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March 11, 2005
As I start this entry I ‘m not quite sure where it will take me because it feels like I don’t have a lot to write about. I’ve written those words before and gone on to write four of five pages, so consider yourself warned.
Much like her mama, my girl has developed quite a fondness for having her toenails painted. A couple of weeks ago on a whim I painted her little toe nails with some orange polish and she promptly began refusing to wear shoes so she could show off her pretty toes. This weekend I change the polish to a pretty lavender and now she is pointing to her toes saying ‘puuuurpull.’ I love it. Some time ago, like 6 months ago, Ava dropped a pan lid on her toe, causing one of those ugly toenail bruises. She calls it her ‘rowie’ and points it out nearly daily, asking for kisses and consolation even though there is no way it is causing her any discomfort. Of course it takes months and months for toenails to grow out, so who knows how long it will take before it is finally faded and gone. And who knows how long after that before she’ll stop pointing out her ‘rowie.’ Ironically, the lavender toenail polish pretty well covers the bruise, so now she sometimes forgets which toe is ‘injured.’
The other night Ava woke up in the night crying for an unknown reason. I went in a rocked her back to sleep, but when I laid her back down in her crib she woke up and started crying again. So I brought her to bed with us. She was quite literally sound asleep before her head hit the pillow in our bed. I laid there with her between us for a half hour or so until I transferred her back to her crib. I don’t know at what age she will begin to remember things…. It seems like my earliest memories are vague and around the age of four. But watching her sleep cuddled up between I did think the feeling of being surrounded by her mama and daddy, who love her so very much, is something that will be imprinted on her little soul forever even if she doesn’t have even a little bit of recollection. Because no doubt those moments are imprinted on my soul.
I’ve been mulling over a conversation I had with my girlfriends while I was in Chicago. All of these ladies are older than I am, four of the five of us have children, and the fifth has two stepchildren who she refers to as her sons. Over many glasses of wine the question was raised, “Are you and John going to have any more children?” I gave the standard response of ‘probably not, but I can’t rule it out.’ This prompted a discussion of how they knew when they were done having children. I find it fascinating that each of these women could pin point when they knew. Their stories were each unique, some sad, some straight forward. I started telling them that while I couldn’t say for sure I was done, John has told me he is done. And so it would take some serious convincing, certainty, cajoling etc… on my part to add another little person to our family. And I just am not there. Right now I feel so grateful for all I have in my wonderful, clever, healthy little girl and my two fantastic step children. I also feel like my plate is pretty full with my other obligations and the daily struggle to balance those priorities. And then I think about both trying to become pregnant, which was no great picnic and then being pregnant, not being able to drink wine, row or fit into any of my clothes, the L & D, the recovery... And I’m saying all this and all of the sudden I wonder if I’ve just had my moment when I realize I’m done having children?
John did the sweetest thing for me this week. The weekend before I left for Chicago we went to this adorable boutique that recently opened and I bought a gorgeous lace camisole that was probably, really out of our price range. It wasn’t stupid expensive, but it is mostly a going out piece, not a work piece. John insisted on the purchase saying ‘you do so much for us.’ So kind. While I was there I tried on this fun, fabulous, funky strapless spring/summer dress perfect for a wedding or even a casual night out with a little jean jacket and flip flops. Over the past couple of weeks I’ve had serious non-buyers remorse about that dress. So John surprised me with it. AND he picked out these great beaded earrings to match. AND he taught Ava to say ‘pretty dress’ when they went to pick it up. I am married to a prince.
We’re in the very beginning stages of potty training at our house. In reality I don’t think this will begin in any real way until this summer, sometime after Ava’s second birthday, but we’re trying to lay the groundwork. John told me he thinks its important for Ava to see her same gender parent (that would be me) using the bathroom. Saying things like ‘this is how we go to the potty.’ But here’s the thing… I really don’t like that. Some background. John and I joke about my bathroom motto ‘some things are private.’ We’ve been together five and a half years, been through a lot together and still are closed-door bathroom users. I don’t think I’m a prude. I don’t mind changing clothes at the gym and am not overly embarrassed by bodily functions. Like many women, I’m sure, I was horrified to learn that it is quite common for women to poop during the pushing stages of labor. I was fairly certain I wouldn’t survive that indignity. What I can now say is that if I did, I had no idea it was even happening. I was a little worried that John might have a hard time finding me attractive after seeing the excruciating labor and delivery experience. (Of course all he has ever said is ‘you are so strong, you are so beautiful, it was hard to see you in that much pain.’ If he had any kind of problem he’s wisely keeping it to himself.) Anyway, I’ve brought Ava into the bathroom with me a couple of times. But I am skeptical of the value. I’m not sure if it’s not because of my deeply held belief that some things are private though…
John and I were supposed to go to South Dakota this weekend to see my friend Carrie, who’s getting married this summer, and visit John’s parents. Like so many weeks, this one has really gotten away from us. John called me yesterday (Thursday) to say he had hearings at work that couldn’t be covered by his colleagues and would I mind postponing our trip. Relief coursed through me. I am so glad we’re not going out of town this weekend, even though I feel terrible about missing the opportunity to spend time with my friend. As an extra added bonus John made arrangements for a babysitter Saturday night and we’re going to have a date. I’m thrilled. John’s mom was excited to see us, so she decided to drive down Sunday to spend a couple of days. This is a horribly, horribly un-PC thing to say, but again, I’m thrilled because it’s like having a stay at home wife for a couple of days. She takes great care of Ava, does some grocery shopping, will throw in a load of laundry without being asked. The help is simply divine during this busy time of year. I feel almost pampered. And Meghan and Lane just bloom around their Grandma. It is very heartening and touching to see how wonderful they all are to each other.
I’ve read a couple of great books over the last few weeks I wanted to share.
The first is “The Seven Stages of Motherhood,” by Ann Pleshette Murphy. I picked up this book at the library and have moved through it sort of gradually. What I really like about this book is it focuses on a mother’s emotional development and reactions during various stages of her children’s life. It reads like a long magazine article, but I liked it a lot. Many, many of the things she wrote rang true for me – I read all of the stages and found some nice insight for assisting in the parenting of my teenage stepchildren. I may actually go buy a copy for future reference.
Then I heard a review of “Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life” by Amy Rosenthal, which I bought on a whim during a trip to Barnes and Noble last weekend. I’m not done with it, but it is very clever. The author categorizes seemingly random thoughts into ABC order. If you enjoy reading blogs, this is probably something you’d like a lot. She has a kind of Bridget Jones voice in observing things. Like a lot of good writing in that style it makes me wish I could have (or would have) written it.
I am a big fan of Jodi Piccoult and her latest book, “Vanishing Acts” has not let me down. I especially enjoy her style of telling the story from the perspective of various characters, by chapter. The book is about a woman who discovers in her early 30’s that her father kidnapped her and lied to her about her mother. (I’m not spoiling, it’s right on the book jacket) It is a great read and hit some of my mommie buttons, to be sure.
I’ll close there, but thanks for reading—
--Kate
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