Crowded Tub

Cool Girl

Sometime in the mid-90's I created Cool Girl.  Cool Girl is an alter-ego of mine that I would break out when put in uncomfortable situations to help me remain confident and in control.  That time at the pool when I saw my new (we're talking DAYS) ex boyfriend canoodling with a hot freshman?  Cool Girl took over, walked by them on her way out the gate, gave them a big smile, a not-too-loud-not-to-timid "Hey" and followed it up with a pointed look at the new girl that clearly communicated, "You're younger and dumber than me honey.  Don't even try to compete."  Cool Girl was fearless.  She was effortless.  She would also take over on high-stakes dates with guys who (at the time I felt) were way out of my league.  She had a routine.  A series of stories intended to impress, charm, and completely disarm the coolest, cutest guys.  Cool Girl always worked.  Like most superheroes, she would not stick around for long.  So eventually I would be on my own.  But Cool Girl helped me through many difficult situations with a confidence and grace I did not feel.

Cool Girl made an amazing comeback yesterday.  I met my ex's girlfriend yesterday.  For those of you keeping track, this is the same woman he started dating one month after he moved out, introduced to our son (without telling me ahead of time so that I could form an appropriate response for our child when our child informed ME that he had met her) three months after moving out, and the same woman whose house he took our son to sleep at last March without informing me - again, removing any chance I might have had to form an appropriate response for my child to see when I found out about it the following morning.  Since that time, he's broken up with her once to try to reconcile with me, gotten back together with her when I politely declined, taken her to his hometown in the Midwest to introduce her to his family, and most recently, she is the woman he is "deeply in love with" and moving in with at the end of September.  So now that we're all caught up, you can start to imagine why Cool Girl made her triumphant return.  This is a woman I might actually have to take seriously, and I needed to get things started on the right foot.

The boys spent the night prior to my meeting her with their dad, so I had plenty of time to mentally prepare.  I was not planning on bringing Cool Girl out of retirement, but she just SHOWED UP.  And it was wonderful to see her again.  She was confident and friendly without trying too hard.  Because Cool Girl DOESN'T CARE about their relationship.  Cool Girl only cares about her kids.  Cool Girl SUPPORTS their relationship, and even threw in a bit of a vibe that it was not a relationship she thought much about - outside of how it might involve her kids.

And Cool Girl looked AMAZING.  I can tell you, my ex values physical beauty almost higher than any other trait a woman can have.  I could tell the side-by-side comparison was bugging him.  Because the new girlfriend did NOT look amazing.  She might be priding herself in this moment on the fact that she purposely didn't try too hard to look good for our meeting, and if that was her goal she did great.  As the soon-to-be-ex-wife, I felt I wanted to put my best foot forward.  I was not over dressed, but I looked nice.  Cute clothes.  Cute shoes.  As if we were on our way to a birthday party for a kid whose single uncle is hot.

Most importantly though, I liked the new girlfriend.  She was friendly.  Warm.  Welcoming.  She was nice to my kids.  She said nice things about my kids.  I liked her kids, who were all polite and friendly, and they shook my hand and gave me genuine smiles and looked me in the eye.  And so, when this move happens at the end of September, I feel comfortable with the idea of my kids sleeping at her house.  Not thrilled about it - my oldest is having some anxiety about yet another big change for him, and I know my ex well enough to know that he is talking himself into loving this woman, who will solve a lot of financial problems for him in allowing him to live in her house - but I feel okay about it.  And sometimes, okay is about as good as it's going to get.

When Cool Girl left, she looked the girlfriend in the eye and said, "I can't thank you enough for welcoming my boys - and (insert ex's name here) - into your home and making them feel so comfortable."  I think Cool Girl did that because she wanted the girlfriend to understand that it's a package deal.  The new girlfriend gets the ex, but along with him she gets the kids and me as well.  I don't plan to insert myself into their relationship...but I plan on being involved in my kids' lives no matter what roof they are sleeping under, and my hope is to foster a "friendship" with her (or any future girlfriend or wife) that will allow all of us to come together and be a family for my kids.  I wanted her to know I'm not afraid or adverse to being around her, and I don't want her to feel afraid or adverse to being around me.

