Friday, September 28, 2007

Fears and Expectations

I'm a control freak. This is not anything new, but I have come to a new understanding about how my desire to control everything around me has formed and how it affects everything and everyone around me. Part of my control problem is exhibited by perfectionism. By perfectionism I don't mean the stereotypical "my house is perfect because I'm a perfectionist". My home is a mess physically. If I feel that I can't make something perfect, I don't do it at all.

This is shown by my housekeeping. When I get started cleaning something, I get down to the nitty gritty and scrub things down to the point where there's not a speck of dirt. If I clean one window, I have to clean them all. If I start sweeping, then I need to vacuum. If I vacuum one room I have to vacuum the whole apartment. If I clean the toilet I have to scrub the sinks, counters, shower, and tub to gleaming, then mop the floor. If I make the bed it has to be perfect, the sheets tucked in exactly. If I do laundry, every item of clothes must be hung the correct direction on the hanger or folded correctly, towels must be folded all the exact same way, and if it's not I feel like I'm going CRAZY.

This is why if you enter into my apartment, you see stuff laying around, the carpet hasn't been vacuumed in over a month, the clothes get washed then piled in a chair for days, and the bed is rarely made. I don't have the energy to put into cleaning the way I NEED to do it, therefore it doesn't get done. So I sit on the couch and watch TV. Or go shopping. Anything but clean.

I realize that my home doesn't have to be perfect, I can do laundry every couple of days (clothes don't have to be hung perfectly on the hangers), if I pick up as I go along there won't be that much stuff laying around, etc. But it's so hard to let my anal retentive tendencies go. I guess what I'm trying to get at here is that I'm afraid of this neurotic behavior being expressed towards my baby.

Children are messy. Children are disordered (in the context of organization). I know there's a balance that must be kept, I want my kid to put away his toys when he's done playing with them, I want him to learn to make his own bed and learn to be responsible for his belongings. I expect him to learn these things as he grows up so that he can become a responsible adult 20 years or so down the road. But I don't want him to freak out that his crayons aren't in a rainbow order in the box, or that his toys aren't lined up on the shelf exactly, or that he didn't separate his foods on his plate and eat each food separately in a specific order (yes, I do that). If there's anything I wish for this child it's that he's not as neurotic as I am.

The funny thing is, I wasn't raised to be like this. My mom didn't make me keep my bedroom perfect as a child, she'd mostly make sure that I cleaned up when guests stayed over. Otherwise I just had to make sure that there was a walkable path through my room and that my stuff didn't spill out into the rest of the house. Of course once every other month or so she'd nag me to clean my room. I had chores to do and did them, and so learned to be responsible.

So why do I do it? Perhaps it is a defense mechanism. I got teased and bullied a lot as a kid (I was the nerdy poor kid who always wore hand-me-downs and even though those facts didn't bother me, it did get a lot of unwanted attention), and perhaps I felt I had to control every aspect of my life that I could since so much of it seemed so far out of control.

I know that having a baby is going to throw a lot of my ability to control out the window. Infants (especially newborns) have their own schedule, and their needs are completely dependent on their parents. A bit more so for mothers, I think, since we are their nutrition source. Perhaps I'm writing this now because the reality that I'm going to be having a baby is really starting to sink in, and I'm starting to become afraid. With all of the advice I've been getting and the books I've been reading I feel like I'm supposed to know what to expect but I know I have no CLUE what to expect and all the advice in the world isn't going to really prepare me for what's coming.

I already love George and am excited that I can feel him moving around. I am looking forward to seeing him for the first time and holding him in my arms, but I'm scared I'll do something wrong. I wouldn't change this time in my life or wish that I hadn't conceived this new life for the world but that doesn't mean I'm not scared. I know billions of women throughout history have gone through the same experience of fears and doubts mixed with loving expectation but it doesn't make it any easier for me.

All I can do is pray.

Lord Jesus, I lovingly pray for this sweet hope
that I keep within my womb.
You have granted me the immense gift
of a tiny little life,
living in my own life,
and I humbly thank you for choosing me
as an instrument of your love.
In this sweet waiting,
help me to live in a constant attitude
of self-surrender to your will.

Grant me a motherly heart that is pure,
steadfast and generous.
I hand over to you my own concerns;
any anxious fears that may come,
my own wishes for the little person
that I still have no knowledge of.
Grant that it may be born healthy in body,
keep far from it every peril to its soul.

Mary, you have known
the ineffable joy of a holy motherhood;
give me a heart that can transmit an ardent, living faith.
Sanctify my waiting,
bless this joyful hope that is in me,
grant that the fruit of my womb
may open out in virtue
and in holiness through your working
with that of your divine Son.


Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Winnie the Pooh

So today I got down and dirty with the acrylic paint. Since we're kind of doing a Pooh theme with the nursery, I figured I'd paint a mural on the short wall. Sean's mother gave us a quilted kite that had been in Sean's room when he was little, and I had the idea of Pooh holding on to the kite flying through the air. Took me a little bit of searching but I finally found a decent image to work with and sketched it on the wall.This last image is just to give you an idea of the proportions. Yes, it's still a mess up here in the loft but we're slowly getting things organized.

Friday, September 21, 2007

Baby Belly

Since I'm still too lazy to remember to bring the sonogram pics upstairs to scan in (and I've been quite busy today finishing up the first draft of the church newsletter), I thought I'd post a baby belly picture and you can guess how big he is in there right now. The only reason you're getting a picture from me now is because my laptop has a built in camera.

Last night at Sean's company soccer game, George figured out how to turn somersaults by launching himself off of my bladder. And since then he's been practicing.

Some more good news is that I finally finished the crib! A bit of background, my father had built a solid-sided crib from white pine for my sister, and when I came along it was my baby bed as well. Now over 30 years later (for the crib, not sister is several years older than me :D) I gained possession of it from my mother's storage closet and began the task of refinishing it. My father was talented when it came to building things, but he wasn't very smart. When he coated the wood in verathane (sp?) he did so after attaching the brass fittings to the corners. So when I took paint stripper to it 30 years later I had to chip my way through 3 layers of ancient finish to unscrew the fittings.

Anyway, I stripped the old verathane off and sanded down the entire piece. Unfortunately the inside was not in very good condition and was quite difficult to sand. So I rubbed in a protective light stain finish on the outside and painted the inside white, then attached brand new brass fittings. The wood now has a honey glow (as opposed to the sickly orange hue from the verathane) and a crisp interior. I then found at JoAnn's a lovely Winnie the Pooh print (with a green background) and used a ton of batting to cover the head and foot panels. The only part that is not finished is the mattress. I purchased and sized the extra-firm foam but can't sew together the vinyl cover I plan to make until Sean gets my sewing machine down from the closet. But even missing that, the crib looks great!

Since we plan on using a bassinet for the first couple of months, the crib won't get used for a while (the nursery is upstairs above our bedroom and I'm not planning on running up there in the middle of the night for the next few months following the birth), but I'm glad I got it finished. It will be like one more step closer to know...parents. :D

Saturday, September 15, 2007

A Sleepless Night

So as I write this, it is 2:30am or somewhere thereabouts...or maybe it's 3am. I guess it's closer to 3. 2:30 is when the loudest and most irritating sound I've ever heard began. The fire alarm.

One of the conveniences of living in an apartment building of fairly new construction is the building-wide fire alarm system. There is a nifty little speaker in each bedroom of each unit in the building that emits a high-pitched squealing repetitive beep when the alarm is pulled. Throughout the building. Lovely. At least I know I'll wake up if there's a fire.

So it apparently started with our next door neighbors. They had been having a party all afternoon and evening (I could barely tell and only because I could hear a little bass) and one of them told me they had been "smoking" a lot. So I had walked to the front door when I heard the scampering of many feet down the outdoor staircase (we live on the 2nd floor). This was slightly alarming and Sean and I threw on bathrobes and went outside. Unfortunately we had to leave the agoraphobic cat in the apartment, she freaks out too much and doesn't have bladder control when she's scared. Stupid cat.

So we met our downstairs neighbor for the first time when we arrived outside. The fire department had been called and were on their way, and there was the strangest scent that reminded both Sean and I of a burning circuit board. The kind of sulfury smell that occurs when one fries a motherboard or graphics card. Soon a second fire engine pulls up, this one with a ladder. We speculated that perhaps the firemen wanted to check and see if there were any pot-smoking squirrels on the roof. Before we went back inside, our downstairs neighbor described the mass exodus of the party-goers next door running down the stairs as "cockroaches fleeing from a burning building". The residents of the next-door apartment spent the minutes before the fire truck arrived opening the windows and airing it out.

What a night. Being 6 months preggers, I am used to getting up in the middle of the night. Even so, this is a bit much! It did, however, remind me of my dorm days where if the fire alarm didn't go off every week or two I'd begin to worry. Ahh, the good old days, how I don't miss them.

So here I am, sitting at my computer because neither of us can get back to sleep, drinking a 7-up to settle my tummy, and posting to my blog because I have nothing better to do. Oy. At least it's a weekend....