Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Truth about nesting

I haven't written in a while, and maybe it's because I feel like I have nothing to give to anything else but to the fashioning of my little one's nursery. I have been what "they" call "nesting and it seems it's an actual disorder, I mean condition...err season where a woman is expecting and is frantically making ready her home, fit for a child. It seems it's common because my husband had expressed his "concern" - because he would never complain about me ever- to other seasoned fathers, they reply in unison, "she's nesting, you just gotta do what she tells you." And it's true, I was becoming increasingly irritated that he wasn't pulling his weight around the house and after the fact that I had painted the whole entire room, all by my lonesome, I felt a little alone and jilted. My girlfriend, who is a mother of three says to me that it's natural to feel annoyed and a frantic when you're nesting and while I listened to her talk, all I saw in my head was an angry beaver mom frantically gathering branches and lake debris to make her beaver baby nest. We are all animals in the end I guess, and no matter how much we think we are enlightened and higher than these lower creatures, we default back to our primitive state I suppose.

What's more, when I'm home, I have a mental list of all the things I need to do and these items weren't as pressing to me when I was a working gal, but for some odd reason, chopping up my two cantaloupes and storing them in Tupperware had to be TODAY. When the house isn't spic and span, I begin to think that I'm failing at this mothering thing already, even when doing the dishes from the breakfast I made myself doesn't and can't affect my Jude in any way, shape or form...or can it? I can't be bothered to check email or respond to them at that, I'm constantly glancing at my Blackberry email inbox and clearing the queue to cleanser my mental capacity for the days dusting and straightening of my old magazines.

I thought quitting my job would afford me leisurely months of preparing for his coming, but it sounds and feels more like the apocalyptic second coming of Christ, where everyone is cramming in their confessions and cleansing their souls. Maybe for some mom-to-bes, it is leisurely and they have restful sleep and deep journaling sessions about how they would "shower love on to thee, who is growing every day in me..." and reading all the books they hadn't had time to. Maybe for some, they are dressed in lovely floral dresses and strolling down their neighborhood streets and testing healthy recipes for when the baby is ready to solids. I suppose I'm doing something of these things, but I have to force myself to stop dusting, scrubbing, arranging and chopping. I have to pull myself out of the mental panic that's swirling in my head every day. I wish I was more like the calm human mother who is reflective and prayerful about her child, but much to my chagrin, I feel more like that frantic beaver mom digging her dam.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

A Sleep in my dreams

Dear Jude,

Last night, I finally had a dream about you. Of all the nights I've had dreams predicting other women's pregnancies, engagements, and even deaths, I was beginning to worry that you were never going to appear in my dreams. Not because your appearance in my sleep would predict whether or not you and i were destined to be, but because I was afraid that I wasn't thinking about you enough, or love you enough. Why was I dreaming about KCC kids, counselors, and friends but can't muster up one glimps of you?

Last night, you were in my arms and you were the image of a small baby of 8 months and barely crawling. I had you over my shoulder and fell asleep with no care worth weighing on your sweet head. I felt complete and happy with nothing else to desire in the world, but you and that moment. Hope to see you soon in my wake.

Love, Momma

Friday, March 2, 2012

Baby Swag

Dear Jude,

I went to the mall today to pick up some much needed things. I've been trying to stay out of the malls because I just can't help but to stop at every baby shop I pass. I went to H&M on Monday because I thought, "surely, this establishment is safe for me to patron." But no, I eventually found myself in the kids section, first just browsing the isles, but then I began putting outfits together. Then another, then another. I couldn't not purchase my little creations, like they were empty shells of you, and loving cradled them to the check out counter and presented them to the cashier. I couldn't be more fulfilled by the oohs and ahhs I got from the employees and cooed to them, yes isn't he...no, aren't they so cute?

When I got home, the bag of clothes sat in the foyer until your dad came home and he immediately noticed them. He asked with some bass in his voice, "what did you get?" I told him I got a little something for you. He gave me a frown and a eye brow furrow, "I told you, I think you should wait." I ignored his comments and sprung out of the coach and asked him if he would like to see the outfits I put together. I laid them all out for him to see, with furrowed brow still in tact, he reluctantly admitted that they were super cute. I coyly asked him if I should take them all back and he gave me a long molasis of a no....

