I love making my husband’s lunch / Yoga = Klonopin / No nausea, little fatigue

sandwichI love making my husband’s lunch

I just finished making my husband’s lunch, and I have a confession: I loved doing it. I love choosing just the right ingredients, making the sandwich with care, packing the little plastic containers, folding the napkin. I love thinking about him eating the lunch at about noon, thinking about him thinking about me and the care I took in making the food he’s enjoying, and feeling my love.

Am I my mother?

Did I get a 4.0 in college, get a fellowship to the University of Michigan for my MFA, go into too much debt at Hunter for my second master’s degree in social work, and go to a million job interviews throughout my life for various positions and work my ass off at all of those positions, only to discover that I am most happy when making my husband’s lunch?

Am exaggerating for pleasure, but you get the picture: I like being a homemaker. I like making our apartment a home. I like grocery shopping, cooking, and making my husband’s lunch. And when we have our little baby, I’m going to dive deep into domestic-land, and I know there will be times when I’ll want to pull my hair out, but I’m so, so looking forward to it, and feeling extremely, overwhelmingly, fortunate. We will live a very simple life with simple, inexpensive vacations, simple household goods, and we might be renting for a very long time, but we’re going to have me stay home for at least a year or two with baby…and with luck, in a place like Pittsburgh or Asheville or Athens, Ohio. Someplace inexpensive and close to family.

I’ve lived in Prague, in the Appalachians, in Madison, in Ann Arbor. In three different parts of Brooklyn. In Long Island. I’ve been a teacher, an editor, a writer, a therapist, a social worker. And now all I really want to do is be what my mother was—a stay-at-home wife and mother in the Midwest.

Of course, I hope to start my own part-time practice, eventually, and to write, but my main job will be to be my mother…who filled my Snoopy thermos with cherry Kool-Aid and rolled my Oscar Meyer bologna into cigars on my Wonder Bread and put my Twinkies in the refrigerator because she knew I liked them cold (how my bones ever grew eating that stuff is another story).

Life is strange.

Yoga = Klonopin

Have you ever taken Klonopin? It’s sort of like morphine extra-lite. I took it for about 3 months after my divorce, to take the edge off my nerves (okay, more like to crush my debilitating panic attacks), and I grew very fond of it, and still think of it like a dear old friend. Which is why I stopped taking it after 3 months, after it had done its job—I could have married it for life. Danger, danger.

Last night’s prenatal yoga class felt like washing down two Klonopin with a deep glass of deep red wine.

Ahhhhhh.

The instructor is tough! This was no rainbows-and-unicorns affair.

She was very serious about working out our legs (apparently the most important instrument of your body, when it comes to labor—who knew!) and about proper alignment. I have been practicing yoga seriously for about three years, and I have never had an instructor correct my alignment in the ways that this instructor did. It totally changed my practice. I realized that I was putting way too much pressure on my joints and not making my muscles work hard enough. Also–the placement of my head has been all wrong. She put it where it should be, and my neck flooded with relief.

At one point, she had us walk across the room mindfully. You would think that would be a simple thing. But it was amazing. First we plodded across the room as we normally walk, and then we walked with our top rib, chest, and gaze lifted. I felt regal.

There was only one other person in the class last night, and she was about twelve years old. Oh my gawd. She already has a three-year-old and is due in October with her second. She was so young that she was still giggly and self-conscious. She had freckles. I felt old as the mountains talking to her. A wizened crone. I realized, at one point, that I am probably old enough to be her mother.

(Side note: Best friend from high school has a child who just graduated from college. Yah.)

I need to get this gray colored. The headbands are helpful—but the dang things slip around on my head, revealing wizened-crone evidence.

After drug yoga, I slept so well! So well that each time I woke up to pee, I’d obviously slept through prior pee-signals—my bladder was so full it hurt, and I had to waddle to the bathroom.

No nausea, little fatigue

Today, I’m starting day 4 of no nausea, little fatigue. Woo hoo?

Day one and two were fantastic. Day three, a little tiny bit of worry crept in. And now, on day four, I’m just sort of going neutral on the subject.

I know everything is fine.

It’s fine! Really, all’s fine.

I do believe that. It’s just that every once in a while, a pesky little thought will crop up, nothing major, just something like, “What if your baby ___,” fill in the blank, and then I laugh at myself.

Ha ha ha ha ha. Ha.

Ha ha.

Ha.

Listen up, girlfriend: Nothing is wrong.

I actually really have been enjoying the reprieve. My appetite is HUGE. I am eating and eating. I still have some food aversions, but they are not as severe. I complete tasks all day long. I actually DO things. I’m not napping! Of course, by the end of the day, I fall into bed as if I’ve been shot, but I’m liking the nap-free lifestyle.

Like today, for example, I know I will have the energy to finish my errands for DH’s birthday. The boy is 38. Aw. Such a young ‘un. This morning, I did a goofy birthday song and dance for him. Yesterday I wrapped his presents, made him collages. I got him two paintings from an antique store and a membership to Elements massage and a strawberry shortcake with “Happy Birthday Baybo” on the top. This weekend, we’ll go into the city for park + Met + dinner.

