25 days! Christmas is coming!

I had intended to blog each day, but yesterday I did a snapshot of our Christmas spirals, and today I posted a pic of us seeing the Bagwell Lights, and obviously, I there was no blog. I did write a sad, mopey blog about my existential work crises, but that isn't Christmasy.

When we were young we would drive by a house we called "Winter Wonderland" in Maryland Heights, St. Louis. The yard had numerous Christmasy decorations and ornaments. Of course it wasn't anything like the lights people have now, but the magic of driving by slowly, especially when their was snow (and of course, it was on the way to Granny's house), and just seeing the "magic" is a special memory.
After we moved to Springfield, sometimes we would still drive to Granny's for Christmas Day and that magical lawn still inspired us.

This was when magic was still possible and miracles weren't questioned. My brothers and I would gasp excitedly and call out the wonders we saw, and my parents played along driving slowly. I hope my children have such good memories.

Christmas is coming! 27 day countdown

Let's count down to awesomeness, shall we?

Why 27? Because this is when I thought of it. No, it isn't in reference to the 27-thing fling boogie.

Tonight the youngsters are snuggling in front of the TV, watching Rudolph.

Who doesn't have memories of cold winter nights, in front of a box TV, sniffling at the injustice Rudolph and the other misfits faced? Who rejoiced with Rudolph when his worth was finally realized and he shone (quite literally) that little light of his-and was all the more appreciated for it?

Maybe tomorrow, we should make it our goal to let our little light shine. Crazy, smart, flamboyant, kind, neat-freak, haphazard, crafty, funny--whatever your special gift is, let it shine.

The End of the School Year

Often we take the end of the calendar year to reflect on life and the changes which have occurred and the direction it is going. I think the end of the school year is a good time. Today my stomach has butterflies of nostalgia. It isn't that something is happening or going to happen.  It is that it has happened. It has come and it has gone and it will never be again.

It isn't regret exactly. Of course, there are things I coulda, shoulda, woulda. But thinking that way only leads to despair, and the air is warm, and the leaves are green, and my natural self tends towards sadness in this beautiful time, and I am fighting hard. I will not give into despair. My eyes are weary and my head is nodding with exhaustion at the fight (or maybe it the sugary carbs and caffeine), but I am persevering.

When I think of all the things that have come and gone I can't help but feel wise. And I think about all the sayings stating those who feel wise are actually ignorant, and I feel shame. Shame to think I am wise. Shame to share these thoughts. I feel the sadness in my gut, and my head says, steady now. This will pass. It all passes. Every single thing slips away. When I realized I had no children in daycare. Then elementary. Middle school. And now my, of my "older" kids, none left in high school. Glendale has fallen into our history, like Hickory Hills, Bingham, The Nurturing Center, Hawaii, Maryland. Gone. Just memories. Just thoughts that I might have done more.

And I fight because the opposite is unbearable. There are still all these mouths to feed and hearts to lift, and I fight, because the sun will shine and the warmth will fall onto my shoulders, and around the corner it will all be fine. Because it doesn't last. It just keeps slipping by.

And I sit and watch these kids in this class. They are just starting to awaken to the transitory nature.

And in 15 more minutes this block will be over. This moment carved in time, every other day for this past year, will slip away. Next year, a new teacher. Always new. Always changing. Always on the fringe. Shallow relationships forged because it keeps changing. Why bother building when the next year it will change?

And I feel it.

Summer, eternal in its beauty is upon us.

Parenting-What not to do

I feel as if I have failed as a parent today. First, Liam wrote a "book" at school, and what am I best at? Making promises and not following through. Not intentionally, I am just not really listening to the things I am agreeing to do or more usually, buy. That's like a bad parent, though.

Then I was looking online and noted that Taryn would have qualified for a presidential scholarship from Drury, where she wants to go. Now, I don't know if those are guaranteed, and we still would have to come up with about 8 or 9 k with loans and our own money after the scholarship and grants, but 30-35K isn't horrible. Especially since now she wants to transfer after two years and the scholarship money just isn't there for transfers. She didn't even get around to applying for MSU. She now wants to go to OTC and tranfer to Drury. How? I guess I have to step back and think if she really wants this, she will save the money. But how did we get to this point? I know she was being unreasonable about college. I know she procrastinated. But where does my fault like? I should have pushed her more. All those times she didn't do anything (try out for plays, go the extra mile), she always had an excuse (she was working), which seemed reasonable, but at what point should have I thought, Oh, she is scared and stepped in? I don't know. I feel like she is living my all over again.

I regret very much not taking the ACT again (I needed one more point for the bright flight). But I took it once, and I was too darned scared of doing worse to take it again. I didn't even know anything about scholarships, and didn't even apply for college or financial aid until after deadlines. I only applied to OTC. I was scared of a big college and  had no idea how it worked. Of course, neither did my parents.

