You're Perfect

Steve had to work this morning, so he was up and in the shower by 6 am. Shortly after he left the bedroom, Will came in feeling a little sick at his tummy.

I snuggled him up on Papa's side of the bed and got him some medicine.

When Steve came out of the bathroom, Will just laid there quietly and watched his Papa. Steve put on a long sleeve shirt and smoothed it down.

"You look good, Papa," Will said. For once, his voice quite and sincere. (That honest emotion you seldom hear from children as they age.)

"No." Steve puffed out his tummy in exaggeration. "Papa is fat!"

"No," Will replied quietly, "You're perfect."

Still Pregnant

I am exactly 11 days away from my official due date, November 14th. Most women would be happy to be so close to the end of their pregnancy. Me, I'm pissed.

Due to my age, 45, I've been told repeatedly by every doctor I've seen that I could expect to deliver 3-4 weeks prior to my due date.

So, that's what I planned for. I've had everything finished and ready for use for almost three weeks now. And, as we were expecting to deliver early, we haven't gone anywhere or made any plans that couldn't be dropped at a moments notice.

Today my doctor informed me that it will "most likely be a full week" before we have to worry about labor. What the hell?

She proceeded to explain that apparently, internally, I have the body of a much younger woman. Great! And no one noticed this before now?

Besides, what 45 year old woman wouldn't rather have the external body of a much younger woman?

On Your Mark ...

If there has been one consistent thing through out my unexpected pregnancy, it has been how hard I've tried to maintain a peaceful and stress-free life. Knowing the odds of a 45 year old woman carrying a child to term are horrendous, Steve and I have done everything possible to lighten my load and keep me and Linden as calm as possible.

Well, things are about to get interesting. Luckily, for Linden, his birth is basically the whistle that will start the race to the end of 2011.

(1) On Your Mark ...
Linden is due the 14th of November. And as shocking as it is to all of us concerned, he has technically made it to 'full-term' - as of Sunday night.

(2) Get Set ...
I haven't seen my side of the family since mom's death, so we are planning on driving up to see them for Thanksgiving. Thank God I won't be expected to do anything, but I'll still have a new baby on a road trip.

(3) Go!
Will's 7th birthday is December 2. Especially since Linden will have just officially entered our lives, it is important I don't 'short' Will this year. So we're talking party with friends, cake, presents. Work!

(4) and Go!
Bonnet and B'ella are coming to visit and see Tori's graduation. They'll probably show up around the 11th or 12th of December. I love them to death and miss them all the time, so I am super excited they are going to make it down. However, we will have to plan a family Christmas while they are here - not that I'd miss it for the world.

(5) and Go!
Tori's graduation is the 16th of December and afterward we are throwing an informal party in my back yard. I'm happy to be able to do anything to help celebrate Tori's graduation. I'm very proud of her and feel that I've helped her very little the last four years. The party will be nothing fancy, but it still means my yard and house need to be company cleaned. While I've managed to clear most of the clutter from the house, you don't want to know what the yard looks like. Work!

(6) and Go Again!
Then there is Christmas. I can already tell you I don't feel like putting up a tree, but for Will, the effort will be made. But then there is the meal, presents, Christmas eve, cards, etc.

A minimum of six engagements/events in a six-week period may not seem overwhelming to most people, but it does to me. And there is not a single event I would miss. It just majorly bites that they all happen at the same time.

Bonnet and Tori have both offered to help prepare the house for company. And just being surrounded by so much family and love will go a long way to smoothing the bumps I encounter as this amazing year says it's good byes.

The Nightmare

Will woke me up at 3:00 am Wednesday morning. He'd had a bad dream and was afraid. I calmed him down and got him back in bed. The next morning, while driving to the sonogram with Tori, I asked him what it was about. He asked if he could please not tell me.

I figured he didn't want to talk in front of Tori and I let it go. I even forgot about it.

Then he woke me again this morning. Another nightmare. I got him back to sleep. When Steve and I were putting him to bed, I asked what his nightmare was about and again he asked if he could please not tell me. We tried to let him know how sharing your fears with others can make them less scary. He didn't budge. Finally, Steve volunteered to leave the room and I got Will to talk.

