If rationale was a good legal argument.
May 5, 2011
Another day, another blow.
My dad always tells me that the only way I can know if I’m making the right decision is to make one, wait ten years, and then judge the outcome.
Unfortunately I’ve found that bit o’ wisdom to be true – especially when it comes to parenting.
I’m a good mom.
I’ve made the best of the situation I chose for myself.
Had I known better, I would have chosen better. Especially for Abigail.
I grew up in a poorish suburb of Memphis, just to the south in north Mississippi.
I was a pregnant teenager in a school that had more than its share.
Compared to the girls that walk the halls of that school now, we were all quite conservative.
And that is where my daughter goes to school.
It blows my mind to think that there are areas in other parts of the country that don’t have a 25% STD rate.
That have middle schools without pregnancies and that have children that wait past the age of 13 or 14 to have sex.
Granted, my daughter hasn’t chosen that path yet – and I, with my poor judgment, waited longer than that – but the statistics are grim.
It’s not unusual for girls to marry right out of high school and never venture far from their place of origin.
It’s not unusual for parents to be okay with their children only achieving the same level of success that they themselves have.
That is intolerable to me.
I was a teenage mom.
I have ‘Some College’ on all of the forms that I fill out.
I have worked three jobs at a time to make ends meet.
Abbey’s father lives 2 miles away from where we attended high school with his wife of 10 years.
They know little to nothing of what’s going on in their country and are content to answer questions with opinions they’ve heard from others.
I want Abbey to have more, to be more.
I can’t think of another way to accomplish that without taking her out of the area.
I’m married to a man that made the right decisions.
That got his PhD at a young age with hard work and that continues to make his way up into the world based on his work ethic, knowledge and sheer stubbornness.
We’re equals in terms of intelligence and many values – only I stay at home and change diapers because I’m blessed – and he goes to work and converses with Nobel Prize winners.
I’m not saying that we get everything right now – we don’t. We’re human.
But we’re damn sure a better jumping off point than the area either of us grew up in.
The choices my daughter is making without me there tell me several things.
One, that she needs her mother desperately.
Two, that she needs different friends.
Three, that she needs therapy and medications to help her maintain a mental balance, just as the majority of the rest of our family does.
I’m praying so very hard right now that she can get all of those things.
It’s beyond the issue of mother vs. father now.
It’s beyond the issue of who wants her with them more – because, believe me, it would be so much easier to allow her father to be the one in charge of these next 4 years after I’ve handled the last 14. But I’ve never taken the easy path with Abigail and don’t intend to now.
The truth is that she would be better off with me because the environment that she’s choosing for herself in Mississippi is a destructive one.
And sometimes a fresh perspective, a fresh place – a place to start over is essential.
Almost as though I fell off a wall.
May 3, 2011
Once again I’ve let time get away from me.
Should I talk about the Osama death?
Should I talk about being a home mommy?
Should I talk about the things Molly is accomplishing every single day?
Should I talk about the realization that I’ve been away from my first born for 7 months now?
Should I talk about how things aren’t quite right in my head – I’m too near tears on a daily basis now for things to be right… and at the same time I’m happy in many ways.
Should I talk about all of this?
I guess that’s the problem with having limited computer access – oh, don’t take me wrong – I CAN get on a computer every day if I want to… but it’s upstairs and I’m downstairs and finding enough time to think that doesn’t feel like it should be devoted to cleaning or sleeping is hard… and it means that when I do take a few moments out I’m searching and stretching to make some sense out of the mental notes I’ve added to my ‘rolodex’ the past few weeks.
In short? I’m clueless.
Clueless about what to say.
And what to do.
I’m overwhelmed by small tasks like laundry and cooking dinner and am increasingly aware that I’m just not carrying my weight in the way that I imagined I would.
Being away from Abbey means my views on being here with Nick and Molly have taken a very real, very different tone than they may have otherwise.
It’s hard.
So while the world goes on their semi-political rampages this week with the news of Osama’s assassination and while Molly imitates my funny voices that amuse her so much and while Abbey hurtles towards the end of her middle school years, I wait. I’m just not sure for what.
