Woes By Any Other Name

I am fully jonesing for a burger right now (though I am trying to convince myself otherwise). Just because my handsome husband has lost more weight than me at this point (what's 9 pounds? I'm not bitter, no.), I shouldn't give up or give into despair and cravings. I am strong. I have lost almost 5 pounds in the past month. I don't need to eat more.

I still really want a burger. Sigh.

So here's to svelteness and not giving into whining about my usual inner topics: my all-around girth (ha ha), our lack of familial funds, our crazy cats, my sweet baby's teething, my workplace/co-workers, etc. I am Super Mummy! I will put on my big girl panties, set a good example and deal!

But why does my meeting tomorrow have to come at 7 bloody 10 in the morning? Oy. No, stay positive--think of the Starbucks that will be waiting for you. Focus. It's all good. To quote one of my favorite new book heroines: "I am calm. I am in control. I am a professional. I can handle this."

Right. I couldn't stop laughing either when she said it. Oh well.

Feetsies

Don't ask me why Kates loves to sleep like this . . . .

Hope-fullness

As I am forgiven, life is better. Of course, I keep on waiting for some bomb to drop but so far it hasn't . . . why can't I just let go and move on? Though if I knew the answer to that, I could become the world's best therapist. But we will have the family over this Friday, and I will try to get the house in final holiday shape, and maybe maybe maybe even get some Christmas cookies made. Who knows? (It's going to take some real Christmas magic for that to happen.)

At least I can cadge off my mom-in-law, who has been a baking sensation these past few weeks. She eagerly shoves her latest greatest taste sensation at me, and I feebly protest and say weak things about trying to lose my baby weight and then . . . BAM! I'm scarfing down a rich sweet wonder and wondering if it would really be so bad if I ate two?

Back before Kates, and even afterwards for a short while, I had thought that I would be back in my regular, pre-pregnancy clothes by Christmas time. OH FOOLISH ME! Boy, was I ever wrong; I had read, I had heard, and I had been told that it "takes 10 months to put it on, and it will take 10 months to take it off . . . if ever." That sounded way too pessimistic to me--and besides, right after having Kates I dropped 25 pounds (I had gained over 50 during the pregnancy). I would just keep on losing the weight. Right.

Where is my magic weight-loss fairy-godmother? Oy, there are way too many good foods out there right now. Thank goodness I don't like eggnog or I would be adding that to my guilty caloric pleasures intake list. Maybe come January I can be like any other typical person and promise to lose the weight for real. For now, life is too crazy to add the pressure of good food denial. If I only eat till I am full (ha ha!) and watch my portion sizes there just might be hope come the new year. Maybe.

Not that it matters all that much . . . Kates does a stellar job of keeping everyone's attention on her. My beautiful baby is my best accomplishment for this year. And no, that's totally not bragging.

Terrible Week

Several big things have got me down--one is totally my fault, which makes it all the worse, but the others were beyond my control (though that doesn't help matters any)--and especially now, when it's so close to Christmas and I want to be full of good cheer and all that, it's especially depressing to be depressed.

I feel like Anne Shirley, from Anne of Green Gables, when she dramatically announced, "I'm in the Depths of Despair." Ok, so maybe that is a bit melodramatic and things maybe aren't as bad as all that, but I'm not feeling very jolly. And tonight I have to do something that I am very scared to do for yea verily, I am a big chicken who is terrified of confrontation.

I am full of "if only's" and not much courage for what I must do by my lonesome tonight. If only Steven would hold my hand through this; ok, right, I am a grown-up. I will do it. It's just getting it over with. I don't think that she will ever ever forgive me, and I know that this will never ever be forgotten for the rest of my life, and I realize that this will be thrown into my face every year in a very public way, and . . . I've got to stop. I'm making things worse, if that is possible.

Here's to nothing.

For the Present

"'I don't know what you mean,' Alice said.

'Of course you don't!' the Hatter said, tossing his head contemptuously. 'I dare say you never even spoke to Time! . . . now, if you only kept on good terms with him, he'd do almost anything you liked with the clock.'"

~ Alice in Wonderland

At some point in my life, I must have ticked off Time; he doesn't seem to work for me the same way he does for others. Time and I haven't spoken in weeks and maybe even in months--especially now that Kates has come, Time rushes by more strangely than ever! My honey and I were talking yesterday, and we are both amazed that it's been almost five months since Kates was born. It really doesn't seem that long or that short of a Time.

