Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Thursday C-Section and A Significant Passage

Lola's Thank You Card to our OBGYN, front

Yesterday's appointments and ultrasound revealed a decidedly breech and overdue Evercakes. So game on: C-Section this Thursday at 12:30. I can't believe how close I am to holding my baby, to seeing her face!!!! Mr. Curry took Monday off to come to the appointments with me and we had a wonderful day. Nothing and everything. Just being with him right now is the best thing for me, feeling his big hands on me, watching his face, hearing his voice- no better medicine and no better intoxicant. My mom will be here at 8am Thursday morning to take Dakota, Ian and Lola to breakfast, and then come to the hospital around noon. Mr. Curry's sister will be there, his parents, grandparents, my mom. I am hoping not to go into labor beforehand, because with an emergency C-Section I won't have my OBGYN doing the surgery. So here's to calm uterine muscles.

Oh and so not last, so not least!---
Last night I attended Dakota's last 'official' night at the program he started a few months ago. He graduated ... with flying colors. I got to listen to everyone attending say a few- or more- words about what they see in Dakota, and I could not have been more proud. I am sure if someone had photographed my face, beams of light would have been shooting out of my eyeballs. One man, the father of another boy in the program who works as a manager in business, said that he regularly sits at business meetings with men who have half of Dakota's intelligence, composure and self assurance. He said that whatever Dakota wants to do with his life, if he sets his mind to it, he can do. He said that Dakota has a kind leadership quality with his peers that is influential and his strongest trait, and he hopes Dakota uses it as a strong force in his life. The main person who has worked with Dakota, a woman I absolutely respect and adore, talked for a good ten minutes about how much she cares for Dakota, how everyone who meets him is struck with his genuineness and big heart, and all the qualities she loves about him. At the end of the nite, I told Dakota I was going to start my OWN support group, and have everyone sit around a table and talk about me!!! He laughed and said I'd probably insist that everyone stay longer, No, really, keep talking about mee!

Now he moves to attending a follow up support group once a week. Mr. Curry takes him tonite to his discharge meeting, and when they return home, I plan on having something special for him, a small gift, just a gesture to try to tell him, again, how proud I am of him, how much I love him, how important he is to us.

Damn it. My heart is too full. I feel it will break open.

..and inside

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Kiss List and More Where That Came From

Kissing Lola Moon

Grateful for my blog friends and the amazing supportive words, and the Paypal donations for maternity leave, just completely humbled, and promising, promising! to pass it on.

Reading The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo

Contracting day and night, mostly night or when walking

Water Breaking, Plug et al Bodily Functions Relating To Birth none

Dining with Mr. Curry, kids all elsewhere, cheap burger joint, ate half a basket of french fries and onion rings and a burger, tried to keep myself from crying over said burger when Mr. Curry told me I was beautiful, because I feel like the bloat monster moat monster freckled face jiggly juggle

Speaking of Crying it was last night, when I intended to make love to my husband in our new bed but instead ended up crying and crying for a good half hour while he listened and talked to me and did I ever tell you all I love my husband?

Listening To Lola talking. non. stop. nervous energy.

Luxuriating in new queen sized plush top mattress via my wonderful mom, amaaaazing, two and half hour nap today

Working Weekend woke at 6am this morning to go to work with Mr. Curry ( he is taking weekend work all the time now ) and Lola, and climbed into a SEMI TRAILOR at nine months overdue and pregnant ( no pictures ) marveled at Mr. Curry's ability to fit enormous TRex size Mayflower truck into extremely small space ( metaphor intended )

Enjoying the beautiful blue icicle lights Mr. Curry and Ian hung around our house, and our Christmas tree, which put together with a new baby, our new baby, is really too much happiness for any one girl

Loving watching TV with Mr. Curry each night, with fire log crackling and candles lit, most often eating some form of chocolate and receiving a foot rub

Hating my anxiety

Inspired by A Million Miles In A Thousand Years

Closer to Ever...feeling her move in my belly is now so emotional, I feel her feet, her entire feet, pressing upward on my ribs and cannot believe this entire brand new person is completely formed and living INSIDE OF ME, just waiting to come out, my daughter, my girl, our girl, oh my gosh!

Hoping my OBGYN appointments tomorrow ( Mr. Curry took the day off to come with me, yay! ) will result in something, even swiping of membranes...

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Due Date

Today's the day. And no sign of baby :) Friday's stress test showed she is healthy, but in transverse position. I am drained of everything but waiting for this girl. I have no intellectual thoughts. No profound emotions. No depth. Just an animalistic hunkering down, a quietude, and irritation when that is interrupted. It's hard with Lola. She wants to talk, and talk, and talk, and talk...to relieve her anxiety. And all I want is silence. And people who can be around me without getting all nerved up themselves, people who can detach and be calm, so I can feel calm. Instead, mostly I get high nervous excitement, and the same questions and comments over and over. I know it's part of the game plan for people to do that, and for me to not like it, but it doesn't make it any more fun. I'm surprised how upset I feel with the constant questions and comments on my state of being. Wow you look exhausted. You are still pregnant! When is that baby coming? And most fun: My God you are huge! I don't have one ounce in me that wants to joke or do friendly banter, so when I smile quietly, then I get What's wrong? NOTHING IS WRONG I'M JUST WAITING TO HAVE A BABY ANY SECOND NOW AND I DON'T FEEL JOKEY. I FEEL VERY VERY VERY PREGNANT. I"M TRYING TO GATHER MYSELF TO FACE A HUGE PHYSICAL AND EMOTIONAL UPHEAVAL THAT IS SLIGHTLY TERRIFYING WHILE ALSO WONDERFUL. AND HOW ARE YOU?

And anxious. I don't know what I'm facing. A C-Section?-which I've never had. Vaginal birth after a version, after an epidural?-which I've never had before, either? The way doctors handle the end of the pregnancy is nerve wracking, like at any second something could go horribly wrong. With Lola and the midwives it was assumed everything was healthy and great. With Kaiser it's been test! test! more testing! And then one time because it took Ever two hours to kick ten times, the doc decided I needed non-stress testing twice a week, in addition to my appointment with her. So every time I go in, there is one more person saying how sick I must be of being pregnant, and there is always one moment when they are confused/worried about SOMETHING, and the horrible pause until it's figured out that everything was in fact, OK. The last nurse that saw me on Friday had fuck-all idea of what she was doing, and terrified me because she saw a big black thing and thought it was my bladder and then realized it wasn't and then couldn't figure out what it was and had no problem delivering this chain of thoughts to me out loud in a highly nervous and confused voice. With my medical history I immediately was concerned it was a cyst, and she could not dispel that. I think we cleared it up that it was...ready for this shocking news... amniotic fluid!!! Can you believe a 9 month pregnant woman had amniotic fluid around her baby's head!!?? I asked the nurse what she was seeing and she said irritably, I don't know, I'm not an ultrasound tech. Then to sum it all up, she announced Ever is transverse. I replied, Isn't that a problem for vaginal birth? She chirped back No! Hm. I thought it was...I mused out loud. No! She chirped. I got home and read that vaginal birth is not possible with a transverse baby, you have to get the baby to move as labor begins, usually done with a quick epi and then an attempt at version- if that doesn't work, it's C-Section. As Charlie Brown perfected: arghahahahahhhh. As Saturday Night Live News Break perfected: Really?