First, he made me try to guess what his fear was. I covered all the normal things: school, teachers, bullies, animals, heights, falling, monsters, etc. Everything I could think of, to no avail.

He eventually come clean. He whispers really quietly, "A red and a green color are at war with me."

"Crayons?" I asked, stupefied.

"Yeah, they are at war with me."

He then proceeds to tell me how they attach him, chase him, and generally bully him. Two crayons. I'm kind of proud at how quickly I bounced back with a solution though.

"Crayons melt," I informed him. "You can fight them out in the sun and they'll melt. Blow them with a hair dryer. Shoot them with a flame thrower. Tie them to a light bulb and turn it on."

My mind was churning trying to find the right thing to say. But then I notice the emerging smile and relaxing facial muscles.

Oh yeah, them crayons are in for it now!

Will's Story

Will brought home a story he wrote last week.

What he actually wrote:

I win to a ws wot and I at pesgu.
and der waz moosit.
and I tllt fue juox.

Lucky for us, he could still read his own story.

What he read to us:

I went to a restaurant and I ate spaghetti.
And there was music.
And I told funny jokes.

Steve said it's apparent that Will has more than a little German in him.

My Give-a-Damn is Busted

Over the last few years, I have had several occasions come up where I was truly shocked at how unaffected I was by them.

From simple things like Will falling and skinning his knee while Steve and I watch him ride his bike. Steve jumps up and runs over to check on him and I sit in the chair and sip my drink. If I'm out watching Will ride by myself and he falls down, I yell, "Get out of the middle of the road," and wait for him to come to me. Yet, at the time it's happening, I remember when I jumped and ran for the girls when something similar happened.

I can say, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the change in reaction is not due to a lack of affection. I love all my children. I'm just not the same person now that I was when my girls were little.

There have been many other instances over the last few years: my waning (read nonexistent) interest in holidays, lack of participation in Will's school events (I attend what I have to, but don't ask me to do any more than that), determination not to sign Will up for after school activities, etc.

Another big instance of a lack of interest arrived when Lew and Dona returned from their latest trip to ND. They brought back a cradle that Steve made out of Mesquite and I fashioned linens for before Will was born. Steve sent it up to Dave years ago for his son, and now Dave has returned it.

The cradle means something significant to both Steve and Dave. And it should, I guess. Counting Linden, every male Marquardt from Lew's side of the family will have slept in the cradle. Besides that, it was made by Steve, and Tori burned a longhorn in both sides of it. Hell, I even made the linens.

So, was I excited to have it back? No. All I can think about is that I had already purchased a cradle, disinfected it, purchased linens for it and washed them, and have it made up and in place for the baby. I also happen to have a bassinet in the living room and a crib in the nursery. Now I have another bed to clean up and I have to figure where the hell they are all going to go. I can't even get rid of the other cradle as it is nearly twice the size of the one Steve made. I don't think Will slept in the homemade cradle but about 6 weeks.

As I work on the crib, I keep wondering about my lack of enthusiasm. Not just about the crib, but about a lot of things. I don't think it's my age, as Steve and I are the same age and he still gives a damn about many things I've lost interest in.

I'm wondering if it has more to do with the years I've already been a parent. After 20 years of jumping and running for each bump and scrape, diving head-first into school activities, and really trying to impress your children with holidays--

Maybe I'm just worn out.

Or again, maybe my give-a-damn really is busted.

The New Family Dynamics

Until Will started school, he only knew about traditional families. Which, when I think about it, is pretty amazing. But all his relatives have been in steady relationships since he's been alive. No divorces or breakups. No separations.

Once he started riding the bus, we began to associate more with the other families of like-age children in our area.

Ethan, who is in Will's class room, lives with his mom and step-father. He spends every other weekend with his dad.

Gabriel lives with his mom, and sees his dad some evenings and every other weekend.

And the other two families are traditional.

I never really thought about how this might impact Will or his thinking until a few weeks ago. We were outside laying in the hammock watching baby squirrels play in a near-by tree. There was only one adult squirrel visible and Will decided it was the "mommy". When I asked him why it couldn't be the daddy, his response was...

"Because, it's not the daddy's weekend."

The Shocking Things Kids Say

You get use to your young children saying things that shock you. However, as they grow, it happens less and less. But it does happen.