I'm living day to day, trying to squeeze just a little more in, in the Time that I have, and actually trying to stretch the Time I don't. For the present, I have Time (barely) to: throw some laundry in the washer/dryer; fold and (mostly) take care of the previously mentioned laundry; make meals; load/unload the dishwasher; wash bottles; eat; sleep (a little); go grocery shopping; commute to work everyday (about an hour's worth of Time is taken away there!); go to church; and spend precious time with Steven and Kates.

Today I don't have any time, tomorrow isn't good either, and don't even ask me about my Wednesday . . . though, that may have to be the best Time of all. And now it's less than two weeks till Christmas--my letters aren't sent, my house isn't totally decorated, my cookies aren't baked, and my presents are not bought--I am so not ready!

People say "There's no Time like the present!" Sigh, I don't even have Time for the presents. Maybe tomorrow.

Baby Schedule

I missed my nap today. Ok, I never get a nap, but I still missed it. And I feel all cranky and out of sorts, just like Kates when she misses her naps. Maybe that's what's wrong with all of the cranky people who I've dealt with today--they've just missed their naps and now they are taking their crankiness out on me. Lucky me.

Inside, I am shouting my angst at the unfeeling world; outside, I am gritting my teeth in a smile and counting down the hours till I can go to bed. Would that I could be on my baby's schedule with at least 3 guaranteed naps for a guaranteed good day.

Just Like Magic

When I went to leave for work this morning, and I peeked in on Katie, she was asleep, sucking her thumb, all curled up in the shape of a comma. This may not seem much to you, but this is the first time I've seen her sleep like that so it was big stuff to me.

We had to take the bumpers off her crib this week--it looks so strange and bare--because she has learned how to be an escape artist and wriggle. Our baby Houdini figured out how to wriggle out of her swaddle and up to the top of the crib. She hasn't figured out crawling . . . yet! The writer in me wants to liken her sleeping to punctuation: she used to sleep like an exclamation mark (all straight up and down!), then she moved on to the backslash (sort of slanty /), and this morning, curled up, like a comma.

Why didn't I have a camera? Why didn't I know where ours was so I could have taken a quick picture? I need a magic word to say that could freeze time for me; I'm losing all these moments so fast. Already she doesn't look like a baby anymore but rather like a little toddler. Why oh why do I have to work today when I would rather just be home with her and my honey? Oh the never-ending guilt of a working mom.

Today, Steven will attempt to finish off the main Christmas decorating and hopefully tonight we will get to putting the ornaments on the tree. (We hadn't realized how Kates has the power to make something take twice as long!) And when I get home, I will attempt to be at least 3 people all at the same time: Mummy, wife, and me. Maybe if I figure that out, having 6 hands will help me accomplish everything (decluttering, decorating, laundry, cleaning, baking, etc.) that didn't get done yesterday.

If only I could pull a maid out of my hat! That would be brilliant. I just want a moment, one tiny moment, to let go of stress and worry and all the busy business of being an adult . . . and find the wonder of the Christmas miracle again. I want one Today, that would be the biggest magic of all.

Home Again, Home Again

Not only did we schlep tons of baby stuff with us when we went to my parents' house, oh no! I had to take a nasty cold along with me as well. There's nothing quite like being sick and miserable during the holidays--the good news is that I was home with the people I love all around me; the bad news is that I looked bad, felt worse, and worried constantly about Kates or someone else getting sick. Ahhh, yes, illness . . . the gift that keeps on giving and giving.

But now we are home again (my cold is almost gone!), and if I thought the car was full when we went down, it was overflowing when we came back up. Visibility was zero out the back window, the cords were straining on the car-top carrier, and we were wedged in amongst presents, bags, pillows, and all the other detritrus of travel. Kates did remarkably well though (thanks to sleeping most of the way)!

For the rest of this week it's picking up the pieces of regular life again--grocery shopping, figuring out menus, scaling mountain ranges of laundry--and beginning to plan for Christmas. But for the most part, I will turn Christmas over to my honey, who has been nagging me to let him put up the decorations for several months now. (I swear that eggnog flows in his veins and his heart beats to the tune of "Jingle Bells!") I love Christmas, but Steven LOVES Christmas!

Tomorrow he will have Kates for the day, and I've given him free rein to go Christmas crazy. Who knows what I will come home to? But hey, it's the coming home again that matters.