Well, at least some days include every day miracles that make you glad you’ve chosen to live like this.  We went to bed early Sunday night for the first time in a very long time.  Mike has had hockey nearly every Sunday night since September (as in, maybe he’s had three Sundays off in that whole time), and as a result, we haven’t gotten to bed early on a Sunday night in ages.  After the horrors of Saturday night – oh, yeah, I didn’t talk about that yet – we had a nap Sunday afternoon and went to bed by ten that night.  Although I had the requisite three wakings to use the bathroom, none of them involved Jenny getting up at the same time – miracle number one.  When Mike got up to shower in the morning, Jenny woke up and I resigned myself to another early morning.  However, I managed to leave Elias crying in his bed – figuring that I would only get him up if he was really upset for awhile.  Jenny came back to bed with me and promptly went back to sleep.  We slept until ten – miracle number two!  Elias stayed asleep that whole time and Jenny only woke up once to ask for water and then went back to sleep.  I think she was still getting over being a bit sick over the weekend and just needed the sleep, but it has been ages since she slept in so late.  We had an easy morning with everyone being content with their breakfast and then Elias played in their room and Jenny laid on the couch while I cleaned the bathroom – miracle number three.  When they went down for their nap, I managed to clean out the van and still have time to watch a movie and relax before the kids got up – miracle number four. 

It was probably really vital to my sanity to have so much sleep and so many good things in one day after Saturday night.  Jenny kept getting up before we went to bed and when we finally did get to bed sometime after one, she still wasn’t sleeping.  We brought her into our room hoping she would sleep, but it seemed that every time I managed to drift off, she’d say something or push her feet against my back or something equally obnoxious.  I finally put her back to bed around two-thirty.  I had just drifted off (yet again) when I heard her yelling that she had to poop.  She yelled it twice and then suddenly started scream/crying and saying it again.  I got to her door, brought her into the bathroom, turned on the light and only then realized that I hadn’t made it in time.  She had diarrhea that had absolutely no substance and was now pooling on the rug and a dozen other places along the hallway.  I yelled for Mike to come clean things up a bit while I got Jenny cleaned up.  After some effort to do it sans water, I finally figured that a bath was the only way out.  So, Jenny happily took a three AM bath.  The major frustration wasn’t even the fact that we had to clean up so much and do laundry and give her a bath, it was that she was giddy about it.  She’s potty trained – she knows that she shouldn’t poop her pants (not that she could have helped it), but she was all excited about the bath and kept reminding me that she had pooped her pants. 

All through the bath, Mike was attempting to get Elias back to sleep, since all the activity had woken him up.  He got him to sleep and as soon as he laid him down in bed, he woke up again.  Once Jenny was back in bed, we went back to bed for five minutes before deciding that it would be wise to bring Elias in with us to see if I could get him to sleep with a little snuggling.  Fortunately, it worked pretty quickly, but it was still around four when I finally went to sleep.  Jenny was then up again to go the bathroom just before seven.  After that, we slept until ten, but I was dragging all morning.  So obviously, the nap, early night and sleeping in Monday morning were all very important for me. 

This morning was a bit earlier than yesterday, but nothing unusual.  My housecleaning goal this week is to do one relatively small job each day and more if I can handle it.  I have a huge list, but I think today I might try to tackle the laundry room.  Now that hockey is done for the year, Mike’s equipment can be moved out to the shed again and I can have my laundry room back.  The only trouble is that it’s also full of other junk.  Recycling needs to go out, shelves that are stacked on the floor need to be put up in the kids’ room and various other things just need to find better homes.

My big goal is to have the house in much better order before the baby is born.  If I wait too long, I will just wear myself out and risk not getting it done.  I have a habit of getting so frustrated with the state of things that I try to do everything all at once and just frustrate myself even more when I can’t get it all done.  I’m hoping that the one small job a day plan will work for me. 

Of course, pregnancy is only making everything more complicated, but nothing is out of the ordinary.  I’m two months away from D-day today, but it still feels like a long way off.  Of course, in another month, I’ll probably feel even more like that – as if it will never end.  I can hardly wait to be done with it and hold my baby.  I’m certain that no matter how many times I do it, that part will never get old.  With Jenny, it was maybe a bit more amazing, just because it was the first time I’d ever held my own child in my arms, but the amount of love I felt for Elias was certainly no less than when Jenny was born. 

For anyone reading who has one child and worries that they wouldn’t have enough love for a second child because they love their first so much, don’t worry – it won’t be a problem. 

