I was talking to my husband on the phone during his lunch break... it started out as a discussion about a bill that needed paying and ended up as a lecture about how I need to take it easy and learn to lean on people more, because at this point in my pregnancy I am putting too much undue pressure on myself. Which is true, but as an incredible control freak, this is not easy for me to do. PLUS, I have been feeling enormously depressed lately about my increased amount of physical pain, my emotional instability regarding the impending birth of my son (I can't wait to hold him in my arms, and yet feel incredibly sad that this era of being a family of three is coming to a close), and my inability to keep up with what I feel are my "duties" as a wife and mother. My house is filthy-- I'm pretty sure there are previously unidentified species of mold growing in my toilets, walking barefoot on my carpet can be considered a serious risk to your well-being, and you can tell where the shampoo should go in the shower due to the fact that there is a shadowy ring left behind when you pick it up to use it. I can't bend and I can't vacuum (exacerbates the intense pain in my left hip), so I'm somewhat limited. The dishes are almost always done though, and my countertops are clean... am considering this a "win." In addition to my filthy house, I feel that I'm beginning to neglect my daughter a bit... not by withholding attention, as she gets plenty of that, but because I no longer have the energy or the physical ability to keep up with her. She doesn't seem to notice, but I do, and it is making me sad.
Anyway, after the conversation with my husband, I had to cry for a few minutes. Don't start sending him hate mail-- it wasn't his fault. My emotions just overwhelmed me for a minute and I needed to cry it out so that I could move on with my day. After a moment, I pulled myself back together and went downstairs, intending to get a couple chores done before taking my daughter to her Poppy's house for the evening. As soon as I saw her, all nestled up on the couch with her beloved binnie draped over her legs, I needed her. The conversation went something like this:
Me: Addison, Mommy needs a hug.
Addison: Why you need a hug?
Me: Because I'm a little bit sad, and a hug would make me feel a lot better.
Addison: Why you sad?
Me: Sometimes Mommies just get sad sometimes, and we need hugs.
*Addison crawls over to me on the couch, sits on my lap, and gives me a hug. Leans back, looks me in the face...*
Addison: Wanna see my belly? *lifts up shirt*
I couldn't help myself. I cracked up laughing. What a goofy thing to do! "You're sad? Here, allow me to show you my belly. All will be right with the world." It's insane! It makes absolutely no sense at all, and yet my depressed mood was broken. I was looking for some kind of answer for my situation, trying to work it out logically, talking things through with my husband, and apparently all I needed was a 3 year old girl to show me her belly. In her own convoluted way, I think this was my daughter's way of reminding me that sometimes, even if the problems are difficult, the solutions can be simple.
And next time you're upset, I'm sure Addison would be happy to show you her belly. Just give us a call.