They are going to induce on Wednesday if the baby hasn't come yet. Meanwhile, I am trying to be remotely useful at the office. Although I am sure we are still woefully unprepared,we have finally gotten everything in order at home. And a huge round of thanks to you darling DRGs for your part to get us set up with what we need!
I am starting to freak out a little bit about being in the extended-stay hotel with a newborn ... I hope the weather is good enough for long walks or I may develop claustrophobia ... what are we going to eat? ... what if he is a really loud fussy baby, will they kick us out?
I am secretly glad that the Mr-Parents are out of town this week. They are scheduled to fly home on Saturday and I think that should be just about right. I do not need Mr-Mama participating in, contributing to, or witnessing any drama that may go down while we are at the hospital. Between us, the birthmom, her parents, the agency social worker, the hospital social worker, and the nurses - we've already got a cast of thousands to deal with.
Last comment: We are fighting a losing battle to keep this news on the down low. We have told immediate family, close friends, and work people who need to know. The thing is, everyone we tell the exciting news now is one more call with the awful news if things don't go as planned. I have two aunts, three uncles, and nine first cousins myself, and none of them have been clued in. But no one in the Mr-Family can keep their d@mn mouths shut about anything.
I wouldn't even have told the Mr-Grands if it were up to me, but Mr. J thought we should. We stopped by to share the news last weekend, and they wanted to call everyone they know - we waved off three phone calls while we were there, stressing over and over that we are trying to keep this quiet until the actual baby leaves the hospital with us. Not 4 hours after we left the Mr-Grands' condo, Mr J's aunt called and left him an excited voicemail, wanting him to call and give her all the details. Really?
If you can't bear to keep your mouth shut as instructed, can't you at least tell the people you're blabbing to, "Now don't say anything until they tell you themselves"?
Monday, October 24, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
Twinkle: The Appropriate Response When Someone Makes You Breakfast
The men of Mr. Twinkle's family love to make breakfast. On many a weekend morning Mr. Twinkle will get up early with our girls and I'll wake an hour and a half later to the smell of pancakes. They will be hot on the table when my lazy ass finally decides to descend the stairs, and, you know, I've never once thought to complain about it. I don't even mind cleaning up the disastrous kitchen after the fact. The appropriate response when someone makes you breakfast is to smile and say thank-you, and talk about how delicious the breakfast was, and then insist that they go rest while you clean up.
That's in the normal world, of course. My MIL actually finds fault with my FIL's habit of making breakfast. He is retired, so his breakfast-making operation is a daily event, and he measures and freezes all his ingredients beforehand so it will be easy to grab the contents of, say, two egg white mushroom omelettes. He is also working on his technique for Waffle House hashbrowns (he likes them "scattered, smothered, and covered"...which for the non-initiated involves frying them in a skillet with cheese and onions). I all find the effort endearing, and if someone were making me breakfast every day before I went to a thankless damn job at the elementary school, you'd better believe I'd be grateful to that person. Also, you know that he doesn't dare leave that kitchen messy, so I don't really see what the problem is. When someone hands me an omelette with no strings attached I just say thank you.
Not my MIL. Instead, she just bitches and bitches about it and rolls her eyes when he seems proud about the effort he puts into it. It's unbelievable. Of course I try to make a big deal out of how nice I think it is, and how I admire the creativity, and how I know that's how Mr. Twinkle will be when he's retired. I mean really, how ungrateful can that bitch be? And then her mother is all, "Well, did you skip lunch?" to my FIL, and my MIL breaks in and says, "No! He went to lunch with a friend!" like that is the worst thing in the world. I have a word of advice for my all-knowing mother-in-law: if a man wants to make breakfast for you, let him, and if he then wants to go to lunch with a friend, be nice to him about it, and be glad he's not spending his retirement screwing someone nicer.
Whew. That woman gives me a case of the horribles.
That's in the normal world, of course. My MIL actually finds fault with my FIL's habit of making breakfast. He is retired, so his breakfast-making operation is a daily event, and he measures and freezes all his ingredients beforehand so it will be easy to grab the contents of, say, two egg white mushroom omelettes. He is also working on his technique for Waffle House hashbrowns (he likes them "scattered, smothered, and covered"...which for the non-initiated involves frying them in a skillet with cheese and onions). I all find the effort endearing, and if someone were making me breakfast every day before I went to a thankless damn job at the elementary school, you'd better believe I'd be grateful to that person. Also, you know that he doesn't dare leave that kitchen messy, so I don't really see what the problem is. When someone hands me an omelette with no strings attached I just say thank you.