Taryn said OTC is cheaper and MSU doesn't have what she wants. But she tears up everytime she talks about going to OTC. Is it because her boyfriend is going to OTC? There is nothing wrong with OTC, but if it makes her cry, then at least go to MSU. I get that Drury has the minor she wants, but she could take some classes there and get transfer credit. She could see if she could design her own study at MSU with the transfer credits. I don't know if that can be done. But...since she won't talk about it, I am going to look into it, and see what can be done. Maybe she is waiting for that. I don't know.

She should be happy and instead she is closing her own doors.

So, I guess my moral is...be more involved. Get your kids used to your being involved so it seems normal later. Taryn, even at age four, didn't want me watching her. Watching her dance, hearing her sing. Why not? I have done something wrong. But if I said she was great, she didn't believe me. If I didn't, she was crushed. I feel like I couldn't have won.

Yesterday I explained to a student that he wouldn't get something he wanted. He started to tear up. I was very sad, too. Another teacher rushed in to comfort him, and I thought, maybe it is me. Maybe I am too harsh. Maybe I need to work less on the directness and more on the sugarcoating. It would have never occurred to me that he might need to feel reassured and need to hear how happy we were to have him anyway. I just wanted to give him the facts and lay out a game plan. The sugarcoating doesn't come naturally to me.

Now. How do I learn to do that? I guess listen better to those who have that gift. Remember it is not being "fake," It's developing a new skills set for my toolbox.

I can do this, right?

Don't be like me.

Oh, I do feel pregnant

My last post on this page, had me discussing not feeling pregnant. Well, I feel pregnant. In fact, it wasn't but a week or so after that post morning sickness hit--not too bad, the typical, oh, I must be having a boy sickness. I am glad I did not have the stomach emptying nausea of a girl pregnancy, and yes, there will be one more little boy running around here. Wasn't my choice, but I guess I wasn't really given a choice, except maybe not to get pregnant. Oh well. Sometimes it still catches me, a sick feeling of disappointment, but life's funny that way. Sometimes you just have to take what you get.

I am tired now. 28 weeks pregnant. Big. Sometimes I forget I will actually have this baby, and see this stretch of early exhausting mornings getting everyone ready for work and then going to work, and then coming home to be a useless slug on the bed for the evening. This is no way to live. But it will end. I will have maternity leave for a while, I will not be so tired forever.

I am trying to decide whether I should return to work next year. Financially, it's a no-brainer. We are struggling now (our debts have really creeped up on us), and not working just seems ridiculous. But I also feel like this is my last chance to be "be who I am supposed to be." At home, homeschooling, relaxed. But I would have to earn money. I have thought about infant care. There are pros and cons. I like little ones, but it can be unsteady money. I can gloss over things when I am trying to convince myself and others of things. I get SO lonely at home. How will I save for retirement? Is it the right thing to do? Is it the fair thing to do? Will I feel fulfilled at home? Do I really want to keep writing IEPs for the rest of my life? Do I want to keep passing my kids on and rushing out the door for the next several years?

It will likely come down to the hard facts. Eventually, I will really sit down and figure out the money. Going by how I feel isn't helpful. Feelings CHANGE. Opportunity cost is REAL. I will lose and gain something no matter what I choose.

I am lonely now, though. I mean, I enjoy going to work and chatting, but it is all just shallow coworker chat. Maybe that is the most I can hope for. I am who I am, after all. I am not popular or highly sought after. I am slow to laugh and the last to get the joke. I am very opinionated and have high expectations of others. I like to be different. Maybe I am, after all, destined to be a recluse. But when I work, I can pretend that isn't true. I can build up shallow relationships and call them enough.

I hate making decisions. Where is my knight in shining armor?

Pregnant?!

I just don't feel pregnant. Other than my face looking puffier and redder than usual, that is. Part of me worries, is the baby okay, and part of me remembers what a NOT having a baby will do for me, real vacation for Karl and me, maybe next year, not having to pay for daycare, no labor/childbirth struggles. I want a homebirth, but I want  pain relief. If I do unassisted, then I don't have to pay a huge bill, but there would be noone to sign my forms for short-term disability after the baby is born. But ultimately, it would probably still be cheaper in the long run. If I hire a midwife, they want to be paid prior to the birth, and I could still be transferred which would be a killer financial.Double hit. I would have to get prenatal care for my own peace of mind, even if I went unassisted, because *I* want to know the likelihood of complications-is there a defect that might need immediate medical care. It is important to me to know this as much as possible beforehand. But then that means the pressure those last few weeks, when the doctor starts worrying about size and going too long. Nevermind that this doctor once said I had the pelvis for an 11 pound baby. She still backtracks and says doesn't want too big of a baby (no, I have not yet had gestational diabetes). So, you know, the trust issue. Or last time with Gabe, she told me he was breech, and then the next time, didn't say a thing. I asked her, and she said, no, felt fine. And I wondered, is she just full of it? Wouldn't she know I would be worried about that. I don't want abdominal surgery. If we are about to die, sure, but not for her convenience.
Ooh, the trust issues. Noone should feel bad about their birth experiences, hospitals are formidable places, and let's face it, they are in control. But, I WANT to have this baby vaginally, I think it's medically important if at all possible, and going to the hospital always means, you are ultimately in their control. And they don't care about your emotions and memories. They care about lawsuits.

