Friday, July 17, 2009


My mind is wandering around in a million different directions. Perhaps if I put some of it down here, I'll be able to clear up my thinking enough to get a few things done. Read ahead at your own risk...there's no telling what's going to pop out. You've been warned.

Wait...I need to get a cup of decaf first.

Okay, here we go....

Did you ever have one of those anxiety dreams where you realize you're hours late to work? It's like the grown-ups version of the high school dream where it's the first day of school and you have no idea where to go. Anyway, I had that dream last night (the work dream, not the high school one.) Except it wasn't me that was late to work, it was hubby. It ended with his boss trying to explain to me why half of hubby's paycheck was being converted into a single chocolate bar and what a good thing this was supposed to be. I kept saying, "Ummm, NO that's NOT a good am I supposed to feed an entire family for a month on THAT?!?"

Speaking of hubby's work...I hate complaining. I hate sounding like all I do is complain. I do not embrace a whiner's mentality. I believe in being thankful for everything and being peaceful and joyful in all situations. However....I find it hard to be joyful about how many hours my husband is gone from home for the following reasons:
1) His boss schedules him for 60+ hours every week.
2) His boss schedules himself for quite a bit less than that.
3) They're both salaried, so getting paid overtime is not part of the equation.
4) His boss has had an excuse every week since hubby transferred to this store as to why he needs hubs to work six days a week instead of five.
5) But it doesn't stop boss from leaving early, taking vacation, or getting his own two days off per week.
6) Adding together the number of hours hubby spends at work, plus an hour every day to get back and forth, he's gone the equivalent of two full-time jobs.

Oh, and the added insult to all this injury? His boss has scheduled himself for another week's vacation the week I'm due to give birth!

I have to pray for forgiveness every day, because I really hate that man.

Next children.

My children are perfect just the way they are. They are not perfect in that they can do no wrong. They are not perfect according to some other mother's criteria. I don't care that:
My 2 year-old daughter refuses to give up her bottle completely.
My 3 year-old son hasn't quite got the whole "going #2 on the potty" thing down yet.
My 11-almost-12 year old daughter is into Sonic the Hedgehog.
My 14-almost-15 year old daughter is into WordGirl on PBSKids.
Neither of my big girls cares about girly-things or being fashionable.
I say that my children are perfect because they are perfect to me. I want them to grow and learn and mature, but I never want them to change. I love each of them for the amazingly unique person each of them are.

Do NOT criticize my children in front of me.

'Nuff said. Next topic.

I can never take a decent picture of myself. I get cute pictures of the children, but I can't make the camera work right when pointing back at myself. One of my daughters is a good photographer (she has a real artist's eye), but she doesn't get very good shots of me either. Hubby, however, seems to be the only one that can do it. I wonder if it's because he sees me like no one else in the world does, and somehow that translates into the photo he takes?

Moving on...I like to use italics a lot. If I were speaking to you, you'd hear it in my voice. It's because I really want to emphasize what I'm saying so you'll understand. Unfortunately, most people don't get that about me. When I first met my in-laws, they repeatedly told me to calm down and not get so worked up. I wasn't worked up, it's just the way I talk. So, I stopped talking in front of them. It just seemed easier that way.

Speaking of in-laws...sorry, but it's another rant.

On second thought, no. I don't really want to get started on all that. Let's just say that I wish I could like them. I've tried, but I just don't. I get hung up on little things like lack of respect and consideration for others, snobbery, rudeness, and not being able to take no for an answer, just to name a few. I really should be more understanding, shouldn't I.

Switching tracks...

For the first time in my life, I wish I were younger. Not that being forty bothers me, but the odds that I'll have any more children after this one are pretty slim. Which is really sad, now that I'm finally learning about cloth diapers and baby wraps and such. We've got 18 cloth diapers now, and they are soooo cute! I'm excited about seeing the baby in them, just as I'm excited about wearing the baby. I wish I'd been doing this all along.

This is my third child with hubby since we married five years ago. I've been pregnant or nursing for half our marriage. I wonder sometimes...if we'd first met and married when I was twenty, how many children would we have by now?

I wish more people would embrace homebirth. I've been listening to the health care debate, and I keep you have any idea how much money would be saved if more insurance companies would cover the cost of midwifery care and homebirth? The hospital and doctor costs of pregnancy and delivery in this country are huge, we're among the worst of the industrialized nations in terms of infant and maternal mortality rates and outcomes, the C-section rate in this country is outrageous (and getting worse...have you heard about doctors purposely upping the usage of Pitocin on laboring mothers to the point of putting the baby in distress so they can go straight to Cesarean? How disgusting is that?!??!) But people think that homebirthing mothers are putting their babies at risk? I wish more people would wake up.

Speaking of waking up...all of my children are up, done with breakfast, and looking to me for today's agenda. I'm thinking about turning this into a baking day.

Blueberry muffins anyone?

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