pregnant women are smug

thank you Dari, for hooking me up with this laugh :)

31 Weeks Pregnant With Ever Elizabeth

Our Ever,

Your hair color is a constant wondering around this house. Daddy and I both have redheaded moms, and your Auntie Kristi has a redheaded son, your cousin Jacob. So it's very possible that you, little miss, will have red hair. But...you could also easily have blonde, like Aunt Lura and I, or brown, like Daddy and his Daddy. Your eyes could be green like Aunt Kristi's or hazel like Daddy's and Ian's or blue like mine and your Lola and Dakota's. You could have the freckled sweep of cheeks that Aunt Kristi and I have or the clear fair skin of Aunt Lura. I don't know. But it's fun to guess. I can see your face. I cannot see the features, but it's like a close up- I can't see the detail but I can see what it important, the essence of you, what I will feel when I look into your face. Your nose may surprise me but your spirit will not, little girl. You weigh about 3 pounds now and I bet you are going to be about 21 inches like your brother and sister were, from how you manage your little feet up underneath my right rib cage while your tiny hands press into my low abdomen. Last night I ate dinner at Grandma Mary's and she fed me a cold veggie and bean salad on greens with chicken and homeade french fries and I ate it all and you kicked and kicked to show your delight. Then I took all my fish oils because your brain is in a big hurry growing right now. Today, I came home on lunch break and made out with your Daddy for a good half hour before rushing back, late to work. Totally worth it. You were very sweet and kept totally quiet the whole time. Thank you for that. :)

Love
Mommy

Handicap

I see pictures of how I want things to be, imagine they could be, just were only a brief time ago, how they should be, I believe, and this is how anxiety breaks my heart, because it tells me in a very upset, loud and terrible voice that I am not good enough, my marriage is not good enough, my family is not good enough. It takes the hard things that happen and wrings them by the neck until they scream or go limp in submittal. It mimics my mother's insinuations that while she realizes there is something going on with him right now, perhaps, If I had just taught Dakota how to argue better, things would not be quite this bad. But it's too late now, she said in a sad voice, too late to worry about that now. Well. Well. Suddenly I look at our uphill battles and our earnest attempts at betterment and they are all very very small, in fact not even close to being enough to enough.

Mr. Curry I believe tends to go the other way, when things become high pitched and unbearable he minimizes and withdraws in order to stay in control, while I catastrophize and catch each dirtball square in the gut, where it really blows the breath out of me. But I've caught it, I've seen and felt it, it's not getting past me to my family without my scrutiny and without my shaping. I will evolve that ball of dirt so hard it's little microscopic feces self will turn from a ball of shit into a goddamn garden of delights. I have a fear of not diving head first into everything but not quite the skill set for doing so in a composed manner. So I do all the footwork necessary during times like these, I get it all done- the paperwork, the phone call, the faxes, the emails, the research, the meetings, the confrontations- but I do it with a nightly bout of crying, with my teeth clenched, with a severe and uncomfortable expression I'm sure, with a strained tone of voice. If only, my Mother helpfully had mentioned, you could look more confident.

If only.

I am dealing with one, two three balls in the air, all of which are enormously important and serious and have an urgency to them. Sometimes you can't say ' this can wait ' because sometimes- not most of the time, but it does occur- you really have to just suck it up and do what needs to be done even when it's pretty much impossible to do it. I can't drop one of these three balls because they are my family, in one way or the other, flying through the air up there, and it's my heart's work to secure them. I spent three hours doing research at the bookstore today and every time Ever kicked me I thought, ' I'm sorry little girl. ' My pregnancy has taken such a back seat to everything, and that makes me very sad. Then I tell myself, no use in being very sad about what just is, but then I go ahead and feel that way anyhow. In waves. Large waves of sadness. That's when the anxiety raises it's rattled tail and starts shaking and hissing and leaves me in chills and Braxton Hicks late at night, because I'm afraid of anything in my life being not good enough, not healthy enough, because nothing about my childhood was good or healthy even close to enough, and I'm afraid of ever accepting the same. If the ideal is to have a pregnancy still worshipped by my husband and adored and doted on by myself and Mr. Curry and I falling asleep with What To Expect between us each night, we are failing. And that just kills me. Is what remains...enough? How the hell do I know. I really don't. My feelings are so tied up with anxious rattles that I can't hear the whispering voice of reason behind all the noise, whatever it's saying.