And at the curb, Cool Girl looked her ex in the eye, gave him a genuine smile and said, "I like her" and gave him a big hug.  Because Cool Girl has truly moved on from this relationship.  And if my ex had any illusions or fantasies about me going in there and being brittle with jealousy and regret, Cool Girl buried those fantasies effortlessly.  Welcome back, Cool Girl.

Random Memory

I stood at the counter, dishing vanilla ice cream into my bowl.  I was really looking forward to climbing into bed with it balanced on my enormous stomach and watching mindless TV while the baby somersaulted  until the sugar left my system.  You walked downstairs and into the kitchen and stood watching me from behind.  You looked at my bowl and you looked at the spoon I was using.

"I don't know why you have to use THAT spoon to scoop your ice cream.  Why aren't you using the ice cream scoop?" I tried to point out that the ice cream was soft enough, I didn't want to wash the scoop in addition to the spoon when you cut me off and said, "Why do you ALWAYS have to argue with me?  Don't you know you could bend that spoon?  That's an expensive spoon we got as a wedding gift.  Do you want to ruin it?" You walked away in disgust.  You ignored me for the rest of the night.  I took my bowl of ice cream and my pregnant belly up to bed.  I don't remember if you joined me there or not.

I sit here now, in my house, with our wedding silverware sitting clean (and unbent) in my kitchen drawer and I'm wondering....are you still worried about that fucking spoon?  I thought not.

Sigh

Things are good.  Stressful, but good.  To recap some of the major drama for you so you will be all caught up:  My ex decided to introduce our older son (and probably the baby too, though he's not talking) to his girlfriend.  Who is a family law attorney.  I decided that working with just a mediator under these circumstances was not a good idea for me, so I contacted an attorney who is looking over everything and making sure our agreement is air tight.  Then he broke up with the girlfriend.  I was relieved to not have to worry about him getting free legal advice.  That had really been stressing me out.  But then a couple weeks ago he emailed me to tell me this old girlfriend was back in the picture and that she would be spending the night at his house while our older son would also be sleeping there.  I tried to reason with him.  He would not budge.  It was awful, and I am slowly making my peace with that event and probable future events like it.  MB seemed unharmed, thought it was a fun sleepover party, so the end.  For now, until the next thing, right?

But that is not the purpose of my post.  I have been dwelling on this stuff a lot - not just the girlfriend being around my kids part, but just the stress of dealing with my ex in general.  He's a moody guy.  Some days, he's a delight to talk with and drop offs go smoothly.  Other days, he's angry and cloudy and pissed off about something and he's incredibly difficult to talk to, deal with or even be around.  He's highly unreliable:  We had agreements about both introducing significant others to our kids and not having sleepovers with them while the kids were under our care.  Both agreements he disregarded when he decided it no longer suited what he wanted.  So I have been spending a lot of my days thinking about how much I despise him.  I write in my journal about all the things I hated about being married to him.  I write about all the awful decisions he's made since our separation...all the awful decisions he's made since 2006.  No, since 2002.   I talk about it with my friends.   I think about it while I'm at work.  I get annoyed with my students because they want to understand something like FRACTIONS, and I'm sorry....I'm just so annoyed with my ex, can't you just ask your neighbor?  It seems lately all I want to do is dwell on the fact that I hate my ex, he's an idiot, an objectionable person of the highest order, who makes poor parenting decisions, who makes me very angry and uncomfortable and stressed out even when I am not in the same room as him - or even in the same part of town.

