Hand Me Downs

The past few weeks my living room was covered with clothes from my friend's niece who sends her stuff on to Twig. After hours of sorting and two trips to Target for storage containers, everything is finally a bit more organized. My next project will be to wash and sort all of the baby boy clothes I have been given, and put them away as well. I have no issue taking hand-me downs. In fact, mostly all of the clothes that both of my kids will wear are passed on. This week though I got two bags from someone and it made me take pause.  My husband's ex-wife.

There is a longer story here but for the purpose of this blog I will keep it simple. She is remarried and has a baby. He will be six months older than ours and so she very generously offered his clothes. She also offered to drive them here to my house, that she once bought with my husband and lived in very briefly. I know, AWKWARD!  I am working backwards here. She and I have become friendly. We actually used to be friends years ago, when she and my husband were still married and even after they divorced. Time passed and she and I grew apart. Then a few years later my husband and I reconnected from a mutual friend. We dated, we told her (thinking maybe she would be happy for us) -- she wasn't though. Time passed and my husband and I got married. I actually ran into her a few times but chose flight over fight and took off unnoticed. Then my husband and I ran into her. He said she was behind me and I thought he was joking. I turned around and there she was. Suddenly it wasn't so awkward anymore. She is married to a great guy, and over the course of some emails we decided the four of us to have dinner. I thought that would be the first and last reunion, but things happened.

After a few miscarriages she got pregnant, and after I miscarried, having lived through that sad time herself sent over a care package to us. It was sweet, thoughtful and touching. I was going to reach out but we ran into her again a week later. Note to anyone out there who might be in the same situation one day, try to avoid running into your husband's pregnant ex-wife right after you have miscarried. It just doesn't feel good.  After that another few months went by and when she had her son, I dropped off some food and a gift. Note again to anyone out there in the same sitch, try to not get there twenty minutes after the ex-wife gets home from the hospital with her in-laws. Also feels kind of funny. A few months after that though and we have gone for walks together, out to breakfast and last week out to see a play. It is nice. It doesn't feel like we are picking up where we left off and yet there are things we know about each other that do feel really comfortable. We have talked about the elephant in the room very carefully and everything that we thought might be really akward hasn't.

So yes I have taken this woman's hand me downs. The clothes, that is. She and my husband made their own decisions and ended up where they are today. The house that I live in now is ours. We decorated it, made it our home, and have our family here, with no pet elephant anymore.

Ready Or Not

In a about three weeks I am due to have a baby boy. This is exciting and terrifying to me. With Twig around I definitely don't feel that I have bonded with my baby the way I did when she was inside. I didn't know if she was a boy or girl until she came out, yet I was creating imaginative fairy tales in my head of how motherhood would be. This time I know the gender, I know not to buy ridiculously expensive baby crap, and I know the happy part of the mommy hood comes with a lot of tears. 

With Twig I was ten freaking days late and I pray that won't be the case this time. I had sciatic pain that felt like I put a piece of tin foil on a filling. Every few steps I got an electric shock down my leg and buckled down. This time it's back and if I go longer than my due date that is five more weeks of agony, and I want to throw up just thinking about that. Speaking of vomit, I did a lot of it all through labor and I am not hopeful that it won't happen again, but it wasn't pleasant. I also don't look forward to the car ride to the hospital with contractions. With Twig it was a beautiful day and I saw people outside at a Starbucks and had the strongest resentment to them. Didn't they know in that moment that someone was driving by them in terrible discomfort?  How rude! 

At the hospital, I felt like I surrendered to the amazing nurses and my midwife. I knew I was in good hands. My doctor came and broke my water, and in less than an hour our baby was out. I remember only being able to reach as far down as the umbilical cord would let me. I so wanted to kiss the head but I settled at staring at an ear. I stroked it in amazement that my body worked and made a person -- a person with an ear. A nurse with a Russian accent asked/told my husband, "What is it daddy, eeees boy?" Neither one of us knew who "daddy" was because this wasn't a term we were familiar with at this early moment in parenthood, but did she just tell us we had a boy? For that moment, we were surprised. We didn't know the gender, but we had secretly both wanted a girl. My husband peeked and said, "It's a girl!" to which we both shrieked with joy. It was an amazing surprise.

