Decisions I Didn’t Think Through

I realize it’s pretty early in the day, but here are some hastily-made decisions I’m already kicking myself for:

  • Not packing last night for the 4-day trip I’m leaving for at noon
  • Not folding the laundry I washed for said trip
  • Not doing the dishes last night before bed, so that I had to do them first thing this morning before I could make any coffee
  • Bringing my daughter to bed with me last night because I was so tired when she woke up at 2 am
  • Not being able to pack, now, until baby wakes up
  • Not being able to shower until baby wakes up 
  • Settling down in the one spot I know doesn’t get Wifi in our house and getting too comfortable to get up
  • Having my least social cat, Lizzie, get too comfortable on my lap in same spot, thus pinning me to the wifi dead zone 
  • Letting Lizzie snooze instead of dislodging her so I can reach my now-cold coffee
  • Forgetting to turn my 4:45 am alarm off so now I’m stranded, awake, outside any sort of space in which I can be productive, for at LEAST another hour. 

I’m with Rachel–I just shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions. 

Happy Thursday!

Popcorn, Cheese, and a Queen Bed

To say that my husband works long hours would be an understatement.

Eight times per month, he works a 36-hour call shift that gets him home 30 hours later if he’s lucky and 40 hours later if he’s not.

Suffice it to say that I spend a lot of time alone.

While I wish he was home more, and that he had a “normal” job and worked “normal” hours, I know that’ll never be the case, so I try not to dwell on it.  Instead, I try to focus on the positives of solitude.

One positive is that I can eat popcorn in bed while writing on my blog.  (I am doing this now.)

Another positive is that my cats don’t seem to find our queen bed quite as crowded when Jon is away, and they come and sleep with me all night.  My feet are always toasty warm.

My second cat, Cheese, is especially snuggly, and quite aggressive about getting her cuddle time in and staying warm.  (She is snuggling with me now and eating some of my popcorn.)

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Another positive is that I get to watch corny 80s movies like Working Girl without fear of being teased for my extreme corniness.  (Cheese and the popcorn and I are doing this now.)

So, here I am, my first fat cat on my feet, my second little cat on my lap, a bag of popcorn at my side, the three of us all snuggled up together in my queen bed with Netflix on our laps.

It’s a pretty good night, no matter how you slice it.

From Loathing to Loving Storms

It is raining cats and dogs this morning!

Or, in my household, mostly cats, as my two crazy kitties scamper for cover from the thunder and lightning and rain.  They’re seeking any shelter they can find and are currently under an overturned basket of clothes in the laundry room.

Honestly, I haven’t seen a good old-fashioned storm this strong since I lived in the vast flatness of Ohio.  Bad weather was more common there than it is here in the mountains of West Virginia, and in the four years I’ve lived here, I only remember a few storms this bad.  The weather men are positively having a field day!

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When I was younger, I was terrified of storms.  I remember fleeing to my parents’ room, climbing under the covers of their waterbed, and waiting for the bad weather to end.  Something about the noise and chaos frightened me then.  Maybe it was the fact that our back yard shared a fence with a farm, and I always worried about the animals.  Maybe it was fatefully watching Twister with my best friend when I was in elementary school, and thinking of it as a horror movie back then.

Whatever it was, I didn’t grow out of that fear until I was in college.  I began to relish the freedom and sheer power that storms represented, perhaps spurred into my love by the countless images in books and movies that showed the heroine running out into the rain, her soul finally free during the storm scene.

This morning, I am wondering what my daughter will think of the storm when she wakes up.  She’s ten months old, so it’s her first big one.  So much of my life as a mother is spent wondering what’s going on in my baby’s head.  I don’t think that will change, no matter how refined her powers of communication become–that’s just the relationship between parent and child, I suppose.

Maybe becoming a mother has a great deal to do with being less fearful of noise and chaos.  Trial by fire, as it were, since my whole life has been upended in the last ten months.  Becoming a mom has done an absolute tornado on my once well-ordered existence, and I haven’t been sure how I felt about it until just now.  Maybe I need to look at Hurricane Ruthie as a storm whose power and abandon I feel exhilarated by, instead of a storm I’m just fearful of.

Because I have spent a lot of my time as a mom just scared–scared because I don’t know what I’m doing, scared that I’m going to mess up, scared that I won’t be able to make it through the shockingly difficult trial that is new motherhood.  I’m not used to living in fear, and I haven’t coped well with this ten-month never-ending storm.

So, here it is, my declaration:  I’m tired of cowering under this useless umbrella.  I’m going to toss it aside and stand out in the storm and celebrate its power and noise and chaos.  I’m going to think of that scene in the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice where Darcy proposes, and I’m going to listen to that fantastic orchestral score in my head whenever I’m tempted to cry and be beaten down by the rain.  I’m going to declare my love and not be afraid, because what’s the point?  The storm will always be bigger than me.  Motherhood will always have a higher purpose that I cannot see.  I need to surrender and relish the storm, and fear it no longer.

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