Until next week…

To start things off, this is officially the beginning of week sixteen, so let it be known that I am not skipping this week just because it’s Christmas as well.  And besides, it’s almost 1:30 in the morning and I’ve nothing better to do. 

I’ve been eating too much of the wrong food.  Candy of all sorts, cookies, appetizers, pop, etc. and I’m starting to feel it.  Take today for example:

Breakfast: A sip of water and one Reeses peanut butter cup.  I think that’s all I managed to get down as I tried to get the kids fed and get all of us ready to head to church.

Lunch: A bit more healthy, but not quite solid enough, I suspect.  Salad with fried onions and pecans for topping with Asian Sesame dressing, a few pieces of smoked Gouda, lobster pate on two wheat thins, chips and guacamole…not sure I can remember what else I ate, but I did have two and a half Christmas cookies and split a butter tart with Jenny.  And a cup of Earl Gray tea with cream and sugar.  And some eggnog (“watered” down with milk).  I think that was about it.  I was satisfied, but I get the feeling that it has something to do with how I feel now.

Supper: Fried Tilapia in cajun seasoning, asparagus, butternut squash.  This meal sounds a whole lot healthier and certainly felt better going down since I got some veggies in there, but it was perhaps not quite enough to redeem the rest of the day.  And certainly not enough to redeem what followed.

The rest of the night: Donut and hot chocolate at hockey (someone brought about six dozen donuts and hot chocolate for the annual rec. vs. church hockey game that my father-in-law puts on), one Reeses cup, more or less, since Jenny had a few bites, about six Sour Patch Kids, remainder of a bag of Cheezies, and a few sips of water (still at hockey).  After coming home: one donut brought home from hockey.  We were the last ones there and someone said we should take them.  Thanks.  Now I have a dozen leftover donuts in my house.  I can literally smell them right now from their perch atop the high chair in the living room.  Sickly sweet.  After donut:  water, sip of juice to see how it tasted (new variety, I was curious), approximately 15 vegetarian samosas, most of which were dipped in some sort of plum sauce.  Followed by two cups of water. 

This isn’t even taking into consideration what I ate yesterday (way too much Coke and a slushy on the way home..what on earth was I thinking?).  And what I’ll eat tomorrow.  Or the next day.  I yearn right now for the strength to fast and clean out my system, but pregnancy simply won’t allow it.  And as sick as I might feel now, I know that tomorrow morning, I’ll be hungry again, willing to dig into the last of the donuts to fill my stomach.  Where did the days of yogurt and eggs go?  The days when I made an effort to watch what I ate so that I could quit gaining weight?  Well, I’m on my pregnancy diet now, and what I crave gets attention.  In the past, it’s worked wonderfully for me: I eat what I like when I like and I’ve never gained more than 33 pounds in a pregnancy (and that one was eight days overdue).  I weight twenty-five pounds less now than I did at this point in my last pregnancy, which is obviously a good thing, but my weight loss doesn’t care much for the all-sugar diet (I don’t blame it).  This poor child is going to come out with a sugar (and possibly caffeine) addiction and I won’t know what to do with it. 

It’s easy to write about the ills of my diet right now because my stomach is threatening mutiny at the moment.  Gurgling and aching for relief….with no relief in sight.  My best bet is to take my Diclectin with a nice big gulp of water, take a few Tums, brush my teeth and go to bed.  With any luck, I’d fall asleep quickly and not have to get up to puke.

The problem is that tomorrow, all the same stuff will appeal to me again.  Candy and Coke and chips and so forth will call out to me like sirens.  I ought to resist, but I’m not sure I’ll want to when it comes down to it. 

On a different subject, the ranks of mothers and father keep filling up as my husband’s first cousin and his wife just had a baby girl.  She was a month early and not supposed to be the first grandchild as her cousin was due to be born before her (sometime the end of this month).  The little unnamed thing weighed around five pounds.  Makes me glad I’ve never had a baby that early.  With that announcement, coming by way of my mother-in-law, came another: that little baby will have another cousin, as my husband’s other cousin and his wife are expecting now as well.  It will have taken my in-laws almost three years to have three grandchildren (almost four) while it will only take my husband’s aunt another eight months or so to have three.  Number one born yesterday, number two due in a few weeks and number three due sometime next year (August, perhaps?).  Even though we don’t see them very often, I’m very excited about all the babies coming into the world.  I like to know that I’m not alone in this part of life.  It should be obvious, but somehow it’s just so much more reassuring to have people all around me having babies. 

Well, I feel like I might be rambling a bit and not making much sense anymore (which is highly possible, given the hour), so I’d better put an end to it.  I may even write again this week, but hopefully if I do, I won’t be feeling like puking or falling asleep in my chair. 

