Mostly-Mommy

Mike and I were way too abused this week. He had a post a few days ago titled “Pincushion” so now I am writing “Pincushion #2″ because I sympathize. I had an appointment with the midwives this morning during which I had blood drawn, a finger stick AND my Rhogam shot. Take that Mike! I got stuck THREE times! Wimp! And he may have gotten a Tetanus shot but that Rhogam is just as mean, and is given in the butt so meh.

The good news is that after being all full anxiety over my glucose test for the past three weeks (thanks midwife!) my blood sugar is completely fine. Yea! No gestational diabetes! I’m very happy about that but I sure wish the test didn’t require drinking 50 grams of a disgusting sugar drink –  couldn’t I eat a bunch of ice cream or cookies or something? Couldn’t some pharmaceutical company contract with Ben & Jerry’s to create a prescription grade cup of ice cream? We could call it something like “GTT Delight” or “Creamy Glucose Crunch.” Sounds good to me!

Mike: “Your body is shaped really differently with this pregnancy. With Nick your belly was kinda pointy, but this time it is really round.”

Me: “And I think my butt is huge this time too. Does my butt seem really big to you?”

Mike: “Well, sometimes I stretch the truth but I’m no liar. Yeah, your butt is totally huge.”

Meh.

It is a grey and dreary afternoon here in good ‘ol KC, and is supposed to get cold and snow by tomorrow morning. We all just finished having naps (yes, ALL of us) because we were up half the night with a toddler going through some kind of sleep regression, a pregnant woman with a bladder the size of a walnut, and a dog that is tertrified of thunder. At least I had a solution to the dog problem at 2:30am which was to tie him to my bedside table using nothing but the string from Mike’s robe. Got the job done.

Last night my wonderful mother took the young man for the evening so that the Baby Daddy and I could get out for dinner and a movie.

Dinner at Rockfish: Good.

Ghost Rider: Good (I know, I know… but it was fun. And who can resist Sam Elliot? Try. I dare you).

An evening alone without the tempermental, crazy-making, refusing to eat or sleep toddler: Priceless.

Thanks mom! Of course she said he was a perfect angel for her all evening. Of course. Whatever, after the day we had together I would hope he had used up all the orneriness one person is capable of in a 24-hour period. He does seem to have a neverending supply of it lately though. All I can say is bless you sweet, sweet Thomas the Tank Engine. I love you and the peace and quiet that only you can provide these days.

And since all you’re hearing lately is about how difficult the young man has been… this should help:

My heart was broken into a hundred million pieces. The world was suddenly cold and very dark. I held my baby close to me and cried with a sorrow that I did not know was possible.

On this day one year ago my sister died.

Even a year later just writing those words brings tears to my eyes and I still can’t believe that they can be true. How can they be? The world doesn’t make sense without her in it.

And yet she is really gone and that is a reality that I live with every day. Her clothes still hang upstairs in my house, in the room that will always be her room no matter how it changes. Her robe still hangs on the hook of the bathroom door — the robe she was reaching for when she fell down right next to it. I look at these things and so many others and I expect her to come home any time now, tired from a double shift at work.

I have pictures in frames around my house and even if she isn’t in them I remember her in the context of that time. This morning I looked at the picture of Mike and I kissing in Flagstaff at the sushi restaurant and I remembered that was the summer that Erin came to stay with us. That was about the most fun summer of all time. We went to San Diego and body surfed in the ocean. We hiked in Sedona. She came to work with me at Plateauland and went home with a puppy. The summer ended with her having emergency surgery, but we still had fun with it because my Dad flew out to be with us.

I looked at that picture and wished with all my heart that I could go back to that moment and do it all again. Even if I did it all exactly the same, it would be worth the pain for the chance to have some of the joy again.

Every day I am learning how to live in a world that does not have Erin in it. Sometimes I don’t believe that she is gone — it is just not possible. And sometimes I am so angry at her that I can’t even look at her picture. And sometimes I know this is all real, and I am okay with it because it was her destiny for whatever the reason.

Her marks are everywhere in my world, they are such a large part of my life and always will be. All I can do now is try to learn from her and allow her to teach me to be a better person (not that she was perfect — but she was completely unique). She reminds me to tip well because that waitress works really hard. She reminds me to love like it’s going out of style. She reminds me to take risks, try new things and do what you want to do because life doesn’t wait for you. She reminds me to buy that new shirt or necklace or get a new haircut because I’m worth it. She reminds me to be generous with my compliments because everyone feels better when someone says something nice about them.

Ghandi once said “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” I think about Erin whenever I see that on the magnet on the side of my refrigerator because I have never met anyone who personified that saying more than she did. She felt so much hurt and sadness when people treated her unfairly or were mean, and felt just as much when it was done to other people. She defended the little guy and tried to always be a friendly ear to anyone who needed it. Sounds like a superhero doesn’t she? Well she was one even if she only wore her tights and cape (dragonfly wings) on Halloween — she was my hero. I miss her every day.

We just got home from a trip to the illustrious Target, where I purchased a number of things. These things were put inside of a clear plastic storage tub (also paid for) at my request. I did not purchase (again) a pair of baby leggings that I was overcharged for on my last trip and had the receipt for in my wallet.

On the way out I stopped to put our coats on and a security guard came over and gave Nick a sticker, then hung around talking to me and looking in our cart until we left. I had the red, hot face of a shoplifter and he knew it. My things were not in bags. Guilty, guilty. All in my head of course because he never said a word about it.

An hour later and it is still plaguing me that he thought I was stealing that stuff.

Why do I have such an insane guilty conscience? What is wrong with me?