Wordless...

Haiku Friday - Potty Edition and more!

Do I dare say it?
Q seems to be done with dipes-
at least while awake

Regression worries -
moving, new baby, changes
But a girl can hope

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Looks like we have help
for moving weekend - horray!
It's overwhelming

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Was planning NaBlo
But now unsure of access
Will cheat if I must

I will chronicle
the joys of packing, moving
and meeting nephew!

Shall keep posts offline
if I have no net access
and then backdate them

Put me in Reader!
Join me at NaBloPoMo
This should some be fun :)

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The problem with the fun that is Haiku Friday is that I rely on it way too much! Most of my posts for the past few weeks have been on Friday. Oh well, at least it encourages and reminds me to post AT LEAST once a week.

Baby Fever

So far this pregnancy, I've been way more mellow than last time. I remember being pregnant with Quentin and just wanting nothing more than to be done being pregnant so that I could meet him. I had intended to take this pregnancy slowly, one day at a time, and really enjoy it, since it will be my last. I don't think I've really had time to slow down and enjoy it - life has been hectic - but I haven't been rushing through it.

If anything, I've been NOT ready to have the baby. I am just waiting for life's dust to settle a little bit and we're completely unprepared to have him right now. But somehow, hitting the third trimester was like flipping a switch.

A TON of women on the pregnancy message boards I frequent have been having their babies. Reading birth stories has made me anxious. I want to have MY birth story! I want to meet MY baby. Plus, I'm tired of not having a name for him, and I don't think we're going to have one until AFTER he's born.

And now, my SIL is having HER baby. She's being induced this week, so I'm going to be an AUNT! One thing I've absorbed through all of my reading is that a lot of new moms just don't want all that "new baby" attention right away. They wish visitors would leave them alone for a week or two so that they can settle in. But I do hope she's up for it this weekend, because I'd love to meet him and I don't know when, if not then, we're going to be around again.

So it's babies, babies, everywhere, and yeah, I'm starting to get the fever.

Haiku Friday - New Life Edition

He got the job, he
got the job he got the job
He got the job!!! YAY!!!




After a grueling and stressful week-and-a-half of paranoid e-mail watching, Luke finally got The Phone Call. The guy he interviewed with two Sundays ago offered him the Assistant Manager position he'd been hoping for.

He's supposed to start November 5. Now to figure out how on EARTH we're going to get together money for a security deposit, first month's rent, and moving expenses and how on EARTH we're going to pack and move. Please note we have no family or friends nearby (my in-laws will be busy waiting for my SIL to go into labor) and, well, I'm 28-freaking weeks pregnant (OMG 3rd TRIMESTER).

But beg, borrow, or steal, we're going to get it done. If we have to kidnap brawny gangbangers (hey, we live in the "D") to haul our furniture, we'll do it. One way or another, we're getting OUT of this city and going home to Chicagoland. <3

Haiku Friday - Biggest "Loser"

On my message boards
A new challenge has begun
Time to be healthy!

Eat well, exercise
Don't forget to drink water!
Support each other

This could be helpful
For post-baby weight loss, too
Good habits die hard.


(Yes, I was 1/2 hour early. Gimme a break, I take inspiration when it comes!)

Mushy Haiku Friday - Daddy Love

My baby daddy
is such a hard workin' man
I allow him sleep

He wakes up mornings
changes diapers, entertains
I get to sleep in

Tonight without help
I do the bed, bath routine
and don't get angry

A big step for me
to let go, relax, forget
to be self-righteous

I often tell him
He's a good husband, daddy
I showed him instead

(Yes, I was 1/2 hour early. Gimme a break, I take inspiration when it comes!)

Clinging to Hope and Humility

Any parents worth their salt, no matter what their lot in life, wish better for their children than they've had themselves. And as children, we grow up, perhaps thankful for what we have, but believing we will grow up to do better. But then we really begin to Grow Up.

As I grew up, as my husband and I grew up together (What else can you do with your highschool sweetheart but grow up together?), we began to find our life taking many turns similar to those of our parents and their parents. We were wanderers, a bit directionless, and generally poor. But we were determined to fight the good fight and climb out from underneath our collective pasts.