Waking up in a new world
January 4, 2011
Life goes on up here in the frozen tundra.
Tundra does imply that there exists more outside of my window other than grey and cold.
Most of Minnesota is grey it seems – and half of the time I find it pretty in a barren way, the other half I’m hiding under the covers in my bed, trying to avoid the wind chills.
This is quite the winter for this Mississippi girl, with record snow levels so far and plenty to watch and learn.
I’ve learned that I love soups and stews and dumplings and am expanding my repertoire to include them.
I’ve learned that I love to knit, really love it, but… Sort of stink at it.
I’ve learned that living without my child on a regular basis empties my life – I love being with my husband full time in a way I could never have imagined – but that happiness does not detract from the fact that I miss my daughter every second.
I’ve also learned that I’m quite the pregnant wimp – I lack the ability to suck it up and being unable to breathe and clean my house makes me WHINE!
This morning I woke up at 5:30 to take my husband to the bus stop for racquetball practice – not all that exciting for me, but for a man that hasn’t played in 2 months, well… Let’s just say I earned enough wife points to let me out of cooking tonight.
Have I mentioned how much standing up and moving around sucks right now?
Whine?
Molly, the baby, is baking right along – I’m excited to meet her but in this, my last week of pregnancy, I’ve reached panic mode.
What, in the world, am I going to do with a baby? Love her, sure – but it’s been 14 years since I last took care of a young one. I’m a little out of practice. Okay.
A lot.
But, I can’t wait to see her little face.
I can’t wait to have all my family together.
That’s when life will enter the officially perfect phase.
I can’t feel my toes.
December 7, 2010
The cold weighs on me.
I suppose it does on any southern transplant that finds their way into a frozen Siberia.
It’s a good thing Minneapolis is a civilized city or I would die without food – the nearest grocery is less than a mile from me and that has literally saved our lives.
I probably wouldn’t venture much further in cold like this.
I know, I know.
I’m being overdramatic.
I think it’s my right, being 9 months pregnant, a big baby, and freezing to boot!
There are fun things about the weather.
I love watching the snow fall.
I like waking up to the white everywhere and seeing the kids play in it.
I like the idea that my daughters will know what real snowfall is and will be able to make a snowman more than once in their lives.
I also find it odd that the apartment complexes all have their own little machines for ice/snow removal on the pavement. The complex next to us owns their own bulldozer! or backhoe. Technically I think it’s a backhoe, but my brain is really too frozen to think about it much.
My daughter comes to visit in less than 2 weeks and I’ve never been so excited in all my life. There really aren’t words to explain how much you can miss someone until you’re missing one of your children.
Missing Nick was bad – but livable. I found a new normal with our separation that I’m struggling with in this separation from Abigail.
I have not had an adult day where I have not been her parent and very few kid days – I’ve been her mom for half of my life at least and that makes an impact.
So we’re learning something new – hopefully not something forever. I think we’d both go to pieces a little bit at that. I worry about her.
BUT! That’s neither here nor there – we’re not walking down that path today.
Today we’re cold.
Looking forward to her visit.
Putting off Christmas shopping and unpacking.
And enduring Braxton Hicks contractions.
Those painless little contractions that are currently stoving up my uterus and making me want to punch the small schoolchildren outside of my window.
I’m so glad they’re painless.
(Don’t worry, the kids are safe from me, because, as I may have mentioned – it’s COLD out there.)
Pregnancy is progressing. 35 1/2 weeks now means that the time is rushing up on us.
I wish I had her nursery ready or her clothes washed or even enough boxes unpacked to get to half of those things.
But moving has been slow – I’ve been lazy and sore and lazy and tired and lazy.
Nick woke me up panicked that I was going to go into labor without having a hospital bag packed. I have now promised to see to that this week so he can sleep at night.
I wouldn’t want to make it up there without my neck pillow, after all. What a goose.
