The Trivial Pursuit of Happiness

Since I drop off Ella at co-op two mornings a week, Alice and I have, for the first time she she was born, dedicated alone time. Admittedly, most days that means we come home and pick up the house together, but even then, she is a totally different kid than when she is with her sister. I’ve never given much credence to the idea of “birth order”, but then I watch Alice blossom when she is out of her sister’s shadow, and I wonder how much she really is influenced by being “the little sister”. Alone, she is so much less clingy and desperate for my attention. She is funnier, talks more, and is so much more patient and independent.

When Ella was this age, I was 7 months pregnant with Alice, and I expected so much more from her than I do Alice. I am thankful that Alice and this baby will be a bit further apart, because I’m not sure Alice would handle the transition as well as Ella did at this age. I am also thankful that we did choose to put Ella in co-op, not only because she is loving it, but also because this “mama and Alice time” will hopefully give Alice more time to mature into a “Big sister”, as hard as it is for me to imagine her as one right now.

I am frustrated, sick, and exhausted today, but am trying not to focus on all of that. Instead, how about a list of things that make me happy?

First:  happy girls on llamas.

(Here’s Ella riding llamas last year. Apparently it’s our ‘thing’.)

Second: 11 weeks pregnant, which is another week closer to feeling human again.

Third: making progress at the little house

Bad house news: Michael had three roommates who did not get the memo: Get the F out of my house. They have known for months (and months and months) that Michael was leaving, and yet, when we walked into the house today to start working, it was obvious that many people had slept there the night before, and no one was ready to ship out. Tom, being a much more patient and forgiving person than I, offered to help the guys move everything to the kitchen (where there is no carpet), where as I just wanted to throw something expensive (maybe one of the 7 gaming consoles?) and scare them away. (Hmm, perhaps this is why the universe likes him more.)

I took some pictures, and mind you, this is after they have been “cleaning” for a week, and they should have been out yesterday. I didn’t even attempt to go into the basement, because I knew it would be bad. If you click through to these and see them large, you can see the filth. Filth!

GREAT house news: Look at these beautiful honey floors! They are in great shape!  These run through every room upstairs other than the kitchen and bathroom, and I am SO thrilled not to have to spend $$$ on new flooring. They will need a good cleaning and maybe some spot patching, but that is totally doable. Also: so thrilled that we can spend money on paint, because I loved these colors when we painted four years ago, but the mystery stains on every wall are not so becoming.

Tom stayed at the house and did what he could today to prepare the house for me to come in and clean this weekend, but the girls and I needed to get out of there, so we went to our favorite local ice cream shop and tried to forget the horror.

Tip: It’s not on the menu, but if you ask for a baby cone, it is .50 cents and tiny tiny. The ‘scoop’ is probably a large spoonful, and can be eaten by a small child before it melts. It’s also a cheap treat that feels special.

It’s a joke in our family that Tom does not know how to worry, because he never has to. When I am panicking, he truly does not understand the emotions involved with anxiety, because he has an unwavering belief that “the universe provides”. When he needed a job, people called and offered him ones. When we wanted to buy a house, this one fell into our laps. When his tires were bad, he received vouchers in the mail for new ones. When we have been in need, the universe has stepped up, through friends, family, and just plain out strange coincidences. It happens almost on a monthly basis – I start to worry and fret about something, and Tom shrugs because “Everything will be okay”. And then it is.

Sometimes this drives me insane, because it seems to prove his point that the universe is a good and giving place. The pessimist in me feels like pointing out that our house has been on the market for four months, and we haven’t had a single offer, and that we have more credit card debt right now than we have ever had. There are always little petty things that do not work out, and I keep a mental tally to prove to myself that “Ha! The universe is impartial and it’s all chance!” because for some reason that makes more sense to me than a giving universe. These kinds of things never happened to me before I met Tom, so that either means that the universe likes him more than me, or that he is wrong and bad things do still happen. I’m usually firmly in the second category, but sometimes… sometimes I am just very glad to be married to someone the universe likes, because the benefits are nice.