It's emotionally exhausting. And Mr. Curry can't come to most of these, because we can't afford for him to miss work. So in addition to keeping myself calm, I've had Lola with me all week on Thanksgiving break, at every appointment, asking me a million questions, always asking in the end: Is everything OK? and: Is everything going to be OK? Which is so hard, because part of me just wants to yell I Don't Know!!!! I Think So! When I would like to just be crying as I drive home, relieving the tension. Instead of listening to the latest Taylor Swift and trying not to cry.

Last night we took the kids, and Evan Poe, to get a Xmas tree. Then we got respective coffees and chocolates, and headed home. It was a really lovely, cold evening and I felt very happy to be with my family. Today Mr. Curry will wake from his nap, and he and Ian will hang the lights and set up the tree. At some point I will grocery shop and Mr. Curry Lola and I will go on a walk. I love you all and thank you for your continued prayers and supportive thoughts. xoxo

Friday, November 26, 2010

feast photos

Bloated face. Swollen hands. Jiggly thighs. Joyful but exhausted. It's 39 weeks pregnant me, and the lovely Lola Moon.

Partial Pack- we didn't have Ian until 6pm that evening.

Uncle Jack and my mom. My mom made a huge and absolutely mouth watering Thanksgiving meals, one of those kinds which every dish is perfect. I ate TWO plates and THREE pieces of pie, between starting point and midnight. Burp.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Are You There, God? It's Me, Maggie

... I'd Like To Say, Thank You For My Pack

this is
Lola Moon. she has toes shaped like sea shells. her neck smells like vanilla cupcakes. her armpits stink like little girls on the brink. she made a card for our baby doctor that said ' you made one life new. you made one hart beat. thank you for taking care of my sister. last year my mommy had a miskarrage and so you can see this is relly importent to me. ' every evening as her bath water pours, she sits in the tub and sings until the bath is full.

these are my boys.
Dakota Wolf loves underground rap and has delightful appreciation for a slew of words strung together in a clever way. he debates philosophical ideas with his friends. he makes me laugh, often, and often at myself. he loves his dog like a fairy tale, and his dog would die for him. said dog is a fat golden retriever who lugs his aching hips onto Dakota's bed and sprawls out on top of Dakota's 6 foot frame to settle in for sleep. Dakota treats girls with respect and expresses to me compassion for how hard it is to be a teenage girl. his hair is in soft blonde waves and his eyes are huge and blue and filled with intelligence and heart and depth. Ian Oliver is highly unusually disciplined for a person of any age, much less 14. his brain is like a finely tuned computer that he knows how to program. since he was a little baby I have cared for his bobble head, glasses wearing self. his eyes twinkle. he always looks for an opportunity to be mischevious, but doesn't shy away from hard work. he has both brains and brawn. he's a team player at heart in family life, even when his biological age resists. he is loyal to the bone. Dakota and Ian are a team.

Mr. Curry. it's too much to express in writing at this moment. he is the centre that holds.
Ever. we will meet her and learn her soon. sniff her neck, lick her belly, scruff her gently underneath her chin, stare into her eyes, adding her to the pack. she will be circled round and we will love her with all our hearts for all our lives.

Thank You, life.

Monday, November 22, 2010

One Day On Earth: Vimeo (including my interview about falling in love with Mr. Curry)

Pixley One Day (Morning) from Taymar Pixley on Vimeo.

When Taymar came down for the baby shower, she was filming her video for One Day On Earth. Taymar has been on my blog before, the story of our friendship here. She's an amazing woman, talented, gypsy like, independent, alternative, creative, loving and truly a free spirit, in a time of so few. The video includes 2 short interviews with my Dakota and Lola, both of which I'm so proud of I could just pop. ( hee hee ) It's fascinating to me to see the difference in Dakota from the time this was taken and the short distance to now. The program he is in is fantastic. And in the middle somewhere, is an interview with me about how I fell in love with Mr. Curry, and what I think love is. Also included is T's boyfriend, Max, her son ( Lola's bestie ) Caspian, and one of Dakota's closest friends - since 5th grade- Evan Poe- and in the end, although he avoided an actual interview, you can catch a glimpse of Ian Oliver. My family!
The room that the piece opens in is our master bedroom, when the furniture had been all pulled out and it was being used as a storage dump: before carpet cleaning, wall painting and new bed. You can see our whole house in massive move-everything-around-and paint-there-is-a-baby-coming! transition, so sigh... kind of embarrassing!
Love, Maggie May

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Expecting Ever: the Days Before, and 38 Week Pregnant Pictures

