Random stuff update

Well, I'm almost done with the crazy nesting.

The house is more or less clean (just don't look behind the toilet in the bathroom... I can't reach there with this belly!), the bedroom has been moved around to accommodate the baby stuff, there's a ton of stuff waiting to go to the thrift store, and we're stocked up on almost everything we need. The freezer is getting full, including with frozen lactation cookie dough.

What do I still need to do?

• Stock up on pet supplies (cat litter, food for all of the pets)
• Wash the last of the baby clothes
• Order diapers
• Order a couple of nursing bras
• Make a Costco run for non-perishables and some more frozen meals
• Make muffin and bread dough for freezing

My body is slowing down, preparing for the upcoming marathon of labor. I can feel it- my pubis separating slowly (which makes it feel like my mons is perpetually slightly bruised, a weird feeling), my lower back is starting to have small cramps and reminders to care for it. My energy is slowing and turning inward, and I'm constantly hungry... the feeling of my body preparing for something that it knows will be intense work.

We're just over 2 weeks out from our due date.

MLK Day- Bringing it Home

One of our best friends is a beautiful Black man. It is a mind-boggling thing to realize that only a generation ago, not only could neither of us have dated someone Black, but we could not have taken him out to our favorite restaurants for his birthday. He could not have walked down the street with me as a companion, or sat down to a friendly lunch out with my husband.

As a child of the mid-1980's who grew up in a port city, I take racial freedom for granted. I took for granted that my schools were a gumbo of ethnicities. I take for granted that my favorite restaurant is owned by an interracial couple, and most of my other preferred ones will have white servers taking orders for tables of Black patrons. I take for granted my friend and her wife's interracial relationship, and my own ability to talk through the Chili cook-off hand-in-hand with my friend.

These are just normal parts of my life that I rarely even given them thought.

I like to think that my ability to take these thigns for granted is what Dr King hoped for a generation ago when he spoke to my parents' and their companions.

Of course, there is still room to grow, and progress which deperately needs to be made. Segregated Mardi Gras Societies in my hometown drove me away from the Balls I'd once enoyed, and knowing that my dear friend could not have accompanied me as an escort to the Ball given by one of my family members' Societies is a painful and infuriating reminder of that. Another family member's half-in-jest-all-in-seriousness comment before the 2008 elections that they were, "just going to vote for someone White," brought home to me just how close some of the need for progress is. Another family member baited me by continuing to tell racist jokes in my home, even after being asked not to.

Yet small steps, no matter how difficult, still move us closer to our goals. After my not-very-funny family member was asked to leave my home, I have never since heard a racist joke under my roof. I am open with my family about why I rarely return to my hometown for Mardi Gras, and my one Ball of the Mardi Gras season is that of the Order of Osiris, open to all, regardless of sexuality or ethnicity. I will never change another's mind through my own beliefs, but I can know that I will not be silent when I am confronted with even covert racism, and that because of that my friends and family may not so easily ignore their own.

I can walk down the street street now, holding hands with one of my dearest friends, his skin color irrelevant, and I take that for granted thanks to the thousands who worked, fought, were injured, and died in the name of equality. I owe to them my own efforts, however small they may be- and I owe them to my many friends and loved ones with whom I can openly socialize in ways my parents and grandparents could not have. Moreover, I owe it to my friends and loved ones who still are hurt by racism, overt and covert, where it continues to lurk.

Lastly, I owe it to my son, that he may find the entire concept an antiquated silliness, like the concept of women not voting or our gay friends' relationships being illegal.

Is it my fault?

My mother was an alcoholic.

No, AA/NA/Al-Anon friends, I'm not saying it wrong.

Was, as in she's already passed on.

What does this have to do with my baby/pregnancy blog?

A lot, actually.

Children have a capacity called, "magical thinking." Wikipedia defines it like this: "Magical thinking is causal reasoning that looks for correlation between acts or utterances and certain events. In religion, folk religion, andsuperstition, the correlation posited is between religious ritual, such as prayer, sacrifice, or the observance of a taboo, and an expected benefit or recompense. In clinical psychology, magical thinking is a condition that causes the patient to experience irrational fear of performing certain acts or having certain thoughts because they assume a correlation with their acts and threatening calamities.

"Quasi-magical thinking" describes "cases in which people act as if they erroneously believe that their action influences the outcome, even though they do not really hold that belief".^[1]"

Long story short, children have a tendency to believe that they can affect the outcome of a situation, even when they can't, really.

Example A: The child who says, "If I'm really, really good, dad will come back." You've seen statements like this in movies, most likely.

It's cute, when what they're saying is, "Step on a crack, break your mommy's back!" and then don't step on cracks for the remainder of the walk.

It's not so cute when they say, "If I had been better, mommy wouldn't have gone to jail."

"If I wish every single night on the first star for a year, then mommy will come home."

Sometimes, this bit of magical thinking isn't something we ever grow out of... how many of us have seen the TV or movie scene where the mean character breaks down and cries, "Why didn't my dad love me?! Was I bad?!"

