Last weekend we all drove up to my parents' house so Mom and Tad and I could go on a mother's retreat in a nearby small town. I had fun, though I spent a lot more time waiting in line than I expected. (Almost 2 hours waiting for Confession Friday night, and a good half-hour for lunch Saturday.) Mom and I went to a thrift store on our way home. Sadly, I left the penguin diaper hanging up in their laundry room, so I have not been able to update that post with pictures.
Thursday morning, I told Scott about a dream I'd had the previous night in which I was having another baby and went to the hospital in labor but they were super crowded and I hadn't progressed enough so they sent me home. For some reason we didn't want to go home, so we went to this buffet restaurant where I laid into a buffet worker because he wouldn't give me pizza. It was all ready and everything but for some reason he set it aside because I wasn't allowed to eat it until a certain amount of time had passed. Let me tell you, you do not deny pizza to a hormonal pregnant lady who just got sent home from the hospital, even in a dream.
Scott's comment on said dream: "You know, if you still wanted pizza the hospital people were probably right that you weren't far enough along."
I love my husband a lot.
Also on Thursday, I went to Kroger and ended up in line behind an older lady who complimented Tad's cuteness (naturally, since he's ridiculously cute) and told me that she has 12 grandchildren of whom the youngest is 3 years old and she keeps telling her kids they should have more babies, though she supposes they all did their bit. (She didn't mention how many children she has.) I made a comment to the effect of, "Well, you can never have too many babies," and she agreed and then trotted off with her cart.
Side note: It's weird to me that grandma-aged people don't look OLD to me anymore. I suppose technically my mother is grandma-aged too, but she doesn't count since she's pretty young. But I see somebody who looks about the age of my oldest uncles and get a shock when I realize they're probably in their 60s and possibly have several grandchildren. (My dad's older brother has a granddaughter going into high school.) And Tad's other grandmother is exempt from fasting this year for the first time since she weaned her last baby. (Am I allowed to say that on my blog? Sorry, mother-in-law, but you're the one who pointed it out.)
Also, an open letter to the bagger guy at Kroger: Raw ground beef does NOT go with shredded cheese and frozen mixed vegetables. Eww.
We've been social butterflies this week. First was the retreat/visiting my family. Then on Tuesday we went to Scott's parents' for the annual Eating Cupcakes and Sharing Our Feelings event. I like cupcakes enough to get over my aversion to having feelings in front of people.
Then last night we went to a soup-and-rosary potluck thing at the home of a lady I met via Facebook who happens to live 15 minutes away IRL and is friends with my mother-in-law. (Bonus: No temptation to gossip.) She has very polite children and we had fun, though Tad got terribly overstimulated and cried the whole way home. Then we had an alligator wrestling/nursing session and he conked out and slept for 3 hours. (He slept for about 9 hours altogether, with a couple of breaks to dream-feed, and is on his second nap of the day now, at a little after noon.)
The other day Scott asked me if I had gotten over not feeling bonded to the baby. (And then we went on a chemistry tangent.) My feelings were hurt for a minute because can't he tell I feel bonded? Then I remembered that he reacted to my initial confession of detachment with confusion, so apparently I've been acting bonded all along even when I don't feel it, which is comforting.
I've been feeling a bit blue this week in general. Maybe I'm just overtired from all the socialization, but it feels like my life is an endless, pointless round of dishes and laundry and errands and changing diapers and paying bills and trying to put food on the table. (Except we don't use the table because it's buried under a permanent layer of paper detritus.) It's not even the baby's fault; I'm pretty much back at 100%, but now I've remembered just how insufficient my pre-baby 100% was.
Is Lent over yet?
On the plus side: This face, you guys. And the whole baby, for that matter. He's at an exhausting but endlessly delightful stage and it just makes my grinchy little heart grow three sizes.
|I thought about cropping out the dirty dishes and half-unloaded dishwasher, but decided they were appropriate in context.|
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