Things to be Thankful for

I'm not a habitually grateful person. Unfortunately I am not one of those that wakes up every morning to seize the day, thank the sun for rising and the day for starting. I leave all the lights off, slowly ease my way into the morning, and wait until the last minute to put my hearing aids in. It may be this morning mentality that prevents me from counting my blessings. However- today- in a random way (on my way to the bathroom)- I was struck by the things I am thankful for...

1) At my office, the bathroom is literally right next to my office. Who can beat that for a pregnant lady?
2) I work about 20 hours a week in a fairly stress-free part-time job.
3) I walk across the street to go to work, by the time I've worked up any semblance of sweat- I'm indoors with some of the most hot-natured air-conditioning loving people I know. I am not hot and it's July!
4) My husband fixes me breakfast on a semi-regular basis. I'm talking bacon, eggs and toast.
5) The way my desk is and every other place I hang out between work and home- I usually have a place to put my feet up. Swelling has not been an issue and my feet feel great. I rarely have to stand for a long period of time.
6) I have an endless supply of cold water at home and at work.
7) My dog doesn't jump on me- only on my husband.
8) My cell phone enables me to keep in touch with my family and all friends who can help me when I am clueless about what to do next.
9) I like my doctor, and she likes me.
10) I live in Northern Virginia- and although the pace is hectic and the prices are high- the hospitals are superb.
11) I have had all the right symptoms of pregnancy- down to the pelvic stretching (more on that later maybe) that will hopefully prepare me for a normal birth. I even haven't had much heartburn.
12) I am in a church that has embraced my husband and me to the extent of being beyond spoiled. This church hasn't seen a baby from the staff in a while- and seem content to be ridiculously excited about it.
13) Between church, family, and random neighbors- I am told about 3 times a day how great I look.
14) We have been blessed financially through generous gifts from our family, and also support from our church.
15) Everyone who has had a boy within the last 6 months is keen on giving us all their clothes that their little ones have grown out of, meaning we will not be purchasing clothes for about 7 years.
16) Likewise, anyone who has been pregnant, ever, has given me clothes, pillows, bras, etc- and the rest has been filled in by my mother- the world's best bargain shopper.

I'm going to miss being pregnant- I really think so. I am one of THOSE weird women. This is not so bad. I will have to remember this time- because next time won't be so easy or at least so ridiculously easy. But who knows- now that I've counted these blessings- I'm starting to think maybe this is just how things are for us! : ) We are blessed!

Pregnancy Files

I update my family from time to time with an email I title "Pregnancy Files"- it is pretty sporadic and mostly when there is any news or I am struck by something in my pregnancy... I just wrote one today and thought I'd post it here, since I haven't updated my blog in a while!

It's been a while since I've sent any updates! I think really because nothing has been happening- other than being told how "big" I've gotten.

I think people think it feels good to be called big, like when you were 4 and you couldn't wait to be 14. And I admit- the first few people who commented on how lovely and pregnant looking I was- the "big" comment was more like a compliment- like I was now officially pregnant. The problem occurs when you start hearing "wow- you've really popped" about a dozen times a day, and sometimes from a repeat offender. Family gets to say it because they are family and they don't see you all the time. Everyone else- enough already! I swear, by the comments I have received, that I have sufficiently "popped" about 147 times in the last 4 weeks alone. Amazing, and really I should be huge with that much popping... but I feel normal, sufficiently once "popped" and pregnant.

I'm in my 6th month- this Wednesday will be the 24 week routine check up. The first check up since we had our ultrasound and found out we had a healthy baby boy. I'm excited to go to this visit only because it feels like so long since the last visit, and I have a feeling there is more information to be had and spread now. Or I'll just pee in a cup and come back in 4 more weeks.

People keep asking me how I feel and my base response is "I can't complain." I think it is good- because I really can't. I feel pregnant- but by the looks of how things could be- I'm feeling pretty good! I've never been dressed as cute except maybe when I was 4, I've never been complimented and doted upon so much in my life- how could I complain? The biggest nuisance is peeing more often- but I get to eat more ice cream, so it's a win-win situation. : )

Baby Boy Snow has developed the following habits: kicking my bladder. It is the coolest thing to finally be able to feel the baby (which I have been able to more in this last week than ever before!)- but it seems that his favorite target is Mommy's bladder. I keep telling him that it is impolite, he should go for the kidney or maybe even the front of my belly so Jason gets a chance to feel him. He's not big enough or kicking hard enough for anyone else to feel him- so it's a neat private party between the two of us. Another thing he has picked up is hanging out on the left side of my belly. I can just feel him kind of all the way over- squishing on that side, hanging out. I feel like he could be using his space more efficiently, but maybe he's training for the "trapped" feeling he'll have when he grows to fill the whole belly.

I told Baby Boy Snow (no- we have no real names yet) that he is so lucky because he will have cousins who are basically the same age as he is! He kicked my bladder in happy response.