Merry Christmas and thanks for reading (if anyone still is)!!

This pregnancy, I decided to get weekly updates in my email that tell me just where I’m at and how my baby has developed.  It helps to see drawings and read the updates since I’m not looking pregnant yet and can’t feel the baby move yet either.  This week – week ten – my baby is just over an inch long.  Before this week, the baby’s length was always described in terms of some sort of seed or bean (poppy seed, mustard seed, sesame seed, kidney bean, lima bean, etc).  Finally, week ten comes along and they just say it’s over an inch.  It also enters the fetal stage of growth this week (although that part has never mattered much to me – it’s a baby from day one in my mind). 

The new trend in my mommy feelings seems to be evening sickness.  I’m not too bad the rest of the day as long as I keep eating and don’t overdo it, but for some reason, I’ve been sick to my stomach every night after supper for the last few days.  On Sunday night, I was sure I could throw up, but decided that sleeping was a better idea, so I just went to bed.  Last night, we had a family favourite, lentil soup, for supper, and sure enough, it made me feel sick, too.  I get the feeling that garlic is at fault some of the time, because I tend to eat lots of it, sometimes unintentionally.  Today I feel like making cookies, but then when I think about eating them, I don’t feel so good.  Since I don’t like to make cookies if I don’t at least get a few of them, I think maybe I’ll skip it for today. 

‘Tis the season for hockey here in the north – Mike had a 10:15 game on Sunday night and last night, he had a 10:45 game – which makes for a very, very late night (for him).  I went to bed before he left and slept through most of his coming home and whatever he did for the three hours I estimate he was up after he got home.  The last time I remember looking at the clock, it was almost three in the morning and he still wasn’t in bed.  When he came to bed, I asked him what time it was and all he said was, “Late.”  Maybe if I ask him today, he’ll tell me what the time actually was.  I’m guessing he didn’t get much sleep last night, anyway. 

When we were newleyweds, I went to all his hockey games (although he never had really late ones except during tournaments).  When I was pregnant with our daughter, I went to all of his games.  For the whole season of hockey from the time Jenny was three months old until she was nine months old, I went to every game.  And then I had Elias and Jenny was a toddler and after the first late game I took both kids to, I told Mike I would go to his early games (church hockey on Sunday nights at 8:45 and other games if they’re before 9:00) but none of his late games.  It is just too late for the kids to be out.  They could stand being up at their grandparents until eleven o’clock, but not at hockey.  This Friday, we’ll go to a game at 8:15 (Mike’s playing for his dad’s team) and then probably come home while Mike stays to play his rec. game after that one.  I fully encourage him to play, but I don’t let anyone give me grief about not making all of his games.  I have two small children who get grouchier as the night wears on and a baby in my belly that makes me pretty tired most of the time – I need my sleep.  The best thing is when Mike plays a late game and we get the kids down before he has to leave.  Then I can take my time doing what I need to do before I go to bed and get to bed a whole lot earlier than Mike does.  With the kids sleeping in until ten in the morning, I can get twelve hours if I go to bed by ten, so I try to do it as often as possible.

A bit off topic, I suppose, but winter and hockey go hand in hand in our family.  Mike’s sister plays hockey, both our brothers-in-law play hockey and my father-in-law plays hockey.  They all play on the church team together, Mike and our brothers-in-law play on a rec. team together, his sister plays on a women’s team and his dad plays on another rec. team.  When April comes along with the end of the season, I’m usually a bit relieved, but by September, I’m ready to watch my man on the ice again.  I will say that I’m very glad to be having this baby a few months after hockey is over.  When I was pregnant with Elias, his due date was a week or two into hockey season (turns out he was born before it ever started, though).  This baby will get to grow up a couple of months before we ever take it to a hockey game; and there won’t be any risk of going into labour at the arena or anything. 

I guess I should be grateful for the time I have now – there will come a day when it won’t be only my husband playing hockey, but my children.  If Mike has it his way, all of his kids will play hockey, and although I wouldn’t mind if they did, I can’t imagine that they all will.  However, someday I won’t just be a hockey wife, I’ll be a hockey mom – flinching every time my kid gets knocked down or gets hit with a puck or a stick.  And it won’t be so easy to miss their games when they’re young, although fortunately, kids don’t play hockey as close to midnight as their dads often do.

So, I’ll try to enjoy the time that my little inch worm is still safely encased in my womb, because one day, he or she may very likely have a stick in their hands and skates on their feet.  And when Jenny cheers for her daddy, I’ll cheer along with her, because one day, she may be too cool to come to her dad’s hockey games.