Quiet time

The Princess and I had a playdate the other day while SkyWalker was in preschool and what often happens at playdates these days, we started talking about pregnancies and having babies and all that. There was one mom who said she would have a bunch of babies except for the fact that she really hated being pregnant. And my friend responded that she loved being pregnant. And I started thinking. Because that's what I do. I hear little things and then the thinking train takes over for the next few days until I drive myself crazy. I think I have a problem of seeing things in black/white, all/nothing, instead of shades of gray. Or grey. However you prefer. I think I touched on that when I decided to radically change my way of thinking. 

See, I set myself up for disappointment by expecting things to be ALL one way or ALL the other. I was so determined for this to be a happy pregnancy, that I would be one of those glowing happy pregnant women, that when I started vomiting again (and continued until 30 some odd weeks, albeit not everyday at that point), I blamed myself for failing. In my last post I realized that this has been a pretty uneventful pregnancy--vomiting is just going to be a part of it for me and the sooner I realize that the better--there have been no rushes to the hospital, no weekly non-stress tests or L2 ultrasounds, no big drama. Enjoying my pregnancy and being happy does NOT mean I have to be happy every single day or all day long. Who can be happy vomiting? I don't have to enjoy every minute. I'm allowed to complain about my back hurting and BH contractions and pelvic pressure and still be allowed to say that I'm happy I'm pregnant. I'm enjoying feeling my baby practice walking on my abdomen. There are so many women who have to go though so much to get pregnant--who may not be able to get pregnant at all--that I always feel guilty complaining. Like I have no right to do so because they would love to be in my shoes. But it's okay for me to complain. Complaining about it doesn't mean I don't want it. 

The same thing with being a SAHM. When I worked full time I wanted to be a SAHM so much that I set it up as the answer to everything. Everything would be blissful if only I could be home with my kids. When is anything ever blissful all the time? People who are CONSTANTLY blissfully happy are either on drugs or in serious denial. And when things were not blissful I felt like I was doing something wrong or that I didn't deserve to be home and if I complained about it I would be admitting this failure. That if I dared to say things were hard it would mean that I should be working instead. But that's not what it means. It just means that some days things are really hard and that's that. I'd still rather be here than working. That's for damn sure. 

Right now the Princess is taking her nap and SkyWalker is upstairs in his room having "quiet time" for the first time in AGES. We've been having lots of little squabbles and battles and I feel like I just repeat myself all day long and yell and get nowhere. Vader has worked late every day this week and may even go in on Saturday (because why would we want a 3 day weekend??) and it's been hard. I don't know how so many of my friends do it on a regular basis (have husbands who work late all the time or travel for work all the time). SkyWalker and I are clearly just not listening to each other. I'm going to enforce quiet time every day, even if it starts out with tears, because we need it. I need to believe I am in charge and when he's up my ass every single minute saying he needs someone to play with him or he needs someone to clean up with him, I can't get my head straight! I need to not feel guilty about not being able to do as much because of my big fat womb. I need to not overcompensate for Vader not being home. And SkyWalker needs to remember that he can be alone. He can play alone. He can entertain himself. He used to do it all the time and now if he doesn't have his beloved baby sister he's bugging me to drop everything and be with him. He's been upstairs in his room for an hour now. I hope, I really really hope, that he hasn't pulled his clothes out of the dresser or ripped the sheets off his bed or done something else equally annoying. I know I heard him playing with his legos and reading books. I hope he has taken advantage of this time to recharge. 

I still haven't done the lunch dishes. I have two loads of laundry to fold. The house is a complete mess and I'm pretty sure that I will have to hold his hand to get him to clean up the mess I've been telling him to clean up for 2 days. But I am sitting on the couch with my feet up and I am recharging and clearing my head so that I can say "Clean this up" ONCE and say it with authority and have it be done. I am enjoying the silence--mostly silence aside from Isaac's unbelievably loud breathing--and I am going to make the most of this time and do nothing but remember who I am. 

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