My resolution

2009, in all honesty, has been a difficult year already. I have a feeling this year will be a test of our own constitutions, our marriage, and our ability to see the silver lining. Suddenly overwhelmed at the prospect of being a new mother (again), my mind is a swirl of to-do lists and anxiety about all-things-I-can't control. 

But there are indeed is a silver lining if you can see it. Going to bed on Friday, Dave and I both confided that we were not looking forward to Saturday's plans -- to attend a good friend's wedding -- because we just felt glum and wanted to save the occasion for a time we felt we could really enjoy it. Regardless, the event was scheduled and we would go rain or shine. The morning was consumed by taking Caesar to the vet -- one of the so-far 2009 dingers was to wake up to him at 5 a.m. not only barfing all over, but pooping blood too, yikes! Luckily, it sounds like he probably just has some kind of bacterial infection and should recover after a short run of antibiotics and an anti-puking shot. He was surprisingly well behaved in the vet's office -- a place that usually sends him into a heaving panic attack. 

Anyhow, after getting his diagnosis, I felt a little more chipper. My pregnant brain had spent the morning snowballing pet concerns ranging from having to put him down to toxoplasmosis. So we took him home, had a calm lunch, and thought about putting the kids down for their nap. I took a long bath and tried to shave my legs. I'm pretty sure I got most of it, but I make no promises for consistency above the knee as I pretty much can't see or get to that area easily. Though she sometimes just lays there since she is starting to wean from her nap, Rhianna slept well for about an hour. Owen, who desperately needs a nap, did not sleep at all. Meanwhile, I'm getting dressed in a makeshift outfit I've put together from various pregnancies -- still a little bummed that the nice shirt my mom and sister got for me for Ali's wedding no longer fits. It turns out my boobs are substantially bigger than they were in November -- which frankly surprises me. They don't seem bigger. My belly is freaking rotund, but my boobs? Huh. Oh well. Anyway, luckily I had something that worked. So the kids are up, we get them dressed and pile into the Suburu headed to the wedding (more van issues, but I'd rather not talk about that). 

We're all in relatively good spirits and, despite the circumstances, I really like driving the Suby. As we walk in for the wedding ceremony, the first person I saw was a man who's wife used to work in my office. She died almost 2 years ago from a very sudden and serious cancer. He sat alone at the end of a row of chairs and my first silver-lining moment hit me. Maybe it's selfish, but I had a rush of emotion as I'm surrounded by my two and 3/4 children and husband. We're all alive and thriving. The night before I was thinking how annoyed I was that I have to be a strong emotional person when I really just want to break down and cry (hormonal overload, don't be too concerned) and then I look at this man who HAS to be strong, every single day, because his kids are counting on him. It's more than I can imagine to go to a wedding when you're still grieving over your own spouse. To hear them talk about raising a family and living a life together, and be there, alone, to go home to raising your children without your other half -- their other half. So right as we walked in, I had a suck-it-up moment. Things just aren't so bad. Sure, the next two months are completely out of your control, but they are destined to be filled with happy moments. 

I looked back and saw the bride. She looked beautiful and overwhelmed. The perfect bride. I mouthed a quick, "you ok?" and she gave me the, "yes, but don't ask me again or I might lose it" cue. I was assured that all was well and went to find our seats. We found an almost-empty row. At the end sat a good friend of the bride's who would be singing during the ceremony. She also sat alone as her soon-to-be-ex-husband and 5-year-old daughter were not accompanying her. Another silver-lining moment for me. Not only are we alive and healthy, but we are happily married and feel strong together. I have confidence that when I can't pull it together, Dave will or we'll be able to muster some sanity between the two of us to deal with whatever's at hand. 