Our family could be viewed as champions with handicaps. Sometimes I can see us that way. Not thouroughbreds- our lineage would never allow that with it's mental illness and alcoholism woven so tightly into the DNA. Mr Curry and I both started out with the race fixed and blinders on, with our diagnosis and our childhoods and our 'learned behaviors' and spend our twenties climbing through those things, with medications and therapies and good ole fashioned love helping us along. And because we never give up I can feel a fierce and protective pride. But that same scrabble and grit can feel immensely depressing when the efforts feel inadequate. I have a quote up on our mirror right now from Helen Keller- it says ' We must not ask for tasks adequate for our abilities, but abilities adequate to our tasks. ' I love that. Because it's true, it's the only thing, just to attempt to be worthy of the shit life throws at you, to be a champion. To overcome the fixed race, the handicap.

No matter what your mother says.

Same Family, Different Lives

Lola looks like my sister, and a small bit like me. She owns, like Lura, a four letter lyrical name beginning with L so it was meant to be. Her arms and legs go on forever, slim and coltish. She tans in a blink. Her eyes are huge and blue and framed with delicate blonde eyebrows. The nose is shaped and interesting, not as small as mine but not as large as Dakota's. Her mouth- my sisters, bow shaped and smallish, expressive and keeping secrets while singing away the world.
She has my sister's delicate chin and my sister's awkward, adorable way of walking and swinging her arms and trotting endlessly on those lean legs. Long feet, long piano playing, artistic fingers, so unlike my farmer's wife hands, wide and utilitarian like my fathers.
Lola was born underwater, and when the midwife lifted her dripping, squalling self to my chest, the first thing I saw and caught in my hands were her hands, her fingers, so incredibly feminine I didn't need to see anymore to know this was a girl baby I was holding. My Lola. My girl.
Lola rolls along as the third in our family, experiencing, the way kids from larger families do, an entirely different childhood than either of her much older brothers, and different than Ever's will be as well. Dakota and Ian were born into parents just barely out of teenage years, parents who had no money and less common sense than they do now, parents who were less mature and less wise to the navigation of an adult life, with adult feelings, experiences and joys. The boys saw me when I was still a smoker! I quit years ago, and Lola or Ever will never remember that I smoked... Mom smoked? they will echo when the boys bring up a story as adults. The boys experienced some things I wish I could create more faithfully for the girls- a looser, freer and more experimental childhood, with more random trips to bookstores and less expectations. But they also went through things I'm grateful the girls never will- court with the ex's, their parent's quicker, younger tempers, and our mistakes made from ignorance when handling certain childhood challenges in school or behavior. Because of course, we plan on not making ANY mistakes with the girls. We are very realistic now, all grown up.
Lola has a Snow White beauty about her spirit that lights up our entire family, especially during times of stress. She sings to herself off and on throughout the day, in the shower, outside on the sidewalk- beautifully unselfconscious in a way that brings tears to my eyes, knowing how shortly time will allow this. Play with her hard fairy toys or doll babies is still completely easy and comfortable for her, at 8, on the precipice for so much change. She is aware of the different, various lives her friend's lead but does not compare her own to theirs, yet. Her largest difficulties in life arise when the family around her is under a great amount of stress, and she feels it. She is private in the way my sister was, and yet very open when asked the right questions by a caring person. When pressed, she can articulate her experience of life's stresses quite well.
Mommy, I feel really sad when you and Daddy fight. I get a knot in my stomach.
What are you worried might happen? What are you afraid of?
Well I am concerned that Daddy will get really mad at you and you will start crying. Then you might go into the bathroom and cry and I hate it when you cry. And I hate it when Daddy is mad because I love him so much and I don't like how his face changes when you guys fight. And I hate it when you don't want to talk because you are sad. But sometimes I like it because Dakota comes in my room and reads me a story.
That is understandable. That is hard. But it doesn't happen often, right? We don't fight often?
Right.
And you know we always work it out, and even if we are mad, we love each other very much?
Yes.
So even if we have feelings that are hard to have, nothing bad will happen because of it. Everything important is hard. Marriage is one of the most important things for us. Sometimes when you are married you get angry, and that is OK.
silence
Lola? What are you thinking?
Well, it's OK to get angry and cry, but it still sucks.
What can I say to that? Nailed.