Not my MIL. Instead, she just bitches and bitches about it and rolls her eyes when he seems proud about the effort he puts into it. It's unbelievable. Of course I try to make a big deal out of how nice I think it is, and how I admire the creativity, and how I know that's how Mr. Twinkle will be when he's retired. I mean really, how ungrateful can that bitch be? And then her mother is all, "Well, did you skip lunch?" to my FIL, and my MIL breaks in and says, "No! He went to lunch with a friend!" like that is the worst thing in the world. I have a word of advice for my all-knowing mother-in-law: if a man wants to make breakfast for you, let him, and if he then wants to go to lunch with a friend, be nice to him about it, and be glad he's not spending his retirement screwing someone nicer.
Whew. That woman gives me a case of the horribles.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Twinkle: Gossip and Gluttony, the Glue that Binds Families Together
In my family, every event begins with a 2-hour bacchanalian orgy of appetizers. There is a huge table of them, and everyone crowds around with a festive spirit and completely without shame. We gossip, laugh, and drink wine for so long that, by the time the meal is finally served, every appetizer plate and bowl is scraped clean and we are all so tipsy and full and exhausted from laughing that no one really cares what's for dinner.
That's just another reason why Mr. Twinkle's family is so foreign to me. There are never any cocktails or appetizers at his mother's house, which always makes for a sober and dour time. But I'm here to talk about his grandmother's house.
She serves a tiny tray of little hot dogs in a puff pastry and other little things like that, on a tiny little table in the corner of her den. You walk into the room and everyone is sitting down (always an atmosphere-killer), usually in silence, just watching anyone who dares to approach the appetizer table. I feel completely awkward helping myself to whatever veggie option is there (y'all know I only eat humane meat, and I doubt those little hot dogs lived happy lives). Anyone who dares to approach the appetizer table more than once is judged, so by the time the meal is served, there is still half a tray of sad little hot dogs sitting there all lonely.
My family would have polished off those sons-of-bitches in three minutes flat.
Tonight Mr. Twinkle's cousin dared to have more than one of them, and that girl's grandmother, the high-strung Aunt Irene, said all judgmentally, "You're not going to be hungry for dinner," as if this girl were a child, which she is not. For me, it's all about the appetizers; I couldn't care less what's for dinner (especially there, where all they ever serve is meat that I don't eat and some flavorless vegetable without any seasoning). So what if you're not hungry for dinner? As an adult, it's your business, not Aunt Irene's.
I think that they are missing out on festive, gossipy times around a bowl of dip. Of course, my dour MIL would never think of being catty and would never gossip for the sheer pleasure of it. The closest she gets is when she's fired up with righteous indignation about something-or-other, or when she judges someone for having too many children too close together. Her self-control around the decadent desserts (that she personally makes but rarely indulges in) mirrors her self-control regarding cattiness. In my family, the girls will sit around a plate of brownies/bowl of M&Ms/log of cheese and dish, gossip, and laugh until someone says, "Take these M&Ms away from me," and shoves them down the table for someone else to gorge on. (This is slightly different from the orgiastic feast of cocktail hour...it still involves a measure of gluttony but it's a more intimate setting).
And that is what I want for my children. When my girls are older I want them to, occasionally, sit down at the kitchen table with me and tell me funny stories and not be afraid to indulge in cattiness and more than one brownie. Not all the time, of course--I want them to be healthy and well and not morbidly obese, naturally--but I honestly think that's how memories are made and that's how relationships stay close. Maybe if my inlaws were less judgy and more fun, I would have that kind of relationship with them--I honestly wish it were possible. But the opportunity is never there, because the family culture is hostile to gluttony and gossip. It's their grievous loss.
That's just another reason why Mr. Twinkle's family is so foreign to me. There are never any cocktails or appetizers at his mother's house, which always makes for a sober and dour time. But I'm here to talk about his grandmother's house.
She serves a tiny tray of little hot dogs in a puff pastry and other little things like that, on a tiny little table in the corner of her den. You walk into the room and everyone is sitting down (always an atmosphere-killer), usually in silence, just watching anyone who dares to approach the appetizer table. I feel completely awkward helping myself to whatever veggie option is there (y'all know I only eat humane meat, and I doubt those little hot dogs lived happy lives). Anyone who dares to approach the appetizer table more than once is judged, so by the time the meal is served, there is still half a tray of sad little hot dogs sitting there all lonely.
My family would have polished off those sons-of-bitches in three minutes flat.
Tonight Mr. Twinkle's cousin dared to have more than one of them, and that girl's grandmother, the high-strung Aunt Irene, said all judgmentally, "You're not going to be hungry for dinner," as if this girl were a child, which she is not. For me, it's all about the appetizers; I couldn't care less what's for dinner (especially there, where all they ever serve is meat that I don't eat and some flavorless vegetable without any seasoning). So what if you're not hungry for dinner? As an adult, it's your business, not Aunt Irene's.
