Bribers On the Storm

For some reason over the past couple of days, my anxiety about BY’s entrance into the world has started to spike.  No, it’s not medically-based stuff like last time.  I think it started with the realization that we now have under 5 weeks – I hope – and that we just “lost” a full week of prep time due to Will’s medical issues.  It’s stupid.  Our remaining prep list is as follows:

  • Pick a name:  Hmmmmmm.
  • Will to build a co-sleeper: something which was to have been done the past 2 weekends but was not due to aforementioned medical issues.
  • Bring swing, infant carrier/car seat, and play gym out of storage and make sure all are clean and ready to go: I need to chill about this as this will take us about 2 hours, max.
  • Wash all baby clothes/blankets and make sure ready to go: Again, will take no time at all.  My issue now is that even if I were to do this now, I have nowhere safe to put them due to Stupid Cats.  More on that later.
  • Acquire some stuff including diapering whatnots, baby rags, etc.

I found a cool baby book1 and ordered that last week, so that’s done.  As far as I’m concerned, there are 3 first names on the “short list” but the middle name?  Nothing.  We think we want something fun and different but are a bit perplexed about how far one can take that without damning BY to a lifetime of name-based grief.  Will has sworn he’s going to sit down and really ponder this, coming up with options for both first and middle names, but so far nothing.  The same thing happened with Stella.  I think I’ll end up naming BY, too, if he doesn’t get busy.  Maybe “Ramone” for a middle name?

Again, when I look at all of the above, it is manageable.  I think I’m just tired.  I’m also strangely terrified that for some reason I’ll go into labor before my scheduled section date.  I’m having more aches and pains and a hell of a lot more Braxton-Hicks contractions than I ever did before, and I swear things have shifted lower.  I didn’t feel this crummy until the last 2 weeks with Stella and she stayed high up in my esophagus.  This all makes me paranoid.   I’ll admit this even though it will make me sound crazy:  one of the most comforting things about having a kid the “unzip and take him out” way is the sense of control that knowing when gives you.  I hope/think I’ll feel better when my mother is back in the neighborhood.  She was supposed to be here by now but is delayed.  I think she’ll be disgusted by my anal-ness but I’m going to request a planning session with her, Will, and maybe even Will’s mom.  I want to have contingencies in place for hospital issues (early labor, who’s going to be where and when, and who is and is not allowed to visit since I’m a private-type of person) and try to have things as ironed out as possible for Stella care.

Stella.  She’s worry #1.  I’m so scared and sad about the idea of not being with her for at least 2 nights.  I don’t know, frankly, how either of us will do.  Will and I spoke a bit about that yesterday.  Last time, he wouldn’t leave the hospital except maybe once to check on the cats and shower.  This time, if she flips out, he may have to go home to stay with her.  I don’t think he likes that idea.  I also just don’t know how she’s going to feel with the whole idea of a new baby.  I know she’ll adjust.  They all do, I suppose.  I’ve tried to introduce the idea to her with the “there’s a baby in mommy’s belly” speech, but it goes unheard or ignored.  I’ve read that many parents elect to buy little gifts and things for the older sibling to help them feel non-neglected so I may do that.  Bribery never hurts.  It just feels shallow.  Any hints or words of wisdom from multi-moms would be welcome!

Finally, on a totally unrelated and stupid worry front, I’m worried about the 3 Stupid Cats.  Just yesterday we had an issue with the emotional pee-er2.  He had peed in Stella’s bathtub and some of her toys which happened to be in there.  Sure, that’s not a huge tragedy.  Things were all triple-sanitized with soap + water, loads of bleach, and boiling water.  Bath stuff is probably the easiest stuff in the world to sanitize.  But the idea of it is gross and there’s always the fear of precedent; these things seem to happen in batches.  Recently a pair of my flip-flops got hosed.  This is why I’m scared to death to make neat piles of clean baby clothes anywhere.  During Stella prep, a freshly-laundered pile of her stuff got “treated.”  Will is, of course, furious, as am I.  He’s threatening to snap little furry necks.  I feel as if I have to run interference between my husband and the Stupid Cats, which is….stupid.  In a perfect world, I would know some sweet little old person that could take him.  All he wants is to be an only child and to have a lap to sit on/next to.  I cannot/will not thrown him out or take him to the pound.  Who in the hell would want a middle-aged neurotic black cat with a probable future cataract problem?

1 I hope this is as neat as it looks.  It’s got the usual birth statistics whatnot to fill out, but has a lot more current affairs spaces, such as what’s cutting edge technology, who’s at war, etc…  I only hope that there’s not a page on the Kardashians.  Not only am I not totally sure what a Kardashian is supposed to be, I don’t know why it/they are important or why I should care.

2 It can be only one.


About larva225

Working mom. Is there any other kind? Geologist. Nerd.
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2 Responses to Bribers On the Storm

  1. Not a multi-mom but I’m also not an only child. My sister was about to turn 8 years old when I was born, and regarded me as a birthday gift as far as I am told. That was different though, she was 8 years old and was a lot more cognitive of her surroundings. I’m sure Stella will surprise you in a good way with her reaction to the baby. There will probably be some jealousy but that’s normal.

    • larva225 says:

      I hear that most kids end up liking it, sort of, at first. Girls, especially, seem to do better from what I’ve read/heard due to our “little mommy” gene. I just have these visions of Stella trying to throw the new baby over the fence when I don’t/can’t pick her up or fetch her pretzels on demand.

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