The hospital is only 2.5 miles away, so this wasn’t a factor I really worried about – I worry more about him having to leave mid-labor because the dogs need to be walked and fed.
This living away from the massive support system I’m used to is not for the faint of heart.
Maybe he should make friends for situations like this?
It’s a thought.
All in all, I’m not quite ready for Ms. Molly’s arrival.
I’m scared that it’s been so many years since I’ve done this and I’m a bit emotional with missing my Abigail…
And I have no idea what to do with the umbilical cord or changing diapers quickly or how to go without sleep when I actually want sleep…
So I’m doing the new mother chickening out thing.
Which isn’t very useful at this point, considering.
So the point being that things are good. I’m cold.
Good and cold.
And… a routine.
November 29, 2010
I’m getting into the swing of things here at Chez Labello.
Things are quieter with only the two of us – I miss Abbey’s constant running dialogue that so many parents are blessed with.
And I say blessed because there is no quieter quiet than when that dialogue no longer surrounds you.
But I’m fairly happy – it’s neat getting to know my husband again, in a way that I haven’t gotten to know him in years.
He has changed in many ways that I didn’t expect, some good and some bad, but watching him navigate around his now 8 months pregnant wife is like watching a subtle ballet that’s fairly efficient in.
That’s not to say that there haven’t been a few battles, but our battles tend to be more like tiny blips when compared to most couples – a dish left in the sink instead of put in the dishwasher (blame the OCD for my overreactions on this one!) or stares at the purchase price of our new LED TV that we simply HAD to have. They’re no biggie, and rarely register after the first moment or two as anything but a mild case of irritation. That part is nice.
Sleeping with someone is nice – when I can sleep. I’ve forgotten how comforting it is to have someone there who is responsible for paying attention to all of the little noises that I hear at night and deciding when to flee or fight.
The Minneapolis weather is hard to get used to. I think Abbey would enjoy it much more than I do – she’s a warm weathered child and all of this cold and the many activities you can do in it would suit her immensely – once I could persuade her from behind the computer or IPod or phone.
I’m learning a lot about the cultural atmosphere here – not for any one culture, just that midwestern people are different. They aren’t as nice, for one thing – and not that they aren’t nice, but they don’t talk to each other and embrace each other in the way that Southern culture holds so dear. I think Nick likes that – I… don’t. They’re perfectly lovely for the most part, but part of me craves that cuddly closeness you get down south.
The foods are weird. Asian cuisine everywhere, which is good when I’m not pregnant and want to eat it. Mexican here and there, though I have yet to have a meal at a Mexican restaurant in Minneapolis that is a genuine dish… disappointing. Coffee abounds – Seattle can’t have anything on this area – and I’ve decided I may have to start to like it if I’m going to make it through the winters. It seems a key ingredient to survival of the locals.
The streets are insane – the city’s streets were put together by a blind toddler – but they’re clean for the most part and the shopping is amazing. I just don’t like to shop! The locations of the nearest grocery and Target are a win – less than half a mile!
All in all, life is pretty darned good.
Now, if someone could magically make the custody battle over with and me the winner, I’d be much obliged.
Wide eyed kitchen cleaner
November 18, 2010
And…
Now that I’m officially in Minnesota and officially am surrounded by all of my stuff I would like to formally ask what the HECk is wrong with me that made me think I needed this much cooking stuff?!!!?
Just 40 cents a cup!
November 7, 2010
Wow.
Apparently when you’re packing up your life into one small large PODS unit and planning to move across country, things get neglected.
Like the Inner Me that I coddle with this blog.
Though I will say that no one wants to know the Inner Me that is currently inhabiting my third trimester pregnant body.
The newly off Zoloft third trimester pregnant body.
Yeah.
My doctor is a GENIUS. Because THAT was a great idea.
I know, I know.
We don’t want the baby to go through withdrawal symptoms after she’s born from Zoloft – the lows from that are misery-inducing.
We also don’t want the hormonal pregnant woman to set up shop on a roof somewhere and throw rocks at people.
So it’s a trade-off.