Since I've shared the news about their new siblings with the girls they have both managed to say something that totally shocked me into silence. First, you have to understand that the upcoming Marquardt - currently called Panda, as we have no idea it's sex yet - was not planned, anticipated, or really wanted. (Don't go getting on your high horse. How would you feel finding out you were starting all over from scratch at 45?)

Tori

We were riding back from lunch and she says the following just totally out of the blue . . .

"I wish you had waited a few years.
Then we could have had our babies together."

"Wouldn't that have been fun?"


Bonnet


I received the following text from Bonnet this morning.


"So, I was talking to one of my coworkers
about you being pregnant.
She had a great point...
Ur new kid will get all the
rockstar handicap parking."

The Casual Hook Up

I've been going out dancing with a group of friends for a few months now. There a bunch of fun women about my age. One of them is married, but most of them are single and looking. I have no problem with this. Most everyone takes their own vehicle, so they can leave when they want to - with, or without, more company than they showed up with. (But, it's never happened.)

Last night we met up at a favorite hang out of ours and I invited a friend of mine that's never been out with us before. Since we live on the opposite side of town from the club, we carpooled.

She's single, young, cute. A single, young, and relatively cute guy came over about an hour into our night and just camped out next to her. About 15 minutes before we were scheduled to leave she asks if I'd mind giving him a ride - to her house.

I've never been the one-night stand type of person and I was totally flabbergasted (maybe because I am old enough to use flabbergasted in a sentence).

Even so, this probably would not have made it onto my blog except for part of a conversation I overheard on the ride home.

The young man is sitting in the back seat talking to my friend who is riding in the front. And suddenly, he leans forwards and asks, "Hey, if you're not doing anything tomorrow, you want to go on a date?"

My friend turn around and says, "You didn't want to -"

"Oh, no. Tonight is good," he immediately assured her. "I just wanted to know if you wanted to go on a date tomorrow."

I hate to show my age . . . but shouldn't the date have come first?

Bad "Body Image" Week

To say the last few days have been hard on my self-perceived body image, would be an understatement. It's been almost a year since I started working on getting myself back into shape. In that time I've lost over 50 pounds and dropped from a pants size 20 to a size 11. I've joined a gym and started building back muscles. I've been trying to take care of my skin. All in all, I'd say I was happy with my progress.

I like to think that if I never dropped another pound or went down another size I could be content to stay as I am right now.

Well, that was the way I felt Thursday.

Saggy Boobs

Thursday night Will was sick and I kept him home from school on Friday. He was whiny and followed me every where I went; including into the bathroom when I took my bath. I haven't let him see me without clothing for years, but he didn't want to be alone. It didn't take long before I realized the 'real' reason women quit letting their children see them naked.

He hadn't been in there but a few minutes when he just flat out says, "Mom, you have long boobies." I ignored him. Hoping that by not making a big deal out of what he'd said, it would just slide by.

A few minutes later, "Really Mom, you have long boobies." I asked him if he wanted to leave the bathroom and he replied "No". "Then don't talk about my boobies," I told him. "But Mom, they are really long."

Later that evening, I told Steve about it. And my loving husband has made a point to refer to my long boobies every chance he gets. He thinks it's hilarious.

Old Thin Women

Steve and I went dancing at a new place Friday night and I was surprised that about 70% of the clientele was over the age of 60. As the night passed, I begin to notice that all the old women were thinner than I was, wore smaller sizes, and had waists (mine hasn't made a reappearance yet). Not only did hanging around so many people older than me make me feel old, but fat at well.

No Hips

Tonight I attended my first belly-dancing class. I was comforted, upon arrival, to see over half the class was my age or older. Most all of them about the same size I was, or larger. The teacher lined us up in front of the mirror and started right in.

The first things we did was exercise our hips. Right in the middle of her discussion on what to do she looked at me and said that some of this might be more difficult for me since I had such small hips.

Every time anything having to do with hips was mentioned, and it came up often over the next hour, she made a point of addressing me in front of the entire class with ideas or suggestions for people with small hips. Every time the male student made a comment about abdominal muscles, differences in stance, etc. (as it applied to male dancers), the instructor would comment then turn to me, "You need to be aware of this as well, as you might have this same issue since your hips are so narrow."

