Warning! Ramblings of a Desperately Pregnant Mother Ahead!

When a baby happens, nothing else does. Just getting through the first (all three) trimesters of a pregnancy takes all of you. There is a tiny bit left at the end of the day. Just a sprinkling of attention for your baby, a quick kiss for your hubby, a tiny little burst of energy some days to even cook dinner, followed by a few short hours before you go to bed early. This is sadly just the way life is for a pregnant mom. A life full of sitting on the couch trying not to be sick, trying desperately not to fall asleep while the toddler is awake, trying to find energy to feed your family and yourself, basically just trying and rarely succeeding.

Which begs the question, what happens to all of the things that a mom is supposed to be doing that are not included in this list? Well, my house is a wreck…and I do mean in a biohazardly way. The daily chores that must be done such as dishes are done by my loving, yet tired husband. My son learns how to play with himself or brings games to wherever mommy is plopped. We pay for everyone else to make us food. I am lucky to show up at church or to mutter a quick prayer for mercy and Bible reading becomes a rare luxury.

To some extent, this is just what happens when you’re pregnant. Nothing you can do about it. But there does come a day where you need to stand up and fight for your family regardless of how crappy you feel. I feel like that day came and went a long time ago in my house. My poor family is still struggling along without me and we’re just at week 15!

As my energy starts slowly coming back, I’ve found myself constantly convicted in a new way about disciplines I am lacking. In one short week, I’ve been hit by the following long list:

1. Procrastination. I am the queen of it. This procrastination has digressed into 30 days late on bills and a depression that would rather watch a show than face the overwhelming list of things I’m holding off till later.

2. Motherhood. I’ve found myself spending my days trying to distract from life and demanding that my precious child leave me alone while I indulge. I can’t remember the last time I’ve read him a book. I have some pretty good excuses, but when it comes to your child…no excuse is good enough.

3. Laziness and Whining. These go hand in hand because they both desperately affect my husband. Again, I feel miserable. I have constant reasons to sit in misery and whine about my plot. Does that mean that my husband likes coming home night after night to a cold kitchen, sink full of dishes and a whiny wife? Right
now, my husband is doing his job and mine. That’s ok for a little while in the
crisis of pregnancy, but it’s time I took my job back and started caring for
him instead.

4. Where is God at? Boy have I been hit left and right with spiritual convictions this week! The reason is that my life is full of bad actions, but it’s not really the actions that I need to address. The root of the problem is my heart. There are no godly thoughts in my heart. God seems to be at the bottom of my list these days. How can I fix my life when I’m still a broken mess myself?

5. Worship. I got dragged (kicking and screaming)to an international kid’s choir performance this week. I was put to shame. Here were these kids 5-15 years of age who stood up there and worshiped like I haven’t in years. When was the last time I cared enough to worship God?

6. Music. There are always little indulgences that you have in your life that you swear you’ll give up once you have kids. You know they aren’t good for you and you certainly don’t want your kids exposed to them, but you’ll just indulge in them for now. Except once you have a kid, you realize that they’re too young at first to understand, so you keep it up. The first months turn into the first years and excuses keep coming. For me, this was music. I have a love for the radio. My musical tastes do not include the amateur world of Christian music and I deplore the Christian radio stations. So I listen to the “better” stuff filled with crap on the radio. My son loves it, too! Rap songs, rock songs, anything with a beat. He jams and sings along in the back seat. Seems like such a little thing right? Yet what sort of example am I setting for him? I listened to a dear friend’s teenage daughter this week go on and on about her hero Lady Gaga and other less than classy influences. I saw the way it affected her attitude, made her open to the message they were singing, how it shaped her world view. I might sound like a crazy conservative(goodness, I feel like an old lady conservative right now!), but it all became clear. It hit me the consequences of such a tiny indulgence. Do I really think it appropriate for my young son to grow up hearing about oral sex, drugs, violence, disrespect of woman, casual sex, all of the things that our family stands against? Everything that stands against the family. It’s not appropriate and my dial has sadly stayed on the Christian station ever since. Funny thingis, I’ve actually enjoyed it a lot more than I thought.

Well, that is my long winded confession. Needless to say, it’s been quite a week. The amazing thing about convictions is that they often come with the breath of God giving energy, hope, love, and a small voice that leads from depression over the bad to a remembrance of who you are in Him. In other words, I feel liberated from my depression over my failures; my extreme tiredness; my loveless heart; my lazy mind; my wicked soul; and instead feel ready to start conquering this list. Is life all better now? Ha. Still feeling ick; have a little more energy, but still tire easily; still give in to the tv or radio every now and then; still struggling. But this time I know what I’m fighting and I know that I can win. All I can say is a deep heartfelt “Thank you God!” I certainly couldn’t have gotten up off my butt on my own.

July…come quickly please!

Yep, I'm Crazy!