My motherly instinct won. Especially the motherly instinct that seems to be living in my husband’s body.
Never did I think that I would see the day where I’d lose my gung ho husband to overprotective fatherhood.
I’m convinced that if we’d received socket covers in the baby shower he’d already be using them to keep me from sticking things in the sockets by proxy – because it might hurt the baby.
No amount of persuasive arguments will convince him that poking the stomach right now won’t hurt the baby. He doesn’t care if it’s to make the baby move, to play with it, or because I just seem like one of those women that would like randomly poking things – I need to stop and I need to stop NOW.
I have dreams about throwing her up in the air – when she gets to that fun stage, not when she’s still a floppy doughgirl – that cause me to wake up giggling at the idea of his face.
Parenting may be the straw that broke that particular Italian camel’s back. Because things can HAPPEN to the kid.
But then again, it may be him going crazy after dealing with me.
Because right now I’m batshit nuts.
And, I don’t mean incapable or homicidal or unstable or any of those things that might cause a custody judge to read this and think I’m a half step away from the crazy farm.
I mean I’m hormonal, fat, uncomfortable and UNABLE TO EAT PROCESSED SUGAR! DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT THAT DOES TO A PERSON?!!!?
Apparently what that does to a person is causes them to procrastinate on packing and cry a lot.
And eat buckets of Sonic ice and stare longingly at the Eggnog lattes at Starbucks.
And eat 3 boxes of Corn Flakes in a week.
My life revolves around food a lot lately.
Ah well.
In another week I shall be well and truly nuts – on my way to Minneapolis, with my husband and two beagles, leaving my daughter to finish out the school year with my parents – because that is the only option I have with all of the custody mess being put off, thankyousomuchlawyerofmyex’sthatseemstothinkdraggingthisoutovertimehelpsAbbey
This period in my life is the hardest I’ve ever been through in the 30 years I’ve been alive and I can’t even comfort myself with a Snickers.
For those of you that will see me in the hospital after this placenta is gone and I can once again have sugar, don’t judge me. I can freebase refined sugar if I want to.
Times be changing, yo.
October 22, 2010
At 4:00 CST this afternoon, I will be retired.
Maybe not forever, but for the forseeable future.
And that’s an exciting DAUNTING truth.
I will be a mom and a wife.
And not much else.
No longer a… whatever I have been these past few years.
Expectations that I’ve had for myself throughout the years are changing daily.
I’m nervous. I’m scared.
I’ve been hired for a ‘job’ that I can’t fail at.
And oddly enough, in this case, I’m the only one qualified for it.
So.
Goodbye, steady paychecks, timecards and filing.
Hello… whatever comes next.
Introducing Molly!
October 16, 2010
My 4D ultrasound was this morning – are those ever cool or what?!!?
When I was pregnant with Abbey they didn’t have anything like this – colored photos were the coolest new thing.
I’d love to have some from her, but she was there with me this morning to gaze at her sister.
And it’s like other ultrasounds in that it takes some getting used to before you really realize what you’re seeing, but it was wonderful.
Check her out!
Bye Bye, Job.
October 16, 2010
It’s starting.
Next week – not too long after this time of day, I will be unemployed.
Oh, I know.
I’ll technically be starting my stint as a homemaker – that soft and sweet little term to describe a modern day housewife, but the truth is, I’ll be unemployed.
I can’t think of it in any other way yet – I’ve been working and enjoying working for far too long.
I’m sad.
I didn’t think I would be, but I am.
I’m letting go of an enormous form of autonomy that I’ve relied upon for years to sort of distance me from so many of the statistics of single parenthood out there.
I’ve taken care of everything myself.
Not always well – we’ve never had things in extravagance, but I’ve done it.
And that’s something to be proud of.
Now I’ll be relying on someone else to handle the reigns.
And that’s a new feeling.
I’m excited. If we don’t count all of the scary custody bits with Abbey I’m excited.
I’m not great with change, but this is a GOOD new chapter in my life.
Apparently you are supposed to live with your husband. Who knew?
One more week to go.
I’ve got this.