It struck me today:  Wait a minute.  Isn't this why I decided to divorce him?  Didn't I want to get all of his negative energy OUT of my life?  Why am I letting him seep into every moment of my day?  Why am I writing pages in the morning about him, about how I feel about him, about what he does that makes me despise him?  This constant feeling of the BURDEN OF HIM, of managing his choices, managing his parenting, managing his financial decisions - I decided on August 17th to put that burden down.  So why haven't I?

I know it's difficult when kids are involved.  A good friend reminds me constantly that while the situation he is setting up for himself and his sons is not ideal for their future relationships, the kids are safe with him.  Not exactly happy and excited to be with him, but safe. And whatever future relationship he is going to end up having with his sons is his to save or ruin on his own.  I can't spend any more of my time hating him.  I can't spend any more of my time dwelling on his awfulness.  I decided to walk away and be happy, and that is what I need to start doing.

I don't want to write any more about the quality of care my boys get while they are with him.  Let's face it, they are with him less than 25% of the week.  Instead, I would like to focus on the quality of care they are getting with me.  I would like to think about the project we will work on this weekend, the classes we will sign up for this summer, the play dates we schedule  - things they get when they are with me that they don't get with him.  I need to stop thinking about what kind of father he is (or is not) being for his sons, and focus only on what kind of mother I am being for them.  Because that is why I left him.  To be a better mother to my boys, to teach them what a happy home feels like.  I can't do that if I'm emotionally dwelling on the things I wanted to leave behind.

"Why Did You Marry That Guy?"

My old boyfriend, The  First Real Love  of My Life (and possibly only real love so far if I’m honest about it), just got a pretty prestigious job here in the town where I live, where we both grew up.  It is a Big Deal.  His mother (and mine, who are still best friends) are over the moon excited.  As am I.  Why?  We don’t talk anymore, haven’t for years….he’s shunned me, so to speak, and I can’t remember why.  I think I did something, or said something, I’m not sure.  He’s prone to cutting people out of his life without a second glance so...could have been me, might have been him.  But I miss him.  I miss that relationship and how much I loved him.  He is in a marriage right now about which I have gathered enough information from various sources to infer is not a happy one, that she has a little bit of The Crazy.  I know about being married to that.  He will be moving here to start his new job, and she will remain behind for a few months, but I suspect it might be longer than a few months….like perhaps forever.  So for about a day, I had all kinds of hopeful fantasies I might get a part of him back. Not the boyfriend part, but the best friend part.  Someone to talk to on the phone and trade emails with – I would have loved chatting with him on my cell phone or sending him emails all day long had either of those things existed when we were together.  While I love having my life back, while I love being single again and having my house to myself, I miss having a guy in my life I truly adore.  I truly adored him.  I would like to truly adore him again.

 

I bring this up because in my imaginings yesterday, I wondered how the subject of my marriage would come up, and specifically wondered how I would answer the question “Why did you marry that guy?” when it was asked.  I mean it’s natural for people to wonder.  And I’m not sure how I would answer that question, I think I need to figure out the answer to that question so I have something thoughtful and accurate and reflective to say when it is asked.

 

Why did I marry him?  He was handsome and charming and smart.  He loved kids.  He had some anger/temper issues that he recognized and wanted to solve through therapy and hard work.  I believed he could (work hard and solve them.  I was wrong).  He was very much interested in me…and after a string of guys I was very interested in but who were not interested in me…that was a nice feeling and one I allowed to overshadow my real feelings.  Because at the beginning, I had big reservations.  But I ignored them, telling myself I was simply not used to being with someone who was so into me.  To not have to work hard at something, to be the one to want to pull back a bit…that was nice.  But also unsettling.  I wrote those feelings off as unfamiliar, rather than what they were which was uncomfortable.  My parents loved him (at first).  My friends liked him.  My doubts got shoved to the side.  He pushed forward fast, and I did not resist because on paper, he looked good.  And I was at a place in life where I wanted to take the next step.  I wanted kids, I was 33.  I thought at that age, it needed to happen.  What felt “off” to me I could not name, and no one else felt it until we were so far down the path it was too late.  My mom felt it…but said nothing because she thought if she had I would get angry and that would push me toward it.  She hoped I would pull out on my own.  But I didn’t pull out because I was afraid of disappointing her…he was embedded in my house and my life.  At the time, I foolishly felt that the only way was to just move forward and hope for the best.