Friday Night: 6pm All kiddos, Mr. Curry and I head to theatre for Harry Potter and the Deathy Hallows: Part One. We are HUGE Harry Potter Fans. We never go as an entire family to the movies because of the cost- except! for when a new HP comes out. It's like Christmas, we talk about it all year. Matter of fact, one of the first things Mr. Curry and I talked about after getting Ever's due date was the chances of her due date conflicting with this opening! We eat at home, head to the theatre, and stand in line with all the other fanatics for hours, ensuring we get great seats. We each get to pick a treat ( I got 2- An icee and pretzel with cheese, yummmm ) and settle in for the epic. Aunt Kristy met us in line and had made pumpkin treats for the kids. I did really well with all the standing and sitting. I was supposed to go hang out at Barnes and Noble with Lola while Mr. Curry and the boys kept our place, but we opted to just hang. I am feeling very internalized right now, very quiet, but I still had fun. I had the great and joyful and whole feeling I get that is very specific to my entire family being together.
Friday Night: 11:30pm We get home from the movie, and as Lola and the boys are crawling into bed, I listen to a message on our machine from an OBGYN I've never met who reviewed my non-stress test from Friday afternoon. ' Come in for more monitoring immediately, ' she instructed. ' You had points of no signal on your test. ' Sigh. I knew why this was, and if this doctor had anything to actually do with me or my baby she would know also that this wasn't a concern- it was because Evercakes had gone absolutely shanky during the monitoring, and was visibly CRYING on the ultrasound, turning her head side to side like infants do, with her tiny little furious fists clenched at the sides of her head, kicking. The monitor would lose track of her heartbeat occasionally because she was so incredibly active. You could see the monitor actually jump and move because she was kicking so hard. But this doctor doesn't know that. So we left Dakota in charge of Lola, sleeping in bed with her, and locked up the house, and left. We called as soon as we got to the hospital and Lola was already asleep, Dakota and Ian on their way. As suspected, everything was perfectly fine. I had a small emotional crisis thinking that Mr. Curry was lusting after the monitor nurse because she was very thin with huge breasts and attractive. ' I think you are sick of my pregnant body, ' I told him. He said all the right things and Dakota, overhearing our conversation, told me that I had married a saint. Hmph.
Saturday Morning: 6am Mr. Curry wakes to work.
Saturday Morning: 11pm I wake to find Lola watching TV and Ian gone to help Mr. C at work, Dakota getting dressed. I get dressed, and take Dakota and Lola to meet my mom at Rubios. She takes Dakota to a friends while Lola and I window shop the Christmas decor at Pier One..so gorgeous, so cheerful. It is pouring rain, literally pouring. I feel blissful. The rain, the Christmas decor, music, Lola holding my hand, and I'm waiting for my baby. We get small drinks at Coffee Bean and head to Home Depot. I buy a lovely blue paint for the master bedroom, the last step in getting ready for our baby. After Mr. Curry paints the room on Sunday with the help of his friend, ( after he goes to work, again- 7 day work week ) we will move in the brand new, queen sized mattress my awesome mom bought us as a gift!!!! The first new mattress either of us have ever owned in our adult life, it's absolute heaven. We took Lola and her best friend Kailin to pick it out and they had so much fun at Sleeptrain that they asked if they could have their birthday parties there. Who knew? Plus I used my magazine culled bargaining skills and got our Barack Obama look alike salesguy to reduce the already reduced price ( huge sales right now ) 5%. My mom was happy about that.
Saturday Late Afternoon: 4pm Lola and I arrive home. Her Netflixed ' Three Men and a Baby ' awaits. Ian leaves, Mr. Curry and I discuss the phone call I just had. My OBGYN Dr. G called and said we need to schedule a CSection. Evercakes is still breech and I'm due in a week. If I want my doctor to do the CSection, I have to take the dates she has open, which are the 24th, Thanksgiving Day, or December 2cd. We are leaning toward this Wednesday. It's overwhelming to decide this. Mr. Curry is worried that if I go into labor before December 2cd- which is more likely I will, as it's past my due date and both Lola and Dakota were before their due dates, and it's my 3rd birthing- that I might have her very quickly, and complications could arise. He wants to do this Wednesday. I feel very, very strange about accepting a CSection when there is a possibility, however small, that she could turn. On the other hand, I don't want a doctor I"ve never met before doing the CSection, and if I go into labor before Dec 2, that's what would happen.
Saturday Night: 5:30pm Mr. Curry and I will put Lola to bed early for a Saturday, so that we can have one last night 'alone'. We plan on serious intimacy. Barry White low toned alone. Yeah.

The rain is coming down, our house is ready for this baby- almost all ready, minus the master bedroom- with her things all put together. My mom bought me the amazingly awesome and so cute Graco FlipIt stroller for the baby shower, and it sits all adorable and put together waiting for her birth, with it's turquoise lining and polka dots. A final order using my gift cards is coming from Baby Earth, which is where I registered for my shower, and Ever's butterfly swing is coming, along with a nighttime nursing bra and nursing pads and a glass bottle. Her clothes and blankets are all washed and folded and put away in the beautiful white changing table/dresser I was given to by a work friend. Her crib is ready, just waiting for the crib sheet to arrive with the Baby Earth package. Most importantly, we are ready. All five of us are visibly excited now, expecting Ever.

artwork by Mr. EJ Curry aka baby daddy

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Welcome SPONSOR: Flourish In Progress ( a blog adventure about not spending money for a year! )

When I stumbled across Elizabeth I was drawn into her blog Flourish In Progress because she is funny, witty, and was a mother at 19 like I was. After reading further, I realized that FIP is not only a blog, but a project in which Elizabeth has dedicated an entire year to no extraneous spending- at all! Obviously she has to spend money on food, her bills, things of essential nature like that, but she made a clear list of what was a no-no, and it's pretty much...everything else!

Like I first noticed, she was a single mom at 19, and after living a very strictly budgeted life, she married and became a serial spender: hence the inspiration to live on the down low for one full year. (...and the Holidays are here...gulp! )

Read the funny story of how she fought herself and almost divorced over an accordion folder file. Impulse buying is addictive and she's breaking the cycle!!! I follow Elizabeth's blog now and was thrilled to have her on a a sponsor- she's in the true Flux spirit, a strong, intelligent woman with a clever mind who is also often laugh out loud funny :)

Elizabeth is also on Babble's list of mom blogs, so you can vote for her there, too. And remember to vote for Flux Capacitor! I'm on Page One, and moving slowly up the ranks, so please vote if you have not, I so appreciate it! :)

i can totally do this pregnancy thing as long as i have to.

..... fine!! it's a blatent lie i'm telling myself, but we all have to get through the day.

my take on Madonna's What It Feels Like To Be A Girl
redux: What It Feels Like To Be 38 Weeks

stomach like a water balloon filled by adolescent boys
(now that sounds plain wrong oh hells)

peeing every half hour it feels like someone is tweaking my bladder
with Pamela Anderson fingernails

i cannot sleep without something between my legs
( now that doesn't sound good )

i have the sex drive of a teenage girl
but can't reach the goods beneath the hood

my hips are ripped and my abs are shot
stretched to the point of oh hell no

my breasts inflate and make me hate
that i've 10 more days to go

because engorgement is not your friend
when it creeps in private places

and everyone looks at you like an animal in the zoo
and you want to pinch their faces

do you know? what it feels like, for a girl?
do you know? what it feels like in this world
when your body is huge and your skin is not smooth
and you'd rather be drooling in bed
take a chance and eat elephants
and get a glimpse into my head
do you know??

