I keep meaning to write more and then keep getting stumbled up on what to write and who will read this and how much do I want to share and then I don’t write. And then I’m frustrated for not writing, because I actually have some Topics I’d like to write about. I think.
So then today, I was all “ok, self, just start writing because you’re clearly over-thinking everything lately.” Which I am. I blame the fetus, or at least, the effects the fetus is having on my brain. There have been several topics that I’ve become fairly obsessed with as of late, which are (sometimes indirectly) causing me to not sleep well and to feel angsty much of the time. Sometimes I think “Welp! Must be Zoloft-o’clock again!” and other times I think “These are obviously things you need to work through. Do not drug these thoughts and feelings to oblivion, silly.”
I’m still not sure which way is “right”.
So, as you can see, it’s been super fun living in my head lately. It’s like my brain is at a college party (I almost said “college frat party” but then I remembered that I wasn’t cool enough in college to be invited to
many frat parties), and I’m contemplating whether to keep drinking until I puke my guts out and regret it all day tomorrow but have a blast tonight -OR- stop now with this awesome buzz, feel great tomorrow, but be sober and totally bored by midnight while my friends are still careening around in gleeful idiotic stupors.
Or wait. How is that like my brain at all? Nevermind.
We were supposed to be going to South Dakota tomorrow, but my doctor gave me the old “I’m not saying you CAN’T go, but I’m saying it makes me uncomfortable” speech at my appointment last week, so we decided to skip it. But then my dad volunteered to get the kids, so now I’m looking at a week without my children around. This is a rarity for our family, and I keep obsessing over it, even though I’ve already agreed to send them. Weirdly (and while I am looking forward to time to myself and with David), I feel like I am really going to miss them. I’m also a tiny bit worried about being bored/frustrated as my body (contractions! still! all the time!) isn’t going to let me get everything done that I’d usually want to tackle on a week with no kids… David is meeting my dad half-way on Thursday, so I have all day tomorrow to teeter-totter on the topic and then they’ll be gone and I can get over myself already.
Today is the last day of school, and like all last days of school, it makes me a tiny bit sad and nostalgic. How are these girls plowing through grade school so fast? How can there ever be the right words to thank their teachers for nurturing my children for 7 hours/day for the past 9 months? I have so much gratitude for them that I’m rendered speechless. I don’t know how they do it, year after year, getting involved with kids and then promptly letting them go again.
I do love having the girls home over the summer, though. I really like being with them (ah, usually), and I like being with them even more when we have a rhythm to our days (versus the random days off from school where they are left schedule-less and unmoored all day). I like the later nights together as a family, and the unhurried pace of dinner and post-dinner stuff, and lazy mornings on the porch, and taking them to all of their activities, etc. During the summer, it seems like time just opens up; we are no longer a slave to the clocks or schedules, and everyone is more relaxed and happy.
Then again, ask me about this in August when that school schedule is starting to look pritty amazing.
I found a way to stop the obnoxious checker at the grocery store from making asshole comments about my belly. (This is the same lady, that EVERY WEEK for YEARS, when the twins and I would go through her line getting groceries would ask me “Twins?” and I’d say yep and she’d respond “A boy and a girl?” Every. Damn. Week. And listen, Tiny Town is not *that* big; she should have been able to absorb that knowledge between visits.) Anyway, she’s been commenting on how huge my belly is (I concede; it’s big) every week, acting SHOCKED– like she might fall over– when I tell her I’m not due until September. So yesterday, when we had the very same convo we’ve had several times lately, I said emphatically and very cheerfully to her “I know! I look totally and completely ridiculous with this huge belly! I should probably just stay home!” And she started agreeing with me, and then she realized what she was agreeing too and blushed furiously and stammered a little. And so we’ll see if she keeps asking me my due date and acting shocked.