Thursday, March 11, 2010

A Really Good Morning

This morning Aiden tapped me on the shoulder while I was still in bed to ask me if he could go get his juice. (I pour juice in two straw cups the night before so that in the morning Aiden can get his and his brother's juice without me having to worry about it because I am so efficient and such a good Mom.) I told him I had poured one apple, one orange...as requested the night before while they watched me getting the juice ready. Off he runs to get the juice. Moments later he returns to my bedside in tears worthy of someone whom had just lost their dog, holding a cup and trying to explain to me in between sobs that he didn't ask for orange juice and he wants his cup to be the same as Cole's. Why didn't I make them the same? He can't drink this juice because it is different than Cole's. Tragedy stuck early today.

After a quick prayer which went something like this....Good Lord, please make his plain oj turn into a screwdriver that I could quickly chug, without any harm coming to my unborn child (so as to not add to the already difficult nature of raising perfectly healthy children and send me further over the edge...oh and her quality of life too) and allow this drink to take away the rising annoyance I already feel at 6:30 am, and give me the strength and patience to make it through the day without dumping that oj on Aiden's head and refusing to ever give him juice or fruit of any kind for the rest of his life because I find his complaint so freaking annoying that it is deserving of this drastic measure. Amen.


Thankfully, Alex drank too much last night (I swear we are not alcoholics, no need to call CPS)and reached over, took the cup, chugged it because he was so thirsty and got up to get Aiden apple juice. I rolled over and began to dread my day of a visit to the doctor which included a breakfast feast out to test my blood sugar levels....which could be fantastic except for the fact that my children would be coming along and I don't really believe in going to a restaurant that doesn't hand out free toys with my children alone. Sometimes it is rough to recover from the start of a day like that. But....then my husband, who works a lot and doesn't usually have the opportunity to take the kids for me while I do things like go to the doctor, saved the day. He offered to stay home for the morning so I could go ALONE! I have never loved him more.


So right now I am sitting in a delicious and very hip little restaurant in central Austin, by myself. I was just poked with a few needles at the doctor's office and I will have to return in a few hours to be poked again, but that's ok. It is a gorgeous Thursday morning and I have been told to come eat mass quantities of pancakes and eggs in order to test my blood sugar. Ummm....this is amazing. I am over the moon.


I have always liked being by myself. I enjoy sitting somewhere without the need to chat to anyone and the freedom to do whatever I like. Other than sleep it is the number one thing I miss since having kids. I can't even use the restroom without at least one of my kids appearing to lodge a complaint, inquire about my lack of penis or make a request. I swear that if I really want my kids to come talk to me, I should just sit down the toilet and they will sense that and come running. It is a gift they have, I am super proud. I crave moments of only being responsible for me. It is sheer joy to do almost anything alone, even have blood drawn. So this morning is pretty awesome, phenomenal in fact.


This morning's joy has also been amplified by one of those little reminders sent to me by the universe that I am really fortunate. These are moments I love and hate. I love the feeling of truly experiencing how damn good my life is, but my sarcastic and sometimes cynical humour is usually momentarily squashed, which just sucks. It is just momentarily squashed though, I'm sure later today I'll have all sorts of smart-ass comments about the annoying things my children do. Do not be concerned.

A woman at the table next to mine just interrupted me to ask when I am due and say sweet things about my enormous belly. After a few moments of chatting she told me she has been trying to have a baby for six years. She'll be 40 next year and is desperate for the opportunity to have a child of her own. (In case you are wondering, strangers always tell me way too much about their life. I love it.) Oh boy, I want to cry for her desperation and years of wanting something out of her control. This is something I will not ever be able to adequately relate to or understand. I have opinions and feelings on how I think I would handle it but the truth is that those are irrelevant because I've had three pregnancies without any effort. I won't ever feel what she is feeling. I'm grateful for me, so sad for her.

I am also reminded that I should stop bitching about the strain of my kids so much....well, not really.... regardless of how they got here it is freaking hard to have them, and I still had someone screaming in my ear at 6:30 am because I poured the wrong kind of juice. But, I am pretty happy he's there to scream at me. (I still stand by my vote to never give him juice or fruit again though. You just can't yell at someone in their bed about your juice order.)

Oh.....and that lady also told me she's six days late and hasn't ever been late...please Lord, give this lady a baby that will yell at her too. Oh, and a really attractive husband that will take that child away from her so she can eat pancakes and have a fantastic morning like this.

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