(i'm so sorry Madonna.)

band of horses

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

you will accept the beautiful gifts

-Even though someone else is dying. Even though somewhere, there is a small child hurting that you can't help, that you don't even know about. Even though in your very own family, someone is probably hurting at this very moment. Even though today, as you carried new life and rejoiced in your children, a family in your community was laying to eternal rest their 17 year old son, Tyler. Even though some day, maybe tomorrow, you might be facing the worse pain of your life: Because some day, maybe tomorrow, you might face the worse pain of your life- because of this, it is the height of egoism and waste to feel guilty for being blessed. To feel the tremble of the Universe's great jaws as you are embraced and carried along what would have been a long, lonely and hard walk: because you have walked there, and because you will again, and because you can only offer those you love what you can carry inside of you: you will accept your joy without shame, without guilt, without fear.

Or: you will feel the fear, and you will ignore it. You will give it a sideways glance of pity and perhaps a nod of recognition, and you will walk into your gifts with an open heart. You will accept the beautiful gifts, because you deserve beautiful things to happen even though you are not perfect, and even though you have caused pain to other people in your life, and even though you probably will again. You will embrace the joy around you because you wish your children to embrace the joy around them. You will accept love and care and abundance because these things will strengthen your blood when your blood runs thin, when Aslan is revealed as the King and your feet are in thin air and you realize it is your time to mourn: because then, only if you have this rich once-loved blood, will you be able to go where you are being carried without taking everyone you love with you.

You will be loved deeply because you wish to love deeply. You recognize that suffering is ongoing in this world, and accept that refusing your deepest, most profound joys to sink as far as they can into your heart is not protecting anyone, anywhere from their pain.

You cannot hoard your happiness in a cellar, untouched, so as to offer it to those who are in despair. It doesn't work like that.

How it works is so simple and deconstructed that you feel you have missed the point- but you haven't: you take what you are given, you are grateful for it, you embrace it, and then when someone is in front of you that you can help or heal in any small or large way, you do so. That is your moral obligation, your spiritual foundation, and the reason to exist with other human beings. If you do not take what you are offered by the Universe, you will not be able to give when the hungry and despairing heart is lain into your hand like the sparrow God keeps his eye on. If you want to love more, do not refuse to be loved.

It is this: You cannot stop loss by refusing love. You can only make loss mean something by ever having been loved and by loving.

This is the meaning behind the horror: we give meaning with our lives. We create meaning with our action. Create the world you want your children to believe in. Face love and accept it. You cannot change the end of the story. You can change the story, though.

Get to it.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Welcome: Ever's Virtual Baby Shower!!!

I am the luckiest blogging 38 weeks pregnant girl...ever... because some of my bloggy friends have gotten together and decided to throw an online baby shower for Mr. Curry, myself and our baby-to-be, Ever Elizabeth!!!

I am thrilled !!! One way of participating is to leave a message for my family and I on my comment section, with whatever you'd like to say :) I will save those in print outs and put them in Ever's baby book!! How awesome, such a modern baby :)

We did have a real life baby shower, and were blessed with wonderful and useful and cute things, but like so many families we are struggling to make it paycheck to paycheck, and my disability leave is difficult, to say the least. The girls have set up a Donate button for my maternity fund, that goes straight to my Paypal account, as well as links to my registry at Babies R Us for the leftover things we don't have yet. I put the Paypal button on the top left of Flux Capacitor :)

This generous and thoughtful gathering of ladies below are hosting the shower, so go visit if you'd like to participate!!:

THREE Ms Moon---- Bless Our Hearts actual URL: http://www.blessourhearts.net/

FOUR Mindy---- Petit Fleur's Adventures actual URL: http://petitfleursadventures.blogspot.com/

FIVE Stephanie----Unsweet Mama, actual URL: http://www.unsweetmama.blogspot.com/

I also registered at BabiesRUs for the remaining items we need:

  • BABIESRUS-- The account can be accessed by name: Maggie Ethridge or Registry #: 46171571

I cannot wait to read the messages from my online friends, and thank you SO MUCH to you ladies for thinking of this, Melinda for organizing it, and you all for participating. This is something so fun and so sweet and so happy for me to think about and enjoy right now, and it means so much to me. I love you guys!!!

Update From The Trenches: 37 Weeks Pregnant

Here it is, the final stretch, the final countdown- (duhhduhduhdunnnnit'sthefinalcountdown) and I'm pretty much in the same boat ( heavily weighed on my end ) as the other mothers-to-be at this stage who I've tracked down online. Huge. My hips are killing me all the time now, not just at night- but when they wake me up at night, it feels like someone put metal pins in my hips, and I turn over to the other side at which point sometimes I can fall back asleep, and sometimes I end up watching True Tales From The E.R. at 3am. Here's a farmer's wife talking about herself at this stage: Minimize, Don't Organize.

Details I'm Sharing Which You Might Want To Skip: the flatulence / the menstral crampish feeling / the painful Braxton-Hicks / the flipping and turning of baby, which makes me feel like I'm about to vomit from the merry go round / the anxiety / the major mood swings / the constant peeing / the strange and sometimes awful dreams / the guilt that I don't feel how I wish I could feel

Here is Lola: Momma are you OK? ( my response: yes ) Momma are you OK NOW?

Daughters are WAY too in tune with their mothers. If I have a flicker of unsettling emotion she's on it like replay. My eyes are soft and still for a half minute and BAM: HOW ABOUT NOW, MOM? YOU OK NOW???

NO!!! I"M NOT OK!!! I'm peeing myself and my hips kill and I feel like crying about everything and nothing and I have no sense of the proper proportion of things so the sadness I feel over Mr. Curry not bringing the laundry in for me like I asked is pretty much the same as the sadness I feel over my sister not being around for this baby AND I can't breathe properly and Ever won't stop kicking me in the vagina and it HURTS!!!!

I am aware of how I would and should and could feel. I would like to be immersed in graceful gratitude that I am as blessed as I know I am to be having this baby girl. I am so incredibly lucky to have my children and my husband and this baby right now and I know, as well as anyone...well, things I won't write because I am superstitious. But I know. I know I'm blessed.
I had a miscarriage last year at 13 weeks, I remember, Mr. Curry remembers, it was a sharp and awful pain to lose our baby, and we are. very. blessed. ( poor. we live in California and are in medical debt up the wazoo, and i'm on disability. but blessed. )

And still, I can't feel it. I can think it. I can know it. But right now, I'm not feeling it. It doesn't even seem real, yet. She moves inside of me, I can feel her entire body rotating, and still, I can't grasp that any day now, she will actually be here, an entire baby, OUR baby, for real. Mr. Curry and I had the night alone last night- well, from 5pm to 8:30pm. So we went out to dinner and shared fries and sat and tried to get our minds around what was coming. At home we watched Dexter until Lola came home. Mr. Curry read her Harry Potter while I cleaned up dog pee and washed dishes, and then I read her one book, and then Mr. Curry rubbed my feet for what felt like a fabulous eternity and then I scratched his head until I fell asleep sitting up, watching Saturday Night Live. It was the most relaxing night I've had in a while, and I slept through the night for the first time in weeks. Awesome.