At the end of class she talked about our practicing at home in front of mirrors and how we could touch certain muscles to make sure we were doing everything correctly, because every one has a different body style and not all moves will be totally visible on some bodies...and she was looking at me.

The Conclusion

Last week I was happy with my body. I knew I needed to work on my abdominal area, but I've started some exercises that target that area and really hoped my belly-dancing class would help. It was all good.

This week, I have saggy boobs, no hips, and I'm an old fat woman.

Loss of Self

Outside of a major trauma, people don't tend to loose themselves all at once. It generally happens without notice. A compromise here, looking the other way there, not returning the item in the bottom of the basket that got overlooked during check out.

When we are young, and most of our boundaries and ideas are set, they are set in stone. Actually, they are set in black and white. It is only as we live that different shades of gray become obvious.

Today, for the first time, I knowingly face the loss of a piece of self. Tomorrow, a friend of mine is doing something I whole-heatedly do not approve of. Something that is repugnant to me. I have not spoken up against it, as it is not illegal, and I know it is not a decision she has come to lightly. I know she needs my support. I am one of the few people she has mentioned this to, and I need to honor that trust by helping her through this.

But a few minutes ago, it got worse. At least for me. She asked if I would drive her to her appointment and pick her up later. Now I am no longer an impartial observer that kept quite, I'm an actual participant in the action.

Yes, I could have said no. But what good is my support if it's only verbal?

I'll do it. It's just two rides. An hour out of my day. And I know it wouldn't be safe for her to drive herself home.

She is my friend, and I love her. Regardless.

I'm just a little saddened tonight over the smearing of another black line in my soul.

The Good, Bad, Good Day

I was very excited about today, my first day back to work in almost six weeks. I've missed it: the drive which clears my head, dressing up, learning new things, the sense of accomplishment when something is finished, the fellowship. It was a beautiful morning and the traffic was light. Arriving early, I took a walk around the neighborhood before I went in.

Every thing went smoothly at work. I finished project after project, visited with the boss and other employees, played with the dog. I also got a delayed Christmas card that had a nice bonus in it - score!

I was excited about our night time plans too. Tonight is date night, and we have a double date planned with my BFF and her hubby. Dinner at a little bar and pub in San Marcos followed by bowling. Tori is watching Will for us for the night.

By the time I left work, it was drizzling just a little. Enough to make the roads wet, but not wash away the oil and gas deposits. While traveling down a four lane, divided road at the posted 45 MPH, the light in front of me turned yellow. The car in front of me, which was almost under the light, slammed into their breaks and I had to hit mine hard if I wanted any chance of not rear-ending them.

My tires hit a slick spot and I lost control. There were cars to the right of me, in front of me and behind me. When my tires regained traction for just a second, I jerked the wheel toward the median. And I hit the curb surrounding it hard. The curb was at least eight inches tall and the impact shook the entire frame of my vehicle. Fortunately, as soon as my tires were off the slick road I was able to regain control. I drove back off the median and pulled up behind the nervous driver at the red light.

When I got home I was so shook up that I walked up the hill in the rain to meet Will's school bus and didn't drive the rest of the day. While at home, I found out my BBFs hubby was sick and they weren't going to be able to go out with us. And for some unexplained reason, my cell phone just quit working.

I had recently purchased a new plan and phone, and just hadn't gotten around to moving over my contacts. So I did that this afternoon. When Steve got home we decided to just take Will and Tori to dinner and bowling with us. We even invited her boyfriend, Ray.

It was great! The food was amazing. The kids and I split a three way desert tray that had cheesecake, brownie with ice cream, and carrot cake on it. Will was well behaved. Everyone bowled better than normal. And we all got home safe.

In the end, it was a good, bad, good day.

Clubbing at 44

As a woman that has spent most of her life married, I really have had little opportunity to go clubbing. Every decade or so, my sisters (together or separately) would drag me from my rut and take me dancing or to a bar. The last time was before Will, over seven years ago. Jennie and I went to Polyesters and spent the night parting with a lesbian couple - one of which slipped me her number as we were leaving. (Hey, at my age, getting hit on by ANYONE is note worthy.)

