Today is the day. September 29th was the date I tacked up on my "vision board" beneath the picture of a cute, cuddly, healthy baby so many months ago. It was my goal for carrying this pregnancy to term after experiencing premature labor with my last two pregnancies. So it looks like I have been successful, and now she can come on anytime. This probably means she will hang out for another 4 weeks just so I don't get any false notions that I have control over anything.
For the last few nights I have dreamed that I have had the baby. In my dreams I still don't know what her name is or how the delivery is carried out. It always seems to happen rather effortlessly (which is how I know it is just a dream). This morning I dreamed that I gave birth and forgot to call my mother. Horror of horrors! We had called all of George's immediate family, but when I arrived home from the hospital with little what's-her-name, I realized that no one had called my mom. I remember telling George, "We are going to have to lie about her birthday for the rest of her life because I am going to call my mom and tell her she was born today!" (Don't worry, Mom. This would never really happen!) When I woke up it all seemed so real; I was wracking my brain trying to remember the delivery... Did I end up with a c-section or a natural delivery? I actually put my hand down to feel for a scar and discovered that I was indeed still pregnant. Ho-hum.
I should have some more information in a week when I go back to the hospital for a scan to confirm the position of the baby. I can tell you that I am 99% sure that her feet are still down low and her head is pressed up firmly into my ribs. She is still very wiggly, but I am not convinced she has any intention of going bottoms up. Time will tell.
This morning we all were up early since Emma had Judo class before school. George and Sophie were in the bathroom together before he left for work. He was shaving and she was brushing her teeth while the two enjoyed a typically cheerful, early morning chat. (Both are chipper morning people if they've had enough rest, and I say they can have at it.) I had to laugh when I overheard Sophie asking him, "Aren't you excited, Dad?! You're going to be a parent soon!"
To further increase the gaiety of the morning, Sophie spontaneously learned to whistle last night and spent the morning practicing her new party trick all over the house. She absolutely could not wait to get to school so she could show Harry Lynch how well she could do it. (Quick update: the happy couple have now reconciled and are the class "love birds" again as of yesterday. "Harry and I did EVERYTHING together yesterday!" reported Sophie this morning.)
Emma and I are not morning people. I'm not even sure I am any kind of a person at the moment, but I was especially not a morning person when, after getting everyone up an hour early, showering and getting dressed, Emma came in to my room and said, "Oh, I forgot. I don't have Judo today. The teacher told me last week that I should start coming on Thursday morning instead." I didn't roar as loudly as you might imagine, but I was rather annoyed remembering how tired I had been when hauling my super-sized self out of bed a half an hour earlier. "It didn't occur to you to tell me this last night, when we were packing your Judo bag???" No, of course, it didn't.
Mommy Dearest made her go to Judo anyway this morning (even though none of the other Year 3 girls were there). Will she ever recover from my cruelty? And furthermore what's up with the Judo instructor not sending home a note about the change in class day anyway? Did he seriously expect that 7- year-olds would remember this information at the end of the school day and tell their parents?
Apparently all of the other 7-year-olds DID remember to tell their parents, so Emma was the oldest girl in class today. These are the experiences that build character... or perhaps they at least encourage a child to tell her mom important things before the last minute. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Letting Go and Loving You With Lunch
I vaguely remember having lots of energy last week. That all seems to have fizzled, and did I mention that I am enormous and very well acquainted with our new baby's feet, knees, elbows and head? Luckily (and I am knocking wood as I type this), she seems to like to sleep when I sleep for the most part, so I am actually getting halfway decent rest at night. In fact, every morning, when I wake up, I very gracefully roll over and give her a little nudge, and she begins to roll around herself. She and I are cool like that.
Emma has had a big weekend full of Brownie outings. Yesterday she went to a big Centenary Celebration in honor of the fact that Brownies have been active in the area for 100 years now. Scads of Rainbows, Brownies and Girl Guides all hiked up to the top of Garth Mountain for a picnic, songs and celebration. (You may know Garth Mountain from the Hugh Grant film The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill but Came Down a Mountain.) According to the Brownie leader, none of the girls complained, and they had a beautiful sunny day for the event. When I picked Emma up at the end of it, however, she informed me that the hike up was rather brutal. I'm sure it was good for her.
It is so hard letting my little girl grow up and do things on her own. I don't know if I worry more than other moms, but I do worry and fret when she's off on her own, partly because I know what she's like and how "away with the fairies" she can be. I always wonder if whoever is looking after her does so as diligently as I would. The following quote by Elizabeth Stone didn't really make sense to me until the moment Emma Carson entered the world: "Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." So true, and I am realizing that it doesn't really get any easier, especially with my first born. The opportunities to "let go" just get bigger and bigger.
I remember being so nervous dropping her off at her first "Mom's Morning Out" at the Lutheran Church when she was two years old, and then rushing back to collect her after the two hours had elapsed. This seemed huge at the time, but now she is climbing mountains and crossing streets without me, and I must admit to being a bit of a hormonal, nervous wreck. Do not even talk to me about the fact that she will eventually turn sixteen and want to get in a car and drive somewhere on her own or (even worse) get into a car with a teenage boy! Heaven help me!
