What just happened.

I caught myself watching her eat her breakfast this morning. She was just so cute. I don’t know if it’s because I felt, at that exact moment, her brother kick me hard on my bladder or crazy pregnancy hormones, but I felt an overwhelming sense of love for her. Motherhood. Nuts, y’all.

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Anew.

I’m back.

Well, sort of.

A lot has happened since I last posted but I don’t have time to get into that now.  I mean, I’m sure I could MAKE time, but it’s a little painful to talk about so I’ll just start here in the now and maybe come back to it.

I’m pregnant.  That’s big news, huh?  17 weeks.  Feeling pregnant now.  I’ve been told I don’t look pregnant which makes me wonder if I’ve always look this fat.  Thanks, hoards of well-wishers.

I did the dishes this morning.  That’s super exciting because it’s the first time I’ve cleaned out C’s milk cups since the beginning of my pregnancy.  I dumped out one and the curlded milk plopped into the sink.  It was sort of beautful too, looking like a pale white coral.  You know, in a That’s-Going-To-Make-Me-Puke kinda way.

I’ve been spending too much time looking at fancy party websites.  It’s a slippery slope, this, because seeing these makes me want to make them for Baby, which then makes me look at these and I could totally make those and then it’s back to Let’s do this for the shower and all of the sudden my day is gone.  Seems I need a Pinterest account.

New favorite blog – the only one lately that’s made me leave my blog reader to comment, is Mackin Ink.  Her words just make me happy.

C’s applesauce is gone and my presence is being requested at a dance recital/poetry reading in her room.

Until then.

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The rain.

Here in Houston, we don’t get much of a Fall.  Two days ago, it was 80 degrees.  Yesterday we had a “cold front” come in, so it rained.  All day.  That’s pretty much our fall.  Rain.  And winter, come to think of it.

photoAnyway, yesterday Claire had two Halloween parties, so she was all dressed up in her Tinkerbell costume.  After her last party at dance class, I tried to change her into regular clothes, but she acted like I was pouring acid all over her body do I just left it.  Sure, it’s hard to buckle her seatbelt with all that tule, but this will all be over Saturday night.

Then I realized that we needed to go to the store.  We were out of milk, and for those of you with small kids, that’s the equivalent of running out of….I don’t know.  Medicine?  Diapers?  Wine?

I decided to go to the “Ghetto” Walmart (it’s just a Neighborhood Market, not the full Walmart), because it’s right around the corner from our house.  It was raining off and on, but I thought we could run in and get out before the real rain started.  Of course, I didn’t anticipate how many people had the same idea as me.  Even the self checkout lanes were long.

While in line, we heard the rain pounding on the ceiling.  Well, there goes my idea to get to the car before it starts to rain.  We checked out, and walked toward the door.

It was pouring.  I could barely see the cars in the parking lot.  So, like three other people, we decided to wait by the door to see if it slowed down.  Claire was totally fine with that idea; she does not like to walk in the rain unless she’s wearing her rain boots and not much else.  She hates to get her clothes wet.

I crouched beside her and we talked about what she did in school that day, how we were going to go Trick-or-Treating this weekend, about the rain.  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a woman watching us, but I didn’t think much of it.  I picked Claire up as the woman stepped closer to us.

“Happy Halloween, Mom.”  She said, and handed me something.

It was a dollar.  She had given me a dollar.  I looked at my clothes.  Did I look homeless?  Did I look like I NEEDED that dollar?  I was so shocked, I think I barely muttered a “Thank you” and ran out to our car.

Why in the world am I looking for a job?  I’ll just dress Homeslice up in her fairy costume and hang out at the local Walmart.  We’ll make a killing!

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You heard what?!

As some of you know, my kid brother is in South Korea teaching elementary school kids English.  This is odd for a few reasons.

One, he can bearly speak proper English himself.  Who decided that he was qualified to teach conversational English.  Those poor kids are going to go home saying stuff like, “It’s coo’ Dawg.”

Two, he’s never lived farther than 35 minutes from my mom.  Oh wait, that’s not true.  He spent one semester in Stephenville.  It was about an hour away.

Three, I’m not 100% he knows how to tie his own shoes.  How can he live in a foreign country all by himself?!

Anyway, he’s there and I’ve talked to him once so he could let me know he got in.  There’s a 14 hour time difference, so I didn’t expect to talk to him that often.  But last week I got a strange text message from a friend in Austin.

“Heard your brother on the local morning show.  He sounds good.”

Who da what?! I called my mom and she got a call from a friend of hers telling her the same thing.  So, my mom calls the radio station.  Apparently, Mikey is no stranger to this station.  He called in once to complain about the girl that he was “dating” when he was in Europe, and calls every few weeks.  But he was in the same town as the station.

Now he’s in South Korea.

Anyway, mom got a clip of the call, so I thought I’d put it here.

Mikey calls from S. Korea

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Double take

It’s pretty amazing how quickly my moods change, even to me.  I can’t imagine how it must be to live with me.  I mean, I AM a Gemini, so it’s not suprising.  In fact, all three of us in the house are Gemini.  Oooooh.  That explains a lot.

But I digress.

Hubs has been gone for over a week now for work, and my Lovely Sister-In-Law and Mother-In-Law were throwing a bridal shower on Sunday.  So, MIL offers to take Homeslice Saturday night so I can finish cleaning up.  Don’t get me wrong, I DID clean up.  A little bit.  But I also made plans to go out.  I was actually pretty excited about my particular plans that evening, so when they got cancelled, I was understandably upset.  I had a back up plan, but it wasn’t nearly as exciting.  Anyway, I ended up at a friend’s house, drinking keg beer and playing drinking games until way too late.

