The past few months have been difficult. My family lost another family member, my cousin Bette Anne. She died at the age of 33 from cervical cancer. Fucking cancer. She left behind a 10 year old son and my aunt and uncle and her sisters who all adored and worshipped her. In some ways, her death has me way more shaken up than my dad’s. To be fair, I hadn’t spoken to her outside of Facebook for a while, but we were really close our entire childhood. We are the same age and had a lot in common. Especially music and movies and boys. In the summer of ’95, I flew from my home in Florida to spend the summer in New Mexico with my grandma and cousins, as usual. After that, it was decided that I would go spend some time with my cousins at their lake house (that sounds a lot fancier than it really was) in Arkansas. They had no air conditioning, so we spent our days swimming and listening to music in front of a floor fan. We were 14 and thought we were really cool, but we still loved the New Kids on the Block. With each other, we could let our NKOTB loving flags fly high and proud. Sure, my other cousins teased us relentlessly, but we did’t care. After Arkansas, we somehow talked our parents into allowing her to come spend a couple weeks with me in Florida before school began. Earlier that year, I discovered the Beatles. I found a cassette tape of Abbey Road in the kitchen junk drawer. With nothing better to do, I popped it in my cassette player and put on my big headphones. As corny as it sounds, that was a life changing moment because I’ve been a Beatle fan/freak since. Now my love for the Beatles is just like a nice, warm constant. Back then, it was the new, fiery, obsessive kind of love. So I told Bette that I had some music I wanted to share with her when we got to my house. I remember her being polite, but not really excited. I knew how to get her though, I had a secret weapon: a VHS copy of Help! and A Hard Days Night. I showed her those movies and that was it. She was now a Beatlemaniac with me, and she’d remain that way until she passed. I might even go so far as to say she loved them more than me. When that summer ended, I very distinctly remember getting on the bus to begin the first day of school and thinking, “1995 might just be the best year of my life.” She probably didn’t know it, and it’s entirely my fault if she didn’t, but she was one of my most favorite people. One of those people that are in your life for a reason. That make an indelible impression on your heart forever. That was her. I wish I could go back to the summer of ’95 one more time. She and I had a lot of great times in the years following, like a graduation trip to Boston. Oh man, that’s a whole other post in of itself. I’ll write that someday. And the Paul McCartney concert in Las Vegas. Dancing with her at my wedding. But I think for now, I’m going to remember that happy, sweaty, musical summer and sing Beatles songs at the top of my lungs in her honor. I miss her. —– There’s more stuff going on that I’ll write about soon. Basically, I’ve had my laptop stuffed under the couch for months because when Henry sees the glowing screen, he goes insane. But now, it’s under my bed and I’ll pull it out and write when my anxiety is peaking or I feel it bubbling up, which is almost always these days. I need to write. It’s always been my release. And with this new chapter in my life, I will be starting a new blog in the next couple of days. I’ll post the link when it’s up and hopefully all of the two real people following me will bookmark me over there. I promise to not always be so sad-sackey.
Last week I was the uppity up. Now I’m kinda on the down slide, but I’ll claw my way back up, don’t worry.
What’s this all about? Well, let’s talk about insecurity because I am just rife with it today. The prospect of meeting local moms for play dates this week is exciting and terrifying. I’ve never really felt like this before, like people won’t like me when they meet me. But when I think of moms, I don’t think of someone like me. I think of bake sales and clothes from Ann Taylor Loft and Talbots. Soccer moms. Moms who do lots of crafts. Moms who cook out of cookbooks and make gluten-free muffins for breakfast. I could go on, but these false images of what all of these moms are like (obviously false since I’m a mom and have friends who are moms who are nothing like this) are paralyzing me. What it really boils down to is good old fashioned low self-esteem. I’m still working in losing weight (I’ll be fighting that battle for the rest of my life); my skin has never been dryer (tell me how it’s possible to move from the desert to 20 minutes away from the ocean and haver DRYER skin??); I have no new clothes and refuse to buy anymore until I’ve lost weight because if I could lose 20 lbs, I’d have a whole new wardrobe and I’m cheap; post partum hair loss is making a second appearance (not as bad as the first time, but still sucks); and to top it all off — I’m still nervous about this whole situation away from my friends and family and life that I loved.
I’m probably not making sense. That’s ok, this is just a brain dump. I need to get out of this rut. I have a play date on Thursday and maybe even one tomorrow. Chris was in a car accident last week, so we are down one car until we get the rental. He’s fine, thankfully.
Henry is awesome though, and for that I’m beyond grateful. For real. He’s such a sweet, fun, easy going boy. No complaints in the toddler department.
So let me wallow just a little longer and then get my shit together. Not to say there won’t be more wallowing. The goal is to get the wallowing down to weekly or monthly events instead of daily or hourly.