In 2004, Luke started his career-education in a field he loved. I prepared to start "regular" college at the CC for the county we'd moved to. And then I got pregnant. As my mother had done with high school when I was conceived, so I did with college. I dropped out, gave up, at least for the time. I was planning to be a photography major, and was afraid of exposure to the chemical fumes. In truth, I must have been afraid of something else, because I certainly could have continued general education courses.

And so we fell, into a pit of poverty and debt. Luke was in school 40 hours per week, and working 10-15. I lost my part-time job and eventually picked up semi-regular work with a temp agency. We didn't see a lot of each other. We paid ungodly premiums for COBRA so that I could continue prenatal care. We got food stamps (which, thank goodness, have evolved to an atm-like card state, rather than literal stamps). We struggled through, determined that Luke, at least, would press on and finish his education.

And finish it he did. We moved to Detroit, him taking one of the few jobs available semi-near to our families (about 200 miles away). But his industry began to crumble shortly after we purchased our first (perhaps last, at that) home, and as time went on, we fell further behind. We struggled to keep our home, to keep food on the table, to keep our son healthy.

And I think to myself, in my youthful idealism, that we're bound to do better. Over the next ten or so years, we'll climb out from under this. Luke will become successful in his career, and I'll begin mine. Our finances will stop being stretched to the breaking point. We'll be able to feed our sons and ourselves, keep our home, and maybe even save a little for education and retirement.

Other times, I look at our parents and wonder. I wonder if, when they were our age and in our positions, they thought they'd do better. Luke's folks have managed to come into their own that way. They aren't rich by any stretch, but they are able to help out their children, make their home open to grandchildren, and be comfortable enough. My parents, however, are no better off than we are, despite the hands of time having turned.

And I wonder if we will, if we can, as our parents no doubt wish for us, rise above. If we will manage success and relative comfort, if we will do it before our children are grown and gone. I try to remain optimistic and hopeful. We will do better. We must.

All these long words later, I come to the point. Someday, I plan to be better off than we are now. I plan to be comfortable enough to afford a pleasant home, food on the table, decent healthcare, and maybe even the occasional vacation. I plan to no longer need government assistance. I plan, as all parents do, to give my children something I did not have. And I plan to be able to give to others. When that happens, I want to remember this time.

I have said in the past that when we move back to Chicago, I'd like to tear the pages of the past two years from the book of our life. I'd like to forget where we've been and how terrible it's been for us emotionally. I'd like to pretend we've always been a little ok, that we always knew we'd be ok, that we didn't ever spend nights curled together sobbing for our helplessness. But it's important that we remember.

Not only will it be impossible to appreciate comfort and stability if we can never remember lacking it, but it will be incredibly difficult to find compassion for others. It is easy for me, now, to favor programs that help the poor stay out of the streets and attempt to find their footing. It's easy because we need that help. But it is undoubtedly far too easy from a position of comfort to resent the taxes we pay to meet those needs of others. It's far too easy to resent that others have needs we are expected to meet in this way.

But if I can remember, if I can cling to this time when we needed compassion, when we needed the hands of not only our families, but our "village" to hold us up above the dirty ground (whether we've received it or not), perhaps I can remain loving and compassionate, and not let bitter resentment and entitlement get the best of me.

It's humbling, this lot in life, and while I wish for nothing more than to work our way out and up into a better place, I would not attain that at the cost of the humility we've struggled so hard for.

Waxing Political

But I really need to get the word out about this guy. To my ... 5 readers. :D Spread the word.

My President.

Photography History, lack of food, and lame-o

History lesson
From Sesame Street, no less
Photography rocks.

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Our app was denied
No money for food - super!
This job must happen

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Seems my haikus are
getting a little bit lame
My apologies

Crazy Pregnant

Hormones. You know, those things every man dreads when he sees two pink lines. The things you see on TV causing flying cutlery and tears. Well, they're real, baby.

I never really got the hormone craze with my first son. I mean, sure, I had my moodiness, my crankies, my teary spells. But that's all in a day's work for a non-pregnant me. But this time? LOOK OUT WORLD, HERE COMES THE PREGNANT LADY!

I posted a few weeks ago about my hormonal rage, but today I want to talk to you kids about crushing sadness and desperate hopelessness.

And we're not just talking my life. Sure, I'm pissed off and feeling teeny and helpless because the DHS seems to think that $2400>$3400. But mostly, it's the world.