Those one or two of you who actually read my blog know how much I hate pregnancy. With every fiber of my being! Remember how I talked about God's funny little brainwashing that causes women to have warm fuzzy feelings about getting another little bundle of joy? It's so true. For some reason I'm pregnant again. That's right, already. My son will be 20 months old when we welcome our next bundle of joy. Oddly enough, I'm really excited. This time around is different. Don't get me wrong, I still hate every moment of pregnancy, but I've learned some things since last time: 1. IT IS WORTH IT! Last time I honestly questioned this often. I can honestly say that I would be pregnant many times just to have my one little boy. Does that make it less hard or more fun? Heck no. But at least I'm not afraid of the light at the end of the tunnel this time around. 2. This time I know what to expect. From the first glance at that little plus sign, I knew exactly what hell awaited me. I fell like this time it was my choice to deal with this instead of just being surprised by the yuckiness handed to me. 3. Distraction. Talk about distracted this time around! A young baby and four jobs leave me with very little time to think about what's going on in my body. I have already done this. This time I don't need to remember every moment of this monumentous occasion. In fact, I'm purposefully trying to not dwell on this in hopes that the time will go faster. I'm trying not to count down the weeks. I'm trying to only dwell on the positive and focus more on life here and now. Enjoy my time with just my son, enjoy the little freedom I still have left, leave the worrying for later. 4. I can do this! The knowledge that I have already accomplished this, that I am actually super woman, is actually very comforting. There are new worries and hardships that come with another child, but pregnancy is the hardest part and I know now I've got this! The good news is that this time around the nausea seems a little better. Not sure if it's just I know how bad it can get so my measuring stick has changed or maybe I've got a little girl growing this time...? Who knows, but I'll take what I can get! Countdown to July, please begin and go fast! Here's hopes and prayers for a better pregnancy this time around!

First Steps

My little boy took his first steps yesterday.

I have been looking forward to his first steps for a long time. It's after all one of those big events and milestones that you write in the babybook. Except it was a lot bigger than I thought.

Kind of like your love as a parent. You know that when you have kids you will love them with an undescribeable love. You know it's coming. But when it comes...it's stronger and more joyous than you could ever imagine.

It may sound cheesy, but watching my little boy walk was one of the greatest moments in my life.

There is just something special about first steps. It's that first step towards becoming a grown up. First step towards independence. First step towards humanity. Sadly, first step away from mommy.

Even Roen seemed to feel that this was an extra special accomplishment. Every time he walked the distance between his parents, he grinned this gigantic, proud grin that seemed to say a lot more than "Look at me!" This morning my husband and I noticed that he wasn't just cruising the couch. No, he was cruising with a newfound confidence. In fact, he was downright parading himself around that couch knowing that he could let go and continue going...if he wanted. :)

It was a rite of passage like I didn't expect. Like adolescence, his first car, his first drink, his first love. It all started with his first steps.

There are all sorts of "first steps" in life. I wonder if God feels the same way about our steps? What an amazing thought. What an amazing experience this week!

That Nasty Little Voice

Has anyone ever told you you couldn't do something? Have you been told you are a failure and need to re-direct your energies? If you're anything like me, that nasty little voice pops up into your head and eventually you start believing it.

I have always been very gifted musically. There really hasn't been anything I can't do. Ever since I was little I dreamed about composing. My mom tells me I would make up songs on the playground and perform them for my family.

In college, I couldn't wait to take my composition class and become a good or at least functional composer! Until my composition professor became that nasty little voice.

My composition class was the hardest class of my college career. No matter what I wrote, I could not please my professor. I remember meetings in his office where he would tell me how I had no talent in composing and was impossible. He never used those exact words and never meant to be cruel, but...

The brightest day of my college career was oddly in composition class. I worked so so sooo hard on an arrangement of my favorite Christmas song, trying desperately to get back in my professor's good graces. At my weekly office visit, he told me I was doing great. He praised my song in front of the whole class and made us all play through it several times. I was so excited when I saw the A on the cover! Or even a B!

C-?!?! Yep, worst grade in the class yet and worse than everyone around me. What the heck?! My best got me a C-.

I decided that day that I should just give up composing.

Yet all of a sudden I'm feeling very pricked to get at it again. I direct a children's choir and have found that all of the musicals being published are stupid, cliche, and doctrinally weak if not crazy. For quite some time now, I have been passionate about writing my own musicals.

I was planning on giving out the music portion to a friend, however that fell through. I also gave away the script to my husband because he's much better at that sort of thing. Now I'm left with the music myself and feeling like I really need to just do it. But that nasty little voice says I can't!

I know that I am no Handel or Mozart or even Coldplay, but maybe I can at least do an adequate job. Maybe I can do this. I feel like I should. I guess it's time to punch that nasty voiced professor in the face!

Stupid Office Injuries

I am a workman's comp nightmare. I have several jobs worth of co-workers that know this about me. No, I don't work with any heavy machinery so I haven't ripped off a limb or anything yet. However, my ability to hurt myself with the smallest desktop staples (pun not intended, but accepted) is legendary.

