Where to begin?

I guess I could start with my morning...

Today was my day to be "duty mom" at preschool, so of course Kali got sick and I was unable to go. I needed to drop off snack at the very least, so I left Kali with Mr. D and headed out.

While brushing snow off my car, I slipped on some ice and twisted my ankle... and fell. Then I got back up, started scraping the windshield, and... my ice scraper broke. Picking up the pieces, I noticed the sticker that proclaimed, "I'm unbreakable!" Yeah, unbreakable my backside.

So that's been my morning. On to last week:

We spent the week in Orlando, Kali and I along with my parents. The Magic Kingdom felt like a total rip-off, but Disney's Animal Kingdom was awesome. Kali was mesmerized by the Nemo musical show, and she bounced with Tigger! We've got some awesome video footage of her going right up to the giant plush characters and playing with them.

The downside... she didn't sleep very well, which landed me in a fibro-flare just as soon as we got back home.

So that was last week. Let's talk about my last ultrasound!

My ultrasound was at one of those obnoxious places that insist on partners staying outside until after the measuring is all done. I told Mr. December not to even show up until 30 minutes after my appointment time, but the scan was all done within 20 minutes. The technician was stuck with me, and I with her, so I proposed we have some fun.

I took out my iPod and pressed the headphones to my belly. On the ultrasound screen, we saw Cletus begin to move. Arms waving, butt wiggling, it was a little fetus dance party! I moved the headphones up to my ribcage, and little Cletus craned his (her?) neck and swiveled to see where the music was coming from. It was so cool.

Kali seems like such a big kid these days. She sings along with me anytime I sing. Amazingly, she knows all the words to songs like "somewhere over the rainbow" and "what a wonderful world". The other day I told her to sing to me, and she did - all three verses and the bridge. I'm officially impressed.

That's my life in a nutshell. Purim is this week and we don't have any costume plans. I need to run some errands but all I want to do is sleep. I'm 22 weeks pregnant today.

The wait is over

My auntie died last night. Baruch Dayan Emet.

I have other news, but this entry needs to stand alone.

Some kinds of waiting suck more than others

Today I was brutally reminded that some kinds of waiting suck way more than others.

My aunt (technically, my cousin's wife, but she's way older than me and she's just my aunt, ok?) is dying. She's had cancer for at least the past two years, probably longer. This morning we got the call that she has a few days left, if that. Of course we went over there. Of course I hung out with my cousins, her kids, and reassured them that they don't have to be social with the fifty bazillion people coming to say goodbye. And I ached for them, not just for the weddings and births at which their mother will always be missing, but for the fact that they have nothing to do for the next few days but wait. They don't feel like eating, or sleeping, and they certainly don't want to go anywhere. They don't want to sit next to her, because they don't want this image of her to be branded into their minds over all the other happy memories. They're just waiting for her to die.

In this perspective, the two-week-wait sounds like a total cakewalk, emotional rollercoaster and all.

I'm back...

Hey everyone,

We're back from our vacation in the hot sun (which was wonderful and left me wondering why I live in Canada). According to the internet, I'm now a bit over 18 weeks pregnant, which just strikes me as weird... it moves very slowly and very quickly all at once.

Know what else is weird? I haven't gained any weight during this pregnancy. None. I have a reasonably big belly, but the scale has remained the same. I've tested the scale. It's not broken. This is just weird, and also a bit of a relief - I already gained 15 pounds during our 10 months of fertility treatments. Surely that's enough to sustain Cletus the Fetus for now?

Kali is at turns entertaining, cuddly, and maddening. Everything she sees is "I want that", and anything she doesn't want me to do is "I don't like that". I'm quite looking forward to having a little baby again, one who stays where you put it and doesn't talk back.

I've long believed that if my kid doesn't look a bit like a street urchin at the end of the day, it was a wasted day. In that spirit, please enjoy my newest list:

10 things I had to wash off my daughter's face tonight

1. Peanut butter
2. Dried challah dough
3. Bits of carrot
4. Residue of corn-based wet-and-stick packing peanuts
5. Dirt
6. Tears
7. Cookie crumbs
8. Snot
9. Purple marker
10. Wine. Yes, wine. Red.

And with that, I'm off to wash my own face and go to bed.

suddenly fun

I don't know what happened between my recent post about my frustration with Kali and today, but she's suddenly adorable, fun, and relaxing to be around. She's currently "cooking pasta" in her play kitchen. Periodically she comes over to feed me. It's the best invisible pasta I've ever eaten. She's also singing along to "Snuggle Puppy" as she rocks from side to side.

As I said, she's fun. I don't know what happened to the toddler annoyance I was dealing with before, but I'm grateful to have my happy, cuddly girl back.

Excuse me, I have to finish my invisible pasta before Kali will let me have some invisible cookies.

Best. Morning. Ever!

Well, I got off my butt and decided to bundle Kali up and head out to the park. We spent an hour playing in the snow, tobogganing, and drinking hot chocolate. Along with the three friends we'd invited to join us, we were the only people in the park.

People, it's Canada. Why won't you bring your children outside to play? It's only -8C out there (that's 18 degrees for my American readers)! Really, bundle up and you're fine for a few hours.

