Wanton Forms of Regret

Love. What is love?

Is it the senseless feeling you have for someone?

Is it the unrequited resolve to stay with one individual person?

She held her glass of wine feeling the tears longing to burst behind her eyes.

Setting her glass on the counter, she tucked her knees up to her chest fighting the urge to cry, replaying the scenario in her mind again and again.

Everything in that moment was bright and colorful. A dream she didn’t get to experience.

She wore a long, beautiful white dress. Her long hair adorning her head as though it were a crown spilling with curls. The long tulle veil was pinned under her hair with a silver comb, falling down her back like rushing water, tiny white flowers tucked into it.

She stood at the edge of a stage waiting for the game to be announced.

He was across the room, wearing a beautiful black suit with a white shirt and silver tie. He laughed brightly, the joy of the day shining off of his face and in his eyes.

He stopped laughing, but the mirth of the moment stayed on his face in a large smile showing off his teeth.

She met eyes, winked and then stood up on a chair with her bouquet in her hands.

Luscious red roses were elegantly arranged with sprays of baby’s breath, little blue flowers and blue ribbon that flowed out of it.

The crowd of eager young women clustered together heightened the cheer, as she faced away from them. She held her breath while the leader of the band counted to three, and then she flung the bouquet behind her.

A rush and screams broke out behind her.  She giggled softly, turning to see who had caught it.

It was a girl she had met, but didn’t know very well. She was a friend of her husbands.

Husband.

The word made her warm inside.  She caught eyes with him.

He watched her intensely, his heart bursting forth through his shining eyes.

That was all she had ever wanted to see.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as the daydream faded into reality again.

That moment had never been hers. And she wanted it so desperately.

From the shining, bursting forth of love in a man she knew beyond a shadow of doubt cared for her, to the scramble of single friends awaiting her bouquet.

The image was so vivid, and so real.  It only added to the trauma of her breaking heart.

Faith picked up her wine glass again. After another swig, she set the glass heavily down and half-ran to the sofa, throwing herself into the arm, hugging a pillow into her chest as she began to sob.

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My Life As A Human Spawn Point

Going back to Mommy Ramblings for a moment, the trip to Ohio wore me down.  Normal things, such as getting out of the car, eating, and sitting were uncomfortable.  Why is it when you’re pregnant, bloating is ten times worse?
Rest Areas are usually found every 76 miles, but sometimes that’s just not soon enough.
I remember being pregnant with Isaias on the road to Ohio, we always stopped three miles BEFORE every Rest Area.
This is the second time I’ve had to travel across the country pregnant, for a death in the family.   My doctor said I’m not allowed to have the baby this time, but considering I still have 16 weeks of pregnancy left, I don’t see that being a problem

Between trying to raise a toddler, spawning a baby, and being away from home I am worn out.  My poor son probably thinks I’m the Thing From The Black Lagoon first thing in the morning, what with having to give up coffee.  I sneak a cup in here or there, but honestly that’s probably doing more bad than good to my sanity.
Why is it that when we have children, we feel as though our sanity has disappeared?   I am a Stay-at-home mom which makes my loss of sanity that much worse, as I literally spend every waking hour – and more – with my child.  The husband is off and away for everything and anything while I am at home raising his family.  When God cursed Eve and said, “I will increase your pains in child bearing” what he meant was, “When you’re on your period, it will be hell.  When you’re pregnant, it will be hell.  When you’re giving birth, you’ll wish you were dead.  When you recover from birth, you’ll hate yourself.  When you raise your child, you will love your child, but Free Will means your kid is going to push every button in your emotional body, and it will be hell.  Then, you’ll get pregnant with the next one and the cycle will plunge you into insanity.”

…..so, maybe he didn’t mean that, but heaven and all its occupants know I’m not prepared to have two toddlers running around testing my patience every chance they get.
Did I mention I’m having a little girl?
I get the best of both worlds,  but I’m going to endure Night and Day difference the moment she develops her personality.  I look forward to having a baby again,  but then I remember they grow up.

When you’re pregnant,  you really have to pick your battles with your toddler wisely.  There isn’t enough of you to go around.  Literally.  Your body is growing another child, and it slowly suckles away your energy, your ability to move quickly,  your ability to think clearly, and your ability to keep your emotions balanced ((I don’t know, maybe that’s just me)).
I’m tired.  I’m worn out.  I’m just ready to have my body and it’s needs back.  I went from breastfeeding, back to pregnant with only a month in between.  ((My husband couldn’t handle the thought of the depravity of his wife on our Anniversary.   I said I didn’t want to get pregnant.   But men have this way of guilt tripping you for holding out on them during important days in your relationship.   An anniversary is a pretty big thing to have to skip out on, apparently…..  like he couldn’t have waited two more days…..))
The things that comfort and care for me are coffee, and the occasional Mikes Hard Lemonade, or red Moscato.
I also thoroughly enjoy rigorous exercise, yoga and pursuing a slim, toned figure.
Those are the things I do for me.  Things that I have to wait for again.
Why is it that the things we love most are the ones we have to give up so we can bring children into this world?
When do I get to be me again?
When can I look in the mirror and love how I look?  How I feel?

Am I the only one who feels like this?  Should I feel guilty for needing to do for me, when I have to look after everyone else?  Why must coffee be a “guilty pleasure”?  Or two glasses of wine on the occasional Saturday night dangerous?
This is the punishment we endure for nine months, when the hormones are raging, the toddler’s misbehaving,  and the husband won’t do his share to make things easier.
Somebody tell me it gets better.  Because right now, I don’t see it.  And I’ve still got 16 long weeks to go.

For The Love Of All Things Coffee

I have a severe need for coffee.  Being half-way through my second pregnancy, so close to the end of breastfeeding the first one, has been difficult — but only because, once again, I can’t have any alcohol, or coffee.

How grand it might be to grab a cup of coffee to soothe my raging emotions.  How sweet to savor a glass of red moscato, or a Mikes Hard Lemonade, or a mixed drink from your favorite restaurant, when one has lost the end of their sanity.
Simple relaxing agents that one might use to indulge themselves for just a moment.  A selfish little stimulant that you can wash away your worries with.

No, I’m not an alcoholic.  But work with me people, every once in a while you just NEED a glass of wine, am I right?

When life hands you lemons, they insist you make lemonade.  What I want to know, where do they find the sugar to do that with?

Life is full of ups and downs, and this week I have hit some pretty heavy downs.
From my grandma dying (which didn’t bother me much, she was a difficult woman to love) on Monday morning, to our car not starting on Monday night, to not having funds available to fix it, to several unnecessary things happening with the car in between…..  My saving grace this week is that the landlady is giving us an extension next week, so we can pay partial rent in good faith, up until the extra money starts rolling in.
From Monday, which is Hubby’s birthday, through the rest of the month, I will be in Ohio.  And I’m not sure when I’ll be back home after that.

So this has certainly been an “I need to relax with a glass of wine” week.  It’s terribly inconvenient that I don’t get to use anything to soothe my nerves during pregnancy.  Except like, a Lavender Essential Oils bath— but I’m a mom of a toddler, who gets the time to be in a bath long enough to actually enjoy it?

I’m going to break down and make a cup of coffee……