The last few weeks has been stressful, mainly because we have been trying to figure out how we can afford to do some work on the little house before this house sells. Of course I started going over the budget, trying to eek out a dollar here or there, and of course Tom shrugged and said “It will work out, stop worrying.” That is pretty much the script of our marriage right there, and I’ll admit I had some choice words about his lack of involvement in trying to find said funds.  And then? Then,  today, in with the Netflix and pizza coupons, was a completely unexpected and generous gift: a check to Tom, from his Great Aunt’s will. Tom was not close to this aunt, and while we were sad at her passing last year, we had never expected any sort of inclusion in her will. I called Tom laughing hysterically, because what?! How… I just… this doesn’t happen to normal people, right? Large chunks of money do not just show up, right?  The amount is not huge, but it is enough to buy drywall and insulation for the basement, and help pay for some of the window replacements. It’s enough to take the knots out of my shoulders, and for Tom to smirk, careful not to say “I told you so”, but also clearly pleased that once again, the universe heard him. Call it God, call it kharma, call it the universe – whatever is out there pulling strings seems to like Tom.

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And just to quiet the twin chanting on the last post, the midwife appointment showed that I am not measuring outisde the range of normal, and we only picked up one heartbeat. (Which was  awesome, since we couldn’t pick up Alice’s until much later. It was a great sound to hear.) Tom likes to point out that it still could be twins, but I think he is just trying to see how much he can make my eye twitch. (Universe: please be on my side on this one. I know you like him more, but if it is twins, we’ll need a much bigger surprise check for that nanny I’ll have to hire.)

I have been sicker this pregnancy than I was with either of the girls, by about 3000%. Don’t get me wrong; I threw up off and on with the girls, unlike my sister, who never threw up even once with her boys. When I called her at 5 weeks and bragged that I had not thrown up yet, she told me it must be a boy. I think I threw up the next day, and have nearly every day since. (I had a fluke last week where I felt better for a few days, but I’m making up for lost time now.) I threw up 15 times today. Consider that for a moment. Now stop considering it, because good god, how horrible is that? This has been by far one of the worst days, but it’s a rare day that I throw up less than five times, so don’t be offended if I turn down a lunch date.

Tom has two theories on why I am so sick: 1) it’s a boy, 2) it’s TWIN boys. I have one theory: 1) if it is twins, he better learn to lactate, because he’s staying home with four under four.

I’ve tried nearly everything you could imagine to control the nausea (supplements, magnets, teas, suckers, aromatherapy, eating often, eating only certain foods, eating no matter how sick I feel, etc, etc). I’m going to try to get into acupuncture soon, and I’m constantly hearing about a different supplement (dandelion root?), so I’m not giving up yet. I’m staying hydrated (through a war of attrition, sipping water constantly), and I’d say I am in good spirits considering, so I’m not rushing to get a prescription right now, but I’m also looking forward to the end of the first trimester. I am 10 weeks right now, so two, maybe three weeks more and I can hope for some relief.

Dear baby: You better be cute.

Other than the constant and unending vomiting, there is not a lot to report about this pregnancy. I am huge, but I’ll find out tomorrow if my uterus is actually measuring ahead, or if the absolute lack of stomach muscles could have something to do with this belly (which looks similar to my belly at 21 weeks with Alice). Also, I started prenatal yoga last week and am reminded of why I loved it so much with Alice’s pregnancy. Friday can’t come soon enough.

Tom’s younger brother Michael is leaving to Navy boot camp this week, which is upsetting on some levels, but I have to admit I am also a bit excited, since it means the little house will be empty. Michael knows I will miss him, but he also knows that I am dying to get in there and tear out the carpets, so it’s no surprise that I’ve been counting down the days. We still have not had any bites on selling our house, but I’m telling myself that it will be easier once we’re not here every day making messes. Or something. I’m just tired of the stress and upkeep, and we’re lucky that we have the option of moving into the little house without buying it, so we’re taking it.

Our tentative move-in date is October 1st, with gives us two weeks to do as much cleaning and prep work as we can, with $0 to spend on upgrades ($ from the sale of this house will fund those renovations). Right now the master list of things that we plan to do  is about 36976 pages long, but the first few weeks are simple: tear out the carpet, wash EVERYTHING, and only move over the things that will fit and that we need. The little house is little, coming in at barely 700 sqft, and even though the plan is to double the square footage over the next year (finishing the basement mainly), it will still not be a large house.

Here, I drew you some very scientific, highly researched floor plans. Meaning, none of this is to scale, and I’m fairly sure I have all rooms accounted for, but I have been known to forget small things  like that.

This is the current floor plan upstairs, and how we will be living for at least this winter, and likely into next summer.

And this is what it will look like at some point in the hopefully not-to-distant future:

The basement currently has some walls, but is basically a dungeon where I avoid unless I need to do laundry. Tom had roommate living down there in the years before I moved in, so it is not absolutely uninhabitable, but I think you have to be fairly lax on your ideas of ‘ceiling’ and ‘insect control’. Finishing the basement will give us two (and the possibility of three) extra bedrooms, as well as an extra bathroom, which will be nice with multiple teenage girls in a few years.

