Brown Paper Packages (Tied Up With String)
Last week we had a couple nights of wonderful thunderstorms. Wonderful for me--not so much for Littles who asks me to pray every night that there won't be any thunder. Yes, even when there is not a drop of rain in the forecast because we live in Oklahoma. Anyway, the second night, in a fit of inspiration, I channeled Julie Andrews and burst into a spirited rendition of "My Favourite Things". There may or may not have been crickets following my impromptu performance. I may or may not have then resisted the urge to cut up the curtains to make play clothes for the kids.
But today the boys were treated to an encore performance after we received a package from the Man's great aunt complete with real live brown paper packages tied up with real live string. It was fantastic. And I have continued singing as I flipped through pictures of yesterday's baby shower, unpacked bags and boxes, found yet another baby gift on the front porch, and received from my fairy god-aunt the twin stroller the Man and I had picked out.
I will tell you a secret (though it won't be one once I tell you). This pregnancy there have been cry days. Days where, inexplicably perhaps, I am crying about everything. I chalk this up to twin hormones wrecking havoc on my already strained emotional stability. And, this is the part that was supposed to be a secret, Sunday was a cry day. I cried going to church, cried at church, cried coming home from church. I'm just a weeper.
So I'm getting ready to go to the baby shower that my wonderful friends are wonderfully throwing for me and the twin-beeberts (that's a Littles-ism), and I'm still feeling weepy. Which is not appropriate for party going. Even pregnant party going. I mean, imagine this:
"Thank you for the gift! I love these adorable onesies so much I can't stop crying about them!"
Or this:
"Please have a piece of cake. It's lovely with some extra salt. Here, let me cry on your slice for you."
Or this:
"You came to celebrate me and the twins! Please may I sob hysterically on your shoulder?"
It's just not pretty. Thankfully I pulled myself together sufficiently and was able to tearlessly enjoy all the wonderful women who came and overwhelmed me with presents. Seriously, I'd broken a sweat by the time I finished opening gifts. It was perfect. The shower, not the sweating. Although I needed a real shower after all the sweating...
Then last night I came home and obsessive compulsively put away every single thing except for the diapers and wipes that are currently taking over the guest bed. I had to get help because (since we're being honest here) I'm losing mobility fast and it's not always easy to get everything where you want it when you have a gigantic belly getting in the way. In fact, while putting baby wash and lotions underneath the sink I got stuck sitting on the boys' bathroom stool and had to make clever use of the towel racks to hoist myself up again. For the inquiring minds that want to know, no, I am still not yet in my third trimester.
Anyway, the teariness has returned today, but they have been happy tears. It's hard not to want to cry when I see just how blessed our family has been time and time again. In my mind I'm recounting some of my favourite things--and since I'm pregnant, tears of joy might just be on the list.
Closely followed, of course, by little boy football, fairy god-aunts, soul integrity among friends, unpacking and organizing, books by lamp light, the counting of blessings, letters that make me laugh, getting to be a helping hand, advice from wise sources, and, of course, brown paper packages (tied up with string).
But today the boys were treated to an encore performance after we received a package from the Man's great aunt complete with real live brown paper packages tied up with real live string. It was fantastic. And I have continued singing as I flipped through pictures of yesterday's baby shower, unpacked bags and boxes, found yet another baby gift on the front porch, and received from my fairy god-aunt the twin stroller the Man and I had picked out.
I will tell you a secret (though it won't be one once I tell you). This pregnancy there have been cry days. Days where, inexplicably perhaps, I am crying about everything. I chalk this up to twin hormones wrecking havoc on my already strained emotional stability. And, this is the part that was supposed to be a secret, Sunday was a cry day. I cried going to church, cried at church, cried coming home from church. I'm just a weeper.
So I'm getting ready to go to the baby shower that my wonderful friends are wonderfully throwing for me and the twin-beeberts (that's a Littles-ism), and I'm still feeling weepy. Which is not appropriate for party going. Even pregnant party going. I mean, imagine this:
"Thank you for the gift! I love these adorable onesies so much I can't stop crying about them!"
Or this:
"Please have a piece of cake. It's lovely with some extra salt. Here, let me cry on your slice for you."
Or this:
"You came to celebrate me and the twins! Please may I sob hysterically on your shoulder?"
It's just not pretty. Thankfully I pulled myself together sufficiently and was able to tearlessly enjoy all the wonderful women who came and overwhelmed me with presents. Seriously, I'd broken a sweat by the time I finished opening gifts. It was perfect. The shower, not the sweating. Although I needed a real shower after all the sweating...
Then last night I came home and obsessive compulsively put away every single thing except for the diapers and wipes that are currently taking over the guest bed. I had to get help because (since we're being honest here) I'm losing mobility fast and it's not always easy to get everything where you want it when you have a gigantic belly getting in the way. In fact, while putting baby wash and lotions underneath the sink I got stuck sitting on the boys' bathroom stool and had to make clever use of the towel racks to hoist myself up again. For the inquiring minds that want to know, no, I am still not yet in my third trimester.
Anyway, the teariness has returned today, but they have been happy tears. It's hard not to want to cry when I see just how blessed our family has been time and time again. In my mind I'm recounting some of my favourite things--and since I'm pregnant, tears of joy might just be on the list.
Closely followed, of course, by little boy football, fairy god-aunts, soul integrity among friends, unpacking and organizing, books by lamp light, the counting of blessings, letters that make me laugh, getting to be a helping hand, advice from wise sources, and, of course, brown paper packages (tied up with string).
