Thursday, July 28, 2011

Life is Good

Just a quickie (since it is driving me crazy that my last post was about crying) to say we're hanging in there.  Making progress on the unpacking and settling in.

I am pleased to have found: a good OB/GYN, a hair dresser, a preschool, almost all of Jillson's school supplies, a dentist, an endodontist, an oral surgeon, a great sandwich shop/deli, a neighborhood book club, a great ice cream shop, a gym, a library, an awesome vet, and a good church option.

We are finding our rhythm with the Gutsy Dad gone during the week and home on the weekends.  This will last for three weeks, and we are in week two.  The house hasn't burned down, and we're all still alive.

Chins are up.

I am setting up my scrap-nook.  I am filing random papers as I unpack them.  I am trying not to panic that the baby's room is not set up.  At all.

I am still spacing on replying to emails and phone calls and letting people I love know that I love them.  I am just assuming that they KNOW.

I am not taking as many photographs as I would like.  I am not sharing as many photographs as I would like.

But life is good.  I love my house more and more every day.  It is starting to feel like home.  I am meeting new neighbors, new friends, other moms of many girls.

I feel I could be happy here for a long, long time.

(Photos are from July 20, and I feel as though my belly has doubled in size since then.  Must. Take. More. Belly shots!)

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Crying in Public

One of the things that embarrasses me most about myself is my ability to cry, openly and with varying degrees of effect, in public.  Sometimes these are tears of joy or sadness, and I make no apology for these.  I'm an emotional gal, and if I am extremely happy or extremely saddened, you'll know and--usually--you'll find it acceptable.

But sometimes I get so frustrated I just can't help it.  I don't handle frustration or (what I perceive to be) injustice well at all.  Sometimes the results are marvelous (such as when on the phone with a customer service representative).  Sometimes it just seems to annoy everyone around me (sorry, honey).  I get it.  I'm a grown woman and I should not cry.  It's embarrassing.

Nevertheless, I've been pretty weepy these past few days, even by my own standards.  It started Saturday night as I was flying back from Maine with the girls.  They were awesome on our first flight, but our second flight (which departed at 10:15pm) was tough.  Jillson finally fell asleep, but Madelyn fought it for nearly the entire flight.  She wanted to sit next to her sister, but I was afraid she would wake her, and I could not for the life of me muster the energy to get up, unbuckle everybody, and rearrange our seats yet again.  Eventually, I got Madelyn semi-calmed down, snuggled onto my lap, where she kind of crumpled into me, moaning "I want my Papa, I want my Papa, I want my Papa" over and over again.

There was nothing I could do other than rub her back and say "I know.  We'll be there soon.  Papa's waiting for us."  But all I was thinking about was how difficult this will be in a few months' time when I will not be able to say we'll see Papa any time soon.  I lost it.  I cried and cried and cried.  Thank God it was dark, but I'm sure my excessive sniffling gave me away.  I figured it was my first official cry of the impending Ridiculously Long Business Trip (RLBT).  And just thinking that made me cry more.

Maybe it's best to get these things out of my system beforehand?

Yesterday, too, despite my general happiness, was an epic day of crying.  I've been trying to deal with a painful tooth that began throbbing about a week ago and rapidly progressed to unbearable.  While I was still in Maine, the Gutsy Dad made me an appointment with a local dentist and found us a babysitter.  By the time the appointment rolled around, I was DELIGHTED to be going to get help.

Then I had to sit in the waiting room for an hour and fifteen minutes (crying quietly off and on) while the dentist's office tried to contact my OB/GYN for permission to x-ray my mouth. Permission finally granted, and one excruciating oral exam later (blatant, uncontrollable crying), it was determined that dear old tooth #29 needed a root canal.  "Call the endodontist right away; let them know it is an emergency; they'll fit you right in."

Rushed home to relieve the new babysitter, called the endodontist and got the run-around (pathetic "customer-service frustration" crying ensued).  Finally got them to agree to see me, called my new neighbor to see if I could leave my kids with her, and rushed off to Savannah.  Tears of relief and pain all mixed together.

