Laden with Thoughts

Totally exhausting day. I get the day off on Wednesday, so you’d think I would have had a lovely day playing with the children and bumming around the house. Unfortunately I’ve let all the housework pile up and pile up until the thought of doing laundry or sweeping completely overwhelms me. So, as you can probably imagine, nothing got done today. Liam spent much of the day pushing Maeve off of his toys and onto her head (she’s been crawling for a few weeks and Liam is so resentful that she is suddenly all up in his play area) and Maeve spent much of the day crying and wailing because Liam pushed her off of his toys and onto her head.

It’s been twelve hours of this. Maeve just went to sleep, the precious girl. Liam’s still up watching Curious George and getting into mischief (feeding Seamus cheerios, climbing up bookshelves, demanding dinosaur chicken nuggets instead of the pasta and chicken he was given for dinner).

Wednesdays are made more difficult by the fact that Josh is gone to the office in Boston all day long, and goes straight from work to church for worship team practice. He won’t get home until eleven or so tonight. Being all on my own with two rambunctious (albeit adorable) babies and knowing there’s no relief coming makes the day seem that much more overwhelming.

Sad to say, I look forward to going back to work on Thursdays if only because I know I’ll get a shower, wear decent looking clothes, and talk to grownups during the day - a refreshing change from, “Did you poop? Are you poopie? Did you smear your poop on the wall? No! Don’t smear your poop on Maeve!”

Siiiiiiiiigh.

Twenty more minutes before Liam goes to bed. And all I can think about is the pint of Ben and Jerry’s (Light) Phish Food ice cream in the freezer.

Hey, at least I don’t have to wear a girdle on Wednesdays! Needless to say, I definitely have to wear them on Thursdays after all the ice cream I eat on Wednesday nights…

I spend a lot of time feeling unworthy of the gifts I have. And I spend a lot of time feeling like a failure. If you read this blog at all, you know that.

Today I decided I’ve had enough. Enough of the whining and the self-deprecation. I know that in life, sometimes, I’ll mess up. Sometimes I won’t feel like a good person. Sometimes I won’t feel like a good wife, or mother, or cook, or house cleaner. But today… today?

Today I feel full. Full of love. Full of pride. Full of happiness! Let me give you a few reasons why:

My boy loves to play PEEKABOO! But more than that…

My boy loves to read. All. The. Time.

My little girl can almost crawl, and she is a proud little thing. I want to pinch her nose.

And you know what else she’s proud of? She’s got some junk in the trunk. Go white girl!

And last, but certainly not least, I have a man who loves me. I have a man who loves our children. I have a man who loves cashmere hats.

Yes, I am a happy woman.

Well, it’s almost the end of the year. All the faithful bloggers are posting their end-of-year-lists, such as “My Favorite Music of 2007″, and, “My Favorite Books of 2007″. I’m not going to do those things. You know why? Because I really like you, and I don’t want to force you to read all about Elmo sing-a-longs and every single book about counting apples I read this year. I doubt you’d enjoy my play-by-play of Baby Einstein’s “Baby Beethoven” dvd. It’s unlikely you would still be reading once I expounded upon, in great detail, the joys and sorrows experienced by Thomas the Tank Engine and his rascally caboose.

Perhaps you would like to hear Liam sing a song from Dragon Tales. No?

Would you like to witness firsthand the interpretive dance Liam has created to go along with Jingle Bells? Are you sure?

Wait! Come back here. I won’t subject you to any more of this. At least, not in this post.

Where was I? Oh yes. End-of-year-lists. Because I didn’t see any movies or read any exciting new novels this year, and because I didn’t have money to buy new albums or time to listen to them, I give you my End of 2007 List:

Things I Did Not Expect to Happen in 2007.

1. I did not expect my husband to take a picture of my placenta (in all it’s bloody glory) after Maeve was born in May.
1a. No, I will not share the picture with you.
2. I did not expect Seamus to vomit heaping piles of who knows what all over my brand new braided living room rug. The day after it was delivered.
2a. Yes, the vomit looked slightly similar to the picture Josh took of my placenta.
2b. No, as I already told you, I will NOT share the placenta picture with you.
3. I did not expect to buy or wear a girdle at any point during this year. Or any year, for that matter.
4. I did not expect the Boston Red Sox to WIN THE F’ING WORLD SERIES!
4a. No, I will not shut up about it.
4b. What’s that? Come a little closer and say that to me. No, it’s fine. I just want to show you something.
5. I did not expect the New England Patriots to have a 14-0 start to the season.
6. I did not expect the Boston Celtics… yes, fine. You get it.
7. I did not expect I would drink as many margaritas this year as I have. Consider it making up time from the 2 years I was pregnant.
8. I did not expect our bedroom hallway to still be cluttered with boxes from last year’s move. (Same goes for the basement.)
8a. I really, really don’t know why I didn’t expect that. Everyone who ever reads this BLOG expected that.
9. I did not expect Liam to become a rabid Kanye West fan.
10. I did not expect to switch from Starbucks Eggnog Lattes to Peppermint Mocha Lattes.
10a. If you know me, you know this is a big deal. A HUGE deal.
10b. Part of this switch is rooted in my fear of angering my favorite baristas by forcing them to steam eggnog. The poor things.