Inside his card, I drew my usual cute cartoon figures that represent him & me—but this time, I put a third one, a much smaller version, between us, holding both of our hands.

 

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26 Comments

  1. Kali

     /  May 7, 2014

    I didn’t know you’re a Wolverine! I did both my degrees at Michigan. Was very sad during Michigan’s last March madness game. . . .

    You continue to be a great inspiration, but I have to admit this does add a different affection and affinity to the equation ;).

    Reply
    • That is truly great. Do you think we were on campus at the same time, crossed paths at the movie house or in the arboretum? I love that place hard. Best two years. I remember all of it so fondly—the brick streets of Kerrytown, the farmer’s market, my buddies in the program, the Heidelberg. Yes, this adds depth to our bond for sure. (:

      Reply
  2. I love it! You are such a domestic goddess. Who knew about drug-yoga?! I am just trying to stay awake long enough to hike for a bit. Park/Met/Dinner sounds awesome. I am so glad you guys found each other.

    Reply
    • Me too! We met at a dinner party—two Ohio kids washed up in Brooklyn, doing dishes together, washing the same ones over and over so that we didn’t have to stop talking. I almost didn’t go to that dinner party because I was so wrecked from a long work day. But I hopped on my bike in my kimono dress in the cold and rode on over, and there he was, wearing a Bill Cosby-ish sweater that I’ve since tried to filter out of his wardrobe. Love is cool.

      Reply
  3. Julia

     /  May 7, 2014

    Your happiness is palpable and it makes me happy too.

    As someone who was once on a fast track to be a banking executive but is now a homemaker, I get this. Don’t get me wrong, there are things that I miss. But for me, the simple life at home with my hubby is what I crave more.

    Reply
  4. I love this post! I hope someday I have the opportunity to stay home and be a wife AND mommy. Time will tell. Side note, I’ve often thought I’d be an amazing therapist, but unfortunately, my MBA in Finance isn’t going to get me very far in that arena, and I feel it’s much too late in life to start over and go back to school :(

    Reply
    • Aw, well, it’s never too late—there were people in my program in their 60s!

      Reply
      • But more student loans… Ugh… I’ll think on it though, maybe I’ll do a little more research so I understand what would all be involved in the training. Thanks!

        Reply
        • Student loans are the worst, I hear you. I’m in forbearance right now so am blissfully ignoring their existence until december…

          Reply
  5. AndiePants

     /  May 7, 2014

    While I have been told I’m likely romanticizing things, I would like nothing more than to be a stay at home lady, despite my fancy degrees and academic prowess. I really do want to cook and clean and can all day.

    Reply
    • I know it. I used to inwardly feel a little superior to my high school friends on FB who stayed in our small town and raised kids…until I realized how happy I’d be if I were doing the same. Maybe not in the same small town. But I also realize that if I’d gone straight into it I probably wouldn’t find it so satisfying. And maybe we are romanticizing a little bit…but after all of the horrid workplace office situations I’ve been in, I’d say not much. (:

      Reply
  6. Aww the 3rd stick figure. LOVE.

    Reply
  7. Treyton

     /  May 7, 2014

    Thank you so much for sharing your life. You always manage to make me smile and I just feel so much happiness for you and your husband. I am exactly two weeks behind you with my RBA pregnancy, and I hope I also get to that point where the nausea goes away!!!
    I have a masters teaching the blind, and I am a stay at home mom, and I love it more than anything. Trust me, you will find your job never ends!!! It’s the most rewarding job in the world:-)

    Reply
    • Thank you for following my story! Two weeks behind–woo hoo, that means you’ve had a lot of good ultrasounds! I’m very happy for you, too—keep me posted. (One or two?). Oh and right after I wrote this post, I took a 3-hr nap and woke up with nausea. ha!

      Reply
  8. What a happy, peaceful post! A good yoga instructor is worth his/her weight in gold… it so makes such a difference. I have to say I’m thrilled to hear that the legs are important because it gives credence to my crazy obsession with “birthing legs.” Also, I think you can feel accomplished in where you’ve been and where you may go in the future but be perfectly happy making sandwiches for your husband and nesting for your little nugget. I would love to stay home with a baby for a time, too. Nothing wrong with that, especially when it’s been so freaking elusive. Give those pesky “what ifs” the shove, it’s like Glinda saying “Begone! You have no power here!” to the Wicked Witch of the West. Just a beautiful love story!

    Reply
  9. Interestingly, Mr. MLACS’s bday is May 8th! I find it difficult to be married to a Taurus when he decides to be stubborn. But he is so loyal and loving, I wouldn’t trade him–not even for a Gemini. XOXO

    Reply
  10. such a sweet post!! You just make me smile every time I read one!! xo

    waitingforbabybird.com

    Reply

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