Good Enough

Nope.

It doesn’t.

But I sure wish it would. I wish that everything and everyone would just slow down.

That no one had errands, or illness, or work. 

I wish the summer would stop flying by.  Then I wouldn’t have to miss this rare, gorgeous Washington weather.

I don’t want my kids to miss out on all the things we “could” be doing.

But they are.

They are because even though mentally I’m ready to take on the world, with four children in tow, my body wants to stay put in the horizontal position.

When I was pregnant, my mind was mushy, and I couldn’t even wrap my brain around going out with the three kids. Now the clouds have cleared and I feel so able. I don’t feel scared like I did when I had my third baby. I remember feeling secretly scared for that day my husband left and went back to work. I kept waiting for that feeling to come around this time. I really don’t feel apprehensive at all. But my body is not quite there…every day I feel a little stronger.

I thought I could go to book club last night. The clock struck 8pm. I couldn’t will my body out of bed. Although the new babe which I have for blogging purposes deemed “Annie” stayed up until 1 am.

I’m almost ready to take on the world, but can’t it slow down just a tad for me?

My kids and I would be ever so grateful.

How to type with one hand.

That my sweat smells weird when I’m nursing…(TMI?)

Showering has become a luxury not easily afforded.

I miss my clothes.

I like to stare at the baby for hours.

I think everyone else likes to stare at my baby.

I should be sleeping instead of staring at the baby.

I can fall asleep anywhere, anytime, and have woken up only due to the kink in my neck.

I miss my other kids.

Life is good…something it’s hard for me to remember when I’m pregnant.

The calm before the storm…

I guess I should have gotten more sleep the evening before, but you know, my last birth had gone so smoothly.

12 hours of labor with a child “sunny side up” and an epidural that was not working correctly and threats of a c-section from an unsympathetic doctor…and I was finally able to glimpse my treasure.

She was so worth it. 7lbs. 2 oz. Love at first sight.

Her brother’s and sister love her too.

It is 3:18am here in the Northwest, and I cannot sleep.

This could very well be my last chance to sleep for a solid 4 hours for the next year of my life…but instead of sleeping, I’m sitting here, waisting time. I’m not even trying to be productive. The kitchen could use a final clean, my bag could be packed, I could shave my legs in a nice warm bath…

But instead I’m just sitting here. Daydreaming. Actually nightdreaming technically. It is dark outside, which makes it officially night, according to my kidlets.

In a few hours I will be anticipating a phone call, telling me I can come in and start the process of having this not so wee one I’ve been carrying for the last 40 weeks.

It’s been a long 40 weeks. Of course, I don’t have to tell you all that. You’ve been reading. Or you’ve stopped reading, because you just couldn’t handle the ramblings of an emotional pregnant woman.

I’m excited to meet this new life. My mind is already bent on it. Perhaps that is why I’ve been so utterly bored for the past few weeks. I’m ready for phase 2. I’m ready to hold, and feed, and cuddle and change.

I’m ready for the whirlwind that will be four children under one small roof…

I’m ready to be active again. To run, wrestle, jump, dance, and especially stretch out on my belly.  I miss yoga.

I’m apprehensive, life is always such a miracle, and I know it happens everyday, but there are so many things that go wrong as well. I want everything to flow perfectly.

I look at Mr.Good in awe. He looks so young. He just turned 31 on Saturday, (not that that isn’t young,) I’m ten months older, but I feel like it was only yesterday that we were pregnant with our oldest. He’s 7 now. It’s gone by in a blink.

I remember a night much like this 7 years and 2 months ago, when my water broke. Mr.Good and I were standing in the bathroom laughing, wondering if it was really happening. No contractions came but my bag leaked all night. I stayed up watching TV and he went to bed. He’s always been able to sleep through the excitement. I don’t get it.

I’ve never been able to sleep through anything…except movies…anyway, 3 more hours and I’ll be expecting a phone call telling me to come in. So maybe I should try to close my eyes for awhile?

Goodnight all. 

You have to know my friend Sharie to understand passion. When that girl takes on a cause she really follows through…

So I stumble upon her latest movement…and I smile. She’s at it again and I hope it catches.

I have to say that I can’t take up a flag with you Sharie, I’m 10 months pregnant, and live in an extremely hilly and wet  region. Just walking up the stairs right now and my uterus screams at me.

When our farm is complete maybe we’ll get an old fashioned coach and two horses?

Or maybe I’ll start converting my vegetable oil into gasoline?

For now I applaud from afar!

So two weeks ago whilst Missy was enjoying an Equestrian experience…really she’s enjoying herself, I don’t know what the deal is with her scowl in this photo! 

I decided that bringing my boys berry picking at the local U-pick farm would be a wonderful experience for ALL involved…umm…yeah. I guess I forgot about my experience berry picking with my mom as a child. The first fifteen minutes were delightful, and then I spent the next 2 hours wondering how my mom could search through every leaf, gleaning off the strawberries, moving down the long row at a snails pace. It wasn’t fun for me. It was torture!

Like I said, I must have forgotten all this, but it came flooding back to me in visions as I tried to pick as many berries as my pregnant body could handle. This one did okay for about 30 minutes. I had him sit across from me and I made it into a sort of contest. Buster is very competitive and was able to concentrate for the most part.

The problem was…my 2 year old. Don’t let the care free exterior fool you. He liked being in the strawberry patch, but he also like playing sword fights with the stakes at the end of the rows, throwing dirt clods, and running far far away until he just couldn’t hear mom call “COME BACK.” And when the 7 year old was sent to retrieve his little Bubba, fights ensued.

Oh it was a joyful day. My only goal was to get to the end of my rown. Scooting along on my bum because you KNOW I wasn’t leaning over with my big pregnant belly. I should mention that the row I was assigned was half the size of a normal row and I thought the goal was attainable.

In the end, after one tantrum and having to take the little one to the car to show him how serious I was about his behavior, we ended up with two whole flats! That was 11lbs. Not bad for two hours work and two bored children.

And the best part was what happened later when I made my very first homemade strawberry pies.

So worth it.

Every bite washed away the pain and agony of a hard day’s work!

Lately I get the feeling that my children are seeing the belly come first. It can be very intimidating. My oldest son keeps making comments like “not bad for a pregnant woman…” whenever I actually get something accomplished, like cleaning a room, or laundry, or dinner.

It’s getting rough, I won’t glamorize it. I think I’ll be living in sweats for the next week because nothing fits me anymore. Even if I can squeeze into something proper to wear out in public, it squeezes my lower belly the entire time causing frequent trips to the bathroom.

My belly wants to hang free and easy right now.

Getting out of bed, or a chair has become a comical performance.

Shaving my legs or clipping my toenails is a joke…and I can’t control any gas that may escape when I’m in your presence.

I HAVE NO CONTROL OVER MY BODY, PEOPLE!

But that’s okay.

7 more days…7 long days that can separate the woman from the girl.