Incubation Nation

Aaaaah, so my last post. Yeah. Hub and my BFF threw me a surprise party yesterday. Most of my family and friends were there. There was bowling, and cake and pizza and music and many wonderful gifts. I couldn’t have asked for a better day; it was truly amazing. I’m not getting rid of my last post because it was how I felt in the moment. I’m starting to think now though, that 30 might not be so bad.

Which brings me to my NaBloPoMo idea for this year—30 years in 30 days. I won’t lie, I saw this somewhere last year, but having just begun my 31st year, I thought I’d have a go at documenting some events from 1978 through 2008 and really commemorating my 30 years on this earth. Fun, right? Maybe we’ll even have some photos of me through the years.

I’m hoping to have photos of the party soon to show you the over-the-top decorations, my sweater festooned with several obnoxious, flashing buttons, as well as a gigantic dunce of a party hat…oh, and Lucy wearing her hat in a unicorn-y fashion (ALL DAY). Clearly, I wasn’t prepared with my camera. Hub did a pretty good job of keeping it a secret, though I did begin to suspect when he turned the volume way down on a phone call he took Saturday (his phone volume is always THRU THE ROOF!) and the shifty weird way he was behaving yesterday morning. I’m glad I took a shower and at least put on some mascara!

Yes, I am loved. And it was a great day.

Dear 30,

As a day, you pretty much sucked from start to finish, though there were a few bright spots mixed in. I’d been building up so many emotions about you for so long; I thought it would have to be better than I was imagining.

My desk was festooned with black balloons proclaiming “30!!” and “OVER THE HILL!!” along with streamers and confetti when I arrived at work. I felt loved, though it was a bit over the top. Several employees who are much older than I am, had comments to the effect of “If 30 is over the hill, then I must be ancient” etc and hardy har har. I did not put up the balloons. Apparently, 30, you are still quite young.

I received some gifts from my boss and employees in your honor; gift cards to Old Navy and Target and we had some cake. Despite your presence, I still had a ton of work to do.

I arrived home expecting great things of you. There were some flowers from my mother, and some cedar plank cooked salmon for dinner; made by Hub. There was a cake. There was Hub asking whether I had wanted a card—because if I did, he would grab one when he picked up rolls from the store. And there was Hub telling me he hadn’t yet bought my gift. He hadn’t even picked up something small from the kids. Or had them make me a card.

“Trust me”, he said, “I will give you your gift on Sunday, in front of your family; it will be worth the wait.”

Well what if I don’t want to wait? What if I wanted to enjoy you, my one and only 30th Birthday, with my husband and children? Apparently, I have no choice, and we have to drag you out for an entire week.

I was trying to rise above your stigma, 30. I was trying to really enjoy you—I’d even planned on focusing on my accomplishments over 30 years and looking forward to what was waiting for me in the many years ahead, but instead you left me feeling wounded, old, and like I was no big deal. Like you weren’t a big deal.

I thought you were.

Nobody else did……at least not enough to do anything special on the actual day. Remember when I was a kid and my birthday was the best and most anticipated day of the year? Not anymore—I suppose it’s just another day.

Maybe I’ll eat my words on Sunday; maybe there will be some sort of birthday spectacular. I’m still wounded by your events, 30.

Fuck you,

Sara

Here is my first comparison of them at 5 days old.

I’m thinking of going through Bud’s baby book to see if I missed any milestones. I could just dress Liv up and pretend……

Bud:

Lucy:

Liv:

Bud:

Lucy:

Liv:

Bud:

Lucy:

Liv:

The conversation, clearly, was inevitable though I don’t think that Hub thought it would come so soon. Liv is quickly outgrowing her 0-3month clothing and I’ve been removing it from her bureau. “Here’s the question”, I said to Hub, “Keep the clothes? Or donate them??” He kind of gave me a blank stare and then threw the question back at me. “What do YOU want to do?”

I want one more.

Not, like, tomorrow or anything.

Growing up, I always said that I wanted to have 4 children. I don’t know why I settled on that number, perhaps because my mother always said she’d wanted 4, or maybe because each of my grandmothers had 4. In any case, the number was set in stone for me. I had a really hard pregnancy with Bud and was terrified when I got pregnant with Lucy just 9 months after he was born. My pregnancy with her was a breeze, but after my labor I said never again. Cut to 3 years later and here we are after having another miserable pregnancy, contemplating yet another.

