October 11, 2009

Filling the Void

While I wait patiently (or not) for Little Monster Baby (how’s that for an oxymoron) to arrive, I thought I’d kill some blog time with photos.  It’s hard to write a real blog post because I’m starting to sound redundant.  I write about the same things, because I’ve been doing the same things for days.

Okay, and I’m tired. I spent today cleaning (more cleaning, you ask? yes, because I’ve gone completely anal about organization in this house. that and I have nothing else to do while I wait for the baby to make his way into the world) my dining room, my craft area, and other things. Then Doug and I went to lunch at Tempura House.  They have the best buffet.  I love the sweet & sour chicken, General Tso’s chicken, and of course crab rangoon. Yum.

Dawson spent the night at my parents’ house so we could go to that wedding last night, and Doug and I really enjoyed our day together, even if we were just getting all those last minute things completed.  I vacuumed all the carpets.  Doug blew out the sprinklers for the winter.  I folded laundry. He blanched and froze more vegetables from our garden.

The only thing we didn’t finish was weather-proofing our windows with that shrink wrap, plastic stuff.  But there’s always tomorrow.  As long as a certain baby stays in my uterus.  Which is probably going to happen.  He’s showing no interest in being born just yet.  I’m still in physical pain, but cleaning distracts me.

Okay, enough of the random babbling.  I give you my favorite photos of the last few weeks (months?):

My neighbor’s daughter, Katie, with her brothers at her wedding reception last night.  These kids (who aren’t really kids anymore) are triplets.  I’ve known their family since I was a kid.  I can’t believe how grown up they are now.

The beautiful bride and handsome groom pose for a photo.  They are just adorable, aren’t they?

Last Monday, Dawson and I went on a Mom & Son date.  We had dinner at Rocky Roccoco’s and then went to see the Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen movie that was re-playing at our local theater.  We had a fantastic time.

We had some funky things happen to a few of the tomatoes we grew this year.  This one seems to have grown a nose.  Or… Nevermind. I’m not even going to say it.  Still the funniest produce ever.

I tried to get a picture of all the kids at Dawson’s birthday party two weeks ago, and this one is almost perfect.  Only one child is looking away, and one is missing from the photo because he was having a meltdown.  Still a fantastic party.  Everyone had a fantastic time.

Dawson had such fun bowling.  Here he is, just after granny-bowling the ball down the lane.

Now that I’ve uploaded all the photos (from both cameras) from the last few weeks, I’ve charged all the batteries and put everything into my hospital bag.  I’m ready for Baby O to arrive.  Counting down days!

September 25, 2009

On Nesting. And Going Crazy.

So, I’m nesting.  Sort of.  It goes in spurts, really.  One day I’m too tired to do anything at all.  The next day, I’ll be completely neurotic about something, SOME VERY IMPORTANT THING, and it will need to be done, RIGHT NOW, or no one in this house goes to bed that night.

The house must be clean!  CLEAN, I say!  The littlest things will bother me.  Like socks on the floor (I’m looking at you, Doug and Dawson).  Or toys.  ALL. OVER. THE HOUSE.  And the clutter.  Magazines, school papers and half-opened mail are piling up on my kitchen table.  I have six million tomatoes on my kitchen counter. And I cannot deal with it. Not any of it.

Add to this mix of chaos and insanity the fact that I’ve been trying to clean out the pantry for two weeks, but I cannot get to it because those other things (see above) are nagging at me.  So I take time out of my day to deal with that and then have no energy whatsoever to do anything else.

I started sorting baby clothes a few days ago, and then I was sidetracked by vacuuming the living room, because in my mind people could show up unexpectedly, and why would I want them to see that a child actually lives here?  One with too many toys?

Poor, poor husband.  I’ve been a raging ball of hormones and have yelled at him repeatedly for not helping me enough.  Several times each day he tried to escape my wrath by heading to the garden and harvesting tomatoes that I swear he already picked.  The very same tomatoes on the counter.  I really think he takes some away at night and brings them back in the house the next day.  You know, so that it looks like he’s doing something.

