July 3, 2009

Is Pregnancy Taking Over My Life?

When I discovered I was finally pregnant a second time, after years of trying and many months of disappointment and tears, I was ecstatic.  Elated.  Overjoyed.  Thanks be to God!  I’m finally pregnant!

Those first 8 weeks were amazing.  I was excited about being pregnant and couldn’t wait for all the good things to happen; quickening, finding out baby’s sex, getting those hilarious Baby Center updates that said, “This week your baby is the size of a strawberry.”  Most of all, I couldn’t wait for October to arrive and to finally hold the baby incubating for so long.

Week nine began with morning sickness.  I was totally unprepared for it.  Sure I had some nausea and lack of appetite in the first few weeks.  I suffered a cold that seemed to want to stick around for half of February and most of March, but I hung in there, thinking that eventually the morning sickness and exhaustion would subside.  It took a lot longer than I expected, but after six more weeks of feeling blah, I started to feel somewhat human again.

Now that I’m six months pregnant, a new crop of ailments is beginning.  Heartburn wakes me in the middle of the night.  Sciatica makes my legs buckle from the pain shooting through my buttocks and thigh.  Headaches come and go throughout the day, usually from lack of sleep or not drinking enough water.  I go through phases of being ravenously hungry and then completely turned off by food for days.  And then there’s the constant state of exhaustion.

No one told me how much harder a second pregnancy would be.  I didn’t think it would be this way.  I expected to be tired, but not this tired.  Managing a household, raising a preschooler and working from home leaves little time for the extra sleep my body seems to require now that I’m growing a baby.

Of course I love my job and wouldn’t consider changing my schedule.  The hours I work are flexible, provided I meet the deadlines for getting things done, and those six hours each day challenge my brain in a way that parenting does not.  I need that time.  It gives me a chance to contribute financially to my family, and it saves me from the mundane tasks of motherhood and housekeeping, if only for a little while.

One benefit to working from home is that I am able to spend more time with Dawson, too.  I don’t have to waste precious time in traffic by driving to an office or to daycare five days a week.  (Dawson still attends daycare 2-3 times per week for around 3 hours a day, just so that I can save my sanity.  When preschool ended I realized how much I needed those precious hours to get things done without interruption.)

My biggest gripe is the housework.  Lately it seems to fall on my shoulders and it’s very frustrating.  I’ll spend hours cleaning, washing dishes, vacuuming, picking up toys and eliminating clutter only to have the other people in this house make another mess. It drives me batty.

My husband says my expectations are too high.  He thinks that I believe the house should be absolutely perfect and that one crumb on the carpet sends me over the edge.  And maybe it does.  Maybe I am a little nuts about cleanliness lately.  He would go crazy, too, if he spent time cleaning only to have someone come behind him and mess things up.

I was never this nuts before I got pregnant.  In fact, the house was a cluttered mess for most of January because I just didn’t have the time to deal with it.  I think that once I added pregnancy to the mix of motherhood, housekeeping and working, I realized how valuable my time was.  So much to do!  So little time!  Soon I won’t be able to do anything because a baby will be attached to my breast!

No wonder I have anxiety issues.

On the rare occasion that I have spare time, time in which I don’t have to work or clean a mess or keep Dawson occupied, I try to do things I love.  Reading, blogging, writing in my journal (yes, I still do that) spending time with family and friends, watching a good movie or taking a long walk are some of those things.

Lately, I’ve been on a reading kick.  I finished Gone With the Wind in March.  I read Scarlett in May and June.  I’m trying to get through The Wind Done Gone and Rhett Butler’s People.  (Yes, I’m on a civil war kick.  Yes, Gone With the Wind is my favorite movie. You’d swoon over Clark Gable, too. You know you would.)

However, in the last few weeks my focus has shifted from leisure reading to gearing up on pregnancy, labor, delivery, newborn care and breastfeeding info.  I’m obsessed.  I actually went back and read Deliver This! again.  I’m so paranoid that I’ve forgotten how to do this “having a baby” thing again.

Here’s where the guilt comes in to play.  If I’m not working, cleaning, parenting or reading, I have no ambition to do anything else.  I’m just too tired.

This morning, Dawson told me he was bored.  He didn’t want to watch Spongebob.  He didn’t want to play the Spiderman game on the V-Motion.  He was bored with his Leapster.  He didn’t want to play with his Tag Reader.  He was bored with the Nintendo DS (this after I took the games away for a week because he wasn’t putting the cartridges back in the cases when he was done playing them, and holy crap is this child spoiled!).  He didn’t want to play outside by himself.

“Mom, I want you to play baseball with me.” he said. “I want to do fun stuff!”

The thought of me pitching the ball and retrieving it over and over again had me less than excited.  Running around the yard while pregnant is not my idea of a good time.  I’d rather take a nap.  I swear this pregnancy is taking over my life.  (Don’t misunderstand, I’m thrilled to have this amazing baby kicking inside my belly.  I can’t wait for him to make his way into the world.)

(Yes, I know that pregnancy is taking over the blog, and I’m sorry for that.  It’s just that it’s always on my mind these days.  And considering that I wasn’t a blogger when I was pregnant with Dawson, I want to document all of these thoughts and feelings because it’s part of my life.  It’s part of being a mother.)

I sat on the couch and wanted to cry.  I wanted to sob because I’m tied.  I wanted to cry because I felt guilty about not wanting to play baseball with my son.  What kind of mother am I?