On a normal day, with no parasitic fetus contaminating my better judgment, I can look at the ills of the world with a disgusted eyeroll. Lately? I can't bear to read or watch the news because the weight of injustice is crushing my very soul. Yes, melodrama comes standard with this pregnancy package! I can't bear to think of the millions of children like my son whose parents can't afford private health insurance but make too much money to qualify for medicaid going without assistance. The thought of someone spending $800 on a stroller (most of my cars haven't cost that much) while children starve, not just in foreign countries but on our very streets, makes me want to vomit.

And "Human Services?" Don't even get me started on a government that gets your hopes up by pretending it can help you, then through gross incompetence takes three times as long as it should to tell you it won't help you even though you're entitled.

I can't handle anything. Attack working mothers. Attack stay-at-home mothers. Attack moms who breastfeed, those who formula-feed. Attack families on welfare. Attack women who choose abortion so as not to be on welfare. Attack those who seek refuge in religion. Attack those who seek refuge from religion. Global Warming. Poverty. Injustice. Unfairness. Judgment. I. Can't. Handle. It. I get worked up into an addled frustration and often find myself in a teary state of hyperventilation.

Baby boy inside of me, I love you. I'm not ready for you to come out. But if you would stop messing with my emotions, I would be eternally grateful. I can just imagine what you're going to do to the other girls (or boys) someday.
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island jen said...

I completely sympathise with you here! During my second pregnancy I stayed on my anti depressants the ENTIRE time. It was much better. For everybody.

October 19, 2007 6:25 PM

Hungry

It seems like you usually hear these stories during the first trimester. The preggo (as I've been known to be called) is starving, or puking. Well, I didn't really have either problem then, but now... I am SO. HUNGRY!

All I want right now is a big glass of orange juice, a banana, and some yogurt. That would be the perfect meal at this moment. Do you think we have ANY of those things in this house? No. Of course not.

Maybe I'll settle for some ice cream...

DHS, please don't dawdle.

Moving Woes

I've developed a love for Google Reader. However, having all these great, articulate moms on my reading list does lead me to feel a little incompetent. I've also been copping out and pretty much only updating for Haiku Friday. So, consider this my mid-week penance.

Moving with a toddler. Yuck. There's every possibility that we will be moving within the next month. And having a three-year-old and being 25-weeks pregnant makes me incredibly nervous about the whole thing. I feel useless most of the time, unable to lift and carry heavy objects, unable to do a lot of moving around for long periods (I know, I know). Then there's my rambunctious toddler, who loves to "help" me pack by unpacking boxes.

DH and I had a conversation last night about how we're going to tackle this task, but the fact is, we're both just plain lazy. Which is not conducive to getting things done. So tell me, if you'd be so kind, how is it done? I know there are a plethora of SAHMs and Working Moms who manage to do all the "heavy lifting." Who get houses cleaned, packed, and moved, without much help from their husbands. Who manage, somehow, to do things even with a toddler at her heels. My DH isn't getting out of it that easily, but any tips and tricks you have would be much appreciated!

Weight gain and hunger, oh my

When I first started out on this pregnancy journey, I was seeing a CPM who, blessedly, didn't think weight was an important enough thing to measure and thus hassle about every appointment. She figured as long as the baby was growing fine, that's the most important thing.

Though I was kind of curious to know. I gained somewhere in the vicinity of 40-45 lbs with my first pregnancy and I am not a small lady to begin with.

So on my second appointment I weighed myself anyway. And she promptly forgot to write down the weight. Several weeks later, I weighed myself on my in-laws' devil-scale, which consistently reads about 5-8 lbs heavy.

I weighed myself again on said devil scale this past weekend. As far as I can tell, between the first appointment and now, I've gained around 8 lbs. Maybe 10. But OMG my appetite!

In the beginning, there was morning sickness. While I never actually puked, I was nauseous. Or hungry. But if I ate, I quickly reverted back to the former. So I didn't eat a lot. This meant that I didn't gain 83909 trillion pounds by Not. Doing. Anything. All. Day. Long. Now, however, I am RAVENOUS. All. Day. Long. And I still don't do much.

So I'm getting nervous about the potential for huge weight gain. And I'm not seeing my midwife, who would undoubtedly reassure me that as long as baby's growing fine, it's fine.

Why can't women catch a break on this whole weight and body image thing even in pregnancy? :\