Lately I've been blog surfing a bit, mostly following links down linky paths like Alice falling down rabbit holes. I don't like what most people seem to think is funny. Most of the top "rated" blogs are sarcastic, witty, f-bomb lobbing moms trying their hardest to present the disgusting bits and comedic shortfalls of their child-rearing as humor. Okay. In small doses funny, somewhat.
What disturbs me most is the resignation like "oh, yeah, and before you go commenting that maybe squirt would like this or have I tried that, don't bother. I read everything, tried everything and he's not going to budge." or another where the mom admitted -- don't get me wrong, I like honesty -- that she sits in the driveway, dreading walking through the door to be confronted with "but mom, he said/she said" squabbles and an infant with poop so much so that sometimes she makes loops around her neighborhood before succumbing to the guilt that she has to go home. What?!?!
Today I was out running errands. This meant trying to take it easy but get done what must be done before I go into labor. Such as, I registered for my breastpump. On the way home, a thunderstorm began to compound pre-rushhour traffic, and I was an inches-away eye-witness to a pretty high impact car accident. I pulled over and handed my info to the not-guilty party. He was so grateful. I was uncomfortable (as in, my uterus, not with the situation) and experiencing some stress, so I didn't linger. I phoned Al. When he picked up I could hear Paige in distress, crying her "I'm in pain or scared" cry. Thunderstorm strikes again. Quickly I wrapped up one last errand and scrapped the rest of my plans in order to get home to her.
I laid on the couch for most of the evening. Paige and Graham gave me lots o
f snuggles and we took some funny pictures. Paige took most of these:
We got in a bubble bath as the rain and thunder carried on until almost dark. Paige likes candles with her bubblebath. Graham and I put on a green herbal mud mask. The bathtoys enjoyed looking off my cliffs, then climbing down to my "beach" belly and diving off of it into the water. We clipped nails, removed chipped 
polish, brushed teeth, retrieved a blackberry seed from a molar, trimmed neck hair, slathered our bodies in oil (the great new organic erba stuff at Target for preggie bellies, or any toddler body part really), jammied up, and sang "Raindrops on Roses..." to ward off fears from the thunder.
Since they were born I wished I could absorb their pain
and suck in their cries. I also love to smell their breath, like I could eat it.
I love them beyond anything imaginable. My heart is inextricably fused to their wellbeing. It isn't all bliss. Monday Graham behaved ABOMINABLY, throwing a huge fit and suffering the harshest spanking of his short life. But wow, the good sure outshines the bad. And the regular, ordinary evenings, to me, are as good as it gets.
What disturbs me most is the resignation like "oh, yeah, and before you go commenting that maybe squirt would like this or have I tried that, don't bother. I read everything, tried everything and he's not going to budge." or another where the mom admitted -- don't get me wrong, I like honesty -- that she sits in the driveway, dreading walking through the door to be confronted with "but mom, he said/she said" squabbles and an infant with poop so much so that sometimes she makes loops around her neighborhood before succumbing to the guilt that she has to go home. What?!?!
Today I was out running errands. This meant trying to take it easy but get done what must be done before I go into labor. Such as, I registered for my breastpump. On the way home, a thunderstorm began to compound pre-rushhour traffic, and I was an inches-away eye-witness to a pretty high impact car accident. I pulled over and handed my info to the not-guilty party. He was so grateful. I was uncomfortable (as in, my uterus, not with the situation) and experiencing some stress, so I didn't linger. I phoned Al. When he picked up I could hear Paige in distress, crying her "I'm in pain or scared" cry. Thunderstorm strikes again. Quickly I wrapped up one last errand and scrapped the rest of my plans in order to get home to her.
I laid on the couch for most of the evening. Paige and Graham gave me lots o
f snuggles and we took some funny pictures. Paige took most of these:We got in a bubble bath as the rain and thunder carried on until almost dark. Paige likes candles with her bubblebath. Graham and I put on a green herbal mud mask. The bathtoys enjoyed looking off my cliffs, then climbing down to my "beach" belly and diving off of it into the water. We clipped nails, removed chipped 
polish, brushed teeth, retrieved a blackberry seed from a molar, trimmed neck hair, slathered our bodies in oil (the great new organic erba stuff at Target for preggie bellies, or any toddler body part really), jammied up, and sang "Raindrops on Roses..." to ward off fears from the thunder.Since they were born I wished I could absorb their pain
and suck in their cries. I also love to smell their breath, like I could eat it.
I love them beyond anything imaginable. My heart is inextricably fused to their wellbeing. It isn't all bliss. Monday Graham behaved ABOMINABLY, throwing a huge fit and suffering the harshest spanking of his short life. But wow, the good sure outshines the bad. And the regular, ordinary evenings, to me, are as good as it gets.
4 comments:
Yeah, I'm with you on that one! Nice post.
Those are some crazy pictures!
You could be a writer.
lisasim
Yopu are one of my favorite writers Steph....that was beautiful.
Regan
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