Oh sure, I get all of the typical office injuries: tendonitis (in both wrists), stubbed toes, banged body parts, scratches, even a twisted ankle and knee once. The problem is that those are only the beginning. Here's a list of just the unusual injuries that I can remember:

• Stappled my thumb.


• Cut myself with scissors multiple times


• Smashed my finger while whole punching


• Cardboard cuts


• Intense paper cuts off plan paper which got close to slitting my wrist


• Cut off half my thumb nail with the paper cutter (The only reason I have escaped worse mutilation from that thing is that I'm terrified of it!)


• Burned on copier parts


• Several bumps on the head (one actually creating a raised egg) from the phone


• Cut from paper clip


• Stabbed with pen


• Missed my chair sitting down


• Cut my finger along with the tape on the dispenser

And now my latest...well...I think I saved the best for last.

• Snapped my eyeball with a rubber band.

Yes, this is actually possible. Come to find out a rubber band can break and snap back before you have time to blink.

I was putting a thin rubber band around something and it broke. The end whipped back catching me perfectly on my bare eyeball. There is now a stinging red spot on my eye. Feels similar to the time that a little girl in my afterschool ministry sliced my eyeball with her fingernail making it bleed for about 30 minutes...

Sound like a 4th Stooge? I really don't think I'm clumsy. Not normally. In fact, I pride myself on being somewhat graceful. Maybe I need to re-think that...

The terrifying question keeps running through my head...what's next...?

I Have an Excuse!

Yes, I have been absent for a while. I know that I promised to write more and then promptly stopped writing. I do have an excuse!

I started another blog. Yes, I do feel like a dirty cheater, but it's turned out quite nicely for me. Remember how I was whining about not having a purpose for my blog? Ding ding ding! I have a special purpose! (For those of you who haven't seen The Jerk with Steve Martin...you need to.)

Since I got married I started gaining weight. I'm convinced marriage makes you fat. You know what makes you even fatter? Pregnancy! My son is now 9 months old (can you believe it?!) and I am still rather...large. Or at least I feel that way.

I started a diet. It actually is going pretty well. However, I knew I needed accountability...and I had a couple of people ask me how I was doing it...and all of a sudden, I had my purpose!

So I started all over again with my brand new weight loss blog. My blog is about dieting in a realistic fashion by making small life long changes that build on each other. In the process, I have lost 6 pounds and am averaging 1 pound per week! Not bad, considering the lack of effort I've had to put into my diet.

How am I doing it? Well, you'll just have to join my cheating ways and read the blog to find out. :)

http://therealisticdieter.blogspot.com

The Best Gift

It’s funny how someone you have never met can impact your life so greatly.

When I was a kid, I don’t remember ever wishing for toys or money or looks that my friend’s had. You know what I envied? Their grandparents. Oh sure, I had grandparents. I had one complete set left. They were quite the pair. Everyone’s family is dysfunctional, but mine… Not only was my immediate family terribly scarred by the things they had done to my mother, but they continued to fail me.

I distinctly remember noticing at a very early age that my grandmother never told me she loved me. I remember waiting for years for those words, the anger growing. Finally, at the age of 12 she finally said them. 12 years… It’s not like we had a “bad” relationship with them. We saw them every Christmas and many holidays. They bought me gifts and sometimes did random things that were nice. But they were never there for me. They never loved me like a grandparent should. I watched my friends with their grandparents who loved them and oh it burned!

What’s worse is that I had those grandparents. My father’s parents were godly, wonderful people. When I was a little girl, I am told that I loved my granddad and he doted on me. By the time I could remember him, he had severe Parkinsons and Alzheimers. I remember visiting him in the nursing home and receiving blank stares or random pats for a little girl he didn’t know existed. I loved him dearly, but he just wasn’t able to be there.

Then there is my grandmother. She is the woman I never met and have missed from my earliest memories. She died when my father was a teenager. She never met my mother. She was the mother of five boys who always wanted a girl. From pictures and stories, I have always known several things about her: she would have loved me like a grandma should, she would have spoiled me, she would have influenced my life as a godly grandma, she passed her looks to me, I feel like we would have been very close, and even though I have very little idea of what she was actually like, I desperately wanted/want to be just like her.


Today is my birthday. It’s kind of a mediocre one this year because we lack money and it lands on my hardest work day. However, I received the greatest gift I have ever gotten from my dad. He wrote this in an email to me today:

“You have a lot of my Mom's qualities and characteristics, I think. Hair color, certain occasional mannerisms I see, and I think even some personality similarities. I think you and she would have really enjoyed each other's company - even if you were the same age, I think you would have been good friends.”

He had no idea of how much I wanted to believe those things all of my life. How much I yearned to know her and be loved by her, much less to be her friend. According to him, I AM like her.

I have never known you Grandma, never heard your laugh or feel your hug, but I love you with all of my heart. I can’t wait to meet you in heaven someday!

It’s funny how someone you have never met can impact your life so greatly.