5 Days and A Dream

OMG Ya'll! In just FIVE days Baby Boy #3 will be here, and I can't even believe it. This pregnancy has gone by so quickly, which is the opposite of how my other pregnancies felt. Part of this is probably because this time around I'm having a scheduled C-Section at 39 weeks, so I know that there is an end in sight and it's much closer than if I had to wait another 2 or 3 weeks. The other part is that I've already got two little wild-men at home, so they have kept me busier than I was the first or second time around.

I'm so grateful that I've had an easy, healthy pregnancy. I'm grateful for a practice of doctors who are progressive, friendly, and capable. I'm grateful to have employment at a company that has allowed me to earn enough PTO and SHCL to earn a paycheck while I'm out on maternity leave.I'm grateful for Troy who has been the best helper ever, always offering to rub lotion on my belly or rub my feet. I'm grateful for Archer's mischievous little grin that has made me laugh so many times this pregnancy, and his sweet little baby smell that still lingers and reminds me of what I have to look forward to all over again. I'm grateful for a husband who is my rock and has been so good about plying me with milkshakes or Blizzards from DQ when requested. I'm grateful for a group of women I consider my best friends, both near and far. I'm grateful for an aunt who has been like a mother to me. And I'm grateful for my mother, who despite her absence, is ever present and whom I credit much of what I know about being a mother to.

I've felt my mom's absence the most this pregnancy. There have been many more days this time around where I wished she was here, and when the actions of other people in our lives have reminded me of just what exactly my children, husband, and myself are missing out on by not having her here.

A few weeks ago I had a dream about her, which is a rare thing for me. Since her death eight years ago, I can count on one hand how many dreams I've had about her. The dreams are never about her, but I know she is present, and the second I acknowledge that she is there and acknowledge that it can't be real because she is dead, she disappears.

This dream was different. Chad and I are in the recovery room at the hospital, following the birth of this baby. I'm sitting up holding him, and in walks my mom, just the way she used to, smelling and looking the way she used to, like Elizabeth Arden Green Tear perfume and smiling and happy. I look directly at her and say, "You can't be here, you're dead. What are you doing here?" She responds "I"m just visiting."

And I think she was.

xx.

Amanda

Lessons in the Kitchen

One of my goals for the New Year was to bake more, and to include the boys (mostly Troy) in cooking and other kitchen projects. So far, it’s been going well, though we’ve mostly stuck to baking things like muffins and brownies.

Last Saturday I decided to branch out and make our own pizza dough for pizza night. Troy hopped up onto his little wooden stool and helped measure and knead the dough, excited at the chance to get messy and play with food. After the dough was properly mixed I explained to him that we now had to wait for it to rise, and he set the timer for 30 minutes.

I started to get nervous around the 15 minute mark, when the dough had not risen at all. When the timer went off, Troy excitedly ran to see the dough, only to discover that it looked absolutely the same as it had 30 minutes ago. I explained to him that it didn’t work, we looked up some troubleshooting options online, and set about making another batch, which didn’t rise either.

By this point it was almost 8 o’clock and everyone was hungry, dare I say, hangry! (Hungry+Angry) We decided to order a pizza instead, and Troy ran out with his daddy to pick it up and bring it home. We ate quietly, which in our household, is how you can tell that the food is good and the people are hungry. I think I was the only one disappointed that the dough didn’t turn out right.

Laying in bed that night I reflected on what might have gone wrong and on the experience as a whole. I decided that I was grateful that the dough didn’t rise. I was grateful to have the opportunity to show my son that sometimes, though you do everything right; things just don’t work out the way you want them to. I was grateful that I was able to show him that when things don’t turn out according to plan you just move on to the next plan, in this case, take out. It doesn’t mean you give up forever, just that sometimes it’s best to walk away and try again later.

As for us, we’ll be attempting pizza crust again this weekend.

Xo, 

Amanda 

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