I keep feeling like we should be having sex every day. We aren't going to be able to have sex for weeks and weeks after. I have a rule about this which is a theory I have had passed on to me about how to keep your lady parts ship shape. This means no sex for a few months. But sex ( Beavis and Butthead laugh here, I said but sex ) is ridiculous and frustrating. I know other women feel all bawchicabawbaw when pregnant, but not me. I feel kind of ... weird, with this ginormous baby flickering her guppy flickers in my belly while I get down with her Father. I can't really immerse myself in the moment like I usually do. Plus my arms start quivering when I have to hold any kind of pressure, and I get leg cramps and foot cramps the second I get close to blasting off, and my back hurts, and I can't breathe half the time because of the pressure on my chest, and I feel geriatric.

I'm so ready.


I'm as ready as I could be.

That's more like it.

Friday, November 12, 2010

things you might not need to survive but would really, really like to know about all the same

CORRECTION: I accidentally had linked the wrong post in this first listing here. So those of you who were wondering what the hell remembering veterans had to do with my childhood, now you can rest assured I haven't totally lost it. Yet. Correct link is now up below, and the post is absolutely a stunner. Ruth's husband's guitar link was not working either, for reasons known only to my computer, but is now working. Check it out, third link on the list! Spread the word for them, trying to make it with a self started business in this economy is rough and brave.

This post
actually helped me deal more with the hardness of my life, the things that have been or are hard, my childhood especially, and the things it left me to work out for the rest of my life, like a complicated knit sweater I realized at the very end loop was all wrong, all along. It's a beautiful piece of writing but more than that, I prize it because it is knowledge or wisdom earned not from books or lectures or contemplation or any external source, but from experience internalized.

Ever flipped again. I went to a non stress test for her, and everything looks great. I got to see her 'practice breathing' which brought tears to my eyes. And I got to see that her head was once again upward, pressing against my left rib cage. So. There you have it. What can I do? Just wait.

Ruth wrote me about her husband's new-ish business, and it's pretty awesome. If you are a musician or know a musician, you want to look at this gorgeousness

A great, interesting interview with Po Bronson, author of Nutureshock and father of two, on his book about scientific information and parenting choices. This is a book I have on my Amazon list and have found fascinating to flip through in Borders.

I'm on page 1 of the Babble list thanks to you guys! Thank you so much if you've voted, it's a small thing I know but it makes me happy!

Love, love this discussion and brief interview with Lori Munson regarding the memoir she wrote about her marriage, This Is Not The Story You Think It Is: An Unlikely Season Of Happiness, on Lindsey's nourishment-for-the-soul blog A Design So Vast. I'm putting this book in my cart; I aspire to write so honestly and movingly about my own marriage here on Flux.

Something beautiful? Something unique? Here.

Saving the best for last, bring out your tissues and close your cubicle, tell your children you need 15 minutes without disturbance, let them turn the TV on. Because once you start reading this, and then get to the point where you realize what kind of story you are reading- that it's not the birth story you thought you were reading- you will not be able to stop. One of the most moving, heartwrenching and breathtaking posts I've ever read online. Thank me later. And thank Girl Who for linking it, so I could find it, and link it to you.

Maggie May

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Put On Your Fancy Headpiece and Vote For Me, Please

I'm nominated on Babble's Mommy Blog List for 2010

Can you go there and vote for me? Because that would be awesome!

Click on the above round ad for Babble, then click on 'Alphabetical' and search for Flux Capacitor. I think it's the 2cd page, unless it moves.
Then click on the thumbs up, give yourself a hug from me and go outside in your headdress and do a fancy dance!!!

Thank You Quite Sincerely Maggie May

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Would you believe me baby when I tell you, that you're the Queen of my Heart

Happy Birthday!
I never write on my wife's blog because... well come on. Who wants to see me fumble around with words on this blog. I'm not a writer, but I could damn near write you a novel on how amazing my wife is and all of the reasons I love her. But I'm Irish Catholic and enough of a hard case to not put you through that. Anybody who has read this blog for any amount of time knows that I "married up". I know, I can't figure out my luck either. But I wanted to share when I fell in love with Maggie. (It was the first time I saw her)
When I was seventeen I went with a group of friends on Halloween to a mutual friends house. (The mutual friend was Maggie's boyfriend and my eventual best friend). I walked into the house with the tile foyer, high ceiling and huge family room on the right side. As we walked in I heard a piano playing from the family room. Drawing my attention that way I saw a slim blonde girl in a black witches dress with the triangle cut at the hem sitting up right and playing the piano. I vividly remember everything slowing down and... and words can't describe it. She was everything incredible and unattainable and beyond me. The most any of us got from her that night was a polite nod and a brilliant smile. And then she kept playing the piano until we left.

What I thought love was is so much less than what it is. Happy Birthday. You are occasionally ridiculous, but you are my world.

Mr. Curry

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

expecting everything

we are happy 37 weeks

Ever turned. At today's appointment, the good doctor could not find her heartbeat where it was last time, so she turned on the wand found Ever's sweet faced head planted downward. I was mesmerized by her nose. Her nose! Whose nose IS that, I thought to myself. It's not my nose, it's not Mr. Curry's nose, it's not Ian or Lola or Dakota's nose. I don't recognize that nose. Lola and Mr. Curry gazed at her; I was suspended in the moment where her profile hung cheekily on the monitor- if it's possible for an unborn baby to look cheeky? Then my Ever did. If she had known I was gazing at her, I suspect she would have winked.

