I do not have a hard life. So for those of you who are offended by my incessant complaining of late, I apologize. No, no one has made any comments of that nature. In fact, everyone has been quite generous–sharing how they’ve been encouraged and so on. Maybe I am the only one who is offended. Yes, I am offended by myself. Annoyed with myself. Tired of myself.
There is most definitely a time and place to share one’s struggles so as to help other people feel they are not alone. Blushing Bride hopefully did (is doing) that, and I hope any and all books to come will do the same. HOWEVER, there is also a time and place to suck it up, stop whining, be grateful for what I’ve been given, and adopt a cheerful attitude in spite of what might happen in any given day.
Has anyone picked up on the amusement park theme here? ( i.e., the roller coaster that is my life) Actually, it’s not my life that’s the roller coaster–just my emotions (hormones, mood, whatever). Speaking of rides, quick side note: At the zoo yesterday, a little girl (maybe 10 years old) was yelling at her mom, “Mama, quick! Gimme that token! I wanna ride that ferris wheel! Hurry! It gettin’ ready to go! Come on, Mama!” It was a carousel.
ANYWAY, for the past 30 years, I have been moody. A ferris wheel of emotional ups and downs if you will. Never knowing where the ride will stop. No more. I’m turning over a new leaf. An even-keeled, easy-going leaf. Raise your hand if you believe me…
So, off the subject, I took Nina to the doctor today for her 6-month check-up. Aren’t well-baby visits fun? You get to sit there (if you have a nice doctor) and listen to a professional ooh and ahh over your baby. I find myself in the midst of a paradox of sorts. Eating up the compliments yet I get soooooo annoyed by mothers who think that their babies are somehow superior to all the other babies in the world just because they rolled over first or got a tooth first or are in the 99th percentile for weight or height… So, the nurse weighs Nina. 19 pounds 13 ounces. So far, so good. I feel that percentile pride start to kick in. You know, where you’re proud of your breast milk and how chubby it has made your baby (soooo annoying in other women because I obviously have it in me too) Then she measures her. 26 inches. Not good. She didn’t even stretch her leg out. I’m just positive she’s longer than that. She’s got to be. The nurse leaves. I find the tape measure and a pen. Measure her myself. Yeah, I took Math for elementary teachers. 29 inches. Doctor comes in, and reads her chart. “97th percentile for weight. 57th percentile for height.” Trying not to sound like the kind of mother that annoys me (yet unable to help it) I ask if maybe she could re-measure her. 29.75 inches. AHA! Off the chart. I felt a quick surge of pride. Then I just felt like a total loser. Someone asked me the other day if I was going to write a parenting book someday. NEVER. I am a loser.
Had to apologize 20 times to Ava tonight. In a fit of rage over the mess in her bedroom, I threatened to throw away one of her new birthday toys. I love it when I am able to model the art of asking for forgiveness to my children. It has been happening almost every day lately. New leaf. New leaf. New leaf.
Waaay off the subject–Hoffmom commented on my last blog that her brother was in my class in elementary school but that I probably don’t remember her. Not so, Hoffmom! Of course I remember you! I even remember when you worked at that bank in Indiana when Gabe was going to Grace. I remember everybody! Seriously. And it’s funny, because I always assume people don’t remember me.
Last thing–promise. (I think.) Livi has lost 3 teeth. She also has 3 loose teeth. Well, now it’s 4 and 2. She pulls one out this morning. Blood everywhere. Runs upstairs to the bathroom to rinse out her mouth. Starts screaming bloody murder. What in the world could have happened? Did she put it back in her mouth and swallow it? Is she bleeding to death? Fly up the stairs. It went down the drain. She had tried to wash it off, and dropped it. Got under the sink to see if I could remove a pipe or something. Not a chance. 100 year old house. 100 year old sink. She reminded me of the Higglytown Heroes episode where Twinkle drops her tooth down the drain and they send for the plumber. I try to explain that, unlike those Higglytown people, we don’t love our children enough to spend $200 to retrieve a lost tooth. 🙂 She called Tooth Daddy at work who told her she would get double money tonight since she lost her tooth twice.
World’s Longest Blog–finished.