(no subject)

I hate PMS.

It's not something I dealt with at all in any form until I was like...25? I thought it was a myth or a self-fulfilling prophecy. Then after my third pregnancy I had this insanely miserable night, with everything bothering me and the most urgent sense of frustration about nothing in particular, that ended in me laying face down on the couch while Grant got all the kids in bed - which is not AT ALL characteristic for me. The next morning, I had my period. And I was like...this could not possibly be a hormonal bit of nonsense, could it? Same sort of situation the month after. And pretty much every month I haven't been pregnant since.

It's gotten to where I can recognize it for what it is, which helps my mental sense of objectivity, but does little to actually make me feel better.

I feel as though this is God teaching me humility for having a sort of unconscious judgement of people with clinical depression. I was always one of those people who feel like they just need to excercise, eat better, get out of the house, yada yada yada. I understand now that brain chemistry can be an incredible hurdle to get over. I can't imagine feeling that way, all the time.

Yesterday was great and awful. Duality. I got up at 7, took three oldest to Mass, it was good. We went to their big "grotto" afterward for the first time - it's a little clearing within a canopy of trees and plants with statues - and saw new things and I told them the story of Our Lady of Lourdes and Bernadette. Came back, I cooked a good breakfast and then we went to City Church. It was good, they had a great time. I came home and everything just fell apart, I got so grumpy and defensive that I just went to sleep.

Shaun came and watched the kids while Grant and I went and saw "Funny People". I had a great time with Grant. It was a good movie. Dinner came out awesome. But I was like constantly reminding myself that all of it was wonderful as in, "So you shouldn't feel on edge and desperate and argumentative. So quit it. QUIT IT!"

Honestly, wtf. What is the biological or evolutionary purpose of feeling bitchy around the time you get your period? What is the Christian purpose? The humility I was talking about? It has definitely done that; I get it now; let's move on.

*sigh*

Today, I woke up and someone had let the cats into the room the chicks are in and we had one hiding but ok upon inspection and another acting "off" - Annie's black austrolorp Lily. She could go either way. No visible wounds but acting really weird and internal injuries are in my mind. I am totally waiting to go in there and either find her running around pecking with the others...or dead. In the meantime I've reinstalled the child guard on that locked door. And Jake has knocked this giant rig-up off the kitchen counter...one of our drawer's fell apart and Grant had it gorilla glue'd and clamped in place, drying up there, with one of my super heavy le creuset pots weighing the clamped parts down, and it's a wonder he wasn't injured - I had told him not to touch any of that, oh, 3 times already and blah.

Usually stuff like this just doesn't get to me this way.

AND ANOTHER THING!!!

That title is sort of my idea of humor.

Anyway.

Grant and I are both in the throes of EXTREME BABY LUST. Everything is conspiring against us at once:

-In researching and learning about Catholicism, it is impossible to not go through tons of Humanae Vitae, Theology of the Body type stuff about husband and wife partnering with God to create new eternal souls, etc etc ad infinitum
-in addition to how I am in parenting communities and know doulas who talk about births, my good friend noelove just had an AMAZING BIRTH and has a brand new daughter, and my lj list and fb page are flooded with pictures and info about this
-last week I packed up all of our remaining diapers and covers and a sling and our pail liner and wetbag and tea tree oil and diaper cream and just...all of it...and sent it (IN THREE BIG BOXES!) to ariellejuliana, who is getting to the end of her pregnancy...this was emotional as all get out for me.
-a couple of weeks ago we had likeinabook/Paige here and her littlest, Clara, was tugging at Grant and I both BIGTIME.

We're talking about periodically kidnapping Laura's new baby once s/he is born in January. And talking about doing foster care when Elise is like 5, maybe. He even says things like, "Come on Grandkids!" which I think is sort of putting the cart before the horse when our oldest is 9 :p

Ananda and I got in this long, wistful conversation the other day about who the hypothetical "next one" could possibly be. This is the thing that really kills me. Ananda; artistic, determined, too serious, dyslexic, bookish, newly riding a bike. Aaron; no physical awareness, no tact, riding a unicycle, playing the piano like crazy, already being singled out as amazing at Dance Empire, so empathetic and sweet. Isaac; dramatic and attention seeking, articulate, imaginative, no threshold for stress, red headed and blue eyed and pale. Jake; bad temper, super affectionate, really smart, giant black afro. Elise; raging miracle, rotten, adorable, fiery as all get out, glassy dark gray eyes and floppy curls.

WHO WOULD THE NEXT ONE BE?! HOW would they be? What are we missing out on? They are each so wildly unique and different. She was talking about how friends are great and cousins are good but it's so exciting and special to add to our immediate family.

*sigh*

I am reserving the right to lose the weight I need to lose, get my hernia repair and my muscles fixed, heal fully, and decide I want another baby. Otherwise, I think I'll lose my mind. It might happen; it might not. There are obviously variables at work. But I have to have that option available in the back of my mind.

If this all follows the predicted schedule, Ananda would be 11. Elise would be 4.

Dr. Last C-Section couldn't believe how good my uterus looked when he got in there. He said he would never have thought I'd had 4 previous, I had no scar thinning or laxity or anything.

So maybe I'll find myself thinner and with a relatively normal abdomen and 30, and we'll choose to conceive.

/crazy