Last night Ross was vying for husband of the year, hugging me and telling me how brave and strong I've been. I think he might have been doing that thing we do to toddlers where we say "you are soo good at putting away your toys" when they are doing nothing of the sort. Or when we say "you are doing great at eating your broccoli" when they've asked for the 12th piece of bread. We hope that if we put enough positivity in their heads, they'll hear it enough and do it. Nonetheless, he made me feel, for just a minute, that I wasn't totally failing at my job of couch-potato incubator. However, in 'oh so Keri' fashion, I woke up today, having forgotten about all that positive reinforcement and feeling sorry for myself. Then I saw this. I boo-hooed out of happiness for this mama getting a chance to feel beautiful. She had a child with cancer. I have a healthy baby inside of me and am tortured into watching tv and reading blogs all day. Cry me a river. Have some cheese with that wine. Play the violin. Put on some big girl panties and deal. Feel free to add your favorite "get the crap over yourself" saying.
The irony in that diatribe is that I'm about to complain now. Faint if you will. When my mom went in to get MK from nap, I walked from my room to set up camp on the sofa and saw MK tell my mom "No!," HIT her, and then sweetly say "up, mama." My mom, in all her wisdom, understood that MK just wanted mama but respected my insistence that my toddler monster apologize. It still hurts. My girl, while surrounded by the very people she prefers just behind mama and daddy, still misses those basic needs being met by me. It is crushing. Now, you should know that when my mom offered to take her to the bounce house place near us, my child wouldn't give me a kiss and simply waved, saying "byyyyye" in her little country voice. I am aware that I am being played a little. Still, I hate that her little world has changed. It will a damned long time before I complain about taking care of these creatures once I'm off my rear.
I find these cards to be about 10% foul to 90% funny but loved this one. I am not 39 but act 49 (okay, 59) so I laughed a lot.
I saw the perinatologist again yesterday. Baby is bigger at 3lbs, 8oz. It was crazy coolto be watching on the ultrasound as the baby pushed its big ole head down during a contraction and see the change on the screen. (well, the contraction part was way not cool). It was like watching labor from the inside and made me marvel at modern medicine. To my medical peeps, you are awesome. Now, to keep that little scene from happening too often for another 6 weeks.
Two of my oldest friends had healthy babies recently, one on MK's birthday. No matter how many friends have babies, whether their 1st or 5th, the miracle of it all isn't lost on me. I'd give a million dollars to be in Athens right now snuggling little O and bringing his mama a ginormous sweet tea or to be decking out little miss A in some pink in Savannah. It never gets old, this bringing a soul into the world thing. And it makes me pray all the more fervently for my friends who want to be (and SHOULD, do you hear me Jesus, SHOULD) be mamas.
Before bed rest, I spent a lot of time wishing for more community in mine and Ross's life. I have wished, and still do, to some extent, for people to live beside, worship beside, raise kids beside and just do life beside. But there hasn't been one week where I haven't had a visitor or two or three stop by with their kids to play with MK and help me pass the time. There hasn't been a week without someone dropping by the extra that their dinner made or a treat for one of us. I'm pretty sure that in some dictionary, that counts as community. So much of this experience has taught me to open my stubborn eyes and really be thankful for what's in front of my face, be that my ability to exercise, to clean a toilet, to comfort an irrational toddler, to help my husband with our home, to do life next to a friend.
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For a girl who loves to read, I have been surprisingly un-read these last weeks. I have started the following books: Summer Rental (set partly in Savannah with scenes at my home church with a main character named Sullivan?? crazy), Catching Fire, The Egg and I, and Hole in the Gospel. Now, someone tell me to stop reading blogs (easily done while nursing a newborn at 2am with no brain cells) and read for the next few weeks (not easily done with 2 children, one nursing at 2 am having taken all my braincells). Seriously, if you've read any of these, please convince me to dust off the cover. Or even better, feel free to suggest something else to start with hopes of finishing before this time next year.
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