I think I’ll have to start a segment here titled Please Dress Me, Intrawebs. You guys are freaking geniuses when it comes to clothing advice. Today’s episode features my black dress. The comfy tee dresses this season are ridiculously short, and I’ve been hankering for an uber casual dress to go shlep the kids around town in that doesn’t show off my caboose or anything else I’d like to keep under wraps. Something no-frills and comfortable. So I found a simple pattern and got a lady at church to make it for me.
I think I need to have her bring it in a wee bit in the waist, but here it is. A blank canvas, if you will. The possibilities are endless, and I love that! I threw on some teal tights and some ballet flats and I’m pleased with the bit of pop. But I feel like it’s missing something… an applique something, a pocket, I dunno… no belts, unforch. They and I just don’t mix. My mid-section is shaped weird and I don’t like drawing attention to it because it makes me uncomfortable, which is the opposite of what I want.
So… any genius thoughts? I love that I can wear about any sandal, flat shoe, huzzah. But… something is needed… okay intrawebs, shock me with your brilliance!
Zzzzzzz… huh? Is the Dude talking? uuuuuuggggg. Maybe he’ll go back to sleep. Dangit. Okay, if he says one more thing I’ll get up.
Okay one more thing after that.
Dangit. Okay, getting up.
Slink out of the bedroom, down the hall to the kitchen.
uuuggggg I’m so tir-OUCH! Why is that box still in the hallway? Oh, cuz I left it there.
Open the fridge to grab a bottle.
AK! The light! It burns!!!!
Put bottle in microwave. Rest head on counter.
uuuggggg. I need a cookie. Why don’t we have any cookies? I guess a handful of rice crispies will have to do. Lame. Tomorrow I’ll get cookies. Lots of cookies.
Take bottle out of microwave, head to bedroom.
Why am I the one that does this? I’m putting my foot down tomorrow, Husband has to take a shift. I’ll bet he’s enjoying sleeping right now. Jerk. Sleep is so awesome. I remember pre-kids. I slept then. uuugggg.
Enter bedroom. Dude is talking to himself.
What on earth is he talking about?? This is only adorable when it’s light outside.
Pick baby up, lay him on floor, prop bottle in his mouth with a towel and one of my feet, and proceed to change his diaper while balancing on one butt cheek.
I have a MASTERS DEGREE. A MASTERS DEGREE. I wonder what everyone else with MASTERS DEGREES are doing right now. Probably sleeping. Jerks. I love sleep.
Pick baby back up and continue feeding while holding him laying sideways on the fouton.
Just a few more minutes and I’ll head back to bed. As soon as he’s done I’ll head back to sleep for beautiful, beautiful sleep. Oh, is he done? Okay, back in the crib please please please please don’t wake up… jackpot! Now it’s my turn!
Slink back into bed, quietly rearrange the sheets and get super comfy.
AAhhhhhhhh. Now for sleep. Dang I love sleep. Sleep sleep sleep. Good ol’ sleep. Yup. Lovely, lovely sleep. ……….. IIIIIII’m comin’ out so let’s get this party started… crap, what is that doing in my head???
Curse P!nk for 45 minutes because the stupid song won’t stop playing in my brain. Finally fall asleep for 2 more hours. Repeat.
Is this seriously something women are supposed to put on their feet this year?? Seriously??? I can just see the conversation now - Fashion guru #1: Hey, what’ll you bet me that I can make this cut-up-piece-of-crazy shoe a super hot fashion trend? Fashion guru #2: $100. What woman in her right mind would wear that?
My mind can’t comprehend this.
Let’s face it, I’m not through with being the “new girl.” I did that in elementary school, high school, college, grad school, and then a whooole lotta times with all our crazy moves - it never ends. Wherever I go, I meet people who have been there since birth. Graduated high school there. Plan on raising their kids there, etc. This perplexes Husband and I. How on earth does one manage to stay employed in the same place their whole life? I mean, how is that even possible?? More power to ‘em. Not our lot, apparently.
My community is my church, so everywhere I move, that’s my place. Handy thing about being Mormon, you don’t have to choose your church. I already did that at 8. Now I just go wherever the ward boundaries are. I’ve been to wards all over the world and we’re all the same. And gaaahhhh. Every time we move (how about this adorable tidbit, when we close on the house in a few weeks it will be our 9th address in 5 years of marriage. We’re movers and shakers we are.) I get to walk into church and hope I make some of those you-can-drop-in-anytime-my-kids-dig-your-kids-and-let’s-go-shopping! friends. And how easy is it to do that?? It takes about 2 years I’ve noticed, which is right about when we move.
So after coming back from yet another thing where I feel awkward and lonely, I decided I could hide in my bed and cry, a proven winner, or just accept I’m going to be the new kid many many many times and I need to find some coping techniques that’ll work the next time, and the time after that. Yes, everyone already has friends. They’ll have them long after I leave. I shouldn’t let it get me down, but everyone looks so comfortable and I’m so good at making people uncomfortable.
*I have this adorable trait where when I’m trying to make small talk with people I don’t know well and things are just getting all weird, my brain goes “This seems awkward, I should just go ahead and say the craziest thing I’m thinking. Just go for broke.” I have NO idea why I do it. It’s like a compulsion.*
No sense having to learn the same lesson over and over and all that, gotta figure it out now. I wish I was an introvert like Husband, but the longer I go without interaction with other people, the more exhausted and crazy I get. It drains my batteries, whereas a good conversation makes me feel like the Bionic Woman.