Whatever. We had the best tobogganing slope all to ourselves, and a clear view across the park of our kids running in the snow. It was awesome.

Best of all, Kali was all worn out when we got home. I expect a nice long nap.

once again, I need to get over myself

I've done a bad thing. I don't feel the need to go into the gory details, but I yelled at my MIL and she ended up crying. It was a stupid situation; I was jetlagged, Kali hadn't slept in days, Mr. December wasn't there to act as my buffer, and (according to all sides) MIL was really pushing me in a particular conversation. So I exploded.

In the aftermath, she has revealed to Mr. December that she doesn't feel I respect her. It makes sense, in that she seems to always be looking for ways to gain my respect: she lists all the creative things she does with Kali, tells me about the wonderful activities she went to with her sons at this age, etc, etc. My reaction to all of this has revealed to me a stunningly ugly part of myself.

The more she ingratiates herself to me, and the more she seems to beg for praise, the less respect I have for her.

This is the opposite of the way I feel about other people. Usually when I see that someone has a particular weakness, whatever it is, I feel slightly protective. I go into "therapist" mode and do whatever I feel I can to alleviate their discomfort. Not so with MIL. I just feel the need to be tougher and tougher on her in the hope that one day she'll push back and reveal that she does have some self-esteem and possibly even a backbone.

As I said, it's an ugly reaction. I'm ashamed of it, as I am of my failure to show her the respect she deserves as my MIL. Respecting one's elders and one's parents is not optional, and yet I've neglected my obligation in that regard.

I'm not sure what to do. Whenever I look at her, I find fault. I try very hard to just not speak in her presence. I find myself biting my tongue. And yet a lack of disrespect is not the same as showing respect. She deserves respect as the woman who raised the man I love. Why can't I give it to her?

There will have to be a follow-up post; this one is getting long. I'll close with a call for suggestions. Real ones, please, respectful ones. I've got plenty of snark in me already when it comes to MIL. I need to tame it. Can anybody help me?

doubt

I'm here, we travelled and came back in one piece, and I'm still pregnant - 13 weeks, 4 days.

I've been dealing with a lot of doubt and guilt lately. Doubt that I can handle two kids, and guilt that I'm not even enjoying the one I have right now.

There. I said it.

Thing is, I don't do toddlers well. Sure, I'm fabulous with them for a couple of hours, but the day in, day out routine of constant (destructive) activity, alternate defiance and clinginess, and outright tantrums just wears me down. I can't count the number of times I've put Kali down for a nap because I'm tired... of her. I feel like a terrible mommy.

Yesterday I sat down and read my blog, starting from Kali's birth. I was so smitten with her. I loved every moment, even the poopy ones. The fact is that I do infants really really well. I have mad skillz when it comes to newborns. Reading the blog again reminded me that once upon a time I felt competent and fully in awe of my daughter. I need to get some of that feeling back.

And I have to say, Kali is an amazing kid. She's gorgeous, for starters, and she talks a mile a minute (this is both good and bad, I'll admit). She's obsessed with Finding Nemo right now. She still sucks her thumb and lays her head on my shoulder when she's tired, but when she's not... watch out! She's into everything. She thinks my maxi pads are giant stickers. She knows where we keep the popsicles and how to access them (note to self: buy a lock for the fridge). She's never met a puddle in which she didn't want to splash. She's lively and adorable. I love her, and sometimes I can't stand her.

Someone knock some sense into me. I know I'm lucky beyond belief. I just need to feel it.

Thank God I don't have to.

We're okay, folks.

No clue what the spotting was about, but the little June Bug was waving at us today. We saw fingers. FINGERS!

Measuring one day ahead, at 10w0d, and the heartbeat is 146. Cervix is closed and very long. Everything looks perfect.

My heartrate is still on the way down... I didn't sleep much last night and I was pretty wound up.

Thanks for the well wishes and offers of help. Anyone who wants to knock me out until the second trimester is welcome to come over with a baseball bat.

I'm going to bed. Here's a picture to tide you over.

I can't do this again.

I'm spotting.

Before you ask, no, we didn't have sex. I did put in my progesterone, but other than that nothing has been in or out of there in a while. I don't see any mundane reason why this should be.

It's more than just a bit of spotting, it's a smear of pinkish red on the toilet paper. It took five or six wipes to get it to disappear, only to reappear the next time I (obsessively) went to pee.

This is eerily familiar, like my pregnancy with Squishy, we've already seen a very reassuring heartbeat. As with Squishy, we're scheduled to fly out of town at the end of the week. Last time I flew to Spain even though we knew our baby was dead. This time I won't be flying if the news is anything but reassuring. I might not be flying if the news is reassuring, either. As much as I'd miss Mr. December, gone as he'll be for three weeks, I wouldn't like to miscarry in a foreign country. Not again. Not with a toddler.

I'll call the clinic as soon as I wake up tomorrow and beg my way in for an ultrasound. I'll update you promptly after that. Needless to say, I'm totally freaked out.

I know that there are women who spot or even full-out bleed through their pregnancies and deliver healthy babies... that's not making me feel better, though. A good ultrasound tomorrow would still only tell me that as of this second, nothing is wrong. Nothing about the second after that, or the next day, or the next six months.

Holy shit, I'm scared.