So there is my 2007 list! In all seriousness, though, I had a terrific year. Maeve was born with no complications, and now she is 6 months old and a beautiful addition to our family. (Liam is even starting to get used to the fact that DA BABEE will be sticking around for a while.) My family (including my poor dear Josh, who has put up with me for yet another year of crazy marriage) has been happy and healthy this year, and I couldn’t ask for more.

Happy end of 2007. Bring on 2008!

Let me explain. No, there is no time. Let me sum up. I have given birth to two babies in less than two years. Consequently, my body kind of hates me now… and I pretty much hate my body. Although I’m getting used to it. Before pregnancy I was a size zero (it’s silly that that is a size) and now I’m between a size four and six. That is absolutely fine with me, I am perfectly happy to be that size. However, my big problems with my “new” body include: ragged stretch marks all over my torso and butt, saggy empty belly skin, icky love handles, and national geographic-esque breasts.

(Boys, I understand if you need to stop reading at this point. I probably should have warned you earlier.)

Now, it was fairly easy to deal with these body image issues whenI got to stay home in my sweats all day with the kids, but now that I’ve gone back to work and have to wear actual clothes and be seen by actual people, I have a much harder time facing myself in the mirror each morning. My work trousers show all my little bumps and lumps… my tummy rolls over the top of my pants (muffin-top!) and other bad things happen that I don’t care to speak of on this public blog. Suffice it to say, it makes me sad.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO MY SOCIAL EXPERIMENT:

The power of girdles.

That’s right… I said girdles.

I worked this week on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. On Monday, I wore a cute sweater and a very nice pair of pinstriped trousers with sexy black pointy-toed patent leather stilletos. On Tuesday, I wore brown trousers with a red silk sweater and tweed flats with jewel embellishment.

BUT. On Thursday, I wore gray pin-striped trousers, a tasteful v-neck rose-colored sweater (read: just a hint of cleavage), and my stilletos again. Underneath these clothes, instead of my normal underwear, I wore a GIRDLE which smoothed out my tummy. (It also caused me to not be able to breathe or eat all day long. But you know… technicalities.)

Please allow me to share with you the results of my experiment.

Monday’s attire: NO GIRDLE.
Monday’s male attraction level: Pretty normal, no big hellos or smiles, just a few pleasant greetings and head-nods.

Tuesday’s attire: NO GIRDLE.
Tuesday’s male attraction level: Hardly anything. A few nods.

Thursday’s attire: GIRDLE!
Thursday’s male attraction level: Male barista at Starbucks looks me up and down. Gets nervous and messes up my coffee. When finished with coffee, says, “Here is your DELICIOUS beverage” while giggling nervously. Male customer holds the door for me as I leave. ALSO. Male boss enters my office to tell me some jokes. Tells me I’m doing a wonderful job at work. Goes into my (female) boss’s office to tell her what a good job I’m doing. ALSO. Some high mucky-mucks from our main office come to tour my office building. I walk down the hallway past them, they literally trip over themselves to introduce themselves to me. Please note: I have met these men several times before, and was never given a second glance.

You know, at first I was laughing and thought the change in attitude was funny. But as the day went on (and believe me, I didn’t list all the examples I could have), I was feeling pretty weirded out. Did I really look that different before without a girdle on?

Ah well. I guess I’m not above a little girdling (yes, I’ve decided that’s a perfectly acceptable term) to do well in life. At least I know I get to go home, remove the girdle (read: release the beast), and put my sweats back on at the end of the day. My poor, poor husband.

Tonight, I am happy. My beautiful children went willingly to bed without complaint or temper tantrum. My husband cooked dinner (eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, toast!) without being asked. Life couldn’t get much better.