 

The marriage itself was doomed from the start.  I didn’t love him.  And I knew what mutual love felt like because I had it with my Ex Boyfriend Who Has Just Returned to Town.  It’s the only time I have ever had it in my life…but I know what it feels like and I didn’t have it with my soon-to-be ex husband.  At all.  If I had stopped to think about that, none of this would have happened.  I don’t for one minute wish that none of this had happened though.  My kids are everything to me.  They are my whole world.  I’m happy with my choices.  My choices brought them to me, and brought us to where we are now which is a pretty great place.

 

I’ve learned a lot.  I am a different person now than I was before.  By a lot.  If I were to befriend – or rather, re-friend – my Ex Who Has Just Returned to Town, I would not be the person he probably assumes I still am.  I’m wiser.  More grounded in reality.  No drama, thank you (which would probably surprise him since when he knew me at 20 I was pretty into the drama).  I’m a single mom of two boys.  I don’t have the time or the desire to date.  But I would be interested in hanging out with the one person in my life I was deeply in love with who was also my very best friend.  I’d like him to know me as I am now.  I’d like to have some kind of a friendship with him.

 

It’s doubtful.  It’s a pretty prestigious job, one that will keep him very busy for a very long time, with very little room to socialize.  Plus, about 6 months ago I tried to friend him on Facebook and he ignored my request.  When I went to look to see who his friends were, it was clear that it wasn’t because he was super-selective of who his Facebook friends were.  But I hold out hope.  I miss my friend.  I think he would understand better than most the path I’ve been on, which makes me even more hopeful he will soften his heart toward me enough to let me back in just a little bit.

The Slow Unraveling...

Having been gone so long, where do I start?  Should I start with our failed efforts to find yet another therapist to save our marriage?  Should I talk about my dear friend who passed away days before another horrible fight with my husband, a combination that left me in an incredibly calm and focused state of mind, seeing clearly for the first time what I needed to do to change my life?  Should I talk about how hard it was to tell our kids we were getting a divorce, and that Daddy would be moving out?  Maybe I should talk about how great it was to come home for the very first time to a house that no longer had him living in it.  I could also tell you how hard it was to do a 45+ minute commute through traffic every day to get two hungry and tired kids home, but that part no longer applies and I’d rather tell you about my beautiful new house that has two fireplaces, a family room, and a location that cuts my commute down to 10 minutes, 15 in traffic.  Also, it has forced air and heat.  And recessed lights and a playroom attached to the garage with a yard large enough to accommodate a trampoline that will be arriving on December 25th.  Have I mentioned how much I love it?

I would like to tell you about how stressful going through a divorce can be with someone who is incredibly anxious about work and money, and who also decided that it would be a good idea to go off his anti-anxiety meds around the same time we decided to get a divorce.  I save all of his emails – good, nasty, friendly, or neutral – and hope I only need them to look back on to remind me of how crazy it felt being married to him.

My day-to-day is spent dealing with details.  We are selling our house, but will probably not be able to make any more mortgage payments so I am bracing myself for a plummeting credit score.  I try not to think about the fact that I owned my own home as a single 30 year old, and that all real estate we have today is because of that tiny little house.  Instead, I feel lucky that I found this new house when I did, so I don’t need to worry about bad credit impacting my ability to find a place to live.  My lease is for 14 months, after which I plan to renew for at least another year if they’ll have me.  My credit score will rebound, and I have no desire to own anything for a long time. I am in charge of paying for the staging of the house we are selling, paying for the handyman to do all the repair work, figuring out how in the world we will come up with the security deposit my ex spent like water over a year ago…he has no money, and no prospects at this time.  I know it sounds crazy, but he’s not a freeloader.  He is incredibly careless, irresponsible, and often times delusional.  I am keeping track of what he owes me, and I hope to get my money back.  I'm pretty sure I'll get most of it back, but I'm also pretty sure I won't get all of it.  I feel so lucky my parents can help with these expenses so that I can sleep at night.  I also know that this is slowly unraveling and sorting itself out, and we are much closer today to figuring it all out than we were 3 months ago.  And 3 months from now we’ll be even closer to sorting it out than we are now.  So I just keep putting one foot in front of the other and trying to deal with whatever is directly in front of me and not worry about what is coming next.