The endodontist was so kind, so funny, so calming that I immediately started crying and laughing all at once out of sheer gratitude.  I apologized for crying and then the flood gates REALLY opened and I couldn't stop crying or string together any coherent words for several minutes.  The doctor just patted me on the shoulder and said "Let it out.  You're worn out.  Your hormones are nuts.  Your hair's on fire with pain."  I think I fell in love with him a little bit.

Anyway.  This is just to say that these next few weeks could be a little watery.  That and I think it would be wise to encourage at least one of my daughters into the dental field.  I'm thinking being an endodontist is a fairly recession-proof career.  By the time the doctor's assistant showed me the sheet with the estimated costs (after insurance) of a root canal, I was thrilled to sign it. I was in so much pain--and filled with so much gratitude to live in an era of kind endodontists and lidocaine--that I would've signed it even if the cost were tripled.

Today I will not be getting my hair done as originally planned.  Today, instead, I'm off to see the oral surgeon for a mid-root-canal consult.  (Hoping the pain relief from yesterday's partial procedure will help me stave off tears.)  Today, perhaps, the root canal will be finished. Today the kids get to meet yet another new babysitter.  (Thank God for adaptable kids.)  And maybe today I will finish unpacking that last suitcase from Maine.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Some Visuals

Click any picture to see a larger version.

Helping to paint the baby's room.  They were SO excited to be included in the task.  A good lesson for us as parents.  We normally would say nope, envisioning mess and disaster, when faced with the prospect of letting two little ones help us paint.  But the pay-off was WELL worth the small effort of planning to avoid disaster:

A seaside creation, envisioned by Jillson, engineered by the Gutsy Dad, and created by these three, as I sat by (blissfully observing):

All dressed up for the wedding in Boulder:

Water break during a hike in Chautauqua Park:

Our guide:

Father's Day in Savannah with a surprise visit from my aunt and uncle -- see, we were so busy in June I completely forgot to mention this fun visit in my post below!

One of many fountains to be explored:

Water play in the city!  Love it.

Scatterbrained, Settling In, Sort Of

I know, I know.  Over a month's hiatus.  Let's see.  The aforementioned road trip ended well with a fantastic Memorial Day weekend with Meme and Kiki on Hilton Head.  In June, we enjoyed visiting with friends from KS and Germany (both in the area, visiting, yippee!), traveling to Boulder, CO for a wedding, and a two-week family vacation in Maine. Phew.

Now that we're back home in Georgia, I can finally focus on settling in.  Unpacking is slow but underway, and my days seem filled with doctors' appointments (for me and kids), phone calls, and the tricky task of trying to use my limited energy wisely.  We are slowly figuring out the essentials -- hair stylist, babysitters, church, playgroups -- and I am just extremely eager to have my house up and running in some sort of normal and easy fashion. (Patience, patience, patience is my mantra on this front.)

I fear there are a million emails and comments and posts I have failed to respond to, phone calls I have ignored, and birthdays and other important events in the lives of loved ones I have let slip by completely.  I find it shameful on my part. I console myself by thinking that of course I can't do it all, no one expects me to, but--seriously--I should at least be able to do SOME of it.

Today I got a peek inside my belly via ultrasound to check in on Little Miss Gutsy #3.  Of course I had to endure a rather pointless "perinatal genetic counseling" session due to my--ahem--advanced maternal age, before said look-see, but it was worth it.  The baby looks adorable in there--all cheeks and lips and nose, just like her big sisters.  Only 9 more weeks or so until we get to meet face to face.

Today, I vow, I will at least finish unpacking the suitcases from our trip to Maine.  Tomorrow, a few boxes' worth of household items will be put away, I swear it.  (Oh yes, dear readers, the era of "how many boxes will I unpack today?" has returned.  I am sure you are as thrilled as I am.)

Pictures, perhaps, to follow.