I mean, you guys will forgive me if I ramble on for a minute and share my hormone-induced craziness, and then make with the regularly scheduled sewing news, right?
It is more than a little unbelievable that, Lord willing, we will be parents to kids plural this time next week. Yes, we’ve had plenty of time to get used to the idea, and yes, we’ve been parents for three years now so it shouldn’t be such a shock to add another to the brood, but still. Kids! Yet, as daunting as that prospect is, I’m so excited! We cannot wait to meet our little girl, to finally see what she looks like, to introduce her to her big brother, to get to know her. I’m truly jumping-up-and-down (you know, figuratively speaking, or else this kid would probably have already fallen right out) happy.
And yet –
I’ve spent all weekend bursting into tears every time I think about the fact that this is the last week I’ll have with just my boy. This shouldn’t be surprising; I think I have issues with making transitions of any kind as it is. I just wasn’t prepared to be quite so emotional about this one. And then I feel guilty, as though somehow this takes away from how much we love our second one. Oh, the Mother Guilt definitely begins at conception! Here’s another example: The fabulous bout of sickness I had earlier in the week triggered a wicked day of sporadic contractions and back pain, and I wasn’t quite sure that I wasn’t going into labor. (Obviously, I did not, thank goodness!) So, for the rest of that afternoon, I was just riddled with guilt for not being more vigilant and somehow staving off this bug that was going to cause my poor baby to be born early, and even if it didn’t, she must’ve been so uncomfortable in there with all that going on. What a terrible host I’d become!
Because, as everyone knows, you can control things like catching viral illnesses and how they affect your body. And, I mean, early? Yeaahhh…. 39 weeks is hardly considered dangerously pre-term, but nevertheless, it ate me up.
Then I start to overthink everything, as usual. I’d intended to take Joey on all these little outings and fun days while we had the chance, but that didn’t quite work out. For one thing, Mama’s too freaking tired, but for another – and you’ll love this – I didn’t want him to get too used to all the special attention and then resent the intrusion of his new sibling. I don’t know. It made sense at the time. But I will say that we’ve been making it a point to play his crazy games [this week’s game: Bamboozled, which involves, in his words “you take the stick, and hit the Lego box over two pieces of furniture”, which were a lap desk and a toy piano] and get outside together, which is pretty much a scaled down version of my original plan. Also, truth be told, once we get into sort of a routine with little #2 here, I’m blessed with helping hands which will allow me to take the boy out all by himself from time to time anyway, so it’s not as “oh, this is the end!” dire as my brain is making it out to be. I know this. It just doesn’t seem to be getting all the way through, so I’m going to allow myself the little weep-fest before moving right along.
Ahhh, it feels good to get that off my chest. Thanks, y’all! Seguing back into the normal news here, I did manage to finish the three pairs of pajama pants that I started for Joey . . . I have no idea how long ago. It was at a Craft Day, and I believe it was cold at the time, because they’re flannel. It’s been a while, but they’re done except for the elastic. Huzzah! You know, sewing up pjs is a quick and easy project, but they feel like they take FOREVER. I think it’s the blasted pressing of casings and hems. Still, cheaper than store-bought and cute to boot.
[And, see? We’re already back to typical crafty-type stuff, just as promised.]