A good friend asked me the other day, “Is there ANYTHING about him you miss?”  I think I can honestly say no.  There isn’t.  I miss a lot of things on behalf of my kids though.  I miss them having a dad who lives at home with them, who they can see whenever they want and ignore the rest of the time.  I miss the fact that my son never used to have to think about what toys he wants to play with and where, and am sad that he now has to try to remember everything, or deal with the fact that we have forgotten something.  But I don’t miss my ex at all.  The tension in my home is gone.  The stress of having to live around the space his moods took up is gone.  I don’t think I ever had a real partner, so I don’t miss that.  I never felt like I had much to say to him, I never felt like we had anything fun that we enjoyed doing together, so I don’t miss that.  I don’t miss my marriage because I really don’t think I had one in the first place.  And while I think the kids miss having him at home with us, I know for a fact that our house is happier and more peaceful than it’s been in their lifetime(s) and I see that fact in little things they do or say every day.  We are all freer, lighter, and more relaxed.

The details of my life right now are so much more complicated, and require so much energy and effort….and yet I am enjoying my life so much more than I have in many years.  Physically it’s harder, but emotionally, it’s like riding on a cloud.

Happy Birthday, Again

Yesterday was my 38th birthday.  I was supposed to celebrate after school with my husband, who had arranged for my parents to keep the kids a little longer than usual so we could go out to dinner, walk on the beach and just hang out.  We did not do that.  Earlier in the week I had discovered an unusual amount of activity on our bank account over the last six weeks, and upon careful analysis realized the huge amounts of money my husband has been spending eating out, entertaining friends, and basically just frittering it away.  My husband works on commission only and things have been slow for him, so we’ve been trying to get by on just my salary.  Which is hard to do when someone keeps spending money frivolously.

I did not want to talk about this with my husband on the phone or even on my birthday…but my level of anxiety was so great that I was unable to keep myself from mentioning it – and then from there the conversation slowly spiraled downward.  It was not good.  He is not speaking to me at all at the moment, did not want to see me at all yesterday and was out of the house until after I went to bed.  I am fairly certain this is the beginning of the end of our marriage.

But here’s the thing:  Yesterday was a good birthday for me.  I was able to spend about 2 hours alone (alone!  By myself!) in my classroom with nothing to do but think about how I want to proceed over the next few weeks, and the peace and quiet was cathartic.  It reminded me of a time 14 years ago when I also spent my birthday alone.  I was 24 and living in San Francisco.  We got a group together to go out to some of the bars in the Marina.  At one point, while at one bar on Polk Street, I wanted to go down the street briefly to Johnny Love’s to see if my buddy Aaron was tending bar.  My friends didn’t want to go, but one friend, Christine, went with me.  While at JL’s we joked around and had a few more beers, and by the time Christine had to leave to go home, the rest of my group had disappeared from the first bar.  Instead of being angry about it, I decided to have fun.  I went from bar to bar, making new friends, drinking beer, and occasionally making a phone call (from a pay phone!  To leave messages on an answering machine!) to see where my friends were.  I stopped at Bepple’s for some pie, and listened to an amazing jazz band from Stanford.  I finally met up with my friends again, but the experience left me transformed.  I realized how much fun it was to be by myself.  I didn’t need the safety of a group of people to enjoy myself, I was truly independent for the very first time in my adult life and it was exhilarating.  I have never forgotten that night, or that feeling.