So, I went out last night. And not only did I go clubbing, I went with someone I've only met a few times and don't know that well. After about twenty changes of clothes and two near-fatal anxiety attacks I drove off for my evening of fun and frolicking.

It wasn't exactly what I was expecting; both better and worse.

The Good

The new friend was easy to hang out with and very accommodating. And I enjoyed the upbeat music and the band - which was really surprising as it was The Space Rockers (shown above). The beer was cheap, and she bought me my first round. I got to watch grown men dressed in spandex hop up and down all night. And I had more butts, boobs, and hands rubbed against me in four hours than I've had in my entire life combined.

The Bad
We stood all night. Each time my friend had to light up, we had to go out in the rain. She isn't much of a talker. No one approached us or talked to us all night. And, I was nearly double the age of the average person there.

Would I do it again? Hell yeah! Just at different bars. (Do they have an oldies bar in Austin?)

Cleaning out the Head

I went for a brisk walk outside this evening and was amazed at how much it relaxed me . . . and how my mind wandered. Due to weather, and Will's presence the last few weeks, I have been walking on a treadmill at the gym after dark - and it's just not the same.

In a gym there is music with a fast beat playing constantly. There are no less than 20 televisions, all on different channels. And the people; I could watch them all day. So, while the time passes fast, and I get my work out, the walk doesn't clear my head the way a walk outside does.

And apparently it needs cleaning, if the thoughts that popped up today are any indication.

First, I thought about how a friend of mine got engaged New Years Eve next to a bomb fire. Which led me to thinking about . . .

How she bared her boobs to us women on a dare, also at the bomb fire. Which led me to thinking about . . .

How another party guest showed us girls her new Victoria's Secret bra while we were in the house. Which led me to thinking about . . .

How a different party quest showed us her implants and suggested we squeeze them - she paid extra for the soft kind. Which led me to thinking about . . .

How women over 40 seem to have no issue baring them selves above the waist when surrounded by other women of the same age. (And this isn't the only party I've been to where boobs were flashed.) Which led me to thinking about . . .

How at our age we've all been through so much; birth, nursing, doctors, motherhood. It's amazing we have any modesty at all. Or, maybe it's that the upper body has simply ceased to be 'dirty' to us. It's just a part of the body; like utters on a milk cow. Which led me to thinking about . . .

An episode of American Dad I watched with Steve the other night where a mother cow in the field was shooing her calf away, encouraging him to go out on his own. And how the 'dad' was using this example to demonstrate how a mother should let her children go. Which led me to thinking about . . .

What an ass he was. But then I remembered, in this episode he actually got a vasectomy without telling his wife. Then he lied and they 'tried' to make a baby for months before she found out. Which led me to wondering . . .

If Steve was hiding anything from me. Which led me to thinking about . . .

How Steve 'felt' the need to carry a gun around with him all day on Friday - like something bad was going to happen. Which led me to thinking about . . .

Steve's sanity . . .

About this time, I realize my walk was over. I walked two miles and officially 'cleared my head' as the case might be. And when I looked back at the crap that had been stored there, I came to the conclusion that I should clear it out more often.

The Trailer Hitch

My 'big' gift this Christmas was a home-made trailer hitch for my Mitsubishi Montero. Unlike many useful presents I've received in the past (i.e., guns, fishing poles, etc.), this one I actually asked for. And I'm terribly excited to have it.

I'm a big craigslistser, as you probably know, and there are always things being given away for free if you can come get them NOW. Since Steve not only has the only truck in the family, but also the only hitch, I miss out on a lot.

I also am in the middle of the huge task of cleaning, organizing, and hauling off stuff from our house, yard, and attic. It is possible, I am the only woman in the Austin area that wishes she had a trailer so she could make a run to the metal recyclers.

With the purchase of a small pop-up trailer recently, I have yet another reason to use a hitch. To get away.

All this being said, I am very happy with my present. But when people ask what I got for Christmas and I tell them, everyone laughs.

Until last night. New Years Eve I spent with a bunch of small-town native Texans that LOVED my new hitch and thought it was an awesome present. We even had a demonstration of it's towing capacities when I got stuck in the mud and had to be winched out.

Yep, I love my hitch.

(And my new friends aren't bad either.)