But first, we have to get up those carpets which have been *ahem* partied on for fifteen years (minus the two that I lived there). Oh god. I’m pessimistic and am wondering of the subfloor is going to rot out from under us from all the beer and bong water that has been spilled on them, but Tom is optimistic that the wood floors under the (unpadded) carpet will be easily refinished. I hope this is one of those cases where the universe has some pity on me, because I do not have enough rugs to cover that kind of mess until we can fund new floors.

(Edit: Tom is helping his brother move some stuff out this afternoon, and the girls and I swung by to drop off ice cream, and OMG. Let me just point out that there are spray-painted murals of people smoking pot on some of the walls. Really. I’m not sure that they have mopped in the two years they have lived there, the bathroom STANK (from across the house) and, and.. oh god. It was just filthy. BOYS! Arg!)

I woke up at 7am this morning, sure we had overslept. Ella had to be to school by 8:45, so we had plenty of time, but still, there that too familiar panic of the first day of school. I loved school as a kid, even though I changed schools yearly, but the first day always left me a mess. Ella, on the other hand, was completely nonchalant about it, and a half hour into class asked me why I was still there (I had stayed because I wasn’t sure how comfortable she would be). She did change her shirt four times before we left the house, but that is par for the course if I give her the option. Ella was very polite and calm in the classroom, and played during freetime with a group of girls who were having a teaparty. She made a puppet, sat for circle time, dressed up like a fairy and gave her teacher a hug when she left. I think it was a success.

The co-op seems very nice, and I’m sure once I am better aquainted with the ins and outs it will feel more natural to be there. I was the new kid, standing around without a purpose, smiling at the floor, but it will get better. Everyone seemed very helpful, and excited to have Ella in the classroom. Two mornings a week I’ll be able to drop her off without worry, and spend some one on one time with Alice, which both of us are looking forward to.

Alice was so bummed when she realized that she was going to stay with some friends for the morning, because she wanted to go to “Shoool? Lalice go?” but she did great with Sarah and the boys, other than asking if every van (even the big white delivery vans) were “Mama? Lella?” If you give her a steady stream of snacks, she really doesn’t care where she is, just bring on the food. Also, the great news is that I am vollunteering at the co-op on Fridays, which is Family Day, and Alice gets to come with us.

This post is writen completely post-nap, where I fell asleep in bed with the girls, and as soon as I was out, they snuck away and trashed the house for a few hours before Tom came home. My head is super foggy, and my kids are cranky because they didn’t take naps, but we’re still calling today a win. Quesidillas for dinner, since they are Ella’s favorite, and she gets to choose since it was her first day of school. I am now the mother of a preschooler.

I’ve waited a week to post this, skeptical that it would stick, but it appears to be true: Alice has weaned.

(Alice, 5 minutes old)

Last Thursday she was nursing as much as usual, but by Friday morning she had decided she was done. She still wants to see the “ninnies” and will hug them, but she has not attempted to nurse in a week.

(2 months old)

I have to admit I am stunned, not only at the abruptness, but also that she initiated the process at all. She is so unsure of the world, and “ninny” was her safety blanket. At the park, at friends, at the store,  she begged for ninny. Even after I stopped nursing her in public (she is much too distracted to stay on task) she would weasel her way onto my lap, and I would look down and realize that I had acquiesced even though I had been saying “No”. Muscle memory dictated that Alice in my lap = getting out the breast.

(8 months old)

It was a major part of how I defined her, and perhaps that is why it upset me the first few days. She was my baby, and even though I knew she would be giving up that title in April, I didn’t expect her to be so willing. Ella was so much more independent at this age (which, coincidentally, is almost exactly when she weaned as well) so it was an easier blow to take. It is so cliche, but it does smart to realize that she does not need me any more.

(11 months old)

Even though I am shocked that it happened, and melancholy that she is no longer my baby, I had expected a huge struggle with weaning her, and I’m looking at this as a gift, a free-pass from the universe.

(18 months old)

Or maybe I should take it as a sign that I need to reassess who Alice is if she is not my baby, my clingy monkey.

(21 months old, just a few days before she weaned)

There are a lot of really great reasons to nurse a child, but for me, our number one reason will always be these quiet moments. I never planned to nurse one child into toddlerhood, let alone two, but I am so, so grateful that this has been our path.