit or that this baby is draining me of all motivation other than the essentials which may or may not include bathing on any given day, or that I'm tired of talking about this baby. I didn't want this to turn into a pregnancy chronicle, but it seems that when I have five minutes to dig deep I come up: Wow. I'm going to have another baby. I know, riveting.

Mommy blogging is definitely my passion, my reason for starting to blog in the first place but I keep trying to challenge myself to think of other things to write about and fall short. Today is no exception.   

We've been six days without a Binky and it's never coming back. 

The Easter bunny took it. We talked about for days in advance, saying, don't forget, the Easter bunny is coming and he's going to take your Binky and leave you a BIG BASKET OF GOODIES. My son would say I KNOW, like I was a gigantic pain in the ass and I would think to myself, but do you really? Do you really know what that is going to mean to you? Clearly not, because you are accepting this all too well. I am not ashamed to say I cried a little when I crept in, removed it from under his soundly sweet sleeping shoulder blade that night and hid his last tie to baby hood.

Easter morning he looked disoriented and disheveled sitting in his bed calling out "I can't find it". I screwed my courage to the sticking place, walked in with my shoulders back ready for the mother load of all tantrums and said Good Morning, your Binky isn't here. Remember? The Easter bunny took it. He looked at me with sleepy eyes and said "I want to lay in your bed" and that was that. It was requested once or twice thereafter, and the answer again, accepted. Not a single battle launched. Not at bed time, not after school, not even in an angry tirade after he slipped on the (m&f'ing) ice. (Again.)

This person lives in my house. Have you met him? He wears underwear and doesn't get pissed if they don't have Lightening McQueen on them and he doesn't have a Binky. I don't know who he is.

Moral of the story and the only piece of assvice I will ever dole out again*: Don't rush your kids with the big stuff. They will do what you want them to do when they are ready. (That last statement is true. The one before that with the asterisk*, this statement is not true.)

Hey. There's a topic that's not kid related! Have you seen that insane show where people tell the brutal truth in front of loved ones that clearly devastates them for cash? OK I tried, it's too depressing to go any further with that. Back to the kid thing.

I'm not sure where to go from here. The Binky has moved on. We're going to welcome a new resident soon who will most certainly change this landscape. My doubt and anxiety over new motherhood have relocated. (For the most part. I am nursing my darling today who has been throwing up for hours now, something that would have had me screaming for the hills a year or two ago. Today I seem to be able to do that, all the really gross laundry that needs purging and eat Oreo's simultaneously. Big strides going on here. Feels good to say that for a change.)

But who knows, maybe the Binky will pay a visit (Even though I'm swearing off them for good. At least I think I am.) and I will need a place to vent about how overwhelming two will probably be. Oh who am I kidding, who absolutely will be.

If not Binkytown, then where?

Spring (ha)

Today is the first day of spring. The sky is blue, the ugly dirty brown winter snowy remnants of winter have finally melted away, it's almost forty degrees, which is downright balmy. The weather forecast is calling for TEN inches of snow tomorow. As in more than nine. That's just cruel.

I dropped my son off at day care this morning and haphazzardly checked to see what was on the snack menu today and saw Thursday: Apple slices, teddy grahams, milk. Yummy. Friday: Center closed. CLOSED. As in TOMOROW. Yes, they have closed every good Friday for the past three years and yes, maybe it was included as a friendly reminder at the bottom of the Spring (ha) newsletter and yes, I think they deserve a day off when a lot of places close for week or more for Spring (ha) break but I am a working mother for gods sake. I need a big flashing sign on the day care door that says:

DAY CARE CLOSED FRIDAY. ARE YOU READING THIS? CAUSE ITS CLOSED. WRITE THIS DOWN.   

So I'll be at home tomorow. All day. With my three year old. Working. While it snows. Good times.   

Then=Now

Then: Working a half-day, if it all, to leave and go to Slim McGinn's or McGuillycuddys, where we knew the bartenders. Drank all afternoon and made it home by early evening, you know, before the drunks really went crazy.

Now: Why in the world is the Today set lit up in that awful green color? Two hours later: OH YEAH. That's why.

Sorry. I thought it was enough.

I thought it was enough that I fed (with difficulty), clothed (with much struggle) and wiped bottoms (not difficult or a struggle but still gross) of my three year old. That I dried off freshly bathed feet and tousled wet hair. That I found just the right car to make the fit-having stop, at least momentarily. That I've made a special trip across town after a long day to get the right kind of yogurt.

That I've managed to stay away from tuna fish, not had a single drop of alcohol in six months (boo) that I kept my fingernails neatly trimmed so as not to scratch anyone. Kept the house stocked with shampoo and soap and clorox wipes. That I've emptied the dishwasher and filled it back up ad nauseum. That I've paid my bills for the most part on time. That I've drank enough water to stay hydrated and separated my recyclables.

That I've come to work every day and done my job the best I can. That I've decided not to buy those shoes I really don't need. That I've had difficult conversations that I didn't think it was fair for me to have to have. That I let it go when my boss came up with an idea I suggested a week ago.

