Damned if you do...

It's amazing how adaptable we are as human beings. I'm already so used to Bumpus on the loose it seems like it was never any other way; I can scarcely remember him in his playpen now (folded up and put away for Ruckus), and that was only a couple of weeks ago! Ditto playground drama; I am so used to the war over common toys and big kids ploughing over my kid and bitchy three-year-old girls in torn polyester princess dresses it's now par for the course. Sure, he throws a fit when someone takes away what he perceives to be "his" toy, and almost always wanders into the path of kids on swings about to kick him in the head. But you know what? For every frazzled mother of a toddler like me, there's a soon-to-be mother of a just crawling baby on the playground, pulling leaves out of the baby's mouth and looking for a good spot for a diaper change. Sunrise, sunset. And so it goes.

Listening to some older kids' conversations today reminded me that, for the most part, kids are pretty horrible, and are pretty horrible to each other. And everyone survives. God knows I was a mean little snatch when I was seven, yet managed to grow up into (I think!) a kind and empathetic person who lets people merge on freeways and saves drowning bees. It pains me to think innocent little Bumpus will soon have to navigate those rough waters of childhood socialization - and deal with kids with bad home lives, emotional problems, anger issues, gangbanger parents, etc. I want to scoop him up and protect him from all of that. But I can't. He has to learn to cope and I can only be there to give advice or comfort. It's scary. 

His room is framed; drywall and finishing next week. I'm so glad I went for the option of the single wall rather than the whole building of a room within a room. When I think about having my room back I become positively giddy - being able to read, watch TV, or listen to podcasts at will, to put laundry away after B goes to sleep - huzzah! It's going to be great. For the next five months, anyway.

I am missing out on a lot of fun things this weekend due to lack of babysitting funds, and am quite bitter about it. Tomorrow I have zero plans, and there's a big dance all my friends are going to that I can't go to, and I just have to sit home and watch TV, and I hate it. It's times like these that make me wonder what my life would be like had I not had children; where would I be now, how would I feel? At this point I'm fairly certain I would have come to the decision to have a baby on my own anyway; my social circle is so baby-heavy I doubt the idea would have passed me by for long. But what if I hadn't? I think I can be honest and say my life would have continued on as before - traveling, working on my event, working on the house, constant and needless refurbishing of myself. But all with this undercurrent of sadness that only would have been largely ramped up by turning 40, and seeing even more of my last holdout friends get married and have one, and then two, babies, while I was still single and childless. It would suck. I think I would be very depressed and lost. So yeah, a little whining and tossing of pots on the floor and not getting to go to a dance? I'll take it!

Revealing

So, 24 hours after my gender scan and big reveal (called various US relatives, who did not even know I was pregnant, and e-mailed the Brazilians, plus put out the announcement on Facebook, which was a whole "thing" in itself). How am I feeling about boy vs girl? Am I experiencing "gender disappointment"?

I can honestly say no, and you know I wouldn't bullshit you. When I saw his little winkle on the screen (and this may sound kind of pervy, but little baby penises are pretty much the cutest thing ever) I just sort of knew it was our destiny, and did not feel a pang of disappointment. I knew it was right for B - he needs another guy in this family. This is for him, after all, not me. So my desire to work out my childhood issues by having a girl is trumped by Bumpus' need to have someone to share his maleness with. And so once again it is very clear to me how very much it is not about me anymore. Dammit.

The 'rents were expectedly surprised and happy for me. As much as I bitch about them, on this particular topic they are extremely supportive, for which I am very grateful (but really, if they weren't...who cares? Just another reason not to have anything to do with them!). My mother said she thought I'd change my mind, only because so many women, herself included, do. Her first birth experience in the 60s sounded pretty nightmarish; yet ten years later she did it again. So, there you go.

Facebook has been interesting. I'm really glad I made a formal announcement about the pregnancy which I did not do last time...but really should have. Of course everyone who commented was thrilled and supportive and most of all, surprised. It makes me wonder how many people think B was an "oopsie". I'm sure some must, since I've never breathed a word on FB about B being donor conceived or my being in those circles (ie, I don't forward links about being an SMC, etc). And even today, when a single woman has a baby, people just don't automatically go to "donor!" They think one night stand, or failed relationship. Which is natural, I guess. But I will admit there is a little part of me that's glad I'm having two just to prove to the world that yes, this was all intentional. Here are my two red headed boys - they were not unwanted mistakes. I'd have to be pretty lame to accidentally get knocked up - in my 40s - by the same person - twice! 