After thinking all day yesterday, I couldn’t come up with a answer. We (the family) were driving around town last night and dropped off a gift at a church person’s place. After hello, here it is, it was clear we’d overstayed out welcome. Then on a whim stopped by a friend’s place to drop a book off. A nice Brasilian lady from church who lives with her mother and daughter. They shooed us in and we gabbed and the girls played. I yammered on in my crappy Portuguese with the grandmother until she got up and started baking us goodies. I think we were there for a good hour or so, and when we left, they followed us to the car, giving us hugs and kisses along the way. Quite the difference from our first stop with the Americans, but so very typical of all our Brasilian friends. It’s just what they do. Just like the lovely women who kept WG and I alive when we were down south… And I felt FULL again. All charged up, ready to attack. Even the dishes.
So I think my solution should be to find a Brasilian everywhere I move. Funny - the one American I know who comes close to that mad love and acceptance is WonderGirl, who is also a Brasilian citizen. I’ll take her along then ;)
Bah. If YOU have the perfect solution for being the new kid, please share.
I’m feeling wordy this week. Just a warning, my posts are going to be all verbose and junk. Feel free to move on to the next page on the intrawebs. Maybe zombo.com?
And then there’s the Dude.
So the last 2 times I went to my mommy group thingy, I sucked it up and put the Dude into the nursery. He was the age of the other babies, and he was starting to get antsy in our meetings. Of course I was a wreck, picturing how destitute he would be without me - I even cried. Then when I rushed back after the meeting, I found the caregivers had actually been arguing over who got to hold him. All the other kids cried and fought about, and he was smiling big the whole time, just happier than happy. It’s his default setting.
It’s no secret that I wanted 3 girls. Right in a row. Two of my best friends come from families of 3 girls and I always envied their friendship. I know life with sisters isn’t all roses, but there are good moments and oh, it was something I wished I’d had. I have 3 brothers. Sigh… I wanted a girl for my girl. I wanted this little girl who was remarkably like me to have what I always wanted. I’d have boys after that, I promised God. You just send me the girls - at least one more - and I’ll have a boy. Yup, so with that letter sent to heaven, I decided to get pregnant.
And the the ultrasound… we just won’t go there. I had this whole life planned out for me and my two girls, and it was suddenly gone. I don’t do well with my plans being dashed. It wasn’t that I didn’t want a boy, I just didn’t want him yet.
* And let’s face it, they are gross. And pee with aim. Ug.*
Once I let go of that little world, I got ready for two kids. I had other things to think about, the recession and unemployment, selling the house, moving, etc. I was just trying to figure out how to survive. I didn’t think about him as an actual person until he actually showed up.
And then he was here. I was so wrong. We didn’t need a girl, we needed HIM. How did we live without his smile? Every day, every thing delights him because he’s just so genuinely thrilled to be here on earth. No strings attached, it’s all wonderful in his eyes. Do you know how marvelous it is to have someone like that around all the time?? All he wants to do is gaze into your eyes and grin. All day long, if he can talk you into it.
As soon as he was born another nickname popped out of my mouth. (I’m not much for nicknames, but the two I have for my kids were completely involuntary). Without thinking, I started calling him BuddyBuddy. The sound of Buddy repeated makes a happy bumping sound that he loves, but mostly he’s Buddy because he’s my friend. He so genuinely loves you, he’s such a kind, safe friend. My midwife commented on my silly nickname and I tried to explain it while she nodded knowingly. ”I have one of those. The moment I had one of my sons, I knew he would always take care of me.”
I feel the same way. God gave me my dramatic WonderGirl for the one part of me that needed her, and He gave me my Dude to give me smiles when I desperately need them.
So I’m just sayin’… I have incredible kids. I don’t know if I deserve them, but regardless, I’ll do my darndest. So. Awesome.
I have incredible children.
A few weeks ago, a friend watched my 3 year old WonderGirl emote all over the library like a contestant on American Idol and my 7 month old Dude enchant every female within 10 feet by giggling and cooing like the Gerber baby, and turned to me and said “Reva, your kids are… HUGE.”
I knew exactly what she meant without her clarifying, but she went on “I don’t think I’ve ever met kids with such … big personalities. They just seem to fill a room - both of them.”
I often joke that since I don’t really like children, God had to give me only the best to assure I’d bond with them, but it’s not a joke. I know it’s true.
I’ve been thinking about WonderGirl today, how she came into this world already an old soul, determined to take the earth by storm but then was horrified at this helpless body that did not respond or communicate exactly as she wanted. She was such a frustrated baby, unlike my perma-joy Dude. She wanted to dance, learn, sing, be 18, but she hadn’t realized she had to do this pathetic baby thing first. Eat? Why would she eat when there were people to talk to - darn it, why couldn’t they understand what she was saying? Sleep? Why on earth would she want to sleep - there was so much else to do!
Far too often in that first year we would lay there on the floor next to each other, both of us crying like our hearts had been broken. The transition to our new lives was hard on both of us - some days it felt like she was my only friend.
She has not done anything small. Every word, every stage has been A Big Deal. She loves big, she suffers big and then she sleeps big. Everything amazes me - this once ball of baby has sprouted these legs, these arms that aspire to move and never stop. This girl that will climb on top of me while I’m trying to sleep and demand I tell her what animals migrate.
Other kids her age he meet are so much quieter, move much slower, and every now and then I think how much easier this mom thing would have been had I gotten one of those souls, but God knew I needed this spirit. I have a nickname for her that just came out of my mouth the first time I held her - Sunshine. I can’t help it, I have to call her Sunshine, because it’s exactly what she is. She brings warmth to everyone within eyesight (and earshot) and if there is something clouding her light, everyone feels it. She makes sure of it.
And here we are, both out of our element again in the Midwest. Every now and then we both get so frustrated and lonely we lay on the floor and cry. But then we get up again, and she stands on the table and sings the entire theme song of Dinosaur Train.
This town is not big enough for this kid…
(via ihatemyparents)
