So...
I'm pregnant. Did I mention that? When you've never had a life growing inside you, you have this perception the first time of how large your stomach is going to get. I always manage to arrive at that size in the sixth month. That's where I'm at right now. So far everything is buzzing along nicely, no serious problems to speak of, thank You God! But I know that after this size, the size I initially thought I'd be at 40 weeks, this is where the rubber meets the road. It's when every pound locks away an inch of my breathing space for the remainder of my term. I'm starting to waddle too. In public I consciously maintain my stride, but when I'm tired, I find myself lopping from one side to the other with every step. Not nice. I've also been cold this time around, which is strange but welcome, until now. Maybe it was nerves telling me I wasn't as comfortable as I seemed the first time I attended ladies' Bible study this week, but I was sweating bullets by ten o'clock in the morning. I don't even sweat when we are walking the two mile track! Maybe it's the internal heater I've referenced so many times as a woman with child. I don't know, but baby, I'm HOT! And it's not pretty.
Kennedy had a friend over last night after they won their basketball game, GO BLACK! Which relocated Leila and Max to my bedroom. She fell asleep almost as soon as I settled her in to her little bed on the floor. Max joined her at about midnight, but he apparently wasn't happy about it because he got up every hour to sniff Kennedy's door and wander through the house. At six o'clock, Leila woke all of us yelling, "Top it dasmin! TOP IT!" I peered over the edge of the bed and saw Max licking her footy pjs. I said, "It's Max, Lol," *for those of you less famiar with Leila, we all call her Lolly or Lola or Lol* and when she recognized what was going on she said, "Oh Mack," and giggled. It was cute for a minute, but when I realized the three of us were up for the day, nothing was as cute as it seemed.
This afternoon I was sitting on the couch flipping channels hoping to find one thing on so that I could have an easy timer to do my chores with: commercials. I woke up three times to different wrestling programs, must've dozed off mid-flip. The third time, I knew Dale was coming home and I didn't have the kitchen cleaned up from lunch yet, at four o'clock, so that motivated me to get off the couch. So much for productivity. I did have a nice dinner planned that wouldn't take much to put together, so that took a load off.
I guess I'm still in denial about how big my family is. I used to know families with three kids and think their families were big, without a thought of our army of a family. I'm still that way. I see moms with three toddlers in the grocery store and feel emapthetic toward them, never considering the parade around me. One sure way to register this denial is the laundry. I try to do some everyday, but usually it's every other day. That doesn't seem like a big deal, but it's a major accomplishment to get it all done and put away, and whenever that happens, I revel in the fact that it's done and then reward myself with a day off, or two. Or three. Here's the kicker-- I'm shocked to find the kids' laundry basket full the next time I go to clean the bathroom, like I get irritated. Seriously, it just occurred to me three days ago that FIVE CHILDREN wear FIVE OUTFITS everyday and seven if we have are taking Tre and Leila out in public and want them clean; and if the kids are obedient to the house rules, they place their clothing into the laundry basket every night. Now add pajamas to that, and towels, and sometimes sheets... If I wait three days to check their basket, it's piled up to the sink and spilling all over the floor. Go figure.
Tonight, I baked a big casserole of macaroni and cheese, steamed a head of cabbage, and made kielbasa, only I just made one link because I didn't think the kids would eat it. With macaroni as the staple for the kids, we were good, right? Just to be safe I cut up a big bowl of fruit salad. Guess what... they were grabbing for the last few bites of the kielbasa! Another case in point. One link of kielbasa isn't nearly enough meat to suffice for a family of seven, this is simple, clear logic for anyone. Except me. Why should it be? I've only had this family for two and a half years. And I'm about to have another one...
All of this only adds to the wonder of my life. Sometimes I think it would be really fun to be one of those on-call organizers for people that can't seem to get it together. I use the idea of it being fun to motivate myself to organize my life. It can be totally effective on some occasions, but other times I'm so overwhelmed by all that awaits my attention, it's just easier to sit down on the couch and flip channels. Which is why I anxiously await the day our TV putters out into retirement. At least maybe then I'd read a book instead. pish posh.
Kennedy had a friend over last night after they won their basketball game, GO BLACK! Which relocated Leila and Max to my bedroom. She fell asleep almost as soon as I settled her in to her little bed on the floor. Max joined her at about midnight, but he apparently wasn't happy about it because he got up every hour to sniff Kennedy's door and wander through the house. At six o'clock, Leila woke all of us yelling, "Top it dasmin! TOP IT!" I peered over the edge of the bed and saw Max licking her footy pjs. I said, "It's Max, Lol," *for those of you less famiar with Leila, we all call her Lolly or Lola or Lol* and when she recognized what was going on she said, "Oh Mack," and giggled. It was cute for a minute, but when I realized the three of us were up for the day, nothing was as cute as it seemed.
This afternoon I was sitting on the couch flipping channels hoping to find one thing on so that I could have an easy timer to do my chores with: commercials. I woke up three times to different wrestling programs, must've dozed off mid-flip. The third time, I knew Dale was coming home and I didn't have the kitchen cleaned up from lunch yet, at four o'clock, so that motivated me to get off the couch. So much for productivity. I did have a nice dinner planned that wouldn't take much to put together, so that took a load off.
I guess I'm still in denial about how big my family is. I used to know families with three kids and think their families were big, without a thought of our army of a family. I'm still that way. I see moms with three toddlers in the grocery store and feel emapthetic toward them, never considering the parade around me. One sure way to register this denial is the laundry. I try to do some everyday, but usually it's every other day. That doesn't seem like a big deal, but it's a major accomplishment to get it all done and put away, and whenever that happens, I revel in the fact that it's done and then reward myself with a day off, or two. Or three. Here's the kicker-- I'm shocked to find the kids' laundry basket full the next time I go to clean the bathroom, like I get irritated. Seriously, it just occurred to me three days ago that FIVE CHILDREN wear FIVE OUTFITS everyday and seven if we have are taking Tre and Leila out in public and want them clean; and if the kids are obedient to the house rules, they place their clothing into the laundry basket every night. Now add pajamas to that, and towels, and sometimes sheets... If I wait three days to check their basket, it's piled up to the sink and spilling all over the floor. Go figure.
Tonight, I baked a big casserole of macaroni and cheese, steamed a head of cabbage, and made kielbasa, only I just made one link because I didn't think the kids would eat it. With macaroni as the staple for the kids, we were good, right? Just to be safe I cut up a big bowl of fruit salad. Guess what... they were grabbing for the last few bites of the kielbasa! Another case in point. One link of kielbasa isn't nearly enough meat to suffice for a family of seven, this is simple, clear logic for anyone. Except me. Why should it be? I've only had this family for two and a half years. And I'm about to have another one...
All of this only adds to the wonder of my life. Sometimes I think it would be really fun to be one of those on-call organizers for people that can't seem to get it together. I use the idea of it being fun to motivate myself to organize my life. It can be totally effective on some occasions, but other times I'm so overwhelmed by all that awaits my attention, it's just easier to sit down on the couch and flip channels. Which is why I anxiously await the day our TV putters out into retirement. At least maybe then I'd read a book instead. pish posh.
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