Lots o' stuff is swirling through my brain right now, having to do with life and junk. The dog days of Summer have arrived, guns blazing, and since we're still waiting on our swingset tower/sand box to arrive from where did you say?, we're pretty much hanging out inside with our legos, dinos, and our Veggie Tales.
It's June. Yes, I know you're aware of that, but the month of June has always been a bit of a roller coaster ride for me. Well, since that June 2004 when I found out I was preggo with Jack. I then found out I was pregnant with Will in June of 2006, and was BLINDSIDED with the news of Emma's impending arrival in June 2008. I know what you're thinking; Rich and I must be stuu-pid. My doctor finally teased me about all this when Emma was in the oven. Seriously, y'all. What are the odds, I mean, really, of having 3 kiddos born in a span of 4 years, whose birthdays are all 2 weeks apart, and one of those birthdays falling on MINE? Okay, maybe it's not that monumental, but it's still crazy. And I personally thank my mom for Jack's week late arrival being smack on my birthday. "Oh, I PRAYED he would come on your birthday!" she blubbered to me on the phone after his birth. (Love you, Mom). Ppfffttt. I'll say this; he's finally old enough to know that his birthday is also Mommy's, and that it was hers looonnng before it was his. Honestly, he's pretty sweet about it, and it is kind of fun to share a cake with him. (I always have veto power, too).
That brings me to my point in all this. This marks the first even-numbered-ending June since 2004 that I am not with child. And it's weird. I almost don't know what to do with myself because I'm not the heat lamp for my little embryo that will bake for what seems like eternity, and then wind up in my arms as that little sweet bundle. In a weird way I look forward to that part because I associate that time in the hospital with feeling safe. Granted, the mother's body kicks into auto pilot (which always causes me to dwell on what an amazing God ours is). You mean, my body knows how to do this? And yet it hurts like HELL?? Okay. Drugs cocktail, please?
I enjoy that time of getting to know my babies before bringing them home to the real world. I do. I really do. And I know there are many moms who can relate. Mommies of the backless gown unite! And after Emma, oh, was it rough. I was a walking zombie. Heck, I also had a not quite 4 year old, and a just turned 2 year old. And Rich started a new job within ExxonMobil which caused him to work 14+ hour days in July and part of August. ((Shudder)).
So, what do I do with myself now? I know that I'm ready for the next phase in this part of life; kicking the diaper habit to name one. I would like to drop these 10 pounds of baby weight that still plague me. Afterall, we're not all Heidi Klum, who has had, what 4? 5 kids?, and says that she doesn't work out. Riiiiight. Why do these beautiful people lie to us? Where do they get off? Working out has become a pretty regular part of my daily routine, of which I am proud. There are days, that, when Rich gets home, I lob him with EmmasbeenbathedeveryonehaseatenIllbebackinanhourorsobye!!!!! I look forward to that time alone when I can pump a little iron, and then work out to the tune of around 500 calories, while watching some tv uninterrupted. Yes, there are days when that alone is my drive to get out the door. I can watch The Middle, ALONE? I'm in! Sweaty nastiness and all!!
I need to find my place in this world right now. In this transition from all babies all the time, to the slightly more independent time. I'm working on it, but I don't have anything profound to end this with, because I hate when people are all fake and happy happy, joy joy. And I'm not gonna be that way this time. I just needed a computer screen to talk to,so thanks for reading.
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