Sermon Writing

I am writing a sermon. Wait, no. Let me try that again. I am rewriting and erasing and editing and eeking out a sermon for this Sunday. I enjoy the whole process... after it's done. Right now I am frustrated because once again I am preaching on a "special" day- which is totally cool (United Methodist Women Day)- and while I want to write my fabulous "women rock" sermon... I have the "what is the church" sermon coming out the side gate. I don't know how to put the two together- and I'm tired of my own voice (on paper) at this point. There is little Spirit flowing here- and I could really use some Spirit. I especially would like the Spirit to strike between now and tomorrow evening. That would help. I'm at the point where I could take the existing sermon I have and make something out of it- or... if the Spirit flows- I may take on a totally different direction. The problem is- I need to have the bulletin done by tomorrow. So there's the timeline for the spirit. I've been working on this for a few weeks- so its not procrastination, its that each time I work on it I get blocked and can't make something happen.

I want to preach the Word- not "some words." I want to get complimented after the service because it was a good sermon that makes people think, not because I'm cute and pregnant and that's a novelty to see a pregnant lady preach on UMW Sunday. I want to speak truth that sets people free. I want to speak truth that brings new life into a dull space. I want to speak light in dark corners.

I have high expectations.... and am getting a little nervous about it all. Pray that the Spirit flows!

The King

Today is the anniversary of Martin Luther King's assassination. It's weird that we commemorate these days, like going back to the site of a car crash years later. I guess it makes sense- just as much as we like to remember and relive those days that we celebrate- we need to remember and relive those days that make a dent in our minds. I see the loss of MLK almost like a loss of innocence for the American people. Those who weren't in the thick of the race struggles or marches or injustices might have been easily ignorant. Once the voice of a people was suddenly and so sharply silenced- it had to cause an extra glance by the previously ignorant.

I wonder what things I am ignorant about today. I could probably even name them for you- because ignorance isn't just a lack of knowledge, it's a lack of action. We were studying some scripture passages for worship planning the other day- and one of the passages has Jesus saying that those who hear the word and do not act are like those who build their house on sand. Those who hear the word and act are like those who build their houses on stone. What is amazing about this text is not that it is a cool analogy and it makes a lot of sense- but that both groups hear the word. No one misses the message, some just choose to do nothing with it.

I think that was King's message to the white folks and black folks of the day- it isn't that the plight of the poor and downtrodden is a big secret- it's that no one seems to be willing to do anything about it- or even saying anything about it. MLK was special only because he took the risk to act on the Word. He was special in a way that really, anyone could be these days. We may not all become world renown or listed in the history books- but we can act.

The trouble is- in memory of today- it still feels like Jesus got it wrong. Those who act get their house blown down. I think MLK knew that, and still believed. Lord, help my unbelief!

Facebook, sex and haircuts

These are some items on the top of my brain today (and for the last couple of days). I am currently trying to compete with my popular husband to get more (if not at least maybe as many) friends on my facebook than he has. Currently I have around 190 friends, he's in the 250s. It sucks to have been a little of a loner in high school.

Meanwhile, as I increase my friendship profile, I have currently been thinking a lot about sex. Weird- and I'll blame it on the pregnancy. My last doctor's appointment had me sent away with a very precautionary limited-activity prescription. Translation: I'm really fine, but just in case I am not allowed to run a marathon or have sex. So I wasn't really interested in marathons, and not that sex has been, um, plentiful lately- apparently when you're told NOT to do something, there is a psychological response that occurs. So- I have been having some very explicit sex dreams. I'm in some, some are just like somewhat sophisticated pornos. I kid you not. I wake up every morning thinking- wow- I really have some pent up energy there! However, I am not overly imaginative- so don't get excited. The dreams are very basic and involve only quite normal sex things. It's enough for me, I guess. I would think that since the condition I am in has been caused by sex, I wouldn't be so dramatizing and fantasizing about it in my dreams. But no, my dreams have come alive. My husband is a little disappointed that my sex life is all happening during REM. Oh well, doctor's orders.

Then there is the other completely unrelated topic: haircuts. I've been scanning old photos of myself and friends and family into my facebook account (a ploy to get more friends). And it has taken me down memory lane, but mostly- I covet my good hair days. I have not had a professional hair cut (even "hairs r us" would count) for.... over 2 years. I have told myself it is a small sacrifice and really, who needs a professional hair cut when their sister will cut it for free every 6 months or so. As it turns out, I might. My hair is... I think crying. I have it in a pony tail day in and out- occasionally let it down to curl, but most immediately pull it back up and away in a bun. It wants to be loved, carressed... wait- maybe these topics aren't unrelated. The point is- I need a hair cut. I want a hair cut. The only problem is that they tell pregnant ladies not to get a hair cut- because you might do something drastic with all those hormones running around. But the problem is- I need something dramatic, otherwise why not just let my sister cut it again? She can do dramatic- the scizzors are just not as quality.

So there you go. I'm at work. Thinking about facebook, sex, and haircuts.