Are we nuts?

I have 2 reasons for not wanting another:

• I don’t think I could handle another stressful and uncomfortable pregnancy (though I think this could be remedied if I lost, say, 50lbs)
• I don’t want any more babies after I am 35 and we’d be looking at trying again when I am 33/34 (OMG, I am almost 30)

Hub’s reasons for not wanting more:

• He doesn’t like the person I become when I am pregnant. (I have to give him that one)
• Based on the way that Lucy is handling not being the baby anymore, he doesn’t know how she, or Liv would take it.
• He doesn’t necessarily want another boy; he likes that his and Bud’s bond is a unique one.
• We would more than likely have to move.
• It would be harder to do fun family stuff/vacations with 4 (but not that much harder, right?)

We share our reasons for wanting another:

• ZOMG!! Baby!!
• We like the idea of our kids growing up in a large family.
• We really enjoy our children and another would definitely add to that
• Ok, this one is mine….maybe it will be TWINS!!

We talked some more about it without really making any decisions. Hub stood firm on the fact that he didn’t want any more until Liv was in school. “I’m ok with that”, I told him, “so long as I can get pregnant in the 6-9 months BEFORE she goes off to school.” He smiled and told me “Fine….” As if exasperated, but I know he wants one as much as I do.

I suppose time will tell though. 4 years is a long time. What would you do?

• I had every intention of buying a black coffee and one of those lo-cal flatbreads for breakfast this morning, and the guy and Dunkin talked me in to a pumpkin latte (not as good as Starbucks) and a pumpkin muffin (ditto). We’re also having cake today for a birthday. Yes, my job makes me fat. It’s no wonder I didn’t gain any weight the last month of my pregnancy. I was home.
• People are weirded out by breast pumping. I’ve gotten dirty looks after every pump so far, while rinsing it off in the bathroom.
• I feel like I could go in to a whole tirade about breast milk not only being the best option, but also, because of THE ECONOMY, I couldn’t afford $32 a can for formula if that was in fact, my preferred feeding method. But I won’t.
• I hate my hair. I’ll take a photo of it tonight. Way too dark. I love the cut though.
• I talked to the baby on the phone and she cooed and gurgled at me. I love her.
• Bud woke up at 6 this morning. Apparently, he can hear my alarm clock in his room and “It bodders me!!”
• The baby has her 2-month appointment today and will get 4 shots. I thought about leaving work early, but then figured I had taken the other kids for shots by myself on several occasions so there is no reason why Hub can’t take Liv. I’m dying to know how big she’s gotten though, my portly chunk.
• Lucy is no longer taking gymnastics. She didn’t like her new class, which is not parent assisted, and cried for 3 weeks straight through the entire class. She’s only 3 so I’m not too upset about it. What can you do?
• If I get one more political email, I am going to scream.
• And if I get one more political email based solely on religion, I’m going on a full fledged rampage.
• Oh, and finally, I turn 30 in exactly 2 weeks. How did that sneak up on me so fast? This whole BABY thing, I suppose. ME in my thirties. Can you imagine it?

The tough thing about being back at work is that I don’t actually have anything to do. Three months off will do that to you. I spent the morning going through emails and updating my security and all that jazz, pumped, ate lunch, checked on the baby and now here I am, twiddling my thumbs…well in a virtual manner.

I spent the end of last week preparing for my return today, by cutting, like, a foot off of the length of my hair and coloring it a shade that I think is way too dark. I shopped for clothes on Friday and had a minor breakdown in NY & Co. because nothing fir me the right way. Post-baby flab sure is a bitch!!

We took the kids for ice cream on Saturday at the local stand which was closing for the season, and then took a long walk through the park before going home for dinner and Hub worked most of the day yesterday. I did make homemade mac and cheese for dinner though, and it turned out pretty well.

The babe was in bed by 9:30, and slept until 6:30 when I woke her to eat this morning, so I am well rested, save for this pesky cold, and pretty much back to the grind.

It feels like I never left. I don’t necessarily miss being home; routine and structure is good for me—but I can’t actually say that I’m enjoying being back to work. I’m already tired of the “How have you been???? How’s the baaaaaabeeeeee???” questions. People are just being nice, I know. But God, it’s old. And then there’s your standard BS……which didn’t let up and was waiting for me right where I left it.

In other news, guess who is 2-months old today???? Why it’s the chubbiest baby in town!!

My, how I miss her.