The Fish Pond

This is Why I Didn't Do NaBloPoMo

The baby's fluid is low again.  I will have him in the morning, via c-section.  I am a nervous wreck.

In a Dark Place

Right now I'm in a pretty dark place, and I'm not sure why.  Oh, I know my hormones are part of it, but really, I've never been this bad when pregnant before.  Last night I only got about 4 hours of sleep; I wasn't able to go to sleep until about 2:30 am.  Instead I stayed up reading and watching tv and crying.  The really sucky thing is that I wanted to enjoy this last pregnancy, and I can't.  I just can't.  And I hate that.  And I keep contracting and nothing is happening.  And some asshole did a google search on "naked 7 year old girls" and got to my blog, and while I know that sick motherfuckers like that exist, I hate when my world collides with them, even tangentially.  At least he got nowhere here.

Just having a spot of trouble seeing the beauty in my world right now, so I'll just shut up for a while.

Mark My Words

My mother-in-law and I were sitting here in my kitchen, talking about the different tempraments of my kids, and we noted that in particular Sunny is able to amuse herself for quite some time.  Many times I have tried to play with Sunny and she has shooed me away because I wasn't playing the way she wanted.  At that time, Sunny was watching Little Bear and playing quietly in the front of our family room; Little Man was building a castle in the back of the family room, and Trout was upstairs changing her clothes.

Sunny walks up to the baby gate closing off our kitchen, smiling broadly and holding up her hands.  They are green and brown.  She has a streak of brown across her forehead.  She is clearly quite proud of herself.  I go over the gate and pick her up.  Not only are her hands green and brown, but her feet, top and bottom, are a beautiful multi-color collage based heavily in a dark red, about the color of bricks and red wine.  The color goes up both arms and legs, past elbows and knees; both her shirt and pants (of course, both new) are covered with many colors.  I walk over to where she was sitting; she has colored the carpet, the walls, and one of our window shades.  She has taken the top off every single marker, about 50 of them, and she has even colored the markers with the markers.  A veritable ink-fest.  Theoretically, due to previous inking incidents, all the markers are Crayola washable markers. 

Sunny has had a bath in the kitchen sink.  Her arms and legs look like she had a fight with a bear and the bear won - tracks like claw marks up and down the legs.  After a thorough scrubbing.  Her feet are still an odd dark red color.  Her knees look like she is recovering from scrapes received a week ago.

The thing is, the rule is that the only markers allowed outside of our kitchen are the Color Wonder markers that will only write on the special Color Wonder paper.  This is because we have had at least four other incidents like this where Trout has left markers, pens, scissors, or some other messy, unapproved art material out where her younger sibs, especially Sunny, can get to them and create havoc.  When called on the carpet, literally, Trout simply said "Oh, I forgot" and laughed about it.  She was last reminded of this rule a long, long time ago, like...yesterday.  She laughed.

Not a good thing to do after an incident like this, especially when your mother is pregnant.  Very pregnant.

I didn't scream.  I didn't yell.  I didn't even tell her she was going to military school.

I made her take the magic eraser to the wall and shade.  The ink didn't come off.  I stepped in - I got the ink off the shade, but not the wall.  The carpet is going to be replaced anyway, so the fact that the ink didn't come off that doesn't distress me too much.  But the whole time she was giggling and laughing "Oh, no, tee hee hee."

So what do you do with a remorseless child?  My punishment:

1. Grounded for a week from all unscheduled activities, i.e. science club is okay but playing with friends down the street is not.
2. Assist in all unpleasant housework for the duration of the weekend, like scrubbing toilets and the nasty shower.
3. Loss of all art supplies until mastery of the rule has been demonstrated.
4. Helping me soak Sunny's clothes and figure out how to get the stains out, and if they don't come out, paying to replace them.

BigDaddyFish thinks I'm being too harsh - he thinks that she should just have to clean up from this mess.  He thinks maybe she isn't capable of remembering the rule and following it.  She's seven years old.  She can learn her classroom rules just fine for school.  She has been reminded of this particular rule numerous times, as recently as yesterday.  Her younger brother has mastered this rule.  And this is at least her fourth offense in the past couple of months.  I believe a harsher penalty than she has faced previously is warranted, and without it she has little incentive to Remember.

What do you think?  Am I being Bitchy Mom?  For what it's worth, the punishment he has suggested is what I did the last 3 times this happened.  I think it's time for something more.  Do you?

Since I've Never Actually Gone Into Labor Before...

anyone care to tell me exactly how many damn nights of evenly spaced contractions that are bearable that disappear once I go to sleep (but not when just layiing down) I have to go through before I actually, I dunno, have a baby or something?  This didn't happen with the other three.  It's getting to be quite the pain in the ass.  Literally.

Oh, yeah, and a word to the wise:  If you are an assistant leader for a Brownie troup of 12 first graders and you go beyond 38 weeks pregnant?  Stop going to meetings.  Just stop.  You aren't all that useful, and your hormones won't let you tolerate their first-graderness with patience.  It will just be a miserable experience for you.  Stay home and rest or eat or something.

And since we're miserable, I should tell you that I found out today officially that my grandfather's cancer has spread.   I had suspected it for a while, but his doctor isn't forthcoming with information and my dear 82 year old grandfather is much too proud to allow any of us in the younger generations come along to his doctor appointments with him so that we can press the doctor about it.  He gets insulted about it.  His cancer is very difficult to treat, and frankly, if the prognosis is not good, we aren't too sure how long he is willing to fight since losing my grandmother this past January.  However, my aunt will be visiting in a week or so from out west, and he will have no choice but to allow her to come along to his appointments, so we're hoping she can get some better information about what we can expect.

My grandfather is one of my most favorite people ever.  I'll try to post later this month about why.

And on a totally different but boring note, my beloved glasses of 3 plus years have begun to chip on the frames, on the bridge of the nose.  It bugs my nose.  This makes me sad because these are the best glasses I have ever had - the right combo of comfort and durability, and I don't look like a dork in them.  I went today to get new ones, and discovered we have vision insurance!  YAY!  So, I ordered new glasses today - they usually do them in an hour, but their "machine is broken" and they have to send them out, so I will get new glasses on Monday.  And prescription sunglasses.  And I get them both for less than half what I paid for the pair that are currently bugging my nose.

That is, if I don't, I dunno, have a baby before then.  Or something.

I Must Be a Vulcan

because I insist on applying logic to Trout's behavior.  Sometime today she apparently got into my straight pins and decided to use her American Girl doll as some sort of historical voodoo doll, putting about 25 pins into various parts of the soft body (AG dolls have soft torsos and hard vinyl heads, arms, and legs, in case you aren't familiar with them).

Apparently Science Club isn't doing enough for her spirit of experimentation....