Sara thought through just about every word in the ceremony making it very personal and intentional. Knowing how much work she put into it made it that much more special. And the minister told a story about making sure, when you feel consumed in getting all the i's dotted and the t's crossed, not to let life pass you by. "Don't miss the marvels," she said. Yes. That just about sums it up. A good outlook for what is sure to be a challenging year. As I'm walking down a path filled with lots of uncertainty, the few things I know ahead of me are easy to bog down my outlook. Sore boobs, little sleep, crying, spitup, poop, laundry, tantrums, etc. But there will also be first smiles, tickle fights, pants-without-elastic-waistbands, and a million other joys if I can just remember to relish them.

Between the ceremony and the reception, we went to a store to waste a little bit of time. The kids were testing. Napless Owen left his big-boy manners somewhere else so the pause between wedding festivities was less than joyous. Nonetheless, we continued on to the reception without much fanfare. Cue your typical wedding reception, greetings of "you must be the super-pregnant friend," (yes, that's me, 4-5 weeks, thanks for asking,) and the declining of what would have been greatly appreciated drinks. 

And then, the best part of the evening begun. Ok, not to say this wasn't a lovely reception, but my fun didn't really begin until the dancing begun. There were quite a few kids there and they danced a bit before the tradition bride/groom dances, but once everyone was out there, my kids went nuts. They were freaking awesome. I think they danced to every song (minus potty breaks and the disco song -- and who can blame them) from 7ish until just before 10p.m. As Sara put it, "(we're) in trouble when they get older because they are going to party like rock stars." They politely asked other kids to dance, did their traditional brother/sister dance where Rhianna insists that Owen put his hand on her shoulder so they can be like the grown-ups, did the chicken dance, country, rock, and when Owen wasn't really into a song, he did laps around the dance floor stopping at all the flooring intersections to check the seams. They didn't stop, they danced with anyone who was willing, and they outlasted all but a pair of 8-year-old girls -- including the bride, groom and most of the guests. Moments like that remind me that, in the end, putting up with the tantrums is PROBABLY worth it *wink*. 

Owen passed out in the three seconds between when we got him in his carseat and left the parking lot. Rhianna held her eyes open until she got her pjs on but didn't hesitate to snuggle in her bed. Dave and I talked a little and went to bed. When number three woke up wanting to join the dance party, part of me was just so exhausted that I was frustrated that I couldn't go to sleep until he calmed down. But the silver lining was there. Everyone is safe and enjoying each other. And there are only a few more weeks during which an awake infant won't be accompanied by a lot of ...ehem... noise. And during the four times Owen would wake up screaming bloody murder over the next 8 hours, I tried to keep the image of he and Rhianna in the middle of a circle of "gwown-ups" dancing with more rhythm and enthusiasm than most everyone there. 

So here's to the silver lining, may I keep it in my sights for 2009.

As far as the pregnancy goes, things are fine. I think I'm bigger than I've ever been belly-wise. I've gained about the same amount of weight I did with Owen and probably not quite as much as I did with Rhianna. My belly button is starting to pop out a little bit which has never happened to me before so that's a bit strange. I can no longer bend over without an involuntary grunt -- a sure sign we're approaching the home stretch. I'm starting to have more sensation in my pelvis and he's definitely sinking down in there. Wednesday they will check me for dialation and all that and I begin my weekly checkups. I suddenly feel like I should eat constantly -- and with little disgression (sp?). Everything sounds appetizing. I'm not sleeping very well and my legs have started shaking a bit again which is annoying because I'm taking the iron that was recommended. Hopefully it won't get much worse because it would be nice not to be completely exhausted of pregnancy for a little while longer -- and nothing does that like lack of sleep. So to sum up, I'm huge, I'm hungry, but I'm not quite ready for this to be over. Not that I love being pregnant, but I think we need a little calm before the storm of a newborn. A little basking in the life of the four of us before we become 5. Well, maybe not so much basking as the comfort of routine. 

Still no name, starting to wonder if this is actually a girl and not a boy. Took the carseat out of the box. Washed baby clothes. So... vaguely ready for him to arrive. But not really. I have a long list of to-dos and to-gets before the big event. Hopefully I can chisel that down. If not, we'd be fine, but it would be nice to feel more prepared. Hey at least I've held a newborn before right?