I keep thinking about Lola these past weeks, her position in our family and how it will be changed by the birth of her first sister in November. Not only will she not be the only girl anymore, but she will not be the youngest, the baby of the family, even at 8. While many things will stay the same- things I have reassured her about, like nightly storytime and cuddling- many things will change. The energy of family life will alter, and how it is directed toward her. I know a lot about some of these changes because Dakota was almost exactly Lola's age when she was born, but I don't know how it feels to be the only girl, and then, not. There will be many happy changes from this, and Lola has begged us to have a baby for years and is a very mothering little girl to all her friends. She has come with me to my preschool for years and the littles there adore her. Lola was a first word of one of our babies in the infant room! And still, as with everything, there will be an uncomfortable shifting, painful emotions and moments, losses, life moving it's inexorable river of time over our family.
As her mother, I can offer her the solace of conversation, hugs and kisses, alone time, and understanding. And I'm sure Lola in her honest and charming way will inform me of her emotions. I can imagine-
Mom? Remember how I wanted Ever so bad?
Yes?
Well last night when she was crying and you had to stop reading to me and nurse her I really wished for a minute that I hadn't wanted her so bad.
That's OK.
It is?
Sure. Feelings come and go. Loving is not always easy and it doesn't always feel great. Sometimes you can love someone and really hate their guts for a minute.
Oh. Good.

prefer peace to hegemony and terrorism

People In Your Neighborhood: Kind of a Sideshow

click

Meet the three siblings: Tara, Donny and Kathleen.
Woody Allen could have made them up, but he didn't. They exist
and they have a blog.

how you like me now?

calender of impressions

sunday.
a failure at the party a failure at the party a failure
control yourself this is the priority of all mothers
for clean counters and the figure you will endure
or white teeth or properly respectful children or
the friendly face most of all the friendly face
your son is miserable making us miserable where
is your friendly face
fail

monday.
trapped in his teenage brainstorm: and mom
the way he mouths it into something grotesque
someone squall faced and bitch balled and far,
someone with a broom who says why did you
leave this mess pressed flat with the arguments of
everyone i love and everyone who loves me and
wants me to

tuesday.
you didn't call me back and my grandfather has cancer
you were fifteen minutes late
you never emailed the address
you forgot to buy butter
you never gave your husband a blow job
you don't have enough money for her club meeting
you never you always you don't you didn't
your face is miserable i'm going to watch tv i can't

wednesday.
i can't talk about this anymore.

thursday.
stop crying.
STOP CRYING

friday.
we called you and never heard back
i'm sorry your boss didn't like those interruptions
but someone has to deal with this
*mrs. this is simply the only date and time we
are available so let me know if you can make it
i'm sorry your boss is frustrated but you have to decide
please bring your child early to school tuesday, late on monday
but you have to decide what your priorities are

saturday.
a failure to control yourself a basic failure
of infrastructure a noticeable lack of control
a wife needs to a pregnant woman must a mother
has to a friend requires a daughter should always
your son is absent third period your son is weeping
your son is screaming your son is drowning where are you
you are not a martyr get it together fail
blow control email pay listen smile stop crying
stop.

maggie may ethridge

Welcome SPONSOR: O&El {children's bags and hair accessories}

Please take a moment to welcome O&El to Flux Capacitor! I came across these adorable bags on Etsy and fell in love...and when one came for Ever in the mail I was doubly impressed with the quality- nice and roomy, soft and very well made, I'll be using it for Ever's diaper bag :) Each bag can be monogrammed with the baby or child's name. Ever's is turquoise with an elephant blowing heart bubbles !


This pear print is charming, and there is an apple bag too.


If I was having a little guy, I think I'd get this adorable robot.


The bright color and lantern reminds me of the Chinese New Year :)



OandEl also makes hair accessories, clips and beautiful flower headbands like the one below!

Color and style can be requested, so stop by and take a look :)