It wasn’t until the drive home that it hit me.  The reason I was so upset about my original plans being cancelled is that I don’t get too many nights like that out anymore.  If Friday night sucks, I can’t just try again Saturday night.  My life has changed so much and, driving home, I didn’t like it.  It wasn’t fair that Hubs was out of town and I had to take care of Homeslice by myself.  It wasn’t fair that I couldn’t go to a bar and drink and get hit on and flirt and stay out late anymore.  It wasn’t fair that I had a kid way before I was ready, and now I don’t have a job, my body will never be the same, and my expectations are through the roof.

I’m not going to lie, I was kind of a mess.  I cried the whole way home for what could have been – I cried because my plans were cancelled; I cried because I made those plans in the first place; I cried because the next day I had to get up and clean up and be the suburban housewife that I’ve been trying to avoid since moving here.  I cried because I feel like I’m too young to have a 2 year old, and I’m younger than all the other moms in my Mops group, but I’m too old to go out to bars or stay up late.  I cried because this wasn’t the life I imagined I would have, but I cried because I wasn’t sure I KNEW what life I was supposed to have.

So.  I cried, I took a shower, and I went to bed.

Sunday morning, I got up, cleaned up and hosted a kick-ass bridal shower.  I remember standing at the sink, cleaning a pan, calling out orders to my Lovely Sister-In-Law and Mother-In-Law, thinking “I’m really good at this.”  I overheard people commenting on the invites that I made myself, and the pictures that I took, and the house that I decorated.  I overheard a friend of mine praising my chili, and my Mother-In-Law bragging to her friends about how I taught myself to sew.  I was told over and over again that I should throw parties like this for a living, and how funny I am, and how glad they were to meet me.

And I was in my element.  I liked hearing that people enjoyed my cooking.  I liked showing off my photographs, and handmade pillows.  I still felt like I was too young to be “entertaining,” but I had a good time.

So I don’t know where I fit.  There are days when I’m so happy to be doing exactly what I’m doing; to be moulding a young life, to be cooking and creating.  I know I’m very lucky that I get to stay home with Homeslice, and I know that these years will go by way too fast so I should treasure them.  But there are times where I feel restless.  I feel like I’m not doing what I’m SUPPOSED to be doing – but I don’t know what it is that I’m supposed to be doing.

So, I’ll get through this weekend.  Then I’ll get through next week.  And I’ll keep trying to find that thing that makes me feel whole.  Maybe that’s the point.  Maybe I’ll never find it, but at least I can say that I tried.  At least I can say that someone likes my chili.

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Oh that’s right.

Claire loves to dance.  I’m not just talking about jumping up and down, or spining in circles like most normal two year olds. Nope.  Homegirl can plié with the best of them.  She turns on relevé with her arms above her head.  And she loves (and I mean LOVES) to arabesque.  There was an episode of Little Ensteins in which June was doing a “Sleepy Dance” to make some Nesting Doll Soldier fall asleep…or something.  Anyway, she sings the moves she’s doing: “Rocking sidetoside.” Saute UP and down.  Arrrr….a….besque.  Arrr….a….besque.  Now Claire walks around the house singing, “ArrrrABesque! ArrrABesque.”

Of course it sounds more like “Arrrr a Becs” but whateves.

Where was I?  Oh yes, dancing.  Since homeslice dances to EVERYTHING, I thought it might be a good time to try to teach her how to point her toe.

We were lying on the couch last night before bed, and I was showing her how to straighten her leg and point her toe.

“See, kid.  Feel how tight my thigh muscle is.  And see my pointed toe?  Good!  Good job.  Now try the other one.  Good job!  Yes, I feel your muscle.  Good.  Next we’ll learn about turn-out.  See how my leg is turned?  You want to turn you leg – from the hip- out.  And of course point your toe.  See Mommy?  See how Mommy’s leg is turned-out?”

I should have known she was a little too young to learn turn-out.  Instead of practicing her point and turn-out, she looked at me for a long time.

The she said, “I have two elbows.”

Oh that’s right.  I forgot you’re two.

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Mikey.

Yesterday I watched my little brother board a plane (well, not really.  I actually watched him go through security [and get stopped because he didn’t take his laptop out and put it in a seperate bin – even though I TOLD him to – OMG how is he going to survive without me to take care of him?!?!] but that sounds more dramatic) to Korea where he will teach English to third graders.

He’s going to be gone for a year.  He’s probably not going to come back home during that time because if I were in Korea, I’d travel every chance I got.  This is the first time he’s been gone longer than a few weeks (He spent a semester in Stephenville when he was a college freshman, but then moved to SWT – where my Dad lived and 15 minutes from my mom.  He also studied abroad for 6 weeks last summer, but he came back.)

He’s 23.  He has graduated college, he’s lived in his own apartment and if the economy sized box of condoms that I found in his suitcase when we were packing are any indication, he’s had sex.  But he’s still my kid brother.  He’s still the kid who couldn’t hold all his cards when we played Uno, so he would build a fort  with videotapes so he could lay them on the floor.  He’s still the kid who sat in my babydoll’s pink high chair wearing a bathing suit and goggles, playing “lifeguard.”  He’s still the kid who used to run away from home to the field behind our house every week.

He’s still the kid who needs me to remind him to cut his tonails and call him to make sure he wakes up for class and buy him beer because he’s a broke college student.  He’s still the kid who eats cereal out of a mixing bowl and who never has food in his apartment.

Except that he’s not.

He’s an adult.  He can drive and drink and tie his own shoes, and he can live in a foreign country where he doesn’t speak the language and is responsible for the education of children.

He’s grown up, but he’s still my kid brother.  And I already miss him.

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