Also, I think he’s shoved cotton balls in his ears because I have to REPEAT MYSELF CONSTANTLY.

I asked him five times to take the broken bread machine to the garage to be thrown away.  After it sat on the dining room floor, next to the deck door, for TWELVE days, I finally took it out to the garage myself.  An F-bomb was said and the neighbor across the street heard me.  She no longer waves at me when we pass each other on the road.  Apparently, I am now the closest thing to the devil himself.  At least to her.  Okay, and my husband. Whatever.

Doug was all, “Geez, Louise!  Settle down!  What is wrong with you?  And F-word?  Over a bread maker?”

And I lost my mind.  I began crying and shaking and raving like a freakin’ idiot.   I was sputtering, “You don’t understand!  YOU JUST DON’T GET IT!”

We didn’t speak the rest of the night.  The next day things were fine.  That is until he buried the chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream behind a bunch of other crap in the freezer.  The yelling ensued.  More tears were shed.  I promptly sent myself to bed.  I didn’t want the damn ice cream anyway.  What I really wanted was a big fat margarita in a glass the size of my head.  With lots of Tequila.  But alas, the things we give up to bring a beautiful, chubby baby into the world.

Speaking of babies, I don’t think we’ll be having any more children after my outbursts.  What man wants to have sex with a stark raving lunatic?

In my defense, I just can’t help it.  It seems like I have no control over anything anymore. Especially my hormones.

Also, I’m the the only one who does anything around here.  The huz tries to help, but things go unfinished because he thinks he has other, more important priorities (like painting the garage door and trim, and installing a new garage door opener, because he thinks winter is arriving tomorrow).  Then I become infuriated and the stupidest things set me off.  I can’t do it all.  I physically cannot do everything.

Poor Dawson thinks his mother has turned into the chupacabra from his Scooby Doo DVD.

I probably have turned into a monster.

My days are chaotic.  This is my typical daily routine:

• Wake up early (most of the time)
• Work for 2 hours
• Check e-mail
• Wake Dawson
• Get Dawson dressed
• Let Murphy out to pee
• Feed the dog
• Make breakfast for Dawson
• Make sure Dawson brushes his teeth
• Check Dawson’s backpack and folder to be sure all forms and things are signed and sent back
• Get Dawson on the school bus
• Work 3 more hours
• Check e-mail
• Wait for the bus to drop off Dawson
• Make lunch for Dawson (oh yeah, and for me!)
• Let the dog out to pee, again.
• Put on Spongebob to occupy Dawson
• Finish working
• Straighten the living room, dust and vacuum
• Wash dishes
• Check on the laundry and try to put it all away
• Check Dawson’s backpack and folder for new notes and/or forms
• Pay bills that may be due
• Check e-mail
• Pick-up stray toys around the house, or command Dawson to do it
• Take Dawson outside to play
• Return books to the library and check out new ones
• Try to read a book that does not have colorful illustrations and rhyming words
• Sort toys and set aside two boxes for Goodwill
• Clean out the storage closet and donate more items to Goodwill
• Fold more laundry but forget to put it away
• Read books to Dawson
• Ask Doug seven times to load the boxes in the car so I can drop them off at Goodwill the next day
• Ask Doug to make dinner while I take a nap
• Fall asleep watching television (most likely Dancing with the Stars)
• Yell at someone for something because my hormones are out of whack

Oh, and did I mention the 349 times I have to stop what I am doing at any given time to pee or wipe a certain 5-year-old’s butt.  And let’s not forget the occasional adjustment to the schedule for conference calls or MOPS and MOMS Club meetings, or Church Activities.  And Saturday Soccer.  Or going to the bank, post office and grocery store every Friday.  And the fact that my husband is most often working (or hiding in the GARDEN) while I’m trying to manage this damn household.

And you people wonder why I’m crazy?

