The incomparable Audrey Hepburn played a character who epitomizes female vulnerability in the film "Breakfast at Tiffany's." While I am a huge Audrey Hepburn fan and I love this movie, it's not my favorite. However, the quintessentially flippant Holly Golightly (her character) coined a term that I hold dear: The Mean Reds. There are those days when you aren't feeling blue, nor is the green monster of jealousy haunting you, but there are the mean reds that cause you to act against the feelings within. I have the mean reds.
Three contractions today were highly reminiscent of the ones I had in active labor with my son, and I thought to myself, "Whoa, this is it! Okay, this really hurts, but at least they're coming!" Not so much. Three. Just three. Then as quickly as they struck, they went away. It was a labor drive-by.
Alex has developed a mean case of contact dermatitis that I can only assume came from a detergent switch. My mother came over today and helped me strip his bed, and wash every last bit of clothing he owns. She left mid-afternoon, and I thought I'd be fine finishing the folding from the couch. As the pile in the basket began to dwindle, reaching for the bottom of the basket proved impossible. Not only am I stopped by this giant belly, but I swear my arms got smaller. I couldn't reach. I am Humpty Dumpty.
SO, here's an embarrassing confession. I've been getting progressively frustrated by this present situation, and I was trying to think of something to make myself feel better. Oftentimes parents are so occupied with the preparations for the new babies that they overlook the mom. Has anyone else ever felt like that? (See my older blog, "Pity Princess Learns a Lesson" I think I'm having a pity party) Everything is getting poured into the babies, but what about the giant woman carrying a massive load internally, feet the size of a hobbit's and can no longer wear pants? As this deployment gets more real, and my husband is gone a lot more and could possibly be in a remote location where he may miss the births, I'm starting to feel that pity party coming on again.
On with my confession. I was trying to think of ways to make myself feel better, and I thought, "Hey! I'm going to send myself flowers." I love flowers, but the last ones given to me by my husband was years ago (and on my prompting, no less), and I figured if I wanted some, I should send some to myself. Really, is that pathetic? I didn't send it to my office on Valentines' Day, figuratively speaking, just to myself. I figure if I could buy myself a nice piece of jewelry, a pretty sweater or perfume, perhaps flowers are in the same category.
SO, I'm posing a couple of questions and would love a response.
1: Have you ever done anything like that before?
2: What have my fellow baby-mamas done to pamper themselves, give themselves a treat or break?
I'm wide open and running out of ideas. Pedicures are out, as well as a trip to the salon, but I'd love suggestions to ease my passage into twin-mommyhood.
SO, as Humpty Dumpty copes with her case of the mean reds, these twins are incubating much longer than anticipated. I know this is phenomenal, as they won't be premature, and could possibly come home with me. But, carting them around all day has made me long for the sleepless nights to come-- at least I'll be able to reach my feet in my sleep-deprived state.
Three contractions today were highly reminiscent of the ones I had in active labor with my son, and I thought to myself, "Whoa, this is it! Okay, this really hurts, but at least they're coming!" Not so much. Three. Just three. Then as quickly as they struck, they went away. It was a labor drive-by.
Alex has developed a mean case of contact dermatitis that I can only assume came from a detergent switch. My mother came over today and helped me strip his bed, and wash every last bit of clothing he owns. She left mid-afternoon, and I thought I'd be fine finishing the folding from the couch. As the pile in the basket began to dwindle, reaching for the bottom of the basket proved impossible. Not only am I stopped by this giant belly, but I swear my arms got smaller. I couldn't reach. I am Humpty Dumpty.
SO, here's an embarrassing confession. I've been getting progressively frustrated by this present situation, and I was trying to think of something to make myself feel better. Oftentimes parents are so occupied with the preparations for the new babies that they overlook the mom. Has anyone else ever felt like that? (See my older blog, "Pity Princess Learns a Lesson" I think I'm having a pity party) Everything is getting poured into the babies, but what about the giant woman carrying a massive load internally, feet the size of a hobbit's and can no longer wear pants? As this deployment gets more real, and my husband is gone a lot more and could possibly be in a remote location where he may miss the births, I'm starting to feel that pity party coming on again.
On with my confession. I was trying to think of ways to make myself feel better, and I thought, "Hey! I'm going to send myself flowers." I love flowers, but the last ones given to me by my husband was years ago (and on my prompting, no less), and I figured if I wanted some, I should send some to myself. Really, is that pathetic? I didn't send it to my office on Valentines' Day, figuratively speaking, just to myself. I figure if I could buy myself a nice piece of jewelry, a pretty sweater or perfume, perhaps flowers are in the same category.
SO, I'm posing a couple of questions and would love a response.
1: Have you ever done anything like that before?
2: What have my fellow baby-mamas done to pamper themselves, give themselves a treat or break?
I'm wide open and running out of ideas. Pedicures are out, as well as a trip to the salon, but I'd love suggestions to ease my passage into twin-mommyhood.
SO, as Humpty Dumpty copes with her case of the mean reds, these twins are incubating much longer than anticipated. I know this is phenomenal, as they won't be premature, and could possibly come home with me. But, carting them around all day has made me long for the sleepless nights to come-- at least I'll be able to reach my feet in my sleep-deprived state.
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