Shame spiral, averted!

Sometimes I get a little glum for a moment. Not for long - just a quick minute or two.

Usually after looking at my pregnant naked ass in a mirror. (Why do I do that to myself again? Ignorance is bliss. Must remember that.)

Anywho. So I'll feel a little "ugh" for a second or two. Which I find generally leads to two very different reactions:

Reaction 1: I enter into a deep, deep shame spiral where I start wondering when or if I'll ever be within my healthy weight range again and ends with me screaming "WHY ME??" to the heavens as I point at my stretch marks.

Reaction 2: I realize that people all over the world are dying or starving or dealing with horrible things, so the fact that my thighs are lumpy is really a minor detail and I should shut the eff up before someone slaps me.

The other day, I was feeling frumpy and tired and sorry for myself. But before Reaction 1 or Reaction 2 could start rolling into action, I sent the hubster a quick note. (I was bordering on the shame spiral and felt the need to repent for my sins.) So I emailed him this:

"I know I've been tired, sick and kind of irritable lately. Just wanted you to know that I love and appreciate you."

The hubster replied within a few minutes. With this:

"I love you too. I know this pregnancy has been a hard one and we both are tired, pretty much all the time. There's an end in sight, just a couple more months. I'm so happy you're my wife. I'm so happy you're Anna's Mom. Love you forever."

And that was it. That was all I needed.

When life gets me down, when I'm embarrassed or blah about how I look and how I feel, sometimes I just need someone to tell me they love me.

That's what we all need and want, isn't it?

I don't care who you are, how gorgeous your body is, or what material things you've got, rolling around naked in a million dollars on your 300-thread count luxury sheets ain't going to feel as good as being told you're loved. Being told that you're good enough. That someone thinks you're perfect just as you are.

So, there's no need to slap me. I get it now. Andrew loves me. Anna loves me. And I love them.

Shame spiral averted - just in time for Thanksgiving. How appropriate.

I'm a lucky lady. I know who I'm giving thanks for this weekend.

Runny noses and other things...

So here are a few things I've been marvelling at lately...

• Food. Are you aware what a wonderful invention a warm chicken tzatziki wrap is? (I'm eating now. You can probably tell without much guessing that I'm hungry. Ah, pregnancy.)
• Daycare. I'm not sure if I love it or hate it. I sort of dislike it because my wee, young, little munchkin is with strangers and, as I'm neurotic, I find myself thinking things like, "I wonder what she's doing right now? I wonder if she's okay. Or if she's sad. Or if her nose needs wiping. Is it weird that a stranger wipes her bum? It's weird." I sort of love it because Anna gets to do fun things. I get to work uninterrupted and guilt-free. And she sleeps well at night on daycare days. (How I love that little perk).
• The runny nose phenomenon. It seems to take forever and a day for it to go away. Is it possible for a runny nose to last over a month? I swear it seems like it's going to be that long before she's healthy again. And when it *does* go away... there's another one just about a week away, waiting. And snickering. Ready to take over her sweet little nostrils with disgusting goo.
• Nursing bras. They cost a LOT of money, yo. I did my research. I looked around on a few sites and shops. And I decided, finally, after much humming and hawing, that my girls are worth it. I'm going to be wearing these bras for the rest of my pregnancy and for about a year after having baby #2. My boobs deserve to be held in a nice package that doesn't shape them all weird or make me look like I'm 92 years old, wearing my laundry-day undies. So. I have $274 worth of nursing bras on their way to me as we speak. The girls are worth it. They really are. (Must keep telling myself this).

That is all. Have a lovely day, Mamas.