PCOS Baby

There really is no difference

Before K came home, I had what I assume are the typical concerns for a mom about to have her second child.  How can I possibly love this child as much as I love the first?  Will I ever feel the same way about him that I do my first?  Will I be as excited about his first milestones as I was when my first baby did them, or will they just seem routine?  Will I constantly compare them?

And I had what I assume are the typical concerns for a mom about to adopt a child.  Will I love this child as much as I would love a bio child?  Will I ever look at him and feel like he really is mine, not just by law but by my heart?  Will I be able to do things with him without wondering if I'm just pretending that he's my son? 

The first month home didn't exactly reassure me on any of those.  I know that I'd read posts from people about how hard it is at first, how it's OK not to feel bonded to your child right away and that the attachment has to grow.  That didn't reassure me.  I felt bonded to P from the moment I knew I was pregnant, and motherhood fit me very naturally.  The sleep deprivation was tough, the nursing was tough--but it felt like I was born to do it (which was strange in and of itself, but that's another post).

The mothering came right away with K.  Although I struggled a lot with the emotions, I know how to mother.  Even though he was an unfamiliar child, I know how to hold and soothe, to cuddle and play with a child of that age.  I even commented to J while we were still in Ethiopia that it felt very natural, very familiar.

In the last month, the rest of it has come.  I admit that it was a lot faster than I'd ever expected it to be, especially after the first month, but there is no doubt.  I look at K and can hardly believe that this wonderful miraculous child is mine.  I watched his first steps and cheered and squealed and called everyone as if I'd never seen a child take a step before.  I don't compare them, except to think about what each one is/was doing--I'm not comparing K's actions at 18 months to P's at that age and finding them better or worse.  He's his own person, and I find that much easier to realize than I'd feared it would be.  At the same time, I do compare some things.  Just like P, I see the joy in K's eyes when he sees me come into a room and know that it is reflected in mine when I see him.  I tell him I love him so very, very much and mean it every bit as much as I've meant it every time I've told P the same thing.

And, though I'm sure K wishes it weren't so, I can discipline him without fearing that it's going to sever that bond, that attachment, that love.  I don't fear to take something away from him that he's not supposed to have, even though I know it will make him scream and cry, because I love him enough to discipline him.  I don't fear to give him time-out when he's hitting someone or one of the dogs, because it's a part of being his mama.  And I don't worry that he will turn away from my hug at the end of it.

I know there will be many issues in the future, both related to adoption and related to the fact that I am his mom and that he will chafe at boundaries like all children do.  I am sure that I will hear "You're not my real mom!"  I'm sure that I will hear "I don't love you!"  (I've heard it from P already, so I know it's coming.)  I'm sure that there will be other statements guaranteed to break my heart a little bit each time he throws them at me.  But I also know that I love him enough to be his mom, and none of those statements will change how I feel about him as my son.

On Mother's Day

To all of you who are mothers with your children in your arms

To all of you who are mothers with children in your wombs

To all of you who are mothers with children in your hearts

To all of you who are mothers with children in your dreams

Happy Mother's Day.

If you thought...

...that I was a responsible individual.

...that I would NEVER shorten my office hours tomorrow afternoon in order to have another lunch date with my husband*

...that I was able to stay cheery without any assistance** through an extremely long day at school today

...that I wasn't a big huge nerd who is judging the International Science and Engineering Fair next week

...that, surely, if I was such a nerd, I would be blase about it and not admit to being incredibly excited about judging at the ISEF

...that, surely, the night before my class's final meeting that I would have their papers graded

...that I would NEVER have stayed in the boys' room to read Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets*** for a while even after they'd both fallen asleep rather than grading papers

...that, if I wasn't going to grade their papers, I would surely at least go to bed at a reasonable hour

...that I would never, ever, EVER blog instead of grading papers or going to bed

Then you would be wrong.

****************************************************

*I can't imagine my office hours really matter tomorrow, as my last final is in the morning and who in the world will be coming by after exams are over?

**I painted my toenails blue last night.  And wore open-toed sandals with a little heel today.  I smiled every time I looked at them.  Who needs chemical assistance?  I just need blue toenails.  (Please ignore the hideousness of the toes themselves--I haven't had time to give myself the full pedicure that I desperately need.)

***For the 18 millionth time.

There is no Or...

The other day, I told J that when the summer is over, we are hiring a cleaning service.  I told him that I don't care if he has to sell his damned car, we're doing it or...  Then I stopped and said "There is no 'or'.  We're hiring a cleaning service."

I wish I could justify the expense now, but I really can't.  I don't work over the summer, so we're down to a much smaller income.  My Bradley class that's starting soon is only half full, and we were kind of counting on that to help pay for the expenses related to my sister's wedding this summer (two flights to NY, one for me and the boys for her shower, the other for all 4 of us; the car rentals; the kennel for the dogs; the clothes; the bridal shower, since I'm matron of honor; and the gifts).  I don't have a job guaranteed for the fall and, while I'm fairly confident that I have one, there isn't even a verbal committment right now.

As an aside, my interview went as well as it could have and the committees' hiring decisions are on the vice-president's desk right now.  We're expected to hear sometime by the end of the month.  Even if I don't get a tenure-track position, though, both my department chair and assistant department chair have said all they can to assure me that I will have at least a term-to-term position (which is what I currently have) next year without actually saying it outright.

Anyway, when our future income is so uncertain, I really can't justify the expense of hiring a cleaning service.  What I'm going to do this summer is what I did a year or so ago--every day, I'm going to try to do two things.  Just two things.  One day might be cleaning toilets and grocery shopping.  Another might be laundry and vacuuming downstairs.  And I'm going to ask J to do one thing each day.  Last time we did that, it kept the house reasonably clean so that it never seemed overwhelmingly disgusting...and I can live with that.

J was quite insulted that I complained about him to the internet, but couldn't deny it.  And when I told him that having written it all down helped me to discuss it without getting furious and upset, he didn't mind much anymore.  As it turns out, we've been having a good time since then, even though the house isn't much cleaner.  The next night, he picked up dinner and we went and had a picnic at the park.  It was lovely--it was really relaxing, I didn't have to cook, the kids had a great time.  He did quite a lot outside this weekend without any begging or nagging, which was great.  The lawn is mowed, the bushes are trimmed, and the trash has been taken out of the house.  He stayed home with the kids the whole afternoon today while I went to Starb*cks to write a final exam and even managed to get the dishwasher unloaded, reloaded, and run again.

Under normal circumstances, I don't keep score.  In fact, I deliberately try not to--because we have actually seen a counselor in the past for issues mostly stemming from me feeling overburdened and J not sharing the load, and that was one of the things that the counselor said I need to stop doing for my own health and sanity.  But the other day, when I was putting the kids to bed by myself again and then going downstairs to clean up the kitchen before I could even start on my own work, I felt so angry and resentful that I couldn't help but think about why it was that I felt so angry and resentful about it.  Why was it that something I normally really enjoy doing (putting the kids to bed--it's one of my favorite times of the day) was making me upset?  I've come to the realization that it certainly wasn't that that was upsetting me.  It was the whole situation.

We've talked.  We had a lunch date on Friday and talked for a long time.  We'll see if it helps.