Master of Disaster

My son is living up to his new nickname. He hadn’t really earned it yet when we bestowed it upon him. He was just INTO everything. Today? We have had our unfair share of disasters.

For instance, when I was taking Ladybug to go potty, he pulled my camera off the counter. Not long after, I noticed that he was gone… and quiet, a dangerous combination. I discovered him in my bedroom, pulling clothes out of my dresser. A few minutes after that, he completely wrecked the blocks we had set up in hills and tunnels for Ladybug to play with her cars on. By this point you’d think I would have KNOWN what kind of day it was going to be and just resigned myself to closely monitored play time. But no. I figured as long as he was WITH me that it would be ok. So I sat him on the counter (my children are great counter-sitters. They’ve been doing it since they could sit up and haven’t fallen… yet!) while I measured the ingredients for bread into my standing mixer. I was warming the milk, honey, and butter in the microwave (just for a second!!) when I turned back to him and he was covered in flour. Eyeballs to toes. Somehow he missed getting it in his hair. Or maybe I just turned around in time to stop the migration from going any further. And he was having a blast, let me tell you!! I took pictures, and I wish I could post them. I really do have the most adorable children, even when covered in flour.

At THIS point I finally conceded defeat and finished mixing up the bread and got it rising, then turned on Toy Story (the one without Jessie, Ladybug insisted) and we played/watched the movie until lunch time, after which they both went down for naps. Isn’t naptime the most sacred time of your day? Don’t you love the peace and quiet? I love my kids, I really do, but I need a break.

The when-it’s-ok-to-cry victory lasted until 9:15 this morning. Considering that we had our chat last night around 7:15, that’s 14 hours. I’m feeling good about that. The tears were because Wild Thing took her blankie off the chair, or something, and were resolved quickly. The only other meltdown today was when she lost her spoon into her bowl of soup at lunch. Since she has no qualms about eating with her fingers, and usually has to be asked to use a spoon, I’m not sure why there were tears, but again, it was easily resolved. And then it was NAP TIME. Did I mention how much I love nap time?

The bread came out great; I love the recipe I use. It’s just a basic white sandwich loaf, but it’s easy, and homey, and delicious, and since it’s cool and rainy here today it was the perfect opportunity. We’ll eat it slathered with butter and jam, or toasted, or in nice thick sandwiches, and if there’s any left over to go stale then we’ll make French toast out of it.

Today marks 12 weeks, or 3 months. I guess the first trimester isn’t “officially” over until 14 weeks. I should know this after two pregnancies, right? But I always let my breath out a little when I pass the 12-week mark with no mishaps.

I remember being pregnant with Ladybug, and I thought about it all the time. I was consumed with thoughts of pregnancy, and getting ready for her, and making sure I had a dozen of every essential item, and getting her room ready, reading books, thinking about taking classes (we ended up only taking an Infant CPR class, never made it to a birthing class… but we watched a cheesy DVD, if that counts?). I scrutinized my body for signs of pregnancy and couldn’t wait to wear maternity clothes.

With Wild Thing, I casually read What to Expect When You’re Expecting, often having to catch up if I was a month (or two, or three) behind. I skimmed Baby Wise again, glanced at the pamphlets my doctor sent home with me. I reluctantly put away all the cute new clothes I’d gotten to fit my new, postnatal figure, and reluctantly dragged out the maternity clothes. Then discovered I couldn’t stomach the thought of wearing them all again and bought new maternity clothes. The luxury! Being able to buy new clothes just because I didn’t want to wear the old ones!!

Now, with Baby #3, it’s been so shockingly unexpected (even though I really want 4 children, we weren’t planning on a baby right now, not with all the unresolved complexity in our lives) and I have to actually remind myself that I’m pregnant. I don’t feel pregnant. I don’t look pregnant. The only pregnancy symptom I have (besides the positive pregnancy test and the ultrasound in my doctor’s office a week ago) is that I’m excessively tired all the time. And what mother of two little children isn’t?? I’m one of those annoying women who has really healthy, easy pregnancies. I don’t feel nauseated, I don’t gain a lot of weight, I don’t have any complications, I have fast, easy labor (I think I do, I had an epidural both times, and couldn’t feel any pain. I’m assuming it was easy?), and my babies are all delivered healthy and on time. The biggest complications we’ve had with the kids is heavy jaundice, due to blood-type incompatibility. So with Baby #3 I’m expecting to look pregnant immediately. Isn’t that what you hear? After one or two kids, as soon as you get the positive pregnancy test, then your belly automatically pops out and you have to drag out the maternity clothes? And I expect to at least THINK about being pregnant, sometimes. And I guess I do – when I remember to take my prenatal vitamins, or stay away from the caffeinated tea, or steer clear of sushi.

Maybe I just have other things on my mind. And maybe I have other things to keep me occupied. During the last two pregnancies, I worked in an office, in a job that had a lot of down-time. There was lots of time to think about being pregnant, and read online about pregnancy and shop online for baby things. Now, life is a little different. And it’s good, too, in a lot of ways. I just worry about bonding with this baby. Having enough love to spread around between three children. Being able to adequately care for and nurture all three of them, in the way that each one needs.

And I guess it’s kind of silly for me to be worried about that. Thinking back, it was usually after I felt the baby start moving that it actually became real to me. And then the “big” ultrasound at 20 weeks and finding out the gender, and also having the physical manifestations of pregnancy to go along with the practical knowledge. I’m probably worrying needlessly. I may even be redirecting my apprehension regarding Friday to this area of my life. That’s probably what my psychologist would say.

Oh, I didn’t mention that I have a psychologist? How remiss! Another layer of this whole story… and don’t worry, I’m not crazy, it’s simply part of the whole process. But it is interesting, and I’ll share it another time.