This pregnancy we decided to find out for several reasons, first of which were we knew Twig would have preferred a sister. She is thrilled now though. I have less of a birth plan then I did with her. I don't even have a midwife. I am kind of just hoping for the best. I am not new to being a mom, but I certainly have been up nights trying to figure out how I will get out the door with two. I know that the freedom that having Twig in preschool has given me has been very short lived, and I cherish my time alone with Twig before she stops being an only child. My husband and I were out with her the other night and I went home and cried because our time together as a triangle is limited now. My husband and I have enjoyed watching her grow and it has been a privilege to be with her. Things will be different and we know that. We are receiving another gift though. I know it will be an adjustment for my daughter but she is also getting a sibling, a life long friend, and someone who I hope she will share an emotional bond with. We are all very excited and have been waiting to meet this little person for a long time. I don't know if we are ready, but who is really ever ready?

Mauricio

About a year ago my neighbor decided he wanted to build a deck behind his house. We live in the hills, so the deck would have to built up into the hillside behind his house. The hillside also happens to be the view from our bedroom window. Eventually it would just be a beautiful hillside with a flight of steps going up, but for a few months it was a hillside with a couple of workers who could have a great view into our bedroom. There was never anyone up there before so we never had to get window coverings, until one day while I was reading on my bed I looked out the window to see a man looking back at me waving.  That was my first encounter with Mauricio.

For months he worked on the steps. After two more waves, into my room I put curtains up. His intentions were good, but boundaries were crossed by him one too many times for me to be super friendly. I even wrote a blog post here about how he irritated me so much when he commented on Twig wetting her pants once and how inappropriate I thought it was.

One day a few months ago, while on a walk, I happened to feel particularly chipper and friendly. When Mauricio saw me, he commented on how strong my stomach was getting I felt carefree enough to tell him that there was a baby in there. A few weeks later I lost that baby. While mourning the loss I took another walk on my street. While trying to process how much pain I was in, I looked up and saw Mauricio walking towards me. I froze! I found encounters with people who had known about the pregnancy the most difficult thing about miscarrying. It was like a race to tell them I lost the baby before they could ask me how I was doing. This time I stood face to face with this man who I had tried so hard to keep a distance from in order to protect myself, and now I had to tell him my sad news. Now I know most normal people would say I didn't owe this handyman gardner guy anything. I am not normal though, I was too much of an open book when I told him in the first place. Since he knew I was pregnant, I felt like I had to remedy that misinformation now with the truth. As he opened his mouth to say hello I interrupted him with tears rolling down my face and said "I lost the baby."

Even with a language barrier, a cultural difference, and very few strained interactions between us, in that moment he understood and gave me a hug. He said it was all part of a plan. Now whether or not I believe in higher powers, things being meant for a reason, or "plans", I was grateful for his hug. Months went by and I kept pretty much to myself. I got pregnant again and since the hillside deck was done, I stopped seeing Mauricio on the street. Today I pulled out of my driveway and he was pulling up the street. He honked to wave and as I passed him I rolled down the window to say hello. He quickly noticed by very pregnant belly and smiled. He said congratulations and told me how it was all supposed to work out this way. He couldn't believe how much time had passed and as I was about to drive off he said "Bingo! You won the lottery!" Again there was a bit of a language thing but I knew exactly what he meant. Today running into Mauricio was as exciting as running into an old friend. He was so genuinely excited for this baby, and I was so happy to share that with him.  For the second time an interaction with this man has brought me to tears but this time they are happy tears. He said he will be around cleaning up my neighbors hillside and that he will get to see us again for a while.

With all that said, and in spite of our new friendship, I'm still so glad that I have shades on my windows now.

Miss McGinty

When I was a little girl, just about my daughter's age actually, my Grandmother used to say she would
shove me down her throat. She would follow that statement by calling me Miss McGinty. My sister remembers it as my grandmother saying she was going to jump down our throats, but regardless we both remember it scaring the living daylights from us. I spent so much time wondering how she would be able to do this, and how much it would hurt. We loved our Grandma and she was the sweetest woman, but we obviously didn't quite get her sense of humor at our age.