Today she is off with the Brownies again. This time she is in the big city centre for an encore performance of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Before she left the house, she was quite tearful about going and sitting in the theatre without mom and dad. You should be extremely proud that I didn't burst into tears with her or encourage her not to go, but my heart will indeed be walking around outside my body until she is safely back at home.
After she left, I had to busy myself with something, so I decided to make the sandwiches and assemble the girls' lunchboxes for school tomorrow. Just then it occurred to me for the very first time what a loving act it is to make a nice lunchbox for someone. I do it five days a week and have never thought about it as a way of loving through service. I always make sure Emma gets only the things that she likes and I do the same for Sophie. Sometimes I tuck in unexpected treats and, on rare occasions, little notes from mom. There is always fresh fruit and a healthy sandwich served on nice wholemeal bread. This is one of the ways I cope with all of the letting go that must happen when one has children. Off they go to school everyday, but I know that they have a really healthy and lovingly prepared lunch. I also know that they don't really appreciate it now. It is just one of those things that mom does, but one day they may look back and think, "Mom really took care of us." Maybe. It could happen.
Emma has had a big weekend full of Brownie outings. Yesterday she went to a big Centenary Celebration in honor of the fact that Brownies have been active in the area for 100 years now. Scads of Rainbows, Brownies and Girl Guides all hiked up to the top of Garth Mountain for a picnic, songs and celebration. (You may know Garth Mountain from the Hugh Grant film The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill but Came Down a Mountain.) According to the Brownie leader, none of the girls complained, and they had a beautiful sunny day for the event. When I picked Emma up at the end of it, however, she informed me that the hike up was rather brutal. I'm sure it was good for her.
It is so hard letting my little girl grow up and do things on her own. I don't know if I worry more than other moms, but I do worry and fret when she's off on her own, partly because I know what she's like and how "away with the fairies" she can be. I always wonder if whoever is looking after her does so as diligently as I would. The following quote by Elizabeth Stone didn't really make sense to me until the moment Emma Carson entered the world: "Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." So true, and I am realizing that it doesn't really get any easier, especially with my first born. The opportunities to "let go" just get bigger and bigger.
I remember being so nervous dropping her off at her first "Mom's Morning Out" at the Lutheran Church when she was two years old, and then rushing back to collect her after the two hours had elapsed. This seemed huge at the time, but now she is climbing mountains and crossing streets without me, and I must admit to being a bit of a hormonal, nervous wreck. Do not even talk to me about the fact that she will eventually turn sixteen and want to get in a car and drive somewhere on her own or (even worse) get into a car with a teenage boy! Heaven help me!
Today she is off with the Brownies again. This time she is in the big city centre for an encore performance of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Before she left the house, she was quite tearful about going and sitting in the theatre without mom and dad. You should be extremely proud that I didn't burst into tears with her or encourage her not to go, but my heart will indeed be walking around outside my body until she is safely back at home.
After she left, I had to busy myself with something, so I decided to make the sandwiches and assemble the girls' lunchboxes for school tomorrow. Just then it occurred to me for the very first time what a loving act it is to make a nice lunchbox for someone. I do it five days a week and have never thought about it as a way of loving through service. I always make sure Emma gets only the things that she likes and I do the same for Sophie. Sometimes I tuck in unexpected treats and, on rare occasions, little notes from mom. There is always fresh fruit and a healthy sandwich served on nice wholemeal bread. This is one of the ways I cope with all of the letting go that must happen when one has children. Off they go to school everyday, but I know that they have a really healthy and lovingly prepared lunch. I also know that they don't really appreciate it now. It is just one of those things that mom does, but one day they may look back and think, "Mom really took care of us." Maybe. It could happen.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Get Out of the Way! I'm HUGE!
This is what 36+ weeks pregnant looks like. I'm not sure if I can accurately describe how it feels, but I know the end is near. My energy levels have been surprisingly good for the last couple of weeks, and I have been trying to sort out some business that I don't want to have to bother with when we have a new baby (like having the car inspected and serviced). I am doing my best to enjoy these last few weeks... the calm before the storm, as they say.
I appreciate everyone's thoughts, prayers and well-wishes. The baby is still being naughty (as my friend Caroline would say) and remaining in the 'wrong' position. She gave me some fantastic kicks in my nether regions this morning while I was out shopping just to remind me that she is in charge here. I am still holding on to the hope that she could still turn...before 37 weeks even? Positive thinking and prayers never hurt!
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Miss Helperton Takes the Day Off
After a few days of the sniffles, Sophie had an unfortunate incident with a coughing spell gone wrong yesterday morning. It resulted in a good bit of the porridge she had eaten for breakfast revisiting us all. So she got to have the day off... even though, apart from the aforementioned porridge puking, she felt perfectly fine.
Emma, of course, took a turn toward the gloomy side when she heard Sophie would be home with me all day, and she decided it was going to be the worst day of school ever. I'm sure she imagined Sophie and me taking a day trip to Paris while she sat in class and did her spellings.
Instead of Paris, I had to drag Sophie to Asda to do the weekly shopping. She was about as cheerful as a girl can be as she skipped up and down the aisles in her school uniform singing, "Everyone else is in school except me!!" She also persuaded me to "go upstairs" in Asda where we couldn't help but buy a "Mummy's Little Pumpkin" outfit for our baby. But please don't mention to Emma that we did anything fun!