I have written several posts since arriving in California, and I end up typing a looooong diatribe of nonsense and whining and I scrap it.
There is so much good in my life but I’m having a really hard time getting over the homesickness and worry. I think that’s just part of my personality. I will always and forever be worried about money and always and forever miss something and/or someone. Anxious and nostalgic, that sums me up. Sounds like a party to be around, right? I’m sure Chris just loves coming home to this mess every night (he’s very sweet to me).
I miss my mom. I miss my friends. I miss everything. I’m super lonely. But here’s the thing that’s been getting me lately: I’m INCREDIBLY SUPER DUPER LUCKY. I have a healthy, happy, funny, amazing toddler who is my world. I’m blessed enough that I get to stay home with him every day. Sure, money is tight. Like, stretched to the penny, but we make it work. What set off a panic attack tonight was getting health insurance for myself and Henry (Chris’s is 100% paid through his new job — again, grateful). But just looking in our already tight budget and trying to fit that extra necessary expense is stressful.
So anyway, this town is beautiful and I love it. I just need to put on my big girl panties and get out there and discover more of it. I’ll get on that after just a little more wallowing, ok?
In the meantime, here’s a little bit of what everyone comes here for, pics of the kid and other misc. I promise I’ll get back to normal soon.
Things still aren’t 100% official around here, but Chris got the job offer from the place in California. He’s giving the local place a chance to officially offer him that job before deciding, but if this was a horse race I would put all my money on Heading West Again Whether You Like It Or Not sired by Suck It Up, Bawl Bag. Horses always have weird names like that.
I’ll update more soon. In the meantime, here is a picture of my large toddler just relaxing after a hard day of toddling.
Writing is so good for my soul, so I don’t know why I don’t do it anymore. I mean, I have lots of excuses, but they’re not really valid. I can make time. I really need to make time.
The other day I was feeling a lot of anxiety and frustration over a certain situation. I wanted to scream. Instead, I wrote an email to someone. No one will ever read this email, but boy did it feel great to get it out. I felt better almost instantly and since then I’ve barely thought about it. It was like I literally released it into the universe.
So even if it’s not blogging, I’m going to write more. With our situation so up in the air right now, writing will help me focus on what’s important and stay positive.
Henry also helps. Before I head to bed every night, I stop and take a picture of him sleeping. I’m forever grateful for this little boy.
I almost didn’t blog tonight because I am so full of anxiety. I thought if I sat down to type, all that would come out would be, “ARGHHHHHHHHHHFDSFDSDFSGFKOLGOROMG!!!!!!”
I’ve never felt this way before, so of course I am going to blame pregnancy. It just fills like anxiety is bubbling over and I could snap at any second. It’s not just one thing making me feel this way either. It feels like everything and nothing at once, if that makes sense. Work, pregnancy, life…but at the same time, these things don’t bother me that much when I think about it. I actually have it pretty good and I know this logically. Doesn’t matter. Sigh. I think now is the perfect time to start going to pre-natal yoga classes.
Writing helps me, so here I am. Let’s do another retrospective.
So happy to hit that 2 month mark, but not much different from week 7. Still really worried about my first OB appt, which is still a few weeks away.
I was worried that I haven’t had enough morning sickness. Guess what? At 9 weeks 2 days, I spent the entire day on the bathroom floor. I thought projectile vomiting was a myth before that day. I’ve never felt so bad in my life. I couldn’t keep anything, including water, down.
I called my doctor the next day, my whole body sore from vomiting so violently. She was worried about me not even being able to drink fluids, and prescribed me anti-vomiting medication. I took one pill – and miracle! Almost instant relief. I chugged a gallon of water immediately. Still took me a couple days to feel ok with food again though and I’m still extremely nauseous all the time.
Thankfully, she also moved up my first OB appointment and got an ultrasound. We saw our little tadpole and saw the heart beat (it was still too early to hear it), but visual proof was all I needed. It was a strong 162 bpm, which according to old wivestales, it will be a girl. The chinese gender chart also says we are having a girl. To me, this almost certainly means we’re having a boy. Regardless, to know our baby is in there and it’s tiny little heart is beating, is all I need. I’m in love already.
Oh, also lost 5 pounds this week thanks to the aforementioned barfing. And we finally got to tell Chris’s parents, who were really happy. I think. No, I’m sure of it. They are just not the jump up and down and scream I’m so excited kinda people.
This was the last week that I actually wrote stuff down. Maybe because I started feeling so crappy. So I’m going to have to start going by (fuzzy) memory.
Oh, just BTW, I have intentionally left out some of the more personal symptoms involving body parts. I think you know what I mean. I’ll just say, some things are growing a lot and those things are extremely sore.
Tomorrow is the day. Boy or girl? Stay tuned.
Edit: I just realized I had the wrong title up for a couple hours. Again, I will blame pregnancy.