I asked myself that question and realized I’m beating myself up over this and other things, like not being able to lift Dawson anymore (and really he’s practically 5 years old and too big to be carried now anyway), spending more time napping than reading stories and playing Super Hero to the Rescue (he wears his Super Hero Cape, and I’m supposed to pretend to be attacked by an alien and Super Dawson saves me).

At night, after Dawson is asleep and the house is quiet, I reflect on the day and all the things I did or didn’t do.  I try to make a plan to be better the next day.  To do more and be more.  I think my husband is right.  I do have high expecations, but not with just house cleaning.

Maybe it’s time to take a step back, to do only what really needs to be done.  Maybe if I just stop cleaning the house I’ll be able to play baseball and let Doug deal with the dishes and vacuuming, and NOT feel guilty about asking for help.

Rocking Out With Guitar Hero

We had a blast rocking out with Guitar Hero.  Head over to Dana Reviews to see what we had to say about two awesome games for Nintendo DS.

July 2, 2009

Dawsonisms

The Doodlebug is growing up more each day.  Lately he’s been saying some pretty hilarious things.  Doug and I are always laughing at the things that come out of his mouth.  Here’s just a sampling of what we call “Dawsonisms”:

Last Sunday we went to a church picnic with my parents and my brother and sister.  We all crammed into my mom’s minivan, with my sister and Dawson sitting in the back row.  My mom had a puzzle back there on the seat and Dawson opened it up and started looking at the pieces.

My sister said, “Dawson you better put that away or you’re going to have to deal with Grandma.”

Dawson replied in a sarcastic tone, “No, Rachel, I don’t have to deal.”

My brother and I were laughing for at least five minutes after that.

———-

When we arrived at the above mentioned church picnic, we sat at a picnic table and listened to some Polka music.  My mother was admiring Dawson’s new outfit (a light blue shirt with a Harley on it, and matching brown and light blue plaid shorts) and she asked, “Dawson, where’d you get such a nice outfit?”

“My mom got it on clearance at K-mart.” Dawson said.

“Oh, well who picked it out?” Grandma asked.

“I did, Grandma.” Dawson replied.

“Well, you have great taste!” Grandma said.

Dawson looked up at my mom and said, “Grandma, it’s not a food!”

———-

After the picnic we returned to my parents’ house and when we pulled into the driveway their dog, Otto, was sitting on the front porch.  Otto is bigger than Dawson, and Dawson is afraid of the dog because he always seems to get knocked over by Otto.

Dawson saw Otto run off the porch to greet us and started to freak out.

“Grandpa!  You gotta put Otto on his leash, or else you got to carry me into the house!” Dawson cried.

My dad said, “Dawson, why are you so scared of Otto?  He’s a nice dog.  He won’t bite you.”

“Grandpa, I’m not scared of Otto.  He just tiffidates me.”

We were all laughing, and I said, “Otto, tiffidates you?”

“Yes, Mumma.  He intiffidates me.”

It took me a minute to figure out what he meant.

“Oooh, he INTIMIDATES you!” I said.

“Yeah.  That’s what I said!” Dawson yelled.

———-

A few days ago Dawson and I were sitting on the couch reading a book when the baby began to kick in my belly.  One of the kicks was strong enough to make me yelp, just a little, and Dawson asked what was happening.

“Your brother is kicking me!” I told him.

“Well, maybe he just wants to get out of there.” Dawson said.

“Well, he better not come out too early,” I said. “We still have 3 1/2 months to go.”

Dawson put his hand on my belly and said, “Baby (insert name here), don’t come out yet!”

Then he looked at me and said, “How come I gotta wait so long for my brother to get out of you?”

I tried to explain the nine months it takes to grow a baby and Dawson listened for a minute or two.  Then he said, “Let’s just read the book, Mom.”

———-

Never a dull moment these days.  Dawson definitely makes things interesting!

June 29, 2009

Anxiety

I’ve been feeling anxiety lately.  In sixteen weeks or so, I’ll be promoted to the new status of Mom of Two.  And with the new addition to our family comes new challenges that I’ll need to face head-on.

I worry about things.  Crazy things.

Will I treat my boys fairly?  Will I favor one son over the other?  What if I love Dawson more than the baby?  What if I love the baby more than Dawson?  I can’t imagine I would do that, but what if I don’t know I’m doing it?  What if Dawson feels replaced by his new brother?

And then I think of all the mistakes I made while parenting Dawson.  For example, I spanked Dawson once.  It’s painful to write those words.  I had a mommy meltdown due to him misbehaving and swatted his behind.  I immediately felt awful for doing it.  The guilt of it still eats away at me.  I don’t ever want to do that again.  But what if Dawson always remembers that I spanked him and not his brother?  Will he think I was a mean mom?

I know this is insane, but I honestly worry about this crap, and it makes me cry.

What if I take too many photos of Dawson and not enough of the new baby?  Or what if I try to compensate for all the photos of Dawson and take too many of the new baby?

I could spend days worrying about this stuff and never be the wiser.  I try to block out all these thoughts and questions because it just makes me nuts.

I want to love my children equally, but what if I don’t?  Is that even possible?  I mean, really… I have no idea.  This is new territory for me.

I’m so all over the place about this stuff that I can’t even put all my thoughts into words.

I look at my Dawson and the love I have for him makes my heart swell.  He’s still my baby and always will be.  I just want him to know I love him very, very much, and that he will forever have a place in my heart.  I want the new baby to know that, too.

Please tell me I’m not the only one who worries about this.  I’m starting to feel crazy.