I think that they are missing out on festive, gossipy times around a bowl of dip. Of course, my dour MIL would never think of being catty and would never gossip for the sheer pleasure of it. The closest she gets is when she's fired up with righteous indignation about something-or-other, or when she judges someone for having too many children too close together. Her self-control around the decadent desserts (that she personally makes but rarely indulges in) mirrors her self-control regarding cattiness. In my family, the girls will sit around a plate of brownies/bowl of M&Ms/log of cheese and dish, gossip, and laugh until someone says, "Take these M&Ms away from me," and shoves them down the table for someone else to gorge on. (This is slightly different from the orgiastic feast of cocktail hour...it still involves a measure of gluttony but it's a more intimate setting).
And that is what I want for my children. When my girls are older I want them to, occasionally, sit down at the kitchen table with me and tell me funny stories and not be afraid to indulge in cattiness and more than one brownie. Not all the time, of course--I want them to be healthy and well and not morbidly obese, naturally--but I honestly think that's how memories are made and that's how relationships stay close. Maybe if my inlaws were less judgy and more fun, I would have that kind of relationship with them--I honestly wish it were possible. But the opportunity is never there, because the family culture is hostile to gluttony and gossip. It's their grievous loss.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Julep: anxiety
OK, I've gone from being very hopeful and excited to being a ball of anxiety. I started off worrying about what I would do when they hand me a newborn to take home -and now I am principally worried that they won't.
The birthmother missed a lawyer's appointment on Friday, which could be a simple scheduling snafu (she originally had an appointment at the agency on Friday which was moved up, and personally I didn't realize there was a separate appointment with the lawyer, so maybe she didn't either) or it could be that she is having second thoughts. I and my stomach lining do not need this kind of stress.
I think part of the problem is that I feel like I am in the first trimester "we're hopeful and excited but we know to be cautious because things could go bad suddenly" phase, but because of the timing, I have to act like I am in the third trimester "there's a baby coming any day, arrange your schedule accordingly and set up the nursery" phase.
I had to call two sets of other lawyers and the court and move a trial date yesterday. It made me want to throw up. If I tell all these strangers that we are expecting a baby and then she changes her mind and we don't get one after all, I'm going to look completely pathetic. And I don't mind looking pathetic to you girls, but it's not the kind of laundry I like to air with people I hardly know.
As I said to LoLa the other day, I know the Lord is working for the best, and if that means I get a heaping dose of humility instead of a baby, well - I probably need it. But it isn't going to be fun.
The birthmother missed a lawyer's appointment on Friday, which could be a simple scheduling snafu (she originally had an appointment at the agency on Friday which was moved up, and personally I didn't realize there was a separate appointment with the lawyer, so maybe she didn't either) or it could be that she is having second thoughts. I and my stomach lining do not need this kind of stress.
I think part of the problem is that I feel like I am in the first trimester "we're hopeful and excited but we know to be cautious because things could go bad suddenly" phase, but because of the timing, I have to act like I am in the third trimester "there's a baby coming any day, arrange your schedule accordingly and set up the nursery" phase.
I had to call two sets of other lawyers and the court and move a trial date yesterday. It made me want to throw up. If I tell all these strangers that we are expecting a baby and then she changes her mind and we don't get one after all, I'm going to look completely pathetic. And I don't mind looking pathetic to you girls, but it's not the kind of laundry I like to air with people I hardly know.
As I said to LoLa the other day, I know the Lord is working for the best, and if that means I get a heaping dose of humility instead of a baby, well - I probably need it. But it isn't going to be fun.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Julep: big news
We have been matched with a birthmother - the baby is due Nov 2 and she's already having contractions so nobody thinks it will be that long. The baby is a boy - the birthmother is biracial and the father is either biracial or white (there's more than one candidate).
We are keeping this news a little quiet until we have the baby actually in our hands ... I can't help feeling a little superstitious and I don't want to jinx anything. But the birthmother appears to be fully committed to adoption, her family is supporting that decision, and the birthfather candidates are uninterested in parenting. So far, everything looks good - no health concerns, she's had all her prenatal care, etc.
Keep us in your prayers and I will keep you posted!
We are keeping this news a little quiet until we have the baby actually in our hands ... I can't help feeling a little superstitious and I don't want to jinx anything. But the birthmother appears to be fully committed to adoption, her family is supporting that decision, and the birthfather candidates are uninterested in parenting. So far, everything looks good - no health concerns, she's had all her prenatal care, etc.
Keep us in your prayers and I will keep you posted!
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Julep: All you can do is laugh...
I had a nice chat with Mr-Sister yesterday, trying to come up with ideas for Mr-Mama's impending birthday. I am truly awfully fond of her. But when I heard that she's been spending most of her free time with the horse she just bought ... well, re-read the "impartiality" post below. Sometimes a sense of humor is all I can muster.
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