In which some (somewhat sad) truths must be told...

Last night...er, well, I should say earlier this morning around 4:30ish, I am awakened by a scream of terror from Miss O. Yegads! I heft myself out of bed and waddle as well as my incapacitated right leg ligaments will let me (I swear, I look about 70 yrs old trying to walk because my right leg won't seem to work. Think Barbie [I know, that's being generous, but it's for the mental image] and how her legs connect to the torso by a single plastic bolt. Well, just imagine that plastic bolt NOT wanting to turn at all. Yes. This is the joy of walking if I've been laying down or sitting for any length of time and must, for any reason, hustle someplace else.)

Turns out that Miss O has gotten her arm stuck in one of the slats of her crib and has been awakened out of a deep slumber (and in a panic, has now awakened her mother from a deep slumber. Kinda a shame, because I was dreaming I was swimming free-style, through space. I dunno what that means, but it was very surreal to say the least). I get the arm free and go to make a bottle for her and get her settled and then try to go back to bed. A half hour later, she starts fussing again so I go in and end up rocking her (and falling asleep in the rocker) back to sweet sweet slumber. I wake up when I feel drool on my arm (her's, not mine...though, let's be honest. Who really knows) and I go back to my own bed around 6:00ish. Miss A joins me (remember, she's my early riser) around 7:15ish (late for her, but they didn't get to bed until 10pm last night) and about half hour later, Miss E joins us. I am finally roused for the morning around 8:00 when Miss O wakes up. And new baby starts kicking. It seems EVERYONE wants to get up, except for me.

Thus we arrive at the first (somewhat sad) truth that must be told: I am often the one that does not want to participate and do anything except SIT in front of a cold air source (even a fan going on high is appealing to me) with a nice beverage. I have reached that point of my pregnancy. I have arrived at the "I just want to sit and not move" stage. Hence one reason for all the great blogging I seem to be doing. :). I am 31 weeks. I have (hopefully) 8 weeks to go. More to go, I should say.

The second sad truth that must be told: After all my grousing about my pediatrician and my online guffaws at him suggesting we move Miss O to her toddler bed within the next two weeks, I must now admit that we might have to move Miss O into her toddler bed within the next few weeks. Not to make sure we squelch any jealous tendencies aimed at the new baby, but because if she keeps getting appendages stuck in the slats...well, that's just not safe.

A third sad truth that must be told:
My sister has found what sounds like a GREAT gift to send to my dad for Father's Day. The sad truth is that we were talking about how hard it is to know what to get him (does he need socks? A tie?), because we haven't seen him in years, and it's kinda hard to glean a meaningful something from some random phone calls. But she found a floral arrangement "from the fields of Germany" which sounds GREAT. I guess you'd have to know that most of my ancestors (especially paternal) have come from these said fields. So, it really seems a great idea. I hope the presentation lives up to expectations, though. :) And I hope he doesn't think it's too "girlie", but according to the site,

these exquisite blooms are accompanied by a ceramic, cream-colored vase that's finished using the Old World tradition of salt glazing and decorated with a gorgeous blue floral painting, the national color of Germany. It's a gift as unique as the country it's inspired by.

I think it's lovely.

A fourth sad truth to be told is that Miss O wipes my kisses off. I don't know why this bothers me, but every time I smooch her--especially a kiss on her little rosebud lips--she enthusiastically kisses me back and then wipes her lips with the back of her hand. What is that about. It's not like I lick my lips before planting one on her. If anything, that's what she does to me, because I've gotten plenty of slobbery smacks from her. Indeed, I don't see how a little kid who doesn't backwash in a cup can have such goopy smooches.

The fifth sad truth to be told: Some of you know that Super J has gone up to St Louis to visit with his Dad concerning his Mom, and Aunt D went with him. They were there to have an in-hospital "intervention" and finally face the elephant in the room: his mom needs some mental help. When we finally talked on the phone last night, I asked how it went and he sounded really optimistic, and said that it was kind of more an intervention for his dad (who was starting to have second thoughts) and a team planning meeting. What? says I. Turns out that they met with the psych doctor and actually had a great meeting about what it really means to have someone committed, how it's done, and had gained a realistic vision of what it means: it's not just a week getaway for Grandma Peters. The doctor said that this woman needed to be committed 30 years ago and there is at least 4 years of work ahead. It means that someone must become her guardian to get this accomplished. It means much more responsibility than just putting her in some building. It means...work.

I guess this reveals something that isn't really a sad truth, but just truth: all families take work. None of us are perfect, despite trying to portray and project that image. We all have ugly underbellies, somewhere, that would betray this faux perfect image we try to convince ourselves we actually have. Some of us are more upfront about that underbelly, but some of us don't want to face it...or the real extent of what must be done.

I mean, look at my side of the family. I have a brother who has just declared bankruptcy and foreclosure and his wife has never worked outside the home. To me, this is a HUGE elephant that needs to be addressed because there's an inequity to that...but that's for another post. All of my family has weight issues and none of us drink enough water or exercise enough or deal with the reasons behind this obesity. Heck! We don't even know what to get my dad for Father's Day because none of us have a consistent relationship with him. Now that is some sad truths being exposed. Oh. And my house seems like it cannot get and/or stay cleaned. That's less sad than just the way it is, but still...since I'm brimming with such honesty, let's call a spade a spade.

So, regardless of what happens with Grandma Peters, they are going forward with it and are letting the consequence follow. Super J said at least they aren't coming out of a vengeful place, but from a sincere hope that she can get and be helped. The consequences will happen, be they positive or negative, but they will happen because...that's what this life is about. And that, my Gentle Reader, is a truth both happy and sad.