The C-Section canceled, I went from wondering and worrying about the unknowns of a great slicing birthing from my abdomen and back to wondering and worrying about the twice known great birthing from my vagina. I told Mr. Curry that on second thought, I'd take the C-Section. Maybe, I said, I should wear a shirt to my next appointment that says
Save The Vagina! with an image of a C-Section on the front.
So November moves like this, back and forth, up and down, Ever topsy-turvy and the nightfall coming earlier and earlier. Tonight it darkened at five and now as I write I hear a pack of coyotes in their high pitched frantic yapping and yelping and the neighboring dogs responding with loud, aggressive barking.
I feel a bit shaky, a bit uncertain, a bit 'unnerved' as Dishwasher put it recently. November always does that with me, and now with a baby to come, my mind and body are slowly turning and adjusting, as Ever's head will have to do in my pelvic cavity, making small but significant and uncomfortable changes to get us where we want to be, with each other.
The coyotes are closer. So loud, and at least five or six, one breaking pack to howl for a few seconds before lapsing back into the yelping. They sound primal happenings: hunting, eating, burrowing, sex, birth, death. They announce their plans into the nighttime with each other as comfort. They have no where else to go. Their canyons have been bulldozed and concrete poured where their dens were laid. They are the Rats of Nihm, they are driven into suburbia by hunger and fear and confusion, and then they learn the streets, and try to make their way in an unfamiliar and unfriendly world. They make bed underneath the empty sauna's and half filled sheds of our backyards, to birth their babies, to feed them scattered dog food and neighborhood cats. Signs will be tacked tomorrow to lampposts: Missing: Flapp, our Cat. The cross middle aged man down the way will put out poison. The coyotes will slink where they can, dragging their babies with them, past the raccoons hiding in trash cans, past the birds nesting in porch overhangs, past the home where I live, nine months pregnant, waiting for my child to begin her descent into our arms and this strange, hard and wonderful world.

Ferraby Lionheart 'Harry and Bess'

a song for easy rolling afternoon sun and love, and a gorgeous video

Monday, November 8, 2010

November's Child

the light around the house dims
sewn in, or sewn out. a sealed rabbit hole.
we meet the evening-tide with bright eyes.

November brings it's dusky murmurs,
some stories of gypsies and stolen children
of pots full of bone and skin.

i watch carefully the flight path of birds
across the lucid flash of sunset,
to see what they are afraid of, how they clutch black claw.

baby stills in the oblong stretch of my stomach.
rabbit in the hole, unborn in Winter's hibernation;
borne into wild compassion and thoughtless instincts-

she will always be hungry
she will always find beauty a flame on the end of the branch;
be tempted to flee with wild things, burrow her babies far away.

i am too, November infant- first wail to a darkening sky
first cries to the silent forest and flash floods of Mississippi:
responsible to nothing but the heartbeat of my mother

her breast and her hold and my wandering heart.
the eagle stretches his dark wing over the windows of home.
even at this distance, i can see how he eyes my unborn.

everyone is hungry.
everything needs, though its wilding may not speak the word.
i close the sliding glass door on the darkening world

and touch my husband's warm neck with frozen fingertips.
the light blazes from the seams of our home,
gaping at the dirt and roots

we feed our children and break bodies against one another.
this November is collecting stormfronts: a birthing is coming:
with the light spilling yellow at the corners of our mouths.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

A Family With Teenagers

Parenting teenagers has completely altered my perception of us as a family. Before Dakota hit 14, we were the parents of three children who were joyful, easy to discipline, whose idea of a great time was Friday Night Family Night jumping on the master bed and playing cards while eating pizza, children who came to us with their problems easily and trusted our answers, children who were polite, respectful, well behaved in public!, openly loving, children whose natural creativity and innocence seemed remarkably intact in a stressful world of high competition, children who adored their family unit and our togetherness in a way that felt uncommon in our suburban neighborhoods. Mr. Curry and I were extremely proud. Perhaps a bit smug- but who could blame us? We damn earned it- both coming from dysfunctional households and abusive situations, both of us damaged and dinged, both of us working our asses of to parent these children beyond our scope and to push ourselves to meet their needs even when we did not know if we had the internal resources- somehow, we always found them, and solutions, and joy- and that was- is- something to be proud of. Pictures from those years show the kids hugging, running, laughing, playing with our dogs, wrestling with Ed, arms wrapped around each other with grins the size of Texas.
Then there was last Christmas. When we attempted our family photo. This time, Dakota was 15, Ian 13, and Lola 7. The very title of the post signals a serious fork in the road: There Are Some Things You Only Laugh About Later. ( it's still not later enough if you know what I mean...)
Our family had it's bubble popped. All the outside forces that we had kept from our internal, intimate world had invaded the boys, and they were changing. Middle school had absolutely wrecked Dakota. I don't think he would disagree. He was in private school until fifth grade. His sixth grade year was god awful. I wept often for my sweet boy, who was rapidly becoming jaded, angry at adults, full of false bravado ( to keep his chin up against the bullies who we spent that entire year dealing with in the Principal's office, after Dakota was jumped by three boys and then SUSPENDED for punching the leader back- don't get me started, I'm turning red as I type..) and insecure. School and grades became a completely insignificant part of his life as he was completely focused on getting through each day without getting in a fight, being humiliated or feeling like a social failure. And it's important to note that Dakota had never, ever had social problems before this- he was a very gregarious, popular kid who always had plenty of friends, who knew how to approach kids he didn't even know and strike up a conversation and end up hanging out.
Ian was struggling too, still pulling in straight A's, but finding the later years of elementary school almost as hard as Dakota found middle school. Ian is brilliant, wears glasses, and isn't a kid who cares about having a style or making sure his hair is cool. There was bullying, and then Ian turned to being a bully, and his jokes began to have a hard, mean edge to them. The defense and protective posturing was so high and so poignant in both Ian and Dakota that I felt almost feverish- how to protect these boys? What was happening? What could Mr. Curry and I do? Why was the school system such a colossal failure in preventing or helping us deal with these issues?
I will never forget when Dakota accused me of ruining his life. Why, I asked, terrified to hear the answer. What did I do? You set me up to think of the world as a good place, Mom, he answered. You put me in private school for all those years where kids act completely different, and the teachers all listen to you and care about you, and you guys ( Mr. Curry and I ) were always so calm and never spanked and freaked out on us. The real world isn't like that Mom. The teachers don't give a shit about the kids. The kids don't talk things out, they fight. You told me how to handle problems in a way that no one else uses. You made me a wuss, Mom.
My heart broke then in a way that still aches on the fault-line.
I look at blogs where all the children are 13 or younger, and I remember so vividly, so gratefully, when our worst problems were the occasional sibling beat down between the boys, teasing that went too far with Lola or refusal to recite those spelling words one more time. When middle school and high school with the intense scholastic pressure, drug and alcohol availability and pressures, physical fighting and interaction with burnt out adults did not begin to make life hard in a way that I'm glad I had not forseen. It was all the fault lines of our family and our past that were pressurized, that opened, that cracked underneath our boy's feet, and ours.
We had circumstances that set the boys up for worsening problems at this age: the boys, although they've known each other as best friends since Ian's birth, are not biological brothers, and both come from 'broken homes'. Both were born to extremely young parents ( I was 20 and alone when I had Dakota ) who had childhoods that in no way, shape or form set them up to be successful parents. Both were born to parents with emotional problems, although Mr. Curry and I had tackled them head on, with all resources we could scrounge. Both were born into poor families. These things were circumvented throughout their childhood's by the sheer force of our love and our willingness to get and use therapy for healing, and our dedication to providing a stable and loving home life focused on a close family unit, but in the teenage years the weight of their angry stomping at the shock of teen culture and stress broke the lines. It was no longer enough that Mr. Curry and I were loving, supportive, solution based, and spent all our free time with the kids.
Teenage years are incredibly hard, with the enormous brain changes, the intense and before unrivaled pressures to succeed higher faster better at school, the 'training' to be scholastically focused and successful from a young age, the culture of pill popping and pot smoking ( especially here in California ) the sexual activity that keeps setting back the starting line younger and younger, and the constant reminders to be 'well rounded' and ' goal oriented ' and have plenty of outside hobbies and interests, as well as the final blow of overcrowded and under-functioning public schools where emotional intelligence and guidelines are practically non-existent. It's Lord of the Flies on the middle school lunch grounds.
So what to do? We began with emotional, panicky fumbling and are the more stabalized thick of it now, with some resources and tools we have begun to master, and many more, I'm sure, that we will utilize in the coming years. Books, therapists, programs, banging down doors at the school- these are all common experiences for parents of teens now a days, for a wide variety of problems and conflicts. The glut of books out there on how to help your struggling teenager is a hard reminder of how intensely our society is struggling to figure this out.
Humbling yourself is the first step. It was very hard to admit, at first, that what we were doing was not working. At. all. After all, we had it all figured out before, survey says. We were batting high and the kids were thriving. To go from a noisy household with happy children to sulking teens punching holes in the wall was completely shocking.
And now? We are adding a newborn. But I think we are up to the challenge.
Batter up!