Only it's not funny, when we realize how many people actually still harbor this fear on some level.

I did, for years.

If I had been better, would my mom not have needed to drink so much?

Was it because of me that she needed to?

Was it because of me that my parents got divorced?

Of course, intellectually, I know better. My mother was an alcoholic from high school on. She went to prison because she couldn't stop drinking and driving. They divorced because dad got tired of living with an alcoholic.

But deep down, there's still a little girl in the back of my head who asks, "Why didn't my mommy love me enough to be a good mom? Was I bad? Did I not deserve it?"

And it's for that little girl that I promised myself, years ago, that if I ever had a child, that his/her needs would come before anything else.

And it's for that little girl- until I hold my little boy in my arms and his needs become realities to me- that I will do it for my little boy.

Slowing down.... oops, I forgot that I suck at that.

So much for slowing down for the holidays....

Christmas Eve Eve:

Cleaned up front of house, bought and wrapped the last of the gifts, made rum cake, cranberry apple butter, and loaded mashed potatoes. Flea-treated pets and house to ensure no extra guests for Christmas.

Christmas Eve: Dry rubbed turkey, started ham glaze, made turkey stock, cornbread and biscuits, and sausage balls. Canned apple butter, put together dressing ingredients. Cleaned bathrooms, mopped flea stuff off of floors, washed sheets, and set up front of house for Misfits Dinner.

Took a brief nap.

Then D got home, and we ate in the car on the way to see a friend in the hospital, went to his dad's and saw family there, then had spaghetti dinner at his mom's. Were late to Midnight Mass, which didn't end until 12:30am (it actually starts at 10:30pm), and drove an hour home. Fell into bed.

Christmas Day:

Slept in 'til 9am, since it's our last child-free Christmas. Reheated sausage balls & apple cider, opened stockings. Showered, cleaned up, opened the rest of our gifts.

Started turkey, put together dressing, made chocolate pecan pie. Loaded car with gifts for D's family.

Had a fight about it.

Drove up to do Christmas with in-laws, ornament exchange, and gifts.

Were late leaving D's mom's house and had people at our house for Misfit's Dinner before we got home.

Got a darling friend to break into our house and let in our guests.

Entertained til midnight, then cleaned up before falling into bed.

Boxing Day:

Got up, took care of pets, made scones & sausage balls from leftover dough, drove to Chattanooga (~2hrs) to see D's son and spend the day with him.

Walked all over the TN Aquarium, had a fantastic time hanging out with in-laws and outlaws and meeting my stepson.

Had chai and chatted longer after everyone left.

Stopped at the hospital to see our friend again on the way home.

Arrived home about midnight and fell into bed.

.....and now, shockingly enough, my body has quietly informed me it's had enough of that nonsense, and it's going to get sick to ensure we spend a day in bed LOL

Belly pics!

We finally did a set of belly pictures, and I'm only 2 weeks behind in uploading them!

Priorities

Girl on Saturday wrote this timely post about The Life You Lead Every Day and who you really are.

I started to respond, and ended up writing an entire post instead.

Pregnancy is teaching me my limits, in a way that nothing else ever has.

Not 8mos on crutches while I was in the Navy, not even a broken collarbone, 2 surgeries, 3 weeks of bed rest, and 6 mos in a sling.

And I hate it.

I hate it I hate it I hate it!

I don't have limits, dammit!

Not Ms. Do All The Things!

But I do.

I have limited energy, no sex drive, terrible heartburn, insomnia, and oh yeah- a little person growing in my body who takes some offense to my idiotic schedule and refusal to rest or supply him with enough nutrition.

Shit.

I could ignore that for myself.... not so much for our child.

So I'm learning to cope.

• Lowering my number of obligations on a given day.
• Stretching out my to-do list by the week, not every day.
• Accepting help.
• Napping.
• Scheduling recharge time (those naps are a great example)

So what does that mean in concrete terms?

• No Winter Solstice Party this year- but participating in the church's ritual instead.
• Misfits' Christmas Dinner means I only cook 3 dishes, not my usual 'entire meal'. Also, paper plates this year. I can go back to being a rabid environmentalist on the 26th.
• Asking for help to come over and clean with me tomorrow and maybe help me cook.
• Only hitting 1-2 stores at a time while Christmas shopping, instead of my usual marathon of shopping, baking, creating, and wrapping in one day.
• Asking D for help, even when I feel guilty about it (the man works two jobs, I'm allowed to feel guilty even if I am pregnant!)
• Lowering my cooking standards, and eating frozen bagged meals once a week when I feel like crap.

But there are things too important to me to give up:

• Regular attendance at my church (um, I can haz support system?)
• Having a clean house
• Semi-regular social interaction with people who make me feel good
• My holiday traditions, such as Solstice Tea in honor of my Nana
• Continuing to be known as a good/thoughtful gift-giver

Priorities. We all have them. So what if mine are a little Martha Stewart-ish.... only without the jail time.

I officially suck at updates.

I'll try to work on it. Bug me. Seriously.