I guess I could get my hair cut.

Pregnancy Hormones

So the news is officially out- and it seems so are my hormones. The cry-baby ones. Sometimes I hate being pregnant (by the way if you are learning for the first time I am pregnant from this- I hope I tried to call you and tell you!). I don't mean I hate the baby- right now it's nice and tiny and hasn't been kicking me or anything- its legs aren't long enough. No- I hate the emotions and realities that come crashing in when you are expecting a new family member.

The emotions honestly have not been wreaking havok on my system, but classic "me"- they've been lurking underneath, waiting for the INoportune time to show up. Aka- my boss' office. Yes- I cried in front of my boss today- not because he yelled at me, not because he was particularly mean or angry- no- my hormones jumped out and cried. We were discussing the previously mentioned "job bullshit" (finally) and I burst into tears. Stupid face-scrunching tears. Now- I am the hypocrite who tells everyone to let their tears out- feel the feeling, but I like to cry alone and preferably in the shower. Not in my boss' office.

So the emotions and realities: apparently when you have a baby in your stomach, all the things that you didn't let yourself think about before or cry about before- want to be thought over and cried over. Let me give you some examples: 1) Not being close to family, 2) Not having a fabulous garden (I can't make this crap up) 3) Not being close to family, and 4) Not being close to family. My friends happen to be in the same general non-local area as my family- so let's throw them in for 5.

My boss basically ultimately decided as a compromise that he would rather I not take comp time for out of state vacations. Which of course in my irrational head I considered as a direct punishment for not living near my family, because if they all lived 2 hours away, I wouldn't have to leave the state except once a year for beach therapy. And I might have said that out loud. I really don't seem to be good with "fearing" authority. I gratefully got the rest of the staff out of this ridiculous comp time mess, never really got a solid answer on whether or not anyone had a problem with me (he said no one had an issue with how I do my job and that I do a good job- but my insecurities and hormones are suspicious).

So that's how I came to cry in the office. He thought it was about him, and a little bit of it was and I didn't mind making him squirm (although the plan was not originally through tears)- but really it was about where I am in life and where I want to be. I have lived my whole life a military brat: "bloom where you're planted." I've done a decent job at doing that, not being homesick for a minute of my life- not even Freshman year of college (especially not that year). I've never associated a physical place to my home, and so have been happily homeless for years. Now the one thing that my parents did screw up on was when they told me that home is where your family is. Well- after I was done escaping from family in college and so on, I wanted to go back home- but then I had new family (Jason)- so home became Virginia. And it's been blessing upon blessing- my Grandmother lives here, we have a wonderful (too huge) home, we have a fun (big hairy) dog, and we aren't very far from my new family (in-laws). So what's not to love? I even found a dream job or two.

But dammit- home is where the family is- and as long as the rest of my family (and my first family that was the only stable thing in my life growing up) is a million miles away- I'm still feeling homeless. And when I have a baby in my stomach- that makes me uneasy. I've never been able to say it before, but Jason was right: I need to be near my family. Once you admit that, there's no going back to fantasy "bloom where you're planted" land. So now everything I think of and do seems to point me home. And it's making me crazy.

Pregnancy hormones suck.

Job Bullshit

I've just eaten my 4th peppermint patty (the smaller kind) and I have about 30 minutes to get ready to go to a boy scout banquet.

There are some things in my life right now that seem just a bit off, odd, or - well- obligatory. I love my job, I'll say that before I complain. What I don't love is job bullshit. Every work place has it- mine is considerably less inundated with it than the average "office space" corporation. Church work comes with its own species of bullshit, and I'm skilled at avoiding it, but every now and then- it bites me in the butt.

I have recently had a triangulating conversation and email about how I've kept track of my hours for the 2 years I've been working at this church. I won't go into the nitty gritty details, but let's just say person A told me person B doesn't like how I've been doing it- and so they're going to go and retroactively calculate my leave time according to their new method- 2 years into the process. I call this bullshit. And I'm going to talk to person B who should have talked to me to begin with - and politely explain my bullshit theory.

All that to say- I hate working for money. I am actually serious. I would much rather have some sort of income not dependant on my job/etc- say- be independantly wealthy- and then volunteer. You see volunteers always are good. Whatever they do- is more than what they had to- so they can't disappoint. Generally speaking, I will say I've seen some disappointing volunteers- but I am not one to over-committ myself.

So I guess I need to write my book, be the next JK Rowling (who am I kidding?) or something- fix this situation so that I can volunteer and garden for the hell of it- not for money- and not so someone can count my hours.

Surely there is a place for me- a place where I do not have to worry about bringing in enough money for the family, a place where I don't have to feel guilty about the fact that my intolerance of job bullshit is what's keeping me from a good ol' government job 40 hours a week that would pay for some health insurance, as opposed to the church insurance that spits on our medical bills and hopes their saliva might bring the numbers down a bit.

All of us intolerant ones- unite, we may be poor- but we have our integrity.

ha.