Friday, November 5, 2010


darling, i have some bad news.
the pink eye of my right has
swollen overnight, and i am
not of face to drink red wine
and slum cigarettes at your

office Christmas party .
this year i will miss
your hand on Delta's high
and mighty behind, as she
glances at me shyly pleased,
to be so clearly well endowed.

give her flank a pretty spank
as she whinnies in her rum.
i'll be home swollen and alone-
hardly any fun.
willing to sacrifice the platter
spread for my husband's

reputation, i'll keep tuned
to Reality Television and it's
humping and bumping and
imbibing. i've been brought to
tears before with the emptiness.

but tonight my right eye can't cry.
with my left good eye, keeping
one on the prize, keeping Clintonesque
persistence in the value of
this marriage- i change channels
in flickers of dark and light as

you squeeze her sweating carriage.

m.m.e *undated. old. **the poem, not me.

Thursday, November 4, 2010



Ever is breech. She wasn't at the 35 week checkup. I know when she flipped too; I was lying on the couch watching TV alone one night, Mr. Curry and the kids asleep, and suddenly there was a flurry of activity low in my pelvis. A bundle of nerves, wiggles, punches, and then the feeling of an entire human being circling, moving like a small Pacific wave toward the shore, bringing a great feeling of sickness and I stood- thinking I was going to vomit- just as she went still. That little upside down Ever-cake.

A version is scheduled, which I can cancel if I like, for 37 weeks, this coming week. Come in as if you are going to have her, the doctor told Mr. Curry and I, because occasionally version triggers labor. Acupuncture has been suggested and worked for my SIL, but after looking at the budget is not an option. So pelvic tilts, and deciding on version yes or version no. The thought of a C-Section ...

Meanwhile back at the farm, Dakota lost his temper yesterday and punched a hole into the door between our kitchen and hallway/living room. This is the fourth or fifth? hole he has punched into this house. The program we are doing has given us all great movement forward, but nothing is fixed overnight, and he is 16, still getting used to life without ever being high, and still has some deep and hard things to work through internally, as well as managing the formidable stresses of being a teenager in high school and the social pressures and decisions that come with that. One of the suggestions from the group leader, Lady D, ( who we all just love- she is an amazing person with an amazing story of redemption herself ) is that Dakota get a part time job to pay for the hole. I agree he must find a way to give restitution, but I'm not sure if that can be it. He has to be held accountable for his actions, but I don't want to make it impossible for him to be successful, and adding a part time job on top of the pressure of full-time school- which is a great challenge for him, more than our other kids, the sitting, the structure, the amount of kids, the organization- might be a pressure cooker. I have asked around but the other mothers I talked to whose sons punched holes in their walls- which was more common than I would have thought or liked to think- didn't have their sons do anything beyond apologize, which isn't enough, either. Dakota is not disrespectful in general, either, it's not a complete attitude problem or some chip he has against all adults. I always hear how respectful, thoughtful and intelligent he is from adults he comes into contact with, and at home he's not out of control with other things, like his mouth or attitude. It's this sweeping rage that comes over him a few times a year, where he is so angry that for that moment he just doesn't care about the consequences of a hole in the wall. I can't walk him through that, he's got to decide for himself it's totally unacceptable, but I do have to require some kind of restitution, some natural consequence. He has to turn himself. No longer an infant I can acupuncture or lay hands on to hold him, not yet a full grown man, the strange in between land of the short teenage years.

Ian is so busy keeping up with his life that I think Ever's impending arrival must hardly seem real to him. Football practice is four days a week, and then he has hours and hours of homework and projects because he is in the Seminar program. I'd be fascinated to know his IQ. I know, I know... but still! He's so incredibly smart, in such a school way- so organized, focused, self disciplined and motivated internally to succeed, great memory- and achieves such enormous success under such stress and pressure, that I think his IQ must be extremely high. Ian, like most unusually intelligent people I've met, did not ever have natural and easy social skills. Even as a toddler he was terribly introverted, shy and awkward around people, even his own extended family. Elementary school was so hard for him, and he went through a great deal of bullying and then turned into the bully himself for a period, began getting into constant trouble at school, while maintaining his grades still. Our intelligent young man- who is reading books like
They Rained Fire Down From The Sky and Moby Dick- has slowly found more confidence but the world of public school has brought a hardness, a mean streak, to his joking exchanges that make me sad. I wish public schools could find a way to get a grip on the social beat downs that go on throughout the grades, especially in later elementary and middle school. I would not go through three years of middle school again for a million dollars. Really. I wouldn't.

