Sunday, March 28, 2010

Hormonal Dreaming

I've heard all about how your dreams can get a little more vivid, a little more frequent, and a little more weird when pregnant. I've definitely noticed this over the past several months, at least to some degree.

In some instances, the dreams that I have make perfect sense for a pregnant woman. For example, take the dream I had a few months ago... I dreamt that I went into labor and ended up having the baby before Jason could make it to the hospital. When he did finally get there, for some reason there were suddenly 4 babies in my room and I was panicking over the fact that I couldn't remember which one was ours and didn't know what to tell him.

Or there was the time I dreamt that I gave birth in a half-hospital, half-zoo facility. And after delivery, the nurse brought me a koala bear to snuggle with rather than a baby. The weirdest part about that one was that I didn't find it weird at all at the time. I loved my koala bear just as he was. How's that for good mothering?

Then there was the dream where I was meeting my baby for the first time when he was a year old. The reason being, I had asked my sister to Meghan to "watch him for a bit while a ran some errands" after the hospital. Must have been some extreme errands. When I came to get him, Meghan tried to tell me that I had named him Macon (rhymes with "bacon"), even though I was convinced she had secretly done this herself as a twisted way of naming him after herself.

Just a few nights ago, I dreamt that I was at a baby shower. First of all, this baby shower included a few people from my current work, but other than that it was all people that I haven't seen or even thought of in years (you know, why wouldn't I invite my elementary school, male, band instructor to my baby shower??). The really stressful part though was when one of my co-workers gave me a hockey stick as a gift, and I couldn't think of a tactful way to tell her that I had no need for a hockey stick at a time like this.

All of these dreams I completely understand. Weird though they may be, it makes sense why such things would be weighing on my mind and finding their way into my sub-conscious whilst I slumber. The dream I had last night, however, I'm still struggling to understand.

I dreamt Tom Hanks died. In a boating accident. Now, I should mention that I generally don't have very strong feelings for Tom Hanks one way or the other. Sure, he's an excellent actor and I enjoy most his movies, but his and my relationship pretty much ends there. In this dream, I was terribly distraught over the loss. Stranger still, I had taken it upon myself to plan a memorial service for him, complete with sappy slideshow and all. And this wasn't one of those dreams that just goes away when you way up. Upon waking, I still felt like I was in mourning. It took me the better part of an hour to convince myself that Tom Hanks is not in fact dead. And even if he were, the chances of me being in charge of his funeral arrangements are pretty slim. Possible, yes...but slim.

Just to ease my feelings of stress a little bit, I figured I better take all preparations and throw this little ditty together. Just in case they come calling for me when that fateful day comes...

(Ok, so the real reason is that I'm feeling particularly drained today, and the thought of sitting on my couch with my laptop doing this is way more appealing than vacuuming.)

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Outnumbered, But At Least My Shoes Are Clean

Every now and then something happens to remind me of the fact that I stand alone amidst a bunch of boys. This past weekend, for example, served as a very muddy reminder.

We decided to venture out for a bike ride, despite the fact that we were still surrounded by melting snow and soggy conditions. For us, bike rides are never just bike rides. They're more like many brief little bike spurts divided by long stops on the side of the trail to explore.

I'm going to let these few pictures tell the story of our latest outing:

Boy #1: Hey! Can we stop and see that lake?

Me: It looks really muddy...

Boy #2: Hey! Let's stop and see that lake!

Me: I don't know guys, it really is muddy.

Boy #3: We're men, we can handle a little bit of mud!

Me: (Suddenly painfully aware of the fact that we just had our carpet shampooed last week) Ok, but let's stop and see it from over here in the nice dry grass.

Boy #1: (It feels suspiciously like no one is hearing me) Hey that looks like quicksand! I bet I can go further than you!

Boy #2: Sweet! Quicksand!

The rest of the story doesn't really require any dialog...

Since I wouldn't let Caleb put his muddy socks in my Camel Pak, he came up with this idea. I was impressed with his resourcefulness. I'll give him that...

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Spring has Sprung

I've said it before, but it's worth saying again. I LOVE Colorado. With the first day of Spring upon us this weekend, we found ourselves with a typical Colorado snowstorm followed by a gorgeous day of sunshine. We decided to take advantage of it and try out our new sleds.

Meghan, if you're watching this and wondering if I stole this video idea from you, the answer is yes. The only difference really is that we saddled up donkeys instead of horses.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Fathoming the Unfathomable

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." -Psalm 139:13-16

I've heard this verse countless times before, but never has it struck such a chord with me as it does now. I happened upon it a few months ago and just haven't been able to let it out of my mind since. I love to think about what this verse means for the baby that God is growing inside of me day after day.

From my meager little perspective, it's so easy to feel impatient and anxious and eager and fearful all at the same time when I think about the day I finally get to meet the little boy I'm carrying. It's so easy to lose perspective and think of things on a day by day timeline; one week the baby is growing his heart, the next he is hiccuping as he learns how to use his brand new lungs. Six months ago he wasn't in there at all; today he makes his presence known with plenty of little kicks and jabs throughout the day.