Yesterday brought that night back to me in an unexpected way.  I no longer live alone, I have two young kids, a full time job, a marriage that is on the rocks – I would never have imagined at 24 that I would be here at 38.  But here I am, and I feel the same way.  Exhilarated by the road unfolding before me, and not at all afraid to be alone.

I am scared, though.  My husband can be an angry person, and while he’s not violent, he’s also not very nice.  This could be a rough few weeks for me emotionally and possibly financially.  But over the fear I am feeling optimistic and excited and grateful.  I am so lucky to have two amazing kids, and lucky that my marriage has unfolded in a way that has allowed me to be very comfortable parenting two kids alone.  I have a great job with 29 amazing 5th graders who humble me and inspire me and allow me to forget my problems for 6 hours every day.  I have the love and support of my parents, who are waiting in the wings to do anything they can to help me.  I have good friends IRL who call me every day to check in on me, and internet friends who read this blog or know me from others who have reached out to support me across many miles, without ever having spoken to me in person, or seen me face-to-face.

I’m just so, so lucky.

Letter to a Friend Who Does Not Read This Blog

Dear T,
I want to apologize to you for being absent in your life lately.  I know you probably think that because I am married with two kids, I have abandoned you as so many women abandon their single, childless friends in favor of married, child-full people…but I assure you, that is not the case.  The truth is that I cannot talk to you because there is so much I want to say to you but cannot say because I don’t know how to begin.  Or where to begin.  Or simply, that my ego will not allow me to say out loud yet.  So here we are.  I will write you a letter and post it, knowing that you won’t read it, but also knowing that someday we will have this conversation and you will understand.

Know that I have not abandoned you in favor of a warm, cozy married life.  It is, in fact, the opposite.  I do not know what it’s like to look forward to seeing a husband at the end of the day, because I do not look forward to seeing mine.  Coming home and being at home with him is stressful, tedious, and at times hurtful and humiliating.  When you talk about wanting to find a husband, how could you know that I’m screaming in my head “Don’t do it!!”?  Looking back at the last 7 years, I realize I have never enjoyed being married - not a single moment of it.  How can I  admit something like that?  If I am honest with myself and with you, I knew before we got married that he was not the right person for me.  I have no idea how I allowed it to happen.  I think I just decided that it wasn't that bad, that I was just having cold feet, that I figured I was mourning the loss of my independent self.  In reality I was mourning the loss of finding someone who was truly right for me.  I gave up on the concept of best friend and partner for life, and down this path I trudged.  I hear being married to the right person is wonderful and satisfying in a way I can’t even imagine.  And since I can’t imagine it, it is very difficult for me to talk with you because hiding the fact that my marriage is unhappy is like trying to hide the color of my skin.  So I avoid you, I don’t call you, and we go months without talking.  For that I am sorry.

Know that I am working hard to get my life back.  I am taking steps to set things up so that I can walk away and maintain a healthy relationship with the father of my children, who are amazing and the reasons why I don't regret my decisions, despite knowing they were the wrong decisions.  But until I do that, I have to stay silent.  Only the internet, my parents, and my very best friend know what direction my life will be taking this year.  Be assured that I am safe, but unhappy.  I know I could not hide that fact from you, so instead I hide myself.

I recently spent the weekend alone with the kids while he went out of town.  It was wonderful, peaceful, and I knew for certain that stepping out of my current life to re-gain my former self is of the utmost importance to me.  Someone I deeply respect and admire once said, “You know you are in a healthy relationship when all your other relationships bloom and grow.”  Over the last 7 years, I have watched my relationships with other people wither and die.  I am on my way back, my friend.  Please wait for me.  I’ll be there soon, and while I won't be the same person, I think I'll be a better one.

