Don’t Shake the Baby

You know how all the books say that when your baby won’t stop crying it’s okay to step away for a minute and compose yourself, ESPECIALLY if you feel the urge to shake the baby?

I just had a “don’t shake the baby” moment, but with a group of teenagers at the library.

So it’s final exam week for the charter school in our area. And that means that when the kids are done with testing, which usually happens between 9:00 am and noon, they flood into the library and expect us to just look past their awful, unlibrarylike behavior.

It’s only day two of this, but I think we’ve already reached critical mass. I had to kick a bunch of kids out today. So many that I didn’t know all their names. And then they all came back when I wasn’t around, but one of my staff alerted me of it, so I went into the area they were in and told them they needed to go. Of course they all argued with me and I had to get really strict and say “Either you can leave NOW, with me telling you to, or I can get security up here and they’ll escort you out.” Cue more arguing and attitude, but most of them finally left. I was going up to the desk to call security about it anyway because I was having such a problem, when one of them said “Looks like SOMEONE’S hormones are out of control today.”

I whipped back around in a manner in which I didn’t know I still physically could and just said “NOW YOU GET TO GO TOO.”, then I was walking away again and another one flipped me off, which one of my staff saw and told me about. So I called our head of security and said “I need a few guards up here just as quickly as is humanly possible.” Then I walked away while saying to the staff “I need a minute” and went to my office of another few days, and cried.

Stupid, punk teenagers made me cry. Which probably validates that I AM hormonal. Which makes me really mad to validate what an awful, punk teenager said.

But my point is this: walking into my office and crying was me not shaking the baby, because I almost said some things to those kids that probably would have lost me my job. So, in a way, while I feel like I failed as a professional today, I felt like I succeeded as a mom. I didn’t shake the baby. Even when I really wanted to.


The ninth month

I have entered the ninth month. 36 weeks y’all. And….I’d be okay if she wanted to go ahead and come on out.

Chief has been stellar though. I’ve been hurting quite a bit in the pelvic/groin region for the last week or so, and he’s so helpful to me. Watching me roll over in bed is downright comical I’m sure, except that it’s usually accompanied by groans of pain. Today I’m probably leaving work early because I’m so dang nauseated. I’ve gagged a few times, but not vomited. I think she’s probably just in a rough position right now, and I can’t blame her, she’s something like six pounds by now. She doesn’t have any room left!

I’m regularly waffling between being so damn excited I can hardly stand it, and being so damn scared I wonder if it’s too late to turn back (for the record, it is-I’m mostly kidding about this, but the panic is real folks). I wake up for a bathroom break between 3:00 am and 4:00 am and typically have a hard time getting back to sleep, because my brain goes into overdrive. Saturday morning I actually woke Chief up because I was so anxious and I started to cry. He’s such a comfort to me, really. That day at lunch we both agreed that I probably have some anxiety problems that have been worsened by pregnancy and that I probably need to deal with sooner rather than later.

After today, I’m down to my last three full time days at work. Monday I start my part time. Although Monday will still be a full day for me. I’m going to work seven hours at the law firm and five at the library. I’m training my temporary replacement at the law firm on Monday, which is why I’m giving myself such a long day. It’ll be worth it, because she’s going to start helping out right away, meaning I can cut back in these last few weeks at both jobs.

This is so rambly. I don’t have just a whole lot to say other than…it’s really getting real. I work this Saturday, then Chief works the next weekend and a little bit the weekend after that, then the next weekend we’ll be days away from the due date. I think we’ve officially had our last lazy weekend together, and I’m glad I didn’t realize that until this morning or I might have been melancholy over it all weekend long. We had a good time these past few days, working together to get her nursery done, laying in bed being lazy, going to a bbq. Everything is about to change in amazing ways, and I’m so grateful. But I don’t want to forget this time with my husband, just me and him.

So that’s it for now. I’m really in countdown mode. 28 days until I start planning her eviction.

Maternity Photo Anxiety

So tomorrow, if the weather holds, we’re having maternity photos.

It has rained consistently every day for what feels like many days now. We’re under all sorts of flash flood warnings. The river is crazy high and the ground is saturated. Tomorrow though, it’s supposed to be sunny and clear, so we’re going for photos after my doctors appointment and hoping to get that “golden hour” light down by the river.

I bought two dresses for the occasion, even though I’ll only wear one of them. both are blue. My goal was to find something with an elbow sleeve so I could hide my pudgy arms without having to wear a sweater, but alas, it was not to be. This is only the second time I’ve shopped for maternity clothes in person this entire pregnancy-I’m an online shopper. But since we decided on these kind of last minute I didn’t have time to order something without paying exorbitant shipping prices to MAYBE get it here in time.

So I went to Motherhood Maternity with Chief on Saturday and spent way too much money on two dresses, a camisole to go under one of them, and a light sweater for both of them. It’s 80+ degrees and HUMID as all get out here, but I have pudgy, pale arms. I can love myself, but I don’t have to love my arms, and I do NOT want them in our pictures. Anyway, this is Chief’s pick:

And I like it-I do. I worry it’s too busy for pictures and it was snug in the bust, so I’ll be a little uncomfortable wearing it. But I do like it because I think it’ll be okay post-pregnancy too (although not until the uptown girls have calmed down a little).