Progress on B's room is slow, but it is happening. Tomorrow the guy starts framing the wall; he may drywall it Friday, and then next week all the trim/painting/door hanging. He baby proofed some cabinets for me, and did a few other minor repairs around here. I have no idea how the transition to the new room will go. Like everything else, it will either be a snap, or an ordeal. I figured I would maybe put the pack 'n play in there for sleeping first so at least that part of it is familiar; then try the toddler bed and see what he thinks. Who knows, he might totally dig it. Or it might scare him. All I can do is not push anything and be patient. The most important thing is getting his room set up well before the baby arrives, and that will happen. 

I'll admit I had a bit of a craptastic day today. I slept hardly at all due to awesome pregnancy insomnia, and it was wicked hot and we were out in the sun all day, and then had another awful afternoon of B tearing the house apart while I sat helplessly wishing he wouldn't. I hate these afternoons. But I don't see a way out of it - I can't afford classes and activities, and we're up so damned early these days I take the mornings to get us out of the house when he's his most active. He does get super whiny and cranky around six, though; I am considering putting him to bed earlier, maybe 6:30 or even 6:00; it's dark now, and he just seems tired. I just don't want him waking up any freaking earlier-!

It's...

...a boy!!! Welcome (almost) to the world little Theodore George Alexandre, aka Theo, aka Ruckus.

The ultrasound pics weren't very good today, but here is one that looks appropriately Halloween-y:

SAHM blues

So, I know many of you don't want to hear what's in this post. I know many of you would give your eye teeth to be able to stay home all the time with your child and not have to work. And I still feel very grateful for this fact. However. Spending all day, 24 hours a day, alone with a toddler, with no help and no breaks, right now - totally, totally blows.

I would give my eye teeth for a little part time pre-school or daycare right now. But apart from the occasional few hours on a weekend, that is completely out of the question financially. I am so envious of people who can escape to a job during the day and then really spend quality time with the kid(s) in the evenings and on weekends. 

It's not that I was unprepared for how hard it would be, or how hard this age would be, or how hard it would be when l'il B finally escaped his playpen. Much like being induced, I knew it was going to be horrible. And it was. And at this moment the toddler phase is just as awful as I had anticipated.

I spent the day with a child who would not stop screaming. He's not mad or upset - he just enjoys it. And it makes my ears ring and gives me headaches. Nothing makes him stop. Not covering his mouth, not ignoring it, not pleading or threatening. Today I had to endure fellow shoppers covering their ears and glaring at me, no doubt thinking what a horrible parent I am because he won't stop screaming. If I were a different kind of person I would have hauled off and slapped him. HARD. But please know I would never do that, ever. I can only imagine the look of hurt and betrayal he would give me and the guilt that would plague me for the rest of my life. So no, no hitting. But boy did I feel like it for a minute there-!

Every day he tears the entire house apart. It's like a hurricane hit that I have to clean up after he's gone to bed every single night - when I'm already exhausted and fed up and my new belly makes bending over already very unpleasant. He doesn't play with anything - just dumps everything on the floor, climbs on something, falls, and screams. That's our day. And it fucking sucks.

Fortunately I was able to spontaneously meet up with a friend with a similar aged child and we were actually able to sit and have lunch, and she made me feel slightly less of a horrible person. She said that yes, being home for any length of time with a toddler is miserable, and she also hates the screaming/dumping of toys etc etc. Thank God, I'm not just an evil control freak! 

I do believe many women just LOVE kids of all ages and think everything they do is precious and a gift from the baby Jesus. I SO wish I were one of these sweet women. But I am not. I lead a very adult life for a very long time and this is all a total shock to me. The last couple of weeks I've felt like a marauding rhinoceros has moved into my house and there's nothing I can do about it - and that complaining about it makes me an ungrateful witch. 

