Sweltering with Sackett and Stench

I love summer.  I do.  I love it at the lake.  I love it near a swimming pool.  I even like it inside an air-conditioned car during a road trip.  I'm finding it a bit more difficult to love in my non air-conditioned house during the hours of 4:00 and...say...8 pm.

Those hours have long been known to be bewitching to mother and children alike, but I have found those hours to be incredibly important to my day.  It's when I....

...frantically pick up so Jay doesn't think I've done nothing all day.
...start dinner (why haven't I become a religious crock pot user yet???)
...clean up dinner (just finished and my hair is wet with sweat.  I kid you not).
...think about blogging before I call it a day and go read/take a bath/sleep.

July and its usually pleasant upper 80 degree temps that feels like 105 to my bloated body isn't conducive to any of those things.  I think I've made an actual meal for my family, and not just set out things to eat, only three times this month.  Tonight was one of those rare nights.  I grilled a beautiful fillet of wild Alaskan salmon, steamed some string beans and cut up some cantaloupe, even though I don't enjoy that particular taste of melon.  I had nearly forgotten how enjoyable it is to set a table and call children to the table and then call a second time to the one that's missing and then a final warning that if he doesn't come, he doesn't eat for the rest of the night.  No, really, it WAS delightful and the highlight for me was to watch everyone simultaneously laugh following Henry's declaration during our baby naming discussion, "Let's just go with Sackett, Mom."   In all seriousness.  Darn that Jay and his love of Louis L'Amore.

By the way, our baby won't be named Sackett.

It also doesn't help that during our afternoon viewing of National Geographic's The Womb, Jay and I both caught the repugnant whiff of skunk and realized our more adventurous and obnoxious cat, Scout, got sprayed.  Her seeming method of dealing with the stress is to stand by my bedroom window and flop around. It's so strong that all windows have had to be closed and Jay's handy Ozone machine, which he purchased to rid his truck of the previous owner's cigarette presence, was used, shutting down the use of our bedroom for four hours.  Who knew a generator of free radicals to eliminate odors would come in so handy? Jay is just a new breed of cowboy with his Ozone totin' gun.  Eat your hearts out, Sackett boys.

That's a long winded way of saying I'm hot.  I'm hot!  But, since I managed to cook dinner and clean up the inevitable mess that comes with it, I thought I'd hit three out of the four and blog.  I miss thinking outside my own head.  Even when it is my sweaty-hair-on-the-back-of-my own head.

On Tuesday, I am officially 20 weeks pregnant.  Halfway through!   Woo-hoo!  That is also the day when I am scheduled to have my ultrasound.  I toyed with the idea of not finding out the gender of this baby, just for experience's sake, but with names like Sackett flying around the house, I need all the time I can get to think about, decide upon and then convince the others what the name of this child should be.  It helps to have narrow it down to either boys names or girls names.  Trust me on this, if it is a boy, I'll need all twenty of the remaining weeks to work out a name.  The ones I like bore Jay, the ones he likes have got to be jokes and the boys throw out names like Bobby Jr.

I feel like I must declare pre-ultrasound that I really will be happy with either a boy or a girl.  I've thought a lot about it.  Again, for experience's sake, I'd love to have a girl.  I'd love for the boys to have a sister....a future woman in the house to learn how to treat and respect.  I'd love for Jay to have a daughter because I hear that relationship is pretty special.  Myself, I'd love to discover how parenting a girl would feel.  Would it be harder because of my own preferences and experiences or easier for the same reason?

That declaration made, I adore boys.  There is a huge part of me that wants our family to remain a clan of boys with me as their queen.  Seriously, I think having another boy would be wonderful.  He'd have shining examples to look up to in any and all of his brothers and...well...we know boys.  We have boy things.  I'm pretty sure having a boy would be an easier transition for our whole family.

I have one more day to wonder.  I googled the statistics because I'd heard somewhere at sometime that the odds of having the same gender baby if you have three of the same was around 70% but it's more like 57%.  57% chance of having another boy and 43% chance of having a girl.  Jay scoffs at those numbers.  He says it's always 50/50 but I'll stick with the science of statistics and won't be shocked when the ultrasound tech announces little Sackett is coming to our home.

It's 7:30 and starting to cool off.  I'm also starting to get sleepy.  Still, July got TWO posts so I'm clearly on the upswing.

Man...it's hot.

********Prediction time!  What do you think #4 will be?  A baby boy or baby girl?**********

It Wasn't Me

For the past two months, I have been suffering what I self-diagnosed as partum depression.  Of course, when I mentioned my concern to my doctor, she asked me if I had any suicidal thoughts and when I replied, "No," she said, "Well, it's not really a great surprise that you feel down.  You're throwing up and tired and have all sorts of hormones running through you."  Lucky for her, my feelings of contempt towards others has been somewhat universal and there isn't enough spare spite to hold a very strong grudge towards her professional blow-off.

While it's true that I never wanted to "do myself in," I have felt like an alien was controlling my thoughts and feelings.  It wasn't me at all.  The world at large and people in particular overwhelmed and annoyed me.  The simplest stresses became major irritants.  I could fake normality for a few hours if I had to but those close to me usually paid the price later in the evening with some major moodiness and emotional withdrawal.

I tried perspective.  In truth, I have been an anti-Job.  Job, who intellectually must have known his right to complain and curse his fate, spiritually couldn't leave the God he loved.  Me?  Intellectually, I know every single reason to be grateful, happy, at peace with what is happening to my body but spiritually, I have had some rather murmurous moments and hope Heavenly Father will forgive my rather biting thoughts towards Him and how I'd have arranged to bring about the human race in an altogether less obnoxious way.

I use the past tense because for the past few days, I feel more and more confident that I am shedding this alien skin and replacing it with my own.  I feel more like....me.  And I like me!!!

I have been blessed and exhausted with both a trip and company for the last three weeks and I'm sure all of that forced socialization and out-of-my-cave excursions have helped my mental state.  I'll report on all of that soon, I promise (mom).  

There have been many, many times when I have wished to be the type of person who can be gracious in the midst of trials.  These past months have only been the latest in my own history that prove that I have a lot yet to learn about the "Be still and know that I am God," counsel.  Is it wrong of me to blame the hormones?  Is that part of me still me?  I can't help but wonder if my meltdown is just a preview of things to come.  Will I be maniacal in menopause.  Or, when I'm old and perhaps ill or stiff or lonely or forgetful, will not feeling like "me" turn me into a crotchety crank?   Am I really responsible for all of my bad behavior?

For what it's worth, I appreciate the notes, texts, emails and calls to check in on me.  I felt the baby move for the first time last night and had what I think is the first non-forced positive thought towards this pregnancy since it began.  I'm not sure why feeling what is akin to a bag of microwave popcorn going off in my stomach should bring peace and joy to my troubled mind, but it did.  And at sixteen weeks, I am more than ready for a change of heart.