I felt like I looked better in this one:

And Chief said it was fine, but he had a much stronger reaction to the top one. And Chief NEVER has a strong reaction to anything, but as soon as I walked out in that first one he said “Oh-I like that one.” Which, again, doesn’t SEEM like a strong reaction, but for Chief it totes is. He might as well have said “Let’s throwdown and consummate it right now because that dress is awesome.”

But I’m just all anxious about looking bad. The whole reason I chose to do these pictures was to document this pregnancy, because there are NO pictures of Chief and I together since I’ve been pregnant except for when we were in Atlanta at 5 weeks pregnant-that doesn’t count. I just don’t want to end up hating them and having them be the only reminders of this pregnancy that I have, other than my daughter of course.

And I mean, she’s going to be a pretty great reminder. Oh, did I mention? 35 weeks tomorrow. 5 weeks to go, and I think tomorrow is my first cervix check. He said we’d be doing a pelvic exam, and I can’t imagine what else he’d be doing down there at this point. I both want and don’t want to be slightly dilated. Very mixed feelings on that.

Lunch with my dad

So I had to have lunch with my dad today.

That sounds like a bad way to put it, but my dad and I have a complicated relationship to say the least.

First of all, when he picked me up I could TELL he wasn’t in a good mood. We were eating lunch because he’s cosigning on this loan I had to take to fix our AC-note that I said COSIGNING-NOT paying. I pay ALL the bills on our house, period (well, with Chief’s help of course) I have never asked my dad to make a mortgage payment or a loan payment for me. Ever. That’s why we have a savings account. If I’m tight on money, THAT’S who I borrow from.

But as you may recall if you’re a longtime reader, when Chief and I first bought our house we had a dishonest roof inspector who told ME our roof was fine, but told the insurance company it was awful and needed to be totally replaced. So a month after closing we were sent a threatening letter from insurance saying that if we didn’t get a total roof replacement we’d lose insurance coverage. In thirty days.

I panicked-if we had had that information before closing we could have worked it into the cost of the house, but as it was I was stuck and I HAD to ask my dad for the money. I hated it, but I did it. So I owe him $4500. And he won’t let me forget it. He asked me about it again, today. At 34 weeks pregnant, after he knows how stressed we’ve been about money because of this stupid house, my dad asked me about money.

And no I haven’t paid it back. I have a lot of reasons, but mainly they’re that I just DON’T have $4500 to give him right now. I have $4500, but it’s for my maternity leave. So yes Dad, I could pay you back right now, but then I’d have to come back to work after six weeks and while I know women do that I’m sorry, but I just don’t want to. And even six weeks would be pushing it if I drained my savings account for him.

Yes, I could have paid some of it back instead of having fertility treatments, but then I wouldn’t be having my daughter, and your granddaughter dad.

Yes, I could have paid some of it back instead of fixing my kitchen, but then MY WALL WOULD HAVE CAVED IN BECAUSE IT WAS SO ROTTED FROM AN AWFUL LEAK.

If I ever had $4500 that I just didn’t know what to do with, I guarantee you I’d give it to him, but there have always been more urgent needs, and I’m sorry about that. I really am. I wish we were richer for a variety of reasons, I absolutely do. But can you imagine shaking your child down for money when she herself is about to have a child? And have to pay for daycare and diapers and a whole plethora of things? Can you REALLY imagine that?

And let’s not even get into how much he supports my sister.

Oh, and that’s another thing. I knew it was coming, I totally knew it was coming. He guilted me about not doing family dinners anymore. I told him that all the issues with my sister aside, Chief and I had really needed the time to ourselves before the baby came, not only just to be together but to get our house ready. Doing two family dinners a week (one with grandparents, one with my folks on alternating Sundays) was just too much. Even if K and I were on good terms, I don’t think I want to go back to a weekly dinner with my folks. Maybe monthly. I’m sorry, but life is just too busy. But for that matter, K and I ARE STILL NOT SPEAKING. And guess what? That’s not changing until she’s ready to apologize and really make some changes in her attitude towards me. I am not backing down. I don’t care to have her (or at least, the incarnation of her that I’ve had to deal with thus far) in my life, so if she’s cool with not being in mine-that’s fine. We don’t ever have to speak again as far as I’m concerned, and my parents will just have to deal. Want to know why? Because I’m a goddamn adult, and a mother, and I don’t have time for that shit.

So I didn’t back down on that even a little bit. I didn’t say “maybe after the baby comes…” or “We’ll just have to see how things go.” Nope. I told him it had been good for me and I needed it. The end.

And to top it all off, his sister (my aunt) called while I was in the car and told me that my cats would hurt my baby if I didn’t watch them like a hawk, to which I wanted to cuss her out, because lets get one thing straight: MY CATS ARE NOT GOING TO INTENTIONALLY HURT MY BABY. THEY’RE NOT GOING TO SUFFOCATE HER, THEY’RE NOT GOING TO ATTACK HER. The worst thing I see happening is her someday pulling a tail and getting scratched. And maybe this makes me a bad momma, but if that happens you know what? She’ll learn not to pull tails. Just like she’s going to fall and skin her knee from being careless outside, and she’s going to get sunburn when she forgets to wear sunscreen. She is going to learn how to be human, and while I will do everything I can to prevent major trauma and injury and illness, I’m not going to NOT ALLOW her to be a child, and I’m not going to NOT ALLOW my cats to be cats. The end.

So that was my frustrating lunch with my dad.