I made oatmeal for the first time this morning since I was pregnant. Last year at this time, I got up every morning and slaved over the stove for 30 whole minutes making oatmeal for Trav and I, in an effort to introduce more fiber into our diets, and because I was 6 months pregnant and just again able to stand the sight of food, and because oatmeal is a delicious delivery system for butter and brown sugar. There was about one sweet month of my pregnancy where I got to enjoy food to my hearts content, and then I got gestational diabetes...and, well you know that story. But for that month I ate a lot of oatmeal (and monster cookies and cinnamon rolls).
So as I had 30 minutes to wait patiently for my breakfast, and as Avery dear was sleeping, I sort of reminisced about the time when I was waiting patiently for her