This morning on the way to school Michael Buble's song "Just Haven't Met You Yet" came on the radio. The world practically stopped spinning while all three of my children sang out at the top of their lungs, word for word. Absolutely charming. They really like Michael Buble. I'm not sure I really understood how much until KJ spent the other night decorating his school binder -- I love looking at it, because I used to express myself the very same way -- with different names and interests. And one of the big names was Michael Buble. And there were lyrics from some of his songs dispersed throughout. I just thought that was cute. Then there was Christmas time at the mall, when my parents, my children and I were eating lunch in the food court and Olivia watched him in one of his Christmas videos. She said "That's Michael Buble? Wow. Any girl would be happy to date him!!!"
High praise indeed.
Tonight is our rehearsal for the recital tomorrow. I'm pretty nervous. Granted, I've been involved in dozens of recitals where my students have performed, but it was always someone else's studio or theater. This one all comes back to me, so cross your fingers that all will go well.
Although, crossing your fingers will do no good -- merely superstition. My 11th grade seminary teacher taught a very impressive lesson once on superstitions and how if you really invest in your lucky rabbit's foot, or whatever else, it could be a form of worshipping a false god. So even though I say that in jest all these years later, I still hear Sister McKeon in the back of my head saying that I should really remember it won't do any good, and maybe I should pray instead. So go ahead -- say a little prayer, if you wouldn't mind. It would probably do me a lot more good!
See? Lessons stay with us, folks.
And now, a giant paragraph of complaining, which you are free to skip and I even encourage it! Tomorrow I will be 30 weeks pregnant. I am so thankful to reach that milestone and so, so hopeful (and delusional) that things will go quickly from here! This has been my fastest pregnancy by far, but the last five weeks or so have been slugging through mud and it feels like I definitely can not survive another ten weeks. I'm not good at being pregnant. It's not a talent of mine. Some women I know really find it rather easy, and I even met one miraculous woman who had her seven children in six years and said she'd never felt better then when she was pregnant! Isn't that the coolest? That is so amazing, and I am so happy for those women and so much salute them, and wish I could be like them. But I'm not good at it. Quite honestly, it is profoundly difficult for me. I am just in pain. Sometimes mild, sometimes pretty severe, but always it is there, an albatross around my neck -- except a few minutes out the day, and when those minutes occur I am immediately aware and bask in the absence of hurting. A little Oasis. This then becomes a psychological war zone, because the way I respond is not the way I wish I'd respond, and the self-flagellation is difficult to combat. What about those that suffer chronic pain as a way of life and handle it so courageously? I wish it wasn't hard for me to deal with. I wish I could rise above it. What about my many loved ones who would give anything to be pregnant and would be so happy for the pain? What's wrong with me? I feel like if it is a struggle to me it is a slap in the face to them and their struggles. It is such an amazing gift, and I am so happy for the honor, so thankful to grow this baby that I wanted and want so very much. I just hurt. I just get so tired. I feel lonely. I feel crazy. Nobody likes to be crazy! Ten more weeks seems so extremely daunting.
Waaah. Poor Marie. Wo is me.
But really. Of course I can do it. I will do anything in my power to give that baby lots of time to grow and to be present and thankful for that time!!! I promise. End of complaint. You are good and tolerant people. I'd be afraid you'd think less of me, but honestly, with what I am sometimes willing to share, you already know the truth. Let's still be friends.
In closing -- yesterday the Double B and I got our teeth cleaned. Katelyn hung out in the waiting room with us while we went in one at a time... first BB, then me. Thankfully, they had a tv with Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood on it, so she had that to sort of watch while keeping me company and telling me some of her adventures. When I finally came out after mine (Ouch. I just hate teeth cleanings. Is that just me? But I love how nice your teeth feel afterwards.), the Double B was asleep in his chair and she was lounging out sideways in hers, feet propped up on the arm, watching her show and playing Daddy's phone. She said "Mom, this has been SO MUCH FUN!!!" I have no idea what went on while Dad was asleep, but apparently she didn't mind at all!
Oh, boy. Good thing there are Daddy's in the world. They are a different breed, but boy, do we need them!