It's hard to explain just how I feel when I step back and realize the weight of these words in Psalms. The fact that God already took joy in this baby's little heart and new lungs, even six months ago when I carried no one inside of me. The fact that God was smiling with each little kick and jab, even before I knew what was in store for us. The fact that God already knows everything about this boy -- his joys, his passions, his strengths, his pain, his weaknesses -- even though I still sit here wondering simply what he will look like -- the color of his eyes, the texture of his hair, the expressions of his face.

It's overwhelming and it's freeing at the same time. It reminds me that this is not just my baby God is trusting to my care. This is the life of one of His children, and He's given Jason and I the unspeakable gift of watching over him and loving him as ours. This is a human being that God has always had in His heart, since long before I set foot in this world. It reminds me that God has every day of this baby's life in His hands, and has all along.

I have no idea how anyone could approach the task of having a child without knowing God. I, for one, could never rest easy in the knowledge that this baby's life was dependent on only my strength and performance as a mother. No, I am much happier taking comfort in the fact that his life is, and always has been, in the hands of a perfect Father.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Pregnancy Brain...or Lack Thereof

A few weeks ago I was asked if I've yet felt the effects of "pregnancy brain". I thought on the question for a few seconds, and then replied "No, I don't think so. Does that really exist?"

However, once the thought was in my head, I started to catch myself doing and saying some of the most ridiculous things. Now, I don't know how much of this can truly be blamed on pregnancy brain, but I've decided I'm going to soak these last few hormonal months up for all they're worth and go with the theory.

The other day Jason and I were at the grocery store. One of the only things I was there for was chicken noodle soup, but as is always the case, the trip quickly snowballed into a full-blown, overflowing cart kind of trip. I distinctly remember standing in the soup aisle at one point, and I distinctly remember scanning the labels with my keen eyesight, and I distinctly remember grabbing 3 cans of chicken noodle soup and placing them in my cart. Remember this scene, it will leave you just as boggled as it left me only a few short hours later.

First though, I must describe another picture to you. In this particular scene, Jason and I are standing in the frozen food aisle, and we've left our cart only a few glass doors down from us. At one point, Jason hands me 2 boxes of creamed spinach and asks that I put them in our cart. I distinctly remember walking to our cart, I distinctly remember rearranging a few things (namely, an 8-pack of Yoplait yogurt), and I distinctly remember fitting our frozen creamed spinach snugly into place.

Now if you will, please fast-forward about an hour to when we are just getting home and unloading our groceries.

Peculiarity #1: As I am stocking my 3 cans of chicken noodle soup into the pantry, I notice that they are not in fact chicken noodle soup. In my hand I am holding 3 cans of french onion soup. Which, I might add, is about the most different looking kind of soup one can find from chicken noodle soup (see below). I have never in my life bought french onion soup. I am bewildered.
Peculiarity #2: We are missing our creamed spinach. At first, we assume that maybe they were overlooked in the bagging process. It happens. But after checking the receipt, we determine that we were never even charged for creamed spinach. The mystery thickens as we realize the creamed spinach has somehow vanished from our cart somewhere between the frozen food aisle and the checkout line. Jason asks me if I'm sure I put it in the cart, to which I quite defensively reply "Yes, I distinctly remember moving the yogurt over to make room for the spinach!"

There's a brief awkward pause where I can only assume he is deciding whether or not to spare me my dignity. Then he replies, "Uh, what yogurt? We didn't buy any yogurt." Apparently he decided against the dignity thing. I'm about to argue back when I realize that he is absolutely correct. We did not buy any yogurt on this trip. I am further bewildered.

This leaves me with 3 theories to mull over:

Theory #1: The french onion soup dispenser is right next to the chicken noodle soup dispenser, and I mistakenly grabbed the wrong one. I have no defense for the spinach thing on this theory, but there's no need as it was quickly debunked anyway. After telling my mother the story of the soup, she pointed out that the two soups are no where near each other in her local store. I took a look at my own store the next time I was in, and she is correct. They are on almost opposite ends of the soup section.

Theory #2: Ok, so I mistakenly put the darn spinach in another person's cart. So sue me. It happens...they should really make those grocery carts all different colors or something. However, in this theory, the correct owner of the cart that I am not-so-subtly digging through and rearranging to my own liking is so deeply offended by my misunderstanding of socially acceptable grocery store practices that she decides to beat me at my own game. She sees my 3 cans of chicken noodle soup, clearly the prize of my trip thus far as they are perched honorably in the top kiddie-seat part of my own cart, and decides to swap it out with something random. Say, french onion soup.

Theory #3: Pregnancy brain truly exists, and I have fallen victim.

I'm still teetering between theories 2 and 3. Whatever the reason may be, I certainly hope that some family somewhere is enjoying our creamed spinach as much as we had hoped to.