Last week at gymnastics Twig's coach told her she was going to eat her toes if she didn't point them. I feel like we say silly things like this to her sometimes and she laughs, but she definitely wasn't sure her coach was joking. In fact she asked about it the whole way home, and then continued to bring it up to whoever would listen. She would say it smiling and giggling but I could see she was still trying to figure out if anyone thought her coach would actually try to eat her toes. I explained that she was joking and promised her that her toes weren't going to get nibbled off by a hungry gymnastics teacher.

Today she had gymnastics again. It wasn't the best morning leading up to the class. She had already cried over tiny issues that cost her a bunch of tears and us both a bunch of time. I was patient and gentle with her and eventually the tears ended. We left for class with enough time to spare and when we got there she said she didn't want to go. I tried to talk to her about it and she seemed okay as we got her leotard on and got ready. Just as the class began though she clung to me and started to cry. She said she didn't want to go in. I asked her to tell me what was going on but (she is three in a half maybe -- self expression isn't a refined skill at this point) she shrugged her shoulders and said she didn't know. I said I would stay close and watch her but she insisted on leaving. This is where I started fuming up. This is the second time I drove all the way there to have her flat out stubbornly not go in to the class. I told her if we leave I will not be happy and that we are not going home to play. She would have to go straight up to a nap. She said she wanted to leave.

Pissed off and tense I strapped her into her car seat and drove home. Trying not to over react, I stayed quiet to make sure I didn't say the wrong thing, but within five minutes I exploded. I told her she wasted my time, and that I do not like driving all the way somewhere and turning around to go home. I told her I wasn't only around to drive her places, feed her snacks, play with her and then be okay when she gets into a bad mood. As I am saying this, I'm listening to my words come out of my mouth. Of course I am there to do those things. What the heck is the definition of a mother? Those are the job requirements. I was so angry and concerned that perhaps I had been manipulated again, or that Twig doesn't seem to be able to spring back from a meltdown the way other kids do, or why aren't any of the other kids even crying when they go in for class. If any of them get upset they can reel it in fast but not Twig. Then I realize two things. First off, she only does this for me. She hates separating from me and lets me know in the biggest possible way. Secondly, I forgot all about the toes.

Usually my friend drives her to school but last week my husband and I took her because we had a parent teacher conference. She had to be pried off of me while I tried to sit with her teacher in the same space. If I am around and she can't be with me, it is really hard for her. She is fine with anyone except me. Of all people, I should understand that. My parents worked at the sleep away camp I went to. I hated it because even though I wasn't away from them, I could see them on the other side of the dining room but wasn't allowed to be with them. It was a bit torturous. Also, I suppose if my toes were threatened I might be afraid to be alone with someone who I thought might eat them. It's not far off from Miss Mcinty and the throat shoving. I am years away from that threat and even though I don't remember how exactly she said it, the feeling of fear that it it caused is clear in my memory.
                                                          

The Lorax

My husband and I finally took Twig to her first movie yesterday. It was pouring rain and the perfect day for a movie. Our friends who have a daughter (Twig's little friend) had decided to go too. It was a spontanious choice and tuned put to be such a good decision. It wasn't that I was opposed to taking her to a movie earlier ,but there just wasn't the right movie or the right time. "The Lorax" seemed so appropriate since they just read it in school so she was excited to see it.
 She was so happy to see her friend there. The two girls sat next to each other and my husband and I took turns sitting next to her on her other side. It was a 3D movie but since it scared her when things began jumping off the screen, she decided she wanted to watch the movie without them on. She held my hand in her lap and stared straight ahead. She sat through the previews asking every thirty seconds where the Lorax was. When it finally began she got really into it. At one point she put her hand on her heart and said "Mommy, I don't think my heart is beating."

I got up at one point to switch seats with my husband and Twig quickly grabbed her friend's hand and the two of them sat hand and hand for most of the remaining part of the film. When the main character was riding his electric unicycle out of town, Twig told me he really needed to be careful. When one of the fuzzy creatures did something funny she would belt out laughing. The most touching part though was when the Lorax had to send the creatures away because they were having trouble living with out trees and oxygen. Pouting with their heads down they lined up and began to head out of town. I looks over at Twig and she was also pouting but very quickly that pout turned into her bursting out in tears. She climbed into my lap and asked if they will come back. She was so emotionally affected by the story and then of course I began to cry too. I explained that it will be okay and that it is just a story. Obviously there is a much bigger environmental lesson to be learned but she is three and her main concern were the fuzzy guys.She was so happy when at the end the fuzzy things came back.