Lola's week has been better! She's been doing the deep breathing at school, and listing things off to herself in her head to remind her that life is good and that anxiety is a feeling, not a reality. We've given her a number of things to look forward to, so she can turn to daydreaming about them when her mind is repeating a negative loop. I brought a friend of her's home for a playdate after Girl Scouts yesterday, and she spent the entire time giggling and creating a 'love song' with J. It was so good to hear her being a nutter.

And...I washed the first batch of Ever's baby clothes, the NB to 3 months, a full load of just the most adorable outfits you've ever seen. We have so many 0-3 outfits I think we could easily clothe twin girls! I am so excited to meet her. Turn, baby, turn!

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

i'm not afraid

i solemnly swear to always treat this roof like my daughters / and raise it

Monday, November 1, 2010

Anxiety and Children

Lola is terribly stressed. She has a circumstantial problem with anxiety, meaning that she isn't anxious in general, but when a truly stressful situation does occur, she can't move past it at the same rate as most children. She gets mired in stomach aches and headaches and separation anxiety and problems falling asleep. The last time this happened was about a year ago when she saw part of a scary movie at her friend's house. She came home, cried and told me all about it. I talked to her, told her the right things, and fell asleep with my arms wrapped around her. She woke, and cried. She went to bed and cried. Repeat, for days! It took her a good two weeks before she stopped obsessing on it, and another week or so after that to be close to her old bouncy self. She didn't want to go to any of her friend's houses for a while, not just the one where she saw the movie. She spent a lot of time with a very adult stress line running down the bridge of her nose and her eyes brimming with tears.

The last week, I've gotten a call from either Lola herself in her classroom, or the school nurse, just for some calming effect because she is crying in class. I have had her visit the very sweet and kind school psychologist three times in the last two weeks, and Lola loves to see her. Mr. Curry and I have both sat and talked with Lola about her stress, saying all the right things ( as far as we presume to know ) and asking the right questions, being good listeners and offering solutions, reassuring her this to shall pass. At night she goes to sleep and I have her pick out three good things to think on as she falls asleep. I have taught her how to breathe for calm, deeply in the nose and out the mouth. I am re-reading ' Stress and Your Child' to see if there are any important pieces I'm leaving out. In the morning I cuddle her before taking her to school. And still she can't eat more than the two bites of the breakfast I make her eat.

Most of you know I have anxiety, which sounds almost innocuous in today's society, where everyone seems anxious and popping Xanex or drinking too much wine. But my anxiety has been, at times, severely disabling. I spent most of my childhood in a state of fear, constant fear. I began having full fledged panic attacks in elementary school, complete with running away from school in kindergarten. I walked into my backyard, backpack on, and watched my mother gardening with my baby sister before I softly announced my arrival. In my teenage years, the panic grew worse until I was eventually hospitalized at 17 for severe anxiety and depression.

To see Lola struggle with the feeling of anxiety is to face my own demons in the eyes of my innocent child. This is the hardest and most entangled of tasks; to parent your child effectively and from a position of strength and reassurance when your heart is screaming for you to just make. it. stop. I look at Lola's face and want ridiculous measures to be taken- I want to rip her out of school and keep her wrapped in hot chocolate, art projects and my arms until she is done being afraid. I tell her 'the only way through this is through it', and I mean it...kind of. I also believe there is a balance for a young child, and I ask myself daily if I am providing enough ballast and comfort against the worry and pain she is feeling.

I know as a young child, I was anxious because I was in a chronically sad and dysfunctional household with a father who terrorized all three of the women in his family with his lying, temper and abuse. There is also surely some kind of genetic propensity for anxiety in our family, as I can think of three members who have struggled with severe anxiety over the years. Lola's anxiety seems to spring from a specific situation and then multiply viciously without further provocation. In this case, we had the last two months of family stress, with a few loud fights between Dakota and Mr. Curry and I to wrap it up. Mr. Curry and Dakota got in one last loud and scary fight later at night when Lola was sleeping, and she woke to it, afraid and upset. Mr. Curry apologized to her the next day and reassured her that things were OK with himself and Dakota, but that had set her off. She began struggling with anxiety, and then another stressful situation- unrelated to our family life or members- occured, and then before we knew it the baby was due to be born in five weeks, and that just did it. The nightly stomachaches and crying and inability to concentrate at school began.

So far I believe I have been unflappable in my response to her generalized fear. I hold her a LOT, and we are already a very huggy family, so that is quite a bit. Mr. Curry and I are paying more than our usual amount of attention to her, I'm making sure her eating habits are good, she's getting exercise, keeping her routines stable, and reminding her daily of her coping mechanisms, ( such as giving herself three minutes to feel upset, and then 'putting it away' until after school ) as well as making sure she has a constant outlet to talk about her feelings. We listen and nod and reassure, repeat. The closest I come to cracking is when she is nodding, listening to me, and then crying tells me she is just so tired of feeling like this. I want to weep. I so understand.

She rallied for a week, seemed to do better, and then this past weekend was hard, as well as today, Monday, when another call came from Lola, her voice cracking. My last day of work is tomorrow, so I told her I would volunteer in her classroom for reading time, and be spending more one on one time with her. The schedule since Dakota began his program and Mr. Curry began often working 6 days a week has been hectic, no way around it. We have been a very busy ant hive, with Lola in school and Girl Scouts, Dakota in his program ( 3 days a week from 4-7pm, a 20 minute drive to and home, with my work schedule having been moved around to accomodate this driving ) and myself working full time and being pregnant, Ian in football and trying to keep any semblance of Friday Night Family Night when Mr. Curry and I are both so exhausted we can barely stay awake.

So slow down. Slow down, I am telling myself. My reaction to Lola's anxiety is to become the antidote to anxiety, which is calm, peaceful movements and energy, confident hugs and eye contact, and a constant reassurance that Mommy and Daddy know how to help her through this. She's very worried about life after Ever's arrival, and I don't blame her. She is a huge Daddy's girl, her and Mr. Curry have a very special relationship and she, despite being so excited, is also afraid that her special place in his heart and attentions is going to be moved. Ever heard that funny saying about ' how would you feel if your husband told you he was taking on a second wife, but you should be excited about it because it's just one more person to love! one more person to play with! ' ? There is a lot of truth to that. Children can't bank on the life experience we have to tell us that these things might be hard and intense, but with willing members, they also end up with everyone's needs getting met, and the change becomes the normal.

So tomorrow, last day of work.

Any suggestions for helping my girl, I'm listening.
previous next