To my husband and son I say:  Y’all better hope I don’t die in childbirth, because it appears you CANNOT FUNCTION WITHOUT ME.

September 20, 2009

Where Have I Been, You Ask?

I’ve been pregnant.  I’ve been living life.  I have so much to blog about, yet I cannot decide where to begin.

I realize I haven’t written very many “real” posts since the trio of pregnancy (“yes I have pre-eclampsia, wait, no I don’t have pre-eclampsia”) posts, and of course my tribute to my adorable, now 5-year-old son.

Truth be told, there has been so much going on in my life that little time is left for actual blogging.  I have reminders on post-it notes, and napkins, with blog post prompts and ideas.  I’ve got messages popping up in Google calendar reminding me to write about Dawson’s first day of school (September 1st) his first day riding the school bus (September 9th), his 5th birthday (and his upcoming belated birthday party on the 26th), as well as news from my doctor that I will be induced in about 3 weeks (there goes my natural childbirth plan; right out the hopital window).

I just cannot find the time to get it all down.

Doug has been working crazy shifts the last three weeks, leaving me to manage working from home, making sure Dawson gets to school (with all the signed forms, book orders and magazine selling fundraiser orders in his backpack), organizing myself for MOPS meetings (I’m on the Steering Team), volunteering a few hours at church and many other important things.  Like bill paying.  And house cleaning.

And oh my gosh, the damn laundry!  And…AND!!! The nesting.  It has begun.  Sorting baby clothes, trying to figure out the best layout for the room Dawson and Baby will share.

Did I mention we ordered a glider and ottoman from Target?  We did.  It arrived last Wednesday.  The gigantic box is still in the hallway, its contents waiting to be assembled.  But, my husband, working the insane shifts (sometimes 8 a.m.-4 p.m., sometimes 10 a.m. – 6 p.m., others Noon-8 p.m., and today 6 a.m. to 2 p.m.), which I cannot keep straight, keeps him busy and what little time he has available is spent in the garden picking the massive harvest of tomatoes that we cannot seem to preserve fast enough.  We’ve had to enlist the help of my mother-in-law.  Partly because we’ve run out of freezer space.

I’ve managed to take tons of photos, which currently reside in Flickr, and I hope to post some soon.

Oh, and Dawson started soccer two weeks ago.  Yesterday he scored his first goal!  He was so excited.  I’m so proud of the child.  He amazes me.

So yeah.  I’ve been busy (like you haven’t, right?  I know.  I KNOW!).  And it’s only going to get busier.

Deep breath.

I’m working on the blogging.  I am.  Please be patient with me.  I will get back into the groove.  Eventually.

Holy Smokes.  This post was insane.  It’s only fitting, I suppose.  I feel insane myself…!

August 24, 2009

The Easter Sea-Bird Is Not Safe!

My husband is addicted to the weather channel. He watches “Local on the 8s” at least five times a day, and studies the precipitation, cloud patterns and formations, and the forecasts so seriously (as if he’ll be quizzed on it later). He says he just likes to be prepared for the changing weather each day.

Sometimes the weather channel airs the segment called Storm Stories, or will give briefings on current storms, such as the recent news of Hurricane Bill on the eastern seaboard.

I don’t remember what day it was (Friday, or Saturday, perhaps?), but I came upstairs after changing the laundry from the washer to the dryer, and Doug and Dawson were glued to the weather channel. Dawson looked at me with panic on his face and said, “MOM! We CANNOT go swimming because of Herr-Cane Bill! He’s dangerous! There are rip tides that can sweep you into the ocean and you can drown!”

Doug was fighting laughter, I was absolutely stunned at my son’s ability to pay attention to such details, and Dawson continued with his warning.

“The Easter sea-bird is NOT SAFE, Mom. Not safe AT ALL! Do you hear me!?”

And then I fainted. The boy is too smart, too hilarious, for me.

Easter sea-bird. I am still cracking up over that.