Wide aerial camera shot slowly, carefully pans across a wooded setting on the outskirts of Southern City X and pauses in front of a humble, cedar-shingled house with a very overgrown yard. Following the welcoming warm light beaming from the front windows, we peek in and see our protagonist surrounded by the detritus of toddler-life, a 35-yr-old, disheveled, increasingly fat-and-frumpy housewife who is sitting at her computer.
She types. She deletes. She types some more. She deletes some more. She gives up, closes her blog window, and heads over to Pinterest instead. She reads other people’s words, but she doesn’t seem to have many of her own, at least none that seem worth anything. We see this scene play out many times over before the frazzled housewife finally sighs and guiltily pokes her head out from under her rock, and timidly waves…
Er, hi. Sorry for the silence. And thanks for those of you who have checked in on me. Things in the Bee’s Hood are… oh, I don’t know. I feel foolish saying things are bad, because they aren’t. My children are lovely, my husband is an (generally) incredible (if somewhat broken) person, our house still stands, our bank account is (mostly) not completely empty at the end of the month, I’m relatively healthy and whole. But I’d also feel foolish saying that things are good, because they’re not. I’ll save the details for a password-protected post, but for those of you waiting for an update on the last post, I can simply say that I heard a great quote on a radio program today– there’s a difference between a cure and being healed. For some things, there is just no cure, and so we hope simply for some healing. I’m still in that hoping place right now. (I’d appreciate references to specifics in the last post to be left out of any comments on this non-password-protected post…)
Mostly, I just want to poke my head out here to say that I am hanging in there, and I thank you so much for your kind words on my last post. I know I have many casual readers who don’t feel they know me well enough or just don’t want to read such personal stuff, and this is, perhaps, a post to include those people– I count you all among my friends, even if we aren’t such buddies as to tell each other our darkest secrets.
My boys, my beautiful boys:
We are 21-month-olds now. We are walking, talking (sort of, not that you can really understand us), jumping (one of us), stomping, climbing, giggling babies. We say all kinds of things: please, thank you/danke, water/wasser, kuh (aka cow), car, cake, ball, eat, doll, help, bowl, go, call, up, no, frühstück (aka breakfast), diaper, hop!, bath, and many, many more (including, of course, a full complement of animal noises– mooooo!, kack! (aka quack!), baaa!, neigh!, bok!, meow!, oof!-aka woof!, etc., etc., etc.).
We say “bye, bye!”:
We laugh and laugh and laugh:
We steal cupcakes:
It’s a good time to be a toddler in the Bee In The Bonnet household.
I’m working on finding time to run. I am much happier when I do, but I admit that when sleep eludes me, it’s really hard to get up early in the morning and take the time to work out. It also doesn’t help that my back is pretty well destroyed, and sometimes, randomly, my back will get much, much worse after a run. But sometimes, randomly, it gets much, much better after a run. I’m confused at this point, really. Perhaps weight lifting is the answer for now, though I certainly don’t get the stress relief from weights that I do from a good, solid run. Or swimming might be good, but that would require a pool, which I don’t really have access to (not to mention that it requires traveling to a spot away from my house, and if I cannot even manage to hop on the treadmill for half an hour, I’m guessing I wouldn’t do very well with committing to driving elsewhere and donning a suit, cap and goggles and pounding out the miles in a pool…).
Anyhow, I’m feeling lumpy. I’ve gained back 10 or so pounds that I lost in the year after the boys were first born, and now, I’m sitting about 15 lbs over my pre-pregnancy weight (or, in honesty, about 20 lbs over my pre-IVF weight, though I’d be perfectly satisfied to just be back to pre-preg numbers at this point). My shorts from last summer don’t fit, which is a major bummer. I know it won’t take much to get myself back to a weight where they fit, but it’s just depressing to know that I’m bigger now than I was a year ago. Ugh. I keep reminding myself that I have a few odds stacked against me (major stressful life events, day-to-day twin stress, back pain issues, still nursing, taking a medication that can cause weight gain, etc.), but in the end, it still comes down to the fact that I might still be heavier than I was, but I’d be a lot happier if I made the time to actually exercise. And I’d be a lot happier if exercising brought me the results that it used to, pre-babies, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Sigh.
So. Thanks for reading along with me this far. I appreciate the time my friends take to catch up with my (increasingly boring) life. I am not exactly sure when or how, but I anticipate going mostly password-protected with future posts. I know how annoying it is to have to enter a password, or to have to email a blog author, or to feel like maybe you don’t know the author well enough to ask for the password, whatever, whatever, but just take this as my invitation, even if I don’t know you well, or at all, to feel free to ask me for the password. I am not hiding my story from strangers, but rather from people in my life with whom I’d rather not share intimate details (there’s something for the therapist, eh?). I guess what I really mean is that I’ve been burned in the past by being found out, and I know how valuable other blogs were for me when we were going through infertility and IVF, etc., so I have no problem sharing my story with “strangers” who are part of my infertility community, but I don’t want to give anyone any ammunition.
Yeah. Long way of saying thank you, and don’t be offended/shocked if future posts are password-protected…