And the Red Sox are kicking butt. Indeed, my friends, they are kicking ASS. And although I would love them and support them even if they didn’t kick ASS, it makes it so much easier to love and support them when they are on the eve of their 2nd WORLD SERIES VICTORY in 3 years.

There’s not much more to report. Except that life is wonderful. Blah blah.

You know that lyric from “Unchained Melody”: time goes by, so slowly…

What a bunch of bull.

Here I find myself, suddenly living in a house Josh and I bought, the mother of two children, and a full-time SAHM at 26 years old. When the heck did all this happen? Time isn’t moving by slowly for the Reillys. Liam is already a year and a half old, chattering away and turning into a little boy right before my eyes. Maeve is two months old and slept through the night for the first time last night. (PRAISE GOD.)

My wish and prayer is to be aware of how quickly time does go by, and to treasure every moment of this time I have with my children and husband.

I’m happy. (Or maybe I should attribute all this joy to my first night of actual sleep in about 4 months.)

So many things have changed in life since I last used this blog. I got pregnant (thanks, Josh!), I quit my job, I had a baby (hi, Liam!), Jason Harrod came to our house TWICE (*wink* to dawn!), I went back to my job part-time, and now I suddenly find myself with a 7 month old little boy grinning at me daily and spitting pureed garden vegetables onto my only nice pair of work trousers.

Life is awesome.

And yet, questions I had expected I would have answered by now still remain unanswered. Some even remain unasked. What is my true place in this world? Am I only called to be a SAHM to my son and any future children I may have? Or is there something beyond family that I should be focusing on, planning for, thinking about? Friends of ours just left to serve on the mission field in Bethlehem, Israel. They know what God has called them to. They seem secure in their plans, plans they feel God has laid out for them. It’s not that I think I am called to be a missionary, but I do feel as if being a mother is simply not enough for me. Raising a family to trust in the Lord is a huge responsibility and an enormous task all by itself, and it’s certainly a task I am so happy to work at until it is completed… but is that the only task assigned to me?

I pray and feel no peace, and no answers.

But at least I have a sturdy little man who happily comes with me to the post-office, the convenient store, and of course, the dry cleaner’s. I really hope pureed veggies come out of wool.

We don’t really celebrate Valentine’s day here at the Reilly household. No cards will be exchanged on Monday, and I don’t think I’m getting any flowers or chocolates. (Sure, last year Josh and I went to Boston for Valentine’s day weekend, but that was more about having a mini-vacation than anything else.) Josh hates the concept of Valentine’s day. He says it’s just a consumer-driven holiday meant to make him feel guilty about his lack of romantic abilities.

Hehe.

Speaking of non-romantic things, this afternoon we took a little trip to the mall. Why? To pick out a wedding ring for Josh. Wait… didn’t you already get married almost two years ago?? Why yes, dear reader, we did! It’s just that… Josh lost his wedding ring a few weeks ago. To quote the pushy saleslady at Zales: “I guess this is your Valentine’s day gift, huh?”

Hehehe.

So all this business about buying (second) wedding rings and celebrating Valentine’s day got me thinking about love, and marriage, and the business of “falling in love”. I don’t know how one falls in love. I don’t think there can be any specific recipe of moments or words or actions which causes love to suddenly appear between two people. All I know is that when I began to be friends with Josh, years and years ago, there was something about him that made me want to be around him all the time. Yes, he was funny and cute, and had a confidence in himself that was appealing. But all his good qualities put together couldn’t explain what it was that made me want to hug him, and hold his hand. It wasn’t long before we kissed, and I told him that I loved him. I was fifteen years old, and yet I knew it was true. I loved him.

And as it turns out, he loved me back. I don’t know how it happened, and I don’t know why it happened, but I do know this: I get to spend every day with my best friend, whom I love, and who loves me in return.

(Plus, he’s incredibly good-looking. Happy Valentine’s Day, buddy.)

Today I got my hair colored and cut. Yay. I always feel like the prettiest girl after getting my hair done. (Even though I know that tomorrow when I’m getting ready for work there’s no way I’ll be able to replicate the way my hairdresser styled it.)

After my hair appointment, I went to the jewelry store and picked up a ring that I bought and had sized for the ring finger on my right hand. It’s a three stone aquamarine ring with four small diamonds set in white gold. Very beautiful.

I walked out of the mall feeling like the most gorgeous girl in the world. Then I came home to my puppy (furiously wagging his tail and sniffing my head) and my handsome husband (furiously ignoring me and playing video games) and I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

Where so many hours have been spent in convincing myself that I am right, is there not some reason to fear I may be wrong?

- Jane Austen