Much love,
J----

Loving the Second Child

Whenever one of my friends has a second child, I always ask some version of the same question – Do you love your second child as much as the first?  Of course, I know the answer they will give –parents love the second one as much as the first.  I, myself, am a second child and am greatly loved.  Perhaps even favored.  I digress.

What I really search for is that question that all parents have, I think, when deciding to have another baby.  Because our first children are SO loved, SO treasured, SO cute and funny and charming and precocious…how can a second child POSSIBLY measure up?  I also ask about The Connection.  Did you feel it right away or did it take just a little bit longer because you were so infatuated with your first?  Because why would you automatically love this child you just met?  It takes time.  Looking back, you know the more you got to know your first child, the more in love you fell.  So by contrast, it would stand to reason that you would notice this lack of connection because you already have this amazing connection with your first.  I got different answers from different friends.  All of them confirming what I knew in my head but not yet my heart…of course you love your second as much.  It’s different, and yet the same.  Which, when you are searching for answers, is an incredibly annoying response.

So.  After spending 4 nights in the hospital, I have this to report as a new mom to a second son.  You DO in fact love the second as much as the first.  You DO think they are the most beautiful baby you have ever seen, even though your first child was also the most beautiful baby you had ever seen.  The good news is that your second child can be the most beautiful baby because your first is now the most beautiful preschooler (or toddler, or – God help you – high schooler) you’ve ever encountered.  Baby Bean (BB) is just perfect.  His cry is not abrasive.  He eats like a champion athlete at training table the night before a big game.  He likes his sleep (so far).  He is just sweet in every possible way that a baby could be sweet.  And I’m discovering that my question wasn’t so much could you love your second child as much, but would you love your first any less.  And I don’t.  Though I freely admit I enjoyed my time in the hospital with BB alone, I enjoyed saying goodnight to MB and having the quiet night hours with just me and my new baby to snuggle with in the bed and get to know each other.  I will also admit that I would feel anxiety when MB was on his way over to visit, and overwhelmed at his…everywhereness…..while in the hospital.  I swear, he’s like a Tasmanian devil. And he’s huge and loud and so germy. How have I not noticed this before?

I think I’m lucky that I have two such different aged children living in my house.  So when I get fed up with one age, I can hand him over to his dad or grandparents, and enjoy the other one.  They are so vastly different, it feels like patting my head, rubbing my stomach and standing on one leg just keeping everything straight.  I have none of that New Baby Anxiety – is he eating enough?  Should he be sleeping now?  Should he be awake now?   I do have some anxiety over MB, which shouldn't be surprising since I've been having anxiety over him since day one. He is, after all, my first...and this is another "first" for him. My goals for the next few weeks are to get to know this little guy, while at the same time trying to shower love and affection and alone time on my precious first born.  Who will always be my baby too.  Even when he’s 45.

Growing Pains

I’m trying hard not to think too much about the fact that last night was possibly MB’s last night alone with his parents as an only child.  We are scheduled to go into the hospital tomorrow morning at 5:30 AM for a Baby Turning Event, which we’re hoping will turn into an induction.  Because I have so much fluid, this little peanut has been doing pretty regular back flips and it seems to be difficult to keep him out of a breech position.  So unless my doctor is a complete masochist intent on causing me much physical and emotional trauma, we will flip this kid around and then plug me into the pitocin.

But I have to say, despite my deep desire to get this baby out of my body, my heart is breaking just a little bit for my first baby, the one who will from now on be The Big Brother, with the responsibilities and inconveniences that go along with it – despite my having read Siblings Without Rivalry.
So it is not lost on me that last night was the last night that I put my first baby down to bed without the distraction of a crying infant, the last night that we read stories uninterrupted, the last morning we spent in bed snuggling watching television without me needing to tend to another human being except for him.  He went off to school today with MM as usual, knowing that Grandma and Grandpa would be picking him up after school and excited that he will be spending the night over there tonight.  He has some concept that his brother might be born tomorrow, that we will have to wait and see…..but he just has no concept of what that will mean for his life and his family.  The good news is that while our dynamic will most surely change, my ability to parent will return.  With these last weeks of pregnancy, I have not been able to do simple things like pick him up from school, lie in bed with him to read stories without significant pain, go up and down the stairs quickly when he needs something, and get down on the floor to play with him.  So I am excited to be able to do some of the physical aspects of parenting for him that have been absent for so long.  But.  But.  It will most definitely all be different.