That I parked on the ninth floor of a parking structure that is secured, has cameras and security guards that drive around on mini golf carts. That I didn't lock the doors because my hands are full with a toddler, my bags, his bags, gloves and the like.

Apparently that's not enough to keep my things where I left them. Like my half used bottle of perfume with no cap on it. Because you decided to come in to my car and take everything out of my glove compartment and leave it strewn around the seats. Because you took the .18 cents in change that was in various compartments of the car. Because you had to be a particularly ass-holish person and lock the doors when you left and turned the volume of my radio all the way up so when I started the car, already shaken, I got another jolt.

I hate it that you must have sat in my seat. Touched my son's sweatshirt with your dirty fingers, carelessly tossing it aside. You left the maternity jean jacket. What? Not your style?

You didn't take anything of value, but it was still mine and not yours and why don't you know that? What are you doing right now with my perfume? Really? Did you give that half empty no cap bottle to your girl? Or are you wearing it? Are you desperate? Did you drink it?

Fuck you.

 

Vacate

We're packing up shop for a few days at a Waterpark where the temperature is gauranteed to be above 32 degrees for a change and then off to a visit with the inlaws.

Here are some potential cliff-hangers to ponder in my absence: (duh duh duh..)

• Will the flaky teen aged dog sitter actually show up to retrieve my dog today like she said she would? (I called her yesterday at 4, she said she'd call me at and when I called her at 8 after waiting 2 hours she had no recollection of our 4pm conversation..)
• Will my newly potty trained son poop in the kiddie pool? (I say the odds are 50/50)
• How many of these can a woman eat in three days? (Probably A LOT)

More on these and other questions when I return...

Meanwhile: Mid week link love:

Because there might be things you need that you don't even know you need.Yet.

Because I have a blog crush on her.

Because everyone needs a little brain candy now and again.

Laters.

Slipping

I've written about the ice here before, I don't want to do it again. I've been basically living on and in a glacier for months. Inches of solid ice cover the ground and every inch of sidewalk and walkway to be found. You can try and salt it away or scrape it with your shovel, but then it rains. Then it freakishly falls forty degrees and you are back where you started. Eventually you give up.

Work wasn't good this week. It's really stressful at the moment and while I hate to play the pregnant lady card, my hormones just can't keep up. I'm short tempered, quick to speak and slow to stop and think things through.

This weekend was hard. I hit my breaking point this morning when I decided my son could not go to the grocery store with me unless he put on the shirt I picked out for him. Why do I care about a shirt? It's not the shirt itself, it's what the shirt represents. He's becoming more determined, more strong willed and bigger. He's growing out of his clothes and he refuses to wear the new ones I keep picking up. Ones I pick out with such care, knowing he won't wear animals or alphabet letters or characters of any kind. His tolerance is very small. As is my patience. So I put the hammer down. Wear the shirt with the soccer ball or stay home. I figured eventually he would cave. He wouldn't. He spiraled out of control. I struggled to get out of the house with him hanging on my coat and stood on the porch my heart racing. Because it was all wrong. I wanted him to come with me. He wanted to come. A lot of the time I think he is just testing me, but sometimes I think it's more than that and I don't know what to do. He couldn't bring himself to put on the stupid shirt and I was the one making him so miserable. But if I let him go then he wins, and trust me, he wins a lot. My head spinning I came back in the house. My husband barked at me to just go already. I lashed out at him. Now they were both pissed at me. I went in my room and hid. And cried. A lot. The kind that makes you think you've got nothing left. And waited. My son wore himself out and fell asleep. I snuck out.

After letting him sleep for a couple of hours and feeling guilty I crawled into his bed and slowly tried to rouse him with back-rubs and soft words. He asked for his potty, which usually sits in his room when he's asleep. I went to the bathroom to retrieve it, turned the corner to walk back to his room and CRASH. I can't tell you how or why, but my stocking feet flew out from under me. I slammed into the gate leaning against the wall and then came slamming down on top of it. I'm not exactly sure but judging how I feel now, I think I hit the floor with my elbow first, then my hip right after. I've fallen before, both with this baby and the last one, but this was worse. When it's happened before I've had my hands free, managed to take the brunt of it with my hands and knees. This time, with my center of gravity way off I tumbled to the ground, too close to my belly with no rhyme or reason. The tears I thought I had exhausted spilled out from me again as every bad thought from placenta previa to premature labor came falling down with me.

I called the triage line, because I always do and heard exactly what I thought they would say. No contractions, no bleeding, no cause for alarm. The baby is moving and I know that's good but so is my brain. Frustrated this morning with everyone and everything I found myself wondering why I chose to go down this road at all. How we would all manage. I have walked these ice patches for months on end, carrying a thirty pound toddler in high heeled boots. How is it that I wiped out steps from my own bed?  Is it because I tempted fate? Asked the questions you shouldn't ask?

It's forty degrees today and while the ice retreated a little, it rained again and night time with it's plunging temperatures is coming. Not a minute too soon.

Edited to add: Not long after writing this, we bribed him into eating his dinner which he then stood up and ceremoniously puked up all over the dining room rug. My hot bath and early bed time became a date with a steam cleaner and a lukewarm shower. Nice.