And nurses. It's really luck of the draw. When we went for the labor that stopped with Liam (I was at 5 cm, but the contractions stopped as soon as I hit the hospital), the nurse was amazing, but we went home. When we went back a couple days later, I had the nurse from HELL. Bossy, judgemental, and kept giving her political opinions. I WAS IN LABOR. Shut the hell up!

When Gabe was born, we had a quiet, professional, kind nurse, who left us alone most of the time, which was fine. But I would prefer someone warm, like the first, who I felt comfortable with and cared for. Is that too much to ask?

I hate these feelings.

So now I am just like-whatever.
New person in family? Maybe. Right now, I feel like it is the little Oliver that Gabe should have been (but noone liked the name). It has to be Oliver. But I want a girl, of course. I love dance lesson, and cheer, and frilly dresses, and shopping, and, oh little girl, I hope it is you.

Obviously at my age, I worry about Downs. But that is determined already, so worrying won't change anything.
And I worry about miscarriage, and I feel guilt, because if I do miscarry, I am just not going to do this again. I feel that shows a lack of commitment to bringing this soul to earth. Yeah, I am weird.

Party today. I wish I wasn't sick. I hope I can talk by then. I hope I have the energy to help get the house in tip-top shape. Karl did a LOT of work yesterday, and we had the downstairs carpets steamed, but still. So much left to do.

And since this is my kids' blog, and you have seen all my worries and rants over Liam, he got into Wings, the gifted program. In the end, we did not medicate him for ADHD, because there was still the question of whether he was just bored or not. And when his teacher told me he disturbed everyone during storytime, but still knew the answers, I stopped worrying quite so much. He just needs an understanding teacher who can keep him occupied and gives him some breathing room,, so he doesn't rebel (because it goes down hill quick, then).

Love.

A New Baby??

So this is likely to be full of feelings and feminine issues, so if that is a problem for you, you should probably just go now:o)

I. can't. sleep.

First of all, I have never found out so SOON I was pregnant. Usually it is somewhere around at the 28-29 day that I get a positive test. I got this one on the 24th. I think this is because I am getting older and my cycles are getting shorter, as my body just does weird desperate things in a last ditch attempt to get pregnant.
But it also scares me. What if the test was wrong? What if both were faulty and defective?

Reasonably, if that happened, I would cry a bit with disappointment over the person I would not be meeting, and then life would go on, much more financially stable than the other route.

It's weird. I have been on and off the fence about a baby for a couple years now. I like babies. But they cost a lot. I also like going out with my husband. I don't like paying for daycare, and I can't afford to stay home. The absolute minimum we need to pay our bills each month is 3000 take home. Karl doesn't make that. It is going to be tight. A couple times we have tried in the past couple years, then freaked out and hoped nothing would happen.
Then two weeks ago, Karl just said, Let's just let what happens, happens. And of course, something happened.

So now I have all these conflicting emotions. I am already getting older, but now I can't even convince myself I am slightly attractive(who is attracted to a pregnant woman?). I don't want to be broke. I don't want to be in debt. I don't want labor pains. I don't want a hospital birth (but that is the cheapest--or rather, it allows you to pay over time).

Am I cheating poor Gabe who is overshadowed anyway?

And what if I have a miscarriage. I am sweating half the day, and then when I cool down and stop, I worry the little person has died, and now I have to face telling everyone. Well, facebook would take care of that, I guess.

A couple weeks ago, I prayed and told God I was ready for our new family member. Why? I don't know. In my imagination, the little one must have been whispering from the spirit world, waiting to enter my body and start human life. Nudging me towards the path I wasn't sure I wanted.

I want a nicer house someday. I want another car. You get it, right? I am American. I need my things!

And the time. The 255 days left until little one is due. How can I wait? My mind is already preoccupied and distracted. The thought is always there in the back of my mind. Prepare. But most things are on hold until the sex is determined. And that can't happen until august or so. Maybe September. And I am afraid if I contact my old OB/GYN she will be horrified that I am pregnant again. Is that crazy?
There is a birthing center that also does homebirth, but you have to pay up front, and I am wondering if their transfer rate to the hospital isn't a bit high.
I guess if everything was going well, I could purchase a birth kit and have it alone, like Taryn, but oh, the labor.

We'll see.

The excitement. The fear. The self-centered analyzing of every twinge in my body.

And my oldest is getting married soon:o).