This morning he said, “I wish your room was closer to mine so that when I call for you, you can hear me.”  The other night he said to me, “I just get lonely for you when I am not being close to you.”  We talk a lot about no matter how old he is or how big he gets, he will always be my baby.  Even when he is 56 years old.

I am hopeful we get another one as wonderful as MB.  As thoughtful, as funny, as cooperative, as curious, as caring.  I am hopeful we are able to co-parent two children successfully without some of the marital difficulties we had at the beginning of MB’s life.  And good grief, I’m excited to get my body back.  Keep your fingers crossed that tomorrow is The Day.  Because I will weep with disappointment and resentment and overall grief if they tell me I’m not dilated enough and have to wait “just a little bit longer”.  And then I might hit someone.

And Counting....

I don't know how much longer I have until this baby arrives.  It could be one week, it could be four.  Or something in between.  I do know that I am a little more prepared today than I was three days ago.  I spent the last weekend of my vacation sorting out boxes of baby clothes, washing them, and putting them away.  We got the bassinet set up, we still need to get the carseat installed.  But other than that....I think we're ready.  Or as ready as we can be.  Now I can begin my chant:  Get it out. Get it out.  Get it out.

MB went back to school today.  Or rather, he had a half day because MM decided that it would be a good idea to take the boy to the beach this morning and throw rocks into the ocean instead of making it to school for morning meeting.  As a consumer, I have a problem with that...how many dollars have we paid that we lost this morning while our son threw rocks into water?  As a teacher, I have a problem with that....he missed The Meeting!  And Choice Time!  What will Stanford say about that?  But as a parent, I get it.  MB was having a hard time transitioning back into school-mode.  He wanted to go to the beach.  His dad saw an opportunity to spend some quality time with him throwing rocks.  Which is important 3-year old work.  And what a nice way to spend a Monday morning, when you're three years old and school doesn't really matter.  Just the boys, weeks before his whole world turns upsidedown...ya, I think it was a good call, Dad.

And an update on the sleeping thing....we had a stellar second week, with MB going to sleep by himself at night time.  Naps, not so much.  But I think naps are harder because it's light outside, and I just NEED it more, and there is less of a chance of that happening during the day than there is at night. Except for last night when he wanted me to lay with him (lie? someone help me on this one I can never get it right), he's been a champion.  Don't get me wrong, we still have the usual delay tactics.  They look something like this:

6:45:  Time to get ready for bed.
7:00:  Now I'm serious.  Time to get ready for bed
7:15:  The You Must Use the Bathroom/I Don't Have to go to the Bathroom Argument.
7:20:  The Great Night Diaper and Pajamas Wrestling Match.
7:30:  Story time with Dad
7:40:  Story time with milk with Mom
7:45:  Night Night Song and lights out
7:48:  The 20-Pats or 20-Rubs Debate
7:55:  The First Goodnight
8:05:  I Have to Go to the Bathroom
8:10:  The Second Goodnight
8:15:  The I Need More Milk (But Really I Just Want to See if Mom Will Come Again) Request
8:30:  Silence (usually...sometimes the above repeats until 9 or 9:15).

But he's doing it alone, without one of us in there distracting him and making him silly.  Naps I am still having to lie/lay there with him until he drifts off.  And it usually takes anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour.  Which totally sucks when you're waiting for nap so you can do important things like eat food.  Perhaps it is my growling stomach that is keeping him awake.  Regardless, it was back to school today so 5 days a week it's someone else's problem.  All praise the preschool.