What a couple weeks we have had. I am sure after reading this, you will all forgive my lack of posting for the past month. Since last you heard from us, Pumpkin has had a staph infection, followed by pneumonia, followed by strep throat; Mama has thankfully and uneventfully sailed through the first 6 months of being pregnant for Maggie, quit her job, started an entirely new job in a completely different field of law, and decided we needed a bigger house; and Daddy has received his realtor's license and we got Pumpkin's "big girl" furniture. Big month for us. I apologize for not writing sooner.
Obviously, in addition to pregnancy hormones and just the general hot-and-fatness of being pregnant in July in Louisiana, I've also been under a good deal of legitimate, external stress. The decisions of whether to, how to, and when to quit my job cost me several nights of sleep. Those nights were followed by the newfound wakefulness of wondering whether I will even be able to hack it as a plaintiff lawyer. Those nights immediately preceded the nights after we got Pumpkin's "big girl" furniture and resurrected all the baby stuff only to realize how extremely small our house feels with 3.75 humans and two dogs. Seriously, I'm not sure whether it is because I'm twice the woman I was 6 months ago or what but I feel like the walls are closing in on me. Probably doesn't help that it's too hot to even open the door, much less step outside and get some fresh air.
So here I am, sleepless in a suddenly-tiny house, halfway-suffocated by heat and halfway by the tiny human being snuggled into my lungs. Have I mentioned it's hot and I'm fat?
As an aside, the great secret to being pregnant in the summertime is that everyone else is also hot and you have the unlimited availability of refreshing deliciousness like watermelon, cucumbers, and sno-cones. When I was pregnant (read: hot and fat) with Pumpkin in February there was no such relief.
Anyway, I digress. The point of all of the back story is to indirectly confess to being a bit unbearable lately. Emotional. Anxious. Grumpy. Tired. Erratic. Forgetful. You name a flawed character trait and I've probably demonstrated it in the past month. For example, last night I left the sunroof open on my car only to awaken to rain...and a car full of mosquitos. This is a typical Lucille Ball-style moment in my life, but the hysterical tears, followed by anger and then despair (and blaming Hubby for something I undoubtedly did with no help from him) that followed were not at all funny.
Obviously, everyone in my life has had (and offered) helpful opinions about all of these major life changes I've decided to undertake at 25-weeks pregnant. These have come mostly from people I like and lots from people I love dearly. Some have been helpful, reassuring, complimentary; others, not so much, but still (mostly) well-intended. I've gotten LOTS of support and LOTS of encouragement from LOTS of folks.
The one person who hasn't offered me much of anything with regards to any of these recent events is Pumpkin. I mean, sure, she points at "mama new office" every morning on the way to school, but the bottom line is she does not care where I work, what I do, how much money I make, or what house we live in. She doesn't really have a clue any of that changed and, quite frankly, she could care less. The day I quit my job, I felt different. I felt liberated, scared, and excited all at the same time. It was almost as if I expected people to SEE that I had quit my job. I thought strangers in the line at the grocery store should ask me about it. They didn't of course. Neither did Pumpkin.
Instead, I picked her up from school literally minutes after a dramatic exit from an eight-year long career and all she wanted was to get home, climb in my lap, drink her milk, and tell me about the songs she sang that day and what she had for lunch. I laughed to myself. She didn't care about any of the drama that had gone on in my life that day because, quite frankly, it just didn't matter.
In the grand scheme of things, none of its matters except that we spent those ten minutes together before I cooked dinner. None of it matters except that she loves me and I love her and we are both safe and healthy and surrounded by people who love us. Pumpkin is wise beyond her two years. It's not that those who gave me advice don't love me just as much as Pumpkin; it's just that as adults, we sometimes lose sight of the simpleness of life. As someone who gets caught up in what everyone else thinks about my decisions, I especially needed her reminder. Neither my title nor my office or home addresses change who I am or how I give or receive love. None of those things define me or my relationships. How liberating to be enlightened to that. It brings real (i.e., not hormone- or stress-induced) tears to my eyes to realize how much I owe my wise, tiny girl for saving my sanity and giving me life.
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