She truly got a full movie experience yesterday. She even decided she was ready to try the glasses on. By then the credits were rolling but she didn't mind. My husband and I are both pretty sensitive people so when she teared up I whispered to him ow she is definitely our daughter. Later on in the day when we were talking about how sweet it was that she teared up, he reminded me that I cried the night before while watching a documentary. I may be a big mush, and now I have a little mush too. I can't wait to go see more movies with her. I just need to remember to bring double the tissues.

Things Are Changing

There are things I said I would never do as a parent. I've eaten those words more often than I can count.

Bending my own rules is becoming something I need to get more comfortable with because it's happening with ever-increasing frequency. I didn't set the bar so high in the ethers that it should be difficult to attain, but I need to lower it a bit these days. I hear myself saying, "If you don't do this, then we can't...," a lot of bribes, negotiations, and a lot more no's than I feel okay with. I am not big on threats and suddenly I feel like I am using a few too many manipulative tools to get through the day. I want my child to learn direct consequences but lately I might be shoving it down her throat a bit.

My fuse is shorter than usual because I am exhausted. I am eight months pregnant and feel like my pants are too tight, even when I am not wearing any. I can only sleep in one position, I get hungry and it comes on so fast it hurts, I waddle and look like I stuffed a beach ball up my shirt. Lifting my daughter is an activity that has been greatly reduced lately. I feel these changes, so surely she is aware of them as well.  It is hard to decipher between her behavior now as being appropriate for her age, or her having an awareness that her world is changing.

After a recent tantrum that resulted in both Twig and I in tears, I called a friend to share my saga with her. She said she read somewhere that a tantruming toddler is like an abusive relationship. They scream at you, push you away, you walk away, they want you to come back, they swing at you (even hit you sometimes), and when it's all over they say, "I love you." That is exactly what it feels like. For Twig lately, she throws a fit when she wants to surprise me with an outfit, and then freaks out when she can't get it buttoned or zipped on her own. I try to help her, but she goes from zero to ninety rather quickly.

I understand her frustration though. She is trying so hard to show me how independent she can be. When it backfires, she feels so defeated. I also think about what's to come for her, and remember a YouTube video about how bringing home a new baby for your first child is like a husband walking in the door with a new wife. He isn't leaving you or loving you any less -- you just have to learn to share him now. My heart breaks just thinking about it. In addition I have my own reservations about how things will change. My husband and I have just figured out how to navigate with one child and now we are adding another to the mix. No doubt we are excited, but there is also a lot of "how will we do this with two?" floating around in our heads. We will figure it out. Everyone does. I just hope we don't resemble an abusive polygamist household before we get it down.

Whirlwind

This past weekend was quite a heavy load of mixed emotions. Maybe one too many for my hormonal pregnant "bliss" that I am in.

To follow up on the last post. My friend's dog is going to be okay. My other close friend who I went on vacation with a few weeks ago went in to labor on Friday. While she was contracting away, her nine month old dog got out through a hole in their fence and was badly injured by a car. Her contractions stopped and they rushed the dog in to the pet hospital. I had her daughter and Twig when I got her call asking if I could watch her daughter a bit longer. I thought for sure she was heading to the hospital. She was, just not for her. The rest of the day was pretty heavy as they were told it would cost tens of thousands of dollars to fix the dogs legs and even then, it was no guarantee that she would be okay. They had to make a very hard decision, and at the last minute, a nurse at the veterinarian's office said she would adopt the dog, and do her best to nurse her back to health.

At first we were all stunned and a bit pissed that this situation would even be happening. It seemed like a Lifetime movie moment. Relinquish the rights to your dog and you don't have to decide to have her put down. When they got over the debate of whether or not this was even morally sound, they realized this was the best case scenario. The dog would be cared by someone who could afford the time and money to give her the care she needs. Two days later my friend gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. All went well, and when they bring him home they will be able to focus on caring for him without the added stress of wondering if the dog will be okay. She is in good hands, and so is the new baby.