Tuesday, 17 July 2012

I am Woman; Hear Me Whimper

Disclaimer:  this is just a vent.  It is NOT a cry for help.  Unless you can find a loophole in which I can drink heavily...in which case, HELLLLP!

As I may have hinted at in recent-ish* blog posts, the main reason that the blog went so long unupdated (it is SO a word) was that there was too much going on, too many changes, too many uncertainties, and too much stress.  So, where to begin?

(and yes, the March "vacation" and Ailsa's birthday posts are still coming, I promise)

Well, there was the excitement of Job Uncertainty, not knowing whether we would have any income at all, as I am still on contract and Chris was "affected" (I know - that one is just handed to you), and then coming up with Plan Bs for both of us, my part involving copious cover letters, tests, and interviews, all for low-level jobs that I'm not interested in, in the slightest.  (Just kidding, new boss!)  (kaff)  And then Chris got to keep his job after all.  (ha-kaff)

There was the rollercoaster of discovering, in late January, that I was pregnant, and the subsequent sorrow of a miscarriage.

There was a trip to LA, in which I was not only deathly ill for most of it, but also still not pregnant, which I discovered, ironically enough, at the Happiest Place on Earth. 

Then there was the subsequent discovery, a month later, that I was, in fact, pregnant, and apparently had been for some time, if the ultrasound was accurate in any way.  Also upsetting:  having wasted a perfectly good day at Disneyland being depressed.  Boo.

Of course, crippling sciatica, weeks of nausea, inexplicable weepiness at commercials and youtube proposals brought me back down to earth fairly quickly.

All of this leading up to a finite amount of time to make a big career move before I'm on mat leave again (woo!...eeek), and how being a trooper, yet again, has bitten me in the ... maternity jeans. 

I, the always-supportive wife (despite my smart mouth), fully supported and endorsed Chris' decision to take on an amazing developmental position, far away, for three months.  (see also:  job uncertainty, 2 small children, pregnant and dubious-mental-health-at-the-best-of-times)

"No problem!"  I said.   "You're more trouble than you're worth!"

"He's pesky and underfoot!"  I'd say.

"I can cook vegetarian meals again!"  I'd boast.

Well, he left on Sunday morning, early. 

The day started well.  We were up by 7, fed and dressed, and went to the gym, then the grocery store, came home, played in the sandbox, and baked some cookies!  This was all before lunch.  So, after a Very Short (from my perspective, anyway) Naptime, I was a bit lost.  It was another ridiculously hot day, but we waddled on over to the playground anyway (it is shady in spots) and I supervised kids climbing up and down the slide and other unsafe behaviours.  When I got too hot, we waddled on home, had some water, and (gasp!) watched Dora for half an hour while I made dinner, which I'm ashamed to admit used Sidekicks as a base.  A quick sponge-off, jammies, stories, and bed.  Great!

I hopped in the shower.  What was that noise?  Huh.  Must be my imagination.  Then the bathroom door opened, and two little kids stood there, one with large wet eyes and a shaky wail. 

"Ailsa's crying," Vaughn said.  Whatever his faults, he sure does look out for his little sister.

"I'm saaaaaaad," wailed Ailsa.

I was too soapy to give her much of a hug, but I promised to come tuck them in again once I was clean.  She settled in again, I towelled off, then cleaned up the kitchen and went to bed.  Day One done, I thought.  Piece of cake

Monday morning:  no problem!  My stomach was a bit off, but I managed breakfast with the kids, got them dressed, got them to daycare and myself to work, threw up in the bathroom, and was home again by 10 am.  The rest of the day is a bit of a blur, but it involved dry toast (nope), and a non-cooking-intensive dinner of PB&J sammies with a banana/yogurt/graham shake (belly said NO).

Tuesday morning:  I'm on this!  Up, Rice Krispies, kids to daycare... me back to bed.  The belly accepted the cereal grudgingly, and by noon, I decided I was in the clear.  I cleaned and organized a few things around the house (between long stretches on my couch and bed), and wandered over to pick up the kids by 5.  Dinner was a stir-fry of chicken, peppers and onions over garlicky noodles, treat was a handful of grapes and one of those cookies we made together, and I threw the kidlets (Sweaty Eddie and Sweaty Betty) into the shower to de-stick them.  They thought it was awesome, it only took 5 minutes, and they were in bed by 7:30.  Super Mom has returned.

So, it's been three full days, and I've only broken down sobbing once... about 20 minutes ago.  I called Chris, and he couldn't hear me well.  "That's because I'm crying," I said.  "I don't want to do this."

The hardest part, of course, isn't the doing it.  I know I can, because I have before, just not for this long.**  It's the having-no-choice part and the if-I-hadn't-acted-all-brave-from-the-get-go-I-might-not-be-in-this-mess that's driving me crazy.  To be fair, I know that it wouldn't have changed anything, but I hate eating my words, admitting that it's too much for me.  I want to be the superstar at work that I was when I convinced them to extend my contract 2 months early.  I want to cook healthy, tasty meals, hang the cloth diapers on the line, and weed my garden while the kids play nicely outside after dinner.  I want to be a great role model at the gym, too, teaching a killer class as my belly grows; I'm going through that miserable pregnancy identity crisis right now, too, where I have to reduce my activities and not be invincible Captain Fitness for a while, as my body tells me hourly...oh yes, the diasteses of my abdominals and pubic symphysis are in full swing... (men -- and not-yet-mommies -- google those at your own risk). 

Is it wrong to dream that, or to expect it of myself???

I had a beautiful, relaxing weekend at a cottage right before Chris left, and it was all I imagined it to be (without the sunburn part, that is), but I don't see how it will be enough to get me through the next 74 days.

Truth time:  you know, if I could drink, none of this would even be an issue.

Sigh.





* "recent-ish" being relative, of course.

** not the 3 days, silly.  It's the upcoming 74 that are really looming.

1 comment:

Garrett Family said...

I have a solution - Crystal Light. I bought the Appletini flavor and made it up - so yummy! It's the whole mocktini thing but when you're preggers, well, it works! Want me to bring you some?