Category Archives: Decisions decisions

Don’t let me pick what movie to watch, because we might be here all night

Two weeks ago, we decided we’re not done having babies. It had been up for discussion for months, but I was waffling. Which isn’t surprising, because usually in the time I spend contemplating whether the latest fashion would look good on me, it goes back out of style again. (But not skinny jeans! NEVER will I succumb to your lure. And that’s totally on principle and not just because they make me look like an upside-down triangle. Or Tweedle Dee.)

I told Matt it had stopped being an “if” in my mind — we were in FULL-BLOWN “when” territory. He was on board. We started planning. Ideal dates and what-ifs and how a new baby would fit into the inadvertent name scheme we’d ended up with.

(Have I told this story? Our intials, when put in order of our size, biggest to smallest, are MDVI. WE MADE A ROMAN NUMERAL. ACCIDENTALLY. I didn’t even realize it until Roo was several months old. AND, if she had been a boy, her first initial would have been an L. SO IT WOULD STILL WORK. This is the stuff that rocks my very world, you guys.)

So. More babies!

A couple weeks ago, I woke up feeling BLEH. For months now, drinking water early in the morning would make my stomach hurt, but this crap just continued all day long. There were other digestive issues of a non-bloggable sort. I was miserable.

And then the next day was the March for Babies! (Which I will post about soon! Complete with pictures of me in a tutu!) Don’t you love how that lines up? But I felt mostly better that morning, made it through the walk, and all was well. Until we decided to go out to lunch for my sister-in-law’s birthday. And then straight to my mom’s. Which was where I found the wall. AS I HIT IT.

There I was, curled up in my mom’s bed like I was six years old, feeling like I’d been hit by a bus. I was exhausted. Several weekends in a row of not stopping, bookending weeks of running myself ragged tending to the girls and the house. Something had to give.

And I thought, I cannot do it again. Something has to give.

As sure as I’d been just a week before, I was sure I was done having kids. (Well, planning kids. I’m sure if I were to find myself pregnant, I’d be over the moon. But planning it and having the proverbial stork drop by are very different things.) Our family felt complete. Four of us. My two beautiful daughters. No stinky boys. Perfection.

Yesterday I was tackling some laundry that had been washed and thrown in baskets and left to fend for itself in the insanity of our living room. It had been there over a week. Well, not in the living room for over a week. I had the courtesy to move the baskets into the bedroom when we were expecting company. I’m not an ANIMAL.

I started with the girls’ clothes, folding everything neatly into separate piles — pajamas, socks, t-shirts — and I realized some of Roo’s onesies were getting a bit small and dingy and need throwing away. What a shame, I thought, that these are too damaged to use for another baby. My mind immediately flew to the plastic tubs of baby clothes stored under Vio’s bed. And the swing and the bouncer and the tub of baby toys in the attic. Things we didn’t need anymore if we weren’t having more kids.

Getting rid of it seems pretty final.

And now? Now I’m not so sure about anything. At all.

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Filed under Decisions decisions, Motherhood uncensored, My girls, NaBloPoMo

A good problem to have

(I would like to preface this by stating that half the reason I never blog anything is because I spend my entire day with iChat sitting open on the laptop. I go about my day, coming back to it now and then, and it tends to be where I start rambling about the thoughts I have. Basically, my iChat companions are stealing all my bloggable ideas, selfishly, and using them as conversations for their own entertainment. Since closing iChat isn’t a feasible option, I’m afraid I’ll just have to have them killed.)

(Just kidding. I’ll have their fingers hobbled. I have a SOUL, you know.)

I have finally — FINALLY — started reading again. It started when I joined the Book Lushes online book club … and then proceeded to read NONE of the books up for discussion. I wanted to! But book clubs make it feel like SCHOOL or something. Or I’m a crazy person, I don’t know. But having a book I was SUPPOSED to read made me pick a book I wasn’t supposed to read. Because I’m a rebel. (Seriously, though. I know I’ve been a slacker about it, but go join up! They are all awesome and I love them and hopefully when I stop being a complete ass I’ll get back over there and participate. For realsies.)

Oh, you guys. I missed this. I missed caring about characters and being lost in my head hearing nothing but my own voice. Curled up on the couch with a blanket and the dull sounds of the fan blowing (yay warm weather! Remind me of this in a week when “spring” is over and it’s 98 degrees.)

I started out a little fluffy with Suzanne Collins’s The Hunger Games and its sequel Catching Fire. The YA-ness of the book definitely showed in the writing (the main character was constantly ALLTHETIME asking herself questions in her head) but it was the dystopian world-building that drew me in.

I am a SUCKER for dystopian literature. I really don’t even know why or when that happened. Maybe reading Lois Lowry’s The Giver started it, but I don’t know for certain. (It may have a bit to do with me fancying myself a Pangloss.) It fascinates me. So now I’m on something of a mission.

The obvious place to start was with Fahrenheit 451. I can’t even tell you how I went 28 years without having read that book, but it was patiently sitting on my bookshelf, having been loaned to me by my younger brother some YEARS AGO, after he read it for his English class.

YOU GUYS THIS BOOK. Obviously I don’t need to say anything, because YOU have already read this. Everyone has already read this. It’s like this big secret everyone had but nobody told me! I spent the entire book caught up in Bradbury’s voice, admiring the writing without much caring where the story was going or would end up. And isn’t that the most enchanting way to spend a book? The last dozen or so pages, when the Meaning and the Message and the Reason for it all were finally delivered — I wasn’t expecting that. I didn’t expect to be so moved. I’m fairly certain this will remain one of my favorite books, and that’s all due to 500 words somewhere near the end.