Back at home Helpy-helperton helped me put all of the groceries away AND pack my hospital bag. It's time to be prepared, you know! Sophie got to learn all about maternity towels, breast pads and nursing bras, and she already knows entirely too much about hemorrhoids and heartburn. (I'm afraid we may have turned into that family who shares just a little too much!) Then, upon noticing that the baby seemed particularly active, I decided to assume the position for the Elkin's maneuver to encourage the baby to 'take a nose dive' (as my friend Molly says). This basically means I got on all fours with my bum stuck up in the air. Sophie, helpful as ever, crawled in between my legs and began shouting at the bottom of my bump, "BABY!! Turn around!! Put your head down HERE, Elora!!" (I think the naming of this child is completely out of my hands now. Sophie has made an executive decision.) Anyway, I wish I had a photograph of this scenario as I am sure we looked completely bizarre and hilarious. At this point, I don't think the baby has flipped, but she is still rather active, so I am not losing faith.
Today seems rather dull with Sophie back at school. I am trying to get caught up on some laundry and other boring but essential business. The weather here is absolutely gorgeous, so I also managed to work in a lovely walk in the sunshine. My pace has slowed considerably, but my heart is still in it.
Emma, of course, took a turn toward the gloomy side when she heard Sophie would be home with me all day, and she decided it was going to be the worst day of school ever. I'm sure she imagined Sophie and me taking a day trip to Paris while she sat in class and did her spellings.
Instead of Paris, I had to drag Sophie to Asda to do the weekly shopping. She was about as cheerful as a girl can be as she skipped up and down the aisles in her school uniform singing, "Everyone else is in school except me!!" She also persuaded me to "go upstairs" in Asda where we couldn't help but buy a "Mummy's Little Pumpkin" outfit for our baby. But please don't mention to Emma that we did anything fun!
Back at home Helpy-helperton helped me put all of the groceries away AND pack my hospital bag. It's time to be prepared, you know! Sophie got to learn all about maternity towels, breast pads and nursing bras, and she already knows entirely too much about hemorrhoids and heartburn. (I'm afraid we may have turned into that family who shares just a little too much!) Then, upon noticing that the baby seemed particularly active, I decided to assume the position for the Elkin's maneuver to encourage the baby to 'take a nose dive' (as my friend Molly says). This basically means I got on all fours with my bum stuck up in the air. Sophie, helpful as ever, crawled in between my legs and began shouting at the bottom of my bump, "BABY!! Turn around!! Put your head down HERE, Elora!!" (I think the naming of this child is completely out of my hands now. Sophie has made an executive decision.) Anyway, I wish I had a photograph of this scenario as I am sure we looked completely bizarre and hilarious. At this point, I don't think the baby has flipped, but she is still rather active, so I am not losing faith.
Today seems rather dull with Sophie back at school. I am trying to get caught up on some laundry and other boring but essential business. The weather here is absolutely gorgeous, so I also managed to work in a lovely walk in the sunshine. My pace has slowed considerably, but my heart is still in it.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Blase' About Being Breech...
I saw my obstetric consultant at the hospital today, and every time I think about it, I have a little chuckle. The doctor is very laid back and British. I have been rather concerned and puzzled by the fact that this baby has been breech for many weeks now. The fact that she is breech may just be a blessing since I haven't had any issues with premature labour this time around.
My consultant took my word for it when I told her the baby was still head up. She said, "This is your third baby; you would know." I was relieved when she did actually put her hands on me and confirm that yes, she thought it felt breech as well. A very apologetic male, med. student also had a go feeling me up since he had never felt a breech one before.
I really expected that at 36 weeks, my doctor would spring into action and set the wheels of my birth plan in motion, but this was not at all the case. She was not concerned. She said the baby could very well turn still and that she would just see me back in two weeks. If I happen to go into labour before 38 weeks, she advised that I should mention the fact that I suspect the baby is breech when I go into the hospital... you know, just casually. None of this really worries me, but it is interesting because I know it is quite different from the way things would be happening if I were pregnant in the US. And I am still really hoping the girl decides to turn a cartwheel in the next week or so. It's feeling pretty crowded in there now!!
Another funny anecdote... yesterday while Emma was at Brownies, I took Sophie over to visit her old pal Lucia. She hadn't seen Lucia in many months, and the two picked up right where they left off, while her mum, Caroline and I had a lovely chat and a hot cup of tea. After a nice visit, I firmly persuaded Sophie that it was time to go. It was only then that Lucia looked at me and queried, "Are you going to have a baby?" I told her that I was indeed. She, then, pointed to my extremely 'outed' belly button, which is quite obvious through my shirt now, and asked, "Is that your baby's nose??" Out of the mouths of babes, right?
If anyone has any sensible advice on how to persuade a breech baby to spontaneously turn, I am all ears!
My consultant took my word for it when I told her the baby was still head up. She said, "This is your third baby; you would know." I was relieved when she did actually put her hands on me and confirm that yes, she thought it felt breech as well. A very apologetic male, med. student also had a go feeling me up since he had never felt a breech one before.