However, I would like to point out with much gratitude that B's sleep has been awesome (not so much as a toe over the edge of that pack 'n play since I told him he'd better not dare get out one more time); because he dropped naps he now sleeps until almost 8 sometimes (awesome); he eats like a champ, actually enjoys brushing his teeth (God bless 'm), and from what I witness in my mommy groups is still a really good, easy kid. It pains me to call the kid I endured today "easy", but believe you me, I know there are a lot of mothers of toddlers out there suffering way worse than I but in silence because it's not ok to admit motherhood is anything other than kettle corn-scented rainbow-striped unicorn farts.

In other news, going for my anatomy/gender scan for little bro or sis tomorrow. If all goes well I will know the future profile of my little family tomorrow. I'll know whether my old Barbies will be played with or stay on the shelf until grand kids come along; how long the kids can share a room; and whether we'll be talking about a Baby I or Baby T. Stay tuned!

Hormonal Sex Fog

Here are some more cute seasonal photos. I'm just going to post these in lieu of talking about the crazed hormonal 13-year-old boy libido I've had lately which has lead to a lot of Facebook stalking (thank God people can't see how many times you look at their profile-!) but thankfully no acting out. Suffice it to say I know it's all hormones and will pass (same thing happened last time) and when it does I'll be really glad I never breathed a word of this to anyone, since it's stupid and embarrassing and all in my head. I call it a Hormonal Sex Fog. Which, by the way, is also the name of my new band (not). Ok, on to cute kiddie pics of our trip to yet another pumpkin patch today, while I go take a cold shower and try to stop listening to Etta James' "I Just Want to Make Love to You". Ahhhhhhhh!

Saying goodbye to my former self

Today was the first rain of the season, which of course in Southern California means tons of freeway closures and accidents and general havoc on the streets, so I decided whatever made up errands I had could wait and instead kept us inside all day.

Not one to waste all that time, I decided to do some necessary nesting. I cleaned out the top two drawers of my linen cabinet so I can put baby towels, burp cloths, and wash cloths in there. What was in those drawers that I haven't opened in over a decade? Cassette tapes and odd framed pictures from my high school years - an 8x10 of The Beatles, a photo from a magazine of Tom Waits, an odd little drawing I did of U2's drummer. After carting these things around for almost 25 years, I quite gleefully tossed them in the garbage.

Then I tackled my hallway closet, also piled high with junk I haven't even thought about in over a decade. I threw out all my crappy bootleg VHS tapes and boxed up the real ones for donation. I kept all the dance performance stuff, my film school film projects, and of course any family stuff. Just the bootleg tapes alone filled almost ten garbage bags!!! I also decided to sell nearly all of my DVDs - most of which have never even been opened. I can't even remember the last time I sat down to watch a DVD - now that I have streaming video from Netflix on my Roku box, what's the point?

I took a deep breath and sorted through hundreds of cassettes - all from the early eighties - late nineties. So, basically, my entire youth. And being such an obsessive music fan, there's a LOT of it. But honestly, I long ago replaced nearly all of it with digital files on my iPod. I do still listen to most of the favorite music of my younger years - The Beatles, U2, The Smiths, Beck, Jimi Hendrix. But as mentioned, it's all stored on my iPod now, and my favorites are on my phone. Again, why hang on to these space-sucking things? Another five garbage bags. 

There was a certain poignancy to seeing the shelves that had been filled with my girlhood now filled with diapers and breast pump supplies and things for not just the current baby but the new baby. Add this to the dramatic changes with our home life lately and I'm really feeling like this is it - this is what real parenthood is. It's putting away those old, useless parts of yourself that you would have otherwise clung to, and embracing the new. 

I still have this image of myself walking into that hospital a year and a half ago as a girl and emerging as a woman. It was a death and a birth all in the same moment. But as Nina Davenport's birth coach tells her in her SMC documentary "First Comes Love", that even though she will have a baby, the new mother in her will be "slow to emerge". I think about this a lot. I don't think the mother in me has emerged entirely yet. But letting go of those things today - and a lot of the pain/drama/heartache those things carry with them - was a major step. 

Bumpusz wuz here