And now I’m sitting here, having finished this last night, with Brave New World sitting beside me, not yet wanting to start it. I want to let Fahrenheit 451 bounce around in my noggin a bit longer until it finds a place to settle in. But I’m also afraid if I give it a day, it will turn into two or three or a week and then BAM it’s 2012 and I haven’t read anything in forever. (Usually, to avoid this, I will alternate Thinky books with Fluffy books. But I don’t have a Fluffy book! I want to read more Thinky!)

These are my problems, people. (Note: I am fully aware that everyone else is likely seeing my problems on a completely different list than the one I am making here. FAIR ENOUGH. Also, raspberry.)

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(Over in the side bar, you may have noticed the March for Babies widget. I’m walking with my local Friends of Maddie team. If you don’t know Maddie Spohr’s story, you can find it here. If you are looking for a cause to donate your time or money to, I highly recommend the March of Dimes. If you are interested in walking in Maddie’s memory, you can find a list of teams here. If you’d like to donate, you can click through the side bar, or visit here. Thank you!)

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Filed under Decisions decisions

I never did decide what this post was actually about … go figure

I’m a really big fan of tradition.

To sort of an obsessive degree.

And I don’t just mean holiday traditions. I can make ANYTHING a tradition. Like ordering the exact same thing every time I go to a specific restaurant.

Oh, I’ll play at changing things up. Sit for 10 minutes agonizing over the menu. I’ll narrow it down to two options: something BOLD and NEW, and my old mainstay. Then I wait for the server to call upon me to pick my poison. And it is always, ALWAYS what I usually get.

I’m in the throes of something similar over my holiday menu. Ever since I started doing this myself, I’ve used the same recipes for each component of the meal. Same apple pie filling. Same stuffing. Same candied sweet potatoes.

This morning I even tweeted, looking for pie crust suggestions! See:

And I got suggestions! Really good ones. Pie crusts that look delicious and different and flaky and magnificent.

But probably? Probably I’ll end up using my same recipe I’ve been trying to perfect forever. Certain that THIS TIME will be different.

Really, it’s that I hate to make decisions. About anything. When I was ordering cloth diaper covers for Roo several months back, I AGONIZED over what colors to buy. Uh. Why? Why would I put myself through that? It is a diaper color, not a BOMB WIRE. Red or green? IT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE HERE. I thought Matt was going to lock me out of the house and internet for good.

(Oddly enough, important decisions? THOSE I don’t fret over. I KNOW. It makes no sense.)

Sometimes I think life would be easier if I could just hire someone to stand beside me and make decisions for me. Which restaurant for dinner? Should I buy these pants? DO I WANT BANGS?

But probably I’d need someone else to decide whom to hire.

And I don’t have time for that nonsense. I’ve got, like, a million sweet potato recipes to peruse.

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Filed under Decisions decisions, NaBloPoMo, Not even kidding

And, sadly, I don’t think cowbell will cure it

I appears that I have the baby fever.

Yesterday, I IMed Matt at work.

“So, just to warn you … I’m pretty sure I’m going to want to have another baby.”

He took it pretty well, considering his wife is clearly an EXPERT at knowing there is a proper time and place for everything. He’s not against the idea, but also isn’t entirely convinced. Myself, I go back an —

(Pardon me for the abrupt break at this point in the post. This would be where my dear Rooster, who was happily nursing, STOOD HERSELF UP and proceeded to dump out an entire cup of ice water onto the carpet. Perhaps this is the universe telling me, “DUDE. Don’t do it.”)

Myself, I go back and forth. Which is to say, some days I feel like I will definitely have at least one more child, and other days I feel as though we may be done. The pros and cons fight each other in my head until I don’t even know which side I’m on anymore. I know this isn’t a decision I have to make today (or ever, honestly, as it’s not entirely up to our whims and wishes), but it’s the curiosity inside me that wants to know what our family will look like in 10 years. (And FINE. The CONTROL FREAK PLANNER, okay?)

I look at it from so many angles, talking myself into and out of it repeatedly. Most of my cons are, I think, sort of silly things. I grew up in a two-child family, which I thought was perfect. The dynamics of a family with more children than that is foreign to me. I also love the idea of a family of four for the sake of simplicity. You all fit at a regular restaurant table or in a sensible small car comfortably. One parent per child. More of each of us to go around.

But I know all of those are minor things, honestly, in making a decision so big. They’d be worked out as quickly as it took to wash away my fears of “how will I love anyone as much as Vio?” the moment Roo was in my arms.

I am trying to base this decision on the assumption we would have another daughter. I refuse to have another child “to get a boy”, but I also know that I would be heartbroken to spend my life without a son. I’d not trade either of my girls for a boy, but wishing for another child leaves me open to that longing.

Another child also means more years before I get to go back to work. Back to a library. But what is a couple more years when measured up against the life of another whole person?

There are SO many other things I want to say here. My thoughts on another pregnancy and delivery, another year or two of nursing, dooming Roo to middle child status. But, really? Does any of that matter? Because when it comes right down to it, I look at our little family, and I’m happy. I know this could be enough. It would be enough, if it had to be. But I look at us, and I wonder, Is this our whole family?

I’m just not so sure that it is.

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Filed under Decisions decisions, My girls