I really expected that at 36 weeks, my doctor would spring into action and set the wheels of my birth plan in motion, but this was not at all the case. She was not concerned. She said the baby could very well turn still and that she would just see me back in two weeks. If I happen to go into labour before 38 weeks, she advised that I should mention the fact that I suspect the baby is breech when I go into the hospital... you know, just casually. None of this really worries me, but it is interesting because I know it is quite different from the way things would be happening if I were pregnant in the US. And I am still really hoping the girl decides to turn a cartwheel in the next week or so. It's feeling pretty crowded in there now!!
Another funny anecdote... yesterday while Emma was at Brownies, I took Sophie over to visit her old pal Lucia. She hadn't seen Lucia in many months, and the two picked up right where they left off, while her mum, Caroline and I had a lovely chat and a hot cup of tea. After a nice visit, I firmly persuaded Sophie that it was time to go. It was only then that Lucia looked at me and queried, "Are you going to have a baby?" I told her that I was indeed. She, then, pointed to my extremely 'outed' belly button, which is quite obvious through my shirt now, and asked, "Is that your baby's nose??" Out of the mouths of babes, right?
If anyone has any sensible advice on how to persuade a breech baby to spontaneously turn, I am all ears!
Monday, September 21, 2009
My Big Fat British Baby Shower and Other Weekend Adventures
I am wondering if the songs from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat will ever be out of my head! The soundtrack has been playing in my house and in my car for weeks now, and we finally got to go and see the show live on Saturday. Emma and Sophie absolutely loved it...as did their parents. Also, since the 6 week healing period on her ear piercing had elapsed, Emma got to take her own money and choose some new earrings. She bought three pairs in the shop: ladybugs, turtles and rainbows, and she looks fabulous. She was also brave enough to approach a live statue in the city centre when we were there on Saturday...
Even on the best of days, Emma is still Emma, and don't get me wrong, we desperately love Emma, but she continues to struggle with feeling misunderstood and victimized by the world. On the way home on the train on Saturday, she crawled under the seat to retrieve a ticket she had dropped. She crawled under the seat just as the train pulled into our station and the doors were opening... just as I was (at first) calmly saying, "Emma, let's go. Emma, we have to get off now. EMMA, GET UP!!!" George and Sophie were already off the train, so I picked her up and basically dragged her off...screaming. (She was the one screaming, not me.) I was angry. She was even angrier, and everything good that had happened earlier in the day seemed to wither away. This is a typical Emma-scenario. It took us about an hour of crying and talking to get over the ordeal, and similar events happen daily.
Emma seems to feel things more deeply than other people. She has had a stubborn, independent streak since birth, which means she regularly clashes with her stubborn and independent Dad. I often hear things like, "Stop trying to help me, Dad! I KNOW what I'm doing!!" Then when it all goes pear-shaped, she's crying, "No one will help me! Everyone is being so mean to me!!" She cannot stand it if she feels that someone is unhappy with her. I remember getting frustrated with her when she was about two years old, and saying, "OH, Emma! I declare!!" And she responded, pleadingly, "No, Mommy! PLEASE don't declare! Oh, don't you declare, Mommy!!"
Emma is often lost in her own thoughts and dreams for ages. She spends hours drawing, writing and creating. She also spends a good deal of time worrying, sympathizing and praying. I have no doubt that she will grow into an amazing woman, but growing can be painful...and tiring. I feel a bit like Glinda the Good Witch. I'd like to just show her NOW that she can click her heels together three times and be home, but no... everyone remembers Glinda's wisest and bitchiest line in the show, "She had to learn it for herself!" I can't save my innocent little Dorothy from the wicked witches and flying monkeys because then she'd also miss out on all of the wonderful things that can be found along the yellow brick road. Yes, she has to learn it for herself: all of the things for which she hopes and struggles are already within her; they were there all along.
But enough of philosophy according to L. Frank Baum... this weekend also brought me a fantastic night of being spoiled and celebrated by my British family. My friend Sonia hostessed a lovely evening for me on Sunday, and I really felt special and loved. She even found some really nice sparkling non-alcoholic wine that I could indulge in guilt-free!
(Above) Some of the ladies: Julie, Sian, Me, Sonia and Joanna
The ladies in pink! Gaynor (on the right) is actually a trained midwife, so we had all of the bases covered.
Beverely took this photo to show how my lady-like postured has completely vanished in the 9th month of pregnancy. I look especially ogre-like next to the always lovely Helen.
Yes, Bev, that IS the baby's head you are feeling!! Amazing, innit?
Even on the best of days, Emma is still Emma, and don't get me wrong, we desperately love Emma, but she continues to struggle with feeling misunderstood and victimized by the world. On the way home on the train on Saturday, she crawled under the seat to retrieve a ticket she had dropped. She crawled under the seat just as the train pulled into our station and the doors were opening... just as I was (at first) calmly saying, "Emma, let's go. Emma, we have to get off now. EMMA, GET UP!!!" George and Sophie were already off the train, so I picked her up and basically dragged her off...screaming. (She was the one screaming, not me.) I was angry. She was even angrier, and everything good that had happened earlier in the day seemed to wither away. This is a typical Emma-scenario. It took us about an hour of crying and talking to get over the ordeal, and similar events happen daily.