I kept them out on the floor for a couple days, returning to them every so often to admire my work and imagine how cute you would look in them. Your dad says if you're not the smartest kid on the block, you'll definitely be the best dressed and I agree. Then the bad news came, the EPs are finally released for appliance by all of the Korean adoption agencies, but they will be given to those families who have been back logged and waiting since May through August of last year. I kind of expected this, but am a little disappointed that the ministry had caused a delay to figure out how to give Korean heritage waiting parents priority over others, but didn't implement the system. I did a little math and you'll be too big for these clothes and even if I exchanged them for bigger ones, the seasons wouldn't match up. So...back to the store they go.

MBA and what they come up with

It's been a week since my trip to New York with my dad. It was a business trip and I have to say that the trip was for business that was quite serious, but my dad tried to make the day as pleasurable for me as he could. Since I was a child, my dad has made it his crusade to make me laugh and make sure I am a happy little girl. It seems this hasn't changed much even thought he is at the age of having grand kids and I'm practically a lady. Soon as I arrived at the airport, I blurted out to my to him that I was starving and he replies, "I think you should starve today," with a straight face, but continued to walk to the nicest eatery you could find at O'Hare international airport. This was his tactic of making us laugh, toughening me up, and at the same time spoil me to no end. It works every time. He talked non stop and I'm not sure if he was just happy to spend the time with me or if he was just filling the awkward silence, but I sat there happily sipping on my beer and munching my margarita pizza. He couldn't believe he just paid 30 dollars for a slice of pizza, two waters and a veggie wrap, and how they traps us at the airport at awkward times, so we are forced to purchase food from them whether we like it or not. I just sipped and nodded.

Once we were ready to board the plane, he had plenty of commentary on how people get their MBA's to and implement things like the priority seating and "more leg room" for only $35 dollars. They also come up with things like the red carpet for those priority seaters and as soon as they are on board, they pull the carpet away for regular riff raff like us who are called in second, third and fourth wave. He then continue to narrate our United flight experience as we walked on through the slim isles of the flight vessel.  "You see? When you are called in on the 3rd or 4th wave, there is no where to store your luggage and you end up like me and I have to sit with my luggage between my legs the whole flight to New York." I sat in my window seat and began to read my book, when a lady sat in the seat next to me. My dad saw that we weren't sitting next to one another, and although he had the isle seat, he wanted us to be together. With his award winning smile and his sparkling charisma, he says to that lady, "I am willing to offer you this great seat -gesturing to his isle seat a row ahead of us- isarf you let me sit next to my daughter. You don't want to sit in a middle seat do you?" Girls behind him giggled and he also had the lady next to me laughing as she began to rise immediately from her seat. I gave him a wide eyed look and lamented, "daaaad." Which made everyone laugh at us even more. He slumped into the seat next to me with a beaming smile and says, "see? I made two people very happy." I'm not sure who he was talking about, but I assumed he was talking about me and the lady that was graciously exempted from sitting in the dreadful middle seat.

When we finally made it into our hotel near La Guardia Airport in New York City, we wanted to watch a little T.V. while getting ready for bed. We both had a difficult time turning on the T.V. and was repeatedly redirected to a screen that asked the viewer to purchase channels. "See, this is what the MBA's come up with, you can't even watch the news without buying a channel. When I was traveling, everything was free, you pushed a button that said "on", and the T.V. turned on." He continue to tirade about the greed of society and that's what he's fighting these days, greed. We ended up going to bed without T.V. and it may have been a blessing in disguise because my dad needed to sleep and I needed a break from all the MBA talk for a while. God forbid we see more greed on the news and he finds another thing the MBA Suits have come up with. By morning he figured out how to turn on the free T.V. Channels and wanted to leave it on while we had breakfast. He voted against himself saying, "I can't be fighting greed while I am greedy," but we ended up leaving the room without turning it off.

My dad woke up in the morning with a square imprint on his face and asked why there are plastic things hanging from the pillows. I pointed to each square, "firm" and "soft" to label the kind of pillow available for your utmost comfort, but instead, he slept on the signs leaving an imprint of another evidence of MBA shenanigans at work. He didn't say anything about that, except, "oh, I didn't know you had to take these off, I thought they were neckties for pillows." Because that was a common thing where he grew up or because we live in the times where that sort of thing might be feasible. On the way home, my dad stepped over to the red carpet while he showed his wave 4 ticket to the United employee at the gate. He says to her, "oops, I stepped on the red carpet and I didn't even pay $35 dollars." She just waved her hand at him and says, "oh, that's alright!" without realizing that this is way of getting sardonic and sticking it to the man. You know...the MBA man.