Emma seems to feel things more deeply than other people. She has had a stubborn, independent streak since birth, which means she regularly clashes with her stubborn and independent Dad. I often hear things like, "Stop trying to help me, Dad! I KNOW what I'm doing!!" Then when it all goes pear-shaped, she's crying, "No one will help me! Everyone is being so mean to me!!" She cannot stand it if she feels that someone is unhappy with her. I remember getting frustrated with her when she was about two years old, and saying, "OH, Emma! I declare!!" And she responded, pleadingly, "No, Mommy! PLEASE don't declare! Oh, don't you declare, Mommy!!"
Emma is often lost in her own thoughts and dreams for ages. She spends hours drawing, writing and creating. She also spends a good deal of time worrying, sympathizing and praying. I have no doubt that she will grow into an amazing woman, but growing can be painful...and tiring. I feel a bit like Glinda the Good Witch. I'd like to just show her NOW that she can click her heels together three times and be home, but no... everyone remembers Glinda's wisest and bitchiest line in the show, "She had to learn it for herself!" I can't save my innocent little Dorothy from the wicked witches and flying monkeys because then she'd also miss out on all of the wonderful things that can be found along the yellow brick road. Yes, she has to learn it for herself: all of the things for which she hopes and struggles are already within her; they were there all along.
But enough of philosophy according to L. Frank Baum... this weekend also brought me a fantastic night of being spoiled and celebrated by my British family. My friend Sonia hostessed a lovely evening for me on Sunday, and I really felt special and loved. She even found some really nice sparkling non-alcoholic wine that I could indulge in guilt-free!
(Above) Some of the ladies: Julie, Sian, Me, Sonia and Joanna
The ladies in pink! Gaynor (on the right) is actually a trained midwife, so we had all of the bases covered.
Beverely took this photo to show how my lady-like postured has completely vanished in the 9th month of pregnancy. I look especially ogre-like next to the always lovely Helen.
Yes, Bev, that IS the baby's head you are feeling!! Amazing, innit? Friday, September 18, 2009
Sophie Learns About Love on the Playground
Ok... here comes another entry in which I attempt to re-create a funny conversation I had with one of my children...
Yesterday on the way to school, Sophie told me, "Harry Lynch doesn't really want to play with me anymore."
Me: Oh, that must make you feel very sad.
Soph: Yeah, he only wants to play with other boys now.
Me: Yes, sometimes boys do that when they are young. They decide they would just rather play with boys. Then in a few years they decide they really like girls again. You know it's nothing to do with you.
Soph: Yes, I know. I'm fabulous.
Me: Right, well, you could have a chat with him to tell him that you miss playing with him and ask if there's a reason he doesn't want to play anymore.
Soph: Yes, I will get on that today.
AFTER SCHOOL that same day...
Me: Did you have your chat with Harry today?
Soph: Yes
Me: How did it go?
Soph: Not very well...
(At this point Emma interrupted us with some news about her day, so I never actually got the details of the conversation with Harry.)
Me: So what happened then?
Soph: Well, I just decided to get on with it. I played with Riley and Rio and Sam... (She went on to list several other boys from her class.) And THEN all of a sudden Harry wanted to be my boyfriend again!!
I think our girl Sophie has just learned a valuable lesson about boys.
She later revealed that she told him that she couldn't be bothered with being his girlfriend anymore; she just wanted to play with everyone. This is why Sophie is one of my heroes. She is most definitely a girl who will not be messed about with.
Yesterday on the way to school, Sophie told me, "Harry Lynch doesn't really want to play with me anymore."
Me: Oh, that must make you feel very sad.
Soph: Yeah, he only wants to play with other boys now.
Me: Yes, sometimes boys do that when they are young. They decide they would just rather play with boys. Then in a few years they decide they really like girls again. You know it's nothing to do with you.
Soph: Yes, I know. I'm fabulous.
Me: Right, well, you could have a chat with him to tell him that you miss playing with him and ask if there's a reason he doesn't want to play anymore.
Soph: Yes, I will get on that today.
AFTER SCHOOL that same day...
Me: Did you have your chat with Harry today?
Soph: Yes
Me: How did it go?
Soph: Not very well...
(At this point Emma interrupted us with some news about her day, so I never actually got the details of the conversation with Harry.)
Me: So what happened then?
Soph: Well, I just decided to get on with it. I played with Riley and Rio and Sam... (She went on to list several other boys from her class.) And THEN all of a sudden Harry wanted to be my boyfriend again!!
I think our girl Sophie has just learned a valuable lesson about boys.
She later revealed that she told him that she couldn't be bothered with being his girlfriend anymore; she just wanted to play with everyone. This is why Sophie is one of my heroes. She is most definitely a girl who will not be messed about with.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
I'm Still Here
One of these days I'm sure I will be furiously blogging again, but lately I don't seem to be doing anything very furiously. I am 35 weeks along in my pregnancy, and apparently looking "cooked" according to the other mums at school. "How much longer have you got to go?" seems to be the most popular question...as if I know the answer to that one! I really have no idea. When I was pregnant with Sophie, I just knew I wouldn't make it much farther than 36 weeks, but this time around, things are entirely different. This little one has her feet comfortably wedged over my pelvic bones and her head lodged stubbornly beneath my ribs. She doesn't appear ready to emerge any time soon.
You wouldn't think that we were preparing for a new baby by the way we are packing the activities in lately. I have been busy finishing off my term as PTA chairperson and am hoping to successfully pass the job on to someone new this Thursday evening at the Annual General Meeting. Emma has taken on Brownies, French lessons, guitar classes and Judo. George is working and rehearsing for a play that will be put on by the local drama group at the end of November. (It's his turn now!) And Sophie is staying busy keeping the rest of us in line. Her new favourite thing to say whenever she percieves that there is unnecessary drama at our house is, "What a palaver!!" (an expression she picked up from our good friend Sonia-- so funny to hear coming out of her 5 year old mouth!)
We also have a fun-filled weekend to look forward to... We are all planning a trip into town to see Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat at the New Theatre on Saturday. Emma is so excited she can hardly stand it, and Sophie is finding Emma's enthusiasm to be quite contagious. On Sunday I am having a British baby shower thrown in my honor. I have felt so loved by all of my British mummy friends who have approached me and said, "We need to throw you a shower, don't we??" Baby showering is not at all a British tradition, so I am feeling ever so special!
Enjoy the week, everyone, and avoid any unnecessary palavering if you can manage!
You wouldn't think that we were preparing for a new baby by the way we are packing the activities in lately. I have been busy finishing off my term as PTA chairperson and am hoping to successfully pass the job on to someone new this Thursday evening at the Annual General Meeting. Emma has taken on Brownies, French lessons, guitar classes and Judo. George is working and rehearsing for a play that will be put on by the local drama group at the end of November. (It's his turn now!) And Sophie is staying busy keeping the rest of us in line. Her new favourite thing to say whenever she percieves that there is unnecessary drama at our house is, "What a palaver!!" (an expression she picked up from our good friend Sonia-- so funny to hear coming out of her 5 year old mouth!)
We also have a fun-filled weekend to look forward to... We are all planning a trip into town to see Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat at the New Theatre on Saturday. Emma is so excited she can hardly stand it, and Sophie is finding Emma's enthusiasm to be quite contagious. On Sunday I am having a British baby shower thrown in my honor. I have felt so loved by all of my British mummy friends who have approached me and said, "We need to throw you a shower, don't we??" Baby showering is not at all a British tradition, so I am feeling ever so special!
Enjoy the week, everyone, and avoid any unnecessary palavering if you can manage!
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Oh Tatiana, You Hot Thing!
My pregnancy has taken over my brain and my blog. Blogging isn't happening as regularly these days simply because I am big and tired and a bit uninspired, but all is well. I saw the community midwife this morning, and she confirmed what I already knew...the baby is still breech. I am trying to maintain positive thinking. There is still time for her to turn, so hopefully she will somersault soon. Sophie has been cheer leading to her through my skin, "Baby, get your head down! Head down! Feet up, babe! And STOP kicking my mom in her platter." She means 'bladder,' of course, but the baby doesn't know the difference, and apparently she's already not into obeying her big sister. She hasn't budged from this head-up position in over a month... but we are maintaining that positive attitude!
I had coffee this morning at a friend's house with several other local mums, and it was really lovely...and not just because she served carrot cake (which totally counts as one of my "five a day"). It was nice to sit down with grown ups and chat about grown up things without having any kids tugging on me. Of course we did discuss our children some, and one of the topics that came up is how (unfortunately) little girls seem to want to grow up way too quickly these days. I really love the fact that my girls seem to be very content with being little girls most of the time. They don't seem to be in too much of a hurry to grow up and be trendy and horrid, but I cannot completely shield them from the world and the media.
A couple of nights ago, Emma and Sophie were in the bathtub with a slew of Barbie dolls and I overheard a conversation that really bothered me. One of the girls was saying (about one of the Barbies), "Have you seen Tatiana? She is SO HOT! She is the hottest thing in town. Just look at how gorgeous she is!" I stepped into the bathroom and feinted clueless-ness by asking, "What is 'hot'? What does that mean?"
"Oh, MUM!" Emma rolled her eyes at me, "Don't you know what it means to be hot?"
Sophie chimed in, "You know like: Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me? Don't you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?"
At this point, I did a truly excellent job of hiding the fact that I was completely mortified and maintained my clueless persona, "Yes, but what does it mean to be 'hot'?"
One of them answered, "You know 'hot' means gorgeous, the most beautiful, and fabulous."
So I asked, "Who decides who is hot?"
The both answered almost simultaneously, "TV!"
UGH! Already?? They are five and seven. I think I asked then, "Is it better to be hot or kind?" and thankfully they both answered that it was better to be kind, but I wondered if that was just what they knew I wanted to hear. I started to go into a bit of a lecture about how TV has no right to say who is pretty and who isn't, but I could see they just wanted to be left alone to have their bath in peace with th ever-hot Tatiana.
Last night when we were in the bathroom getting ready for bed, Sophie and I had a very encouraging conversation. I asked her out of the blue, "So, Sophie, are YOU hot?"
"No, she said, "I can't be bothered with that." She went on to tell me that even though she's not bothered about being hot, there are still loads of boys in her class who want to marry her because she so nice and so much fun to be around. (Apparently, out of all the boys who have told her they want to marry her, Harry Lynch is still the only one who stands a chance.) This exchange made me feel much better about having my girls out there in the big, bad world. I know that when they hear these things in school and on the media, it is natural and probably important for them to 'try them on' in their imaginative play, but I was relieved to hear that in the real world of being five, Sophie rates being fun and nice much more highly than being 'hot.' Maybe this means George and I are doing a good job in terms of raising healthy girls at my house... just maybe.
I had coffee this morning at a friend's house with several other local mums, and it was really lovely...and not just because she served carrot cake (which totally counts as one of my "five a day"). It was nice to sit down with grown ups and chat about grown up things without having any kids tugging on me. Of course we did discuss our children some, and one of the topics that came up is how (unfortunately) little girls seem to want to grow up way too quickly these days. I really love the fact that my girls seem to be very content with being little girls most of the time. They don't seem to be in too much of a hurry to grow up and be trendy and horrid, but I cannot completely shield them from the world and the media.
A couple of nights ago, Emma and Sophie were in the bathtub with a slew of Barbie dolls and I overheard a conversation that really bothered me. One of the girls was saying (about one of the Barbies), "Have you seen Tatiana? She is SO HOT! She is the hottest thing in town. Just look at how gorgeous she is!" I stepped into the bathroom and feinted clueless-ness by asking, "What is 'hot'? What does that mean?"
"Oh, MUM!" Emma rolled her eyes at me, "Don't you know what it means to be hot?"
Sophie chimed in, "You know like: Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me? Don't you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?"
At this point, I did a truly excellent job of hiding the fact that I was completely mortified and maintained my clueless persona, "Yes, but what does it mean to be 'hot'?"
One of them answered, "You know 'hot' means gorgeous, the most beautiful, and fabulous."
So I asked, "Who decides who is hot?"
The both answered almost simultaneously, "TV!"
UGH! Already?? They are five and seven. I think I asked then, "Is it better to be hot or kind?" and thankfully they both answered that it was better to be kind, but I wondered if that was just what they knew I wanted to hear. I started to go into a bit of a lecture about how TV has no right to say who is pretty and who isn't, but I could see they just wanted to be left alone to have their bath in peace with th ever-hot Tatiana.
Last night when we were in the bathroom getting ready for bed, Sophie and I had a very encouraging conversation. I asked her out of the blue, "So, Sophie, are YOU hot?"
"No, she said, "I can't be bothered with that." She went on to tell me that even though she's not bothered about being hot, there are still loads of boys in her class who want to marry her because she so nice and so much fun to be around. (Apparently, out of all the boys who have told her they want to marry her, Harry Lynch is still the only one who stands a chance.) This exchange made me feel much better about having my girls out there in the big, bad world. I know that when they hear these things in school and on the media, it is natural and probably important for them to 'try them on' in their imaginative play, but I was relieved to hear that in the real world of being five, Sophie rates being fun and nice much more highly than being 'hot.' Maybe this means George and I are doing a good job in terms of raising healthy girls at my house... just maybe.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Our Latest Scheme
Last week before the girls went back to school, one of them made a rather obvious observation: "We haven't been following our family rules very well lately." This girl was right. The boredom of rainy summer days and being stuck inside had brought out the worst in us. On this particular day there had been fussing and fighting galore combined with lots of ignoring of mom's instructions...which frequently led to mom... um... shouting... just a little.
Our family rules are called such since we all sat down as a family and generated "rules" that we all thought were important for parents and kids at our house. They are as follows:
Hope you have a fantastic week and find yourself on your very best behavior...unless the situation calls for an outright hissy fit.
Our family rules are called such since we all sat down as a family and generated "rules" that we all thought were important for parents and kids at our house. They are as follows:
- No hurting each other.
- Listen to each other.
- Tell the truth.
- Respect each other's things.
- No shouting, whining, begging or stropping.
George came up with the idea of having individual jars to encourage us all to be more mindful of our rules (and he wasn't even the elementary school teacher in the family). The concept is similar to Momma's old cuss box (y'all know she used to have one), except that we take out a bean every time someone breaks a rule and add a bean anytime someone does something especially kind or helpful. When someone fills his or her jar, they are going to get a really awesome prize to be determined at a later date. So far, it has been met with great enthusiasm. I am personally very happy to say I haven't lost any beans for shouting...or anything else for that matter...yet.
Hope you have a fantastic week and find yourself on your very best behavior...unless the situation calls for an outright hissy fit.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
They're Taking Over, Charlie Brown!
The pumpkin plants in our back patio have grown very quickly to resemble something from a horror film. We hardly have any patio left. If little Bill Cosby were here, he would undoubtedly be smearing Jell-o on the kitchen floor to deter their efforts to attack us! The photograph I took below with Sophie doesn't really accurately portray how monstrous the plants have become. They pompously sprawl across the patio as if they own the place. We are optimistically looking forward to a radiant crop next month. We currently have blossoms and tiny yellow fruits... so time will tell what these prodigious plants can produce!
Today was the first day back at school for the kids here. Emma returned at the end of the day with a full-on British accent and (as usual) plenty to say. Sophie also had a great day and said she enjoyed making a collage with her very nice teacher, Mrs. Bale. I, of course, enjoyed a little time to myself today... well, sort of to myself. I do have this constant companion who likes to grind her head under my ribs. (Yes, she's still breech.) I think we are all going to enjoy getting back into the routine. I am pleased to have a little peace and quiet and a chance to get all of my ducks in a row before NBG (that's "New Baby Girl") arrives.
I know my homeschooling friends would disagree, but...
"If there were no schools to take the children away from home part of the time, the insane asylums would be filled with mothers." ~Edgar W. Howe
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Yes, Madame President
Yesterday I unexpectedly had a chat with Emma about same sex marriage. It might be more accurate to say that she had a chat with me. I generally try to avoid initiating any conversations about these emotionally charged social issues with my children when they're so young. Life is complicated enough when you're trying to work out why a turtleneck jumper isn't the best thing to wear over your bathing suit when you're going to the beach. But, of course, anytime they have questions for me, I am happy (usually) to answer them as age-appropriately as possible.
Last week, for example, at the Methodist holiday club, several of the youth leaders were shocked by how "in-the-know" Emma was about my pregnancy. Apparently most 7-year-olds don't know about breech presentation and hemorrhoids and such, but we talk at our house... especially Emma... about everything.
So back to the whole Prop 8 issue... It's funny. None of us batted an eyelash when Sophie was running around the house recently singing the wrong lyrics to that Katy Perry song: "I kissed a squirrel, and I liked it!" I decided it was best to leave well enough alone on that one. The girls also haven't had a lot of contact with gay friends of ours mainly because our social lives have dulled considerably since we've had the kids... and our best gay pals are back in the States. I just naively assumed the concept of homosexuality had never occurred to my children and that we would cross that bridge when a logical opportunity arose.
Yesterday Emma was sitting at the kitchen counter drawing a picture and said to me, "Mom? Did you know that a man can marry another man?"
"Yes," I answered, "In some places they can."
"I've seen it on TV, on a wedding show," She replied (leave it to Peter Perfect), "Do you mean that in some places a man CAN'T marry a man?"
"Yes."
"Can they do it in Wales?"
"Yes."
"Can they do it in Kentucky?"
"I'm pretty sure they canNOT do it in Kentucky."
"WHAT!??" Emma was obviously bothered, "Why not?? Isn't it against the law to tell people they can't marry who they want?"
...Thus began our discussion about politics. By the end of it Emma had decided she was going to grow up and become the President of the United States and change that law. She came up with this all on her own since I had no intention of trying influence her opinion on this particular issue. A psychic (not Dionne Warwick) once told us that Emma would grow up to be a very influential leader. Yes, perhaps he told every mom that about her child, but she's already got those aspirations. I am thinking: "You go, girl!" Someone who likes to talk and argue as much as she does might be destined for a career in law or politics. Several weeks ago, she told me she wanted to be the "ruler of Kentucky" so that she could outlaw the sale of cigarettes there. Those cigarettes are making her grandfather unhealthy and shops shouldn't be allowed to sell things that hurt people. (We later discussed that the actual job title would be "Governor of Kentucky" rather than "ruler.") Luckily she has several years to tweak her ideas about civil liberties and the role of government, but those wheels are turning!
Last week, for example, at the Methodist holiday club, several of the youth leaders were shocked by how "in-the-know" Emma was about my pregnancy. Apparently most 7-year-olds don't know about breech presentation and hemorrhoids and such, but we talk at our house... especially Emma... about everything.
So back to the whole Prop 8 issue... It's funny. None of us batted an eyelash when Sophie was running around the house recently singing the wrong lyrics to that Katy Perry song: "I kissed a squirrel, and I liked it!" I decided it was best to leave well enough alone on that one. The girls also haven't had a lot of contact with gay friends of ours mainly because our social lives have dulled considerably since we've had the kids... and our best gay pals are back in the States. I just naively assumed the concept of homosexuality had never occurred to my children and that we would cross that bridge when a logical opportunity arose.
Yesterday Emma was sitting at the kitchen counter drawing a picture and said to me, "Mom? Did you know that a man can marry another man?"
"Yes," I answered, "In some places they can."
"I've seen it on TV, on a wedding show," She replied (leave it to Peter Perfect), "Do you mean that in some places a man CAN'T marry a man?"
"Yes."
"Can they do it in Wales?"
"Yes."
"Can they do it in Kentucky?"
"I'm pretty sure they canNOT do it in Kentucky."
"WHAT!??" Emma was obviously bothered, "Why not?? Isn't it against the law to tell people they can't marry who they want?"
...Thus began our discussion about politics. By the end of it Emma had decided she was going to grow up and become the President of the United States and change that law. She came up with this all on her own since I had no intention of trying influence her opinion on this particular issue. A psychic (not Dionne Warwick) once told us that Emma would grow up to be a very influential leader. Yes, perhaps he told every mom that about her child, but she's already got those aspirations. I am thinking: "You go, girl!" Someone who likes to talk and argue as much as she does might be destined for a career in law or politics. Several weeks ago, she told me she wanted to be the "ruler of Kentucky" so that she could outlaw the sale of cigarettes there. Those cigarettes are making her grandfather unhealthy and shops shouldn't be allowed to sell things that hurt people. (We later discussed that the actual job title would be "Governor of Kentucky" rather than "ruler.") Luckily she has several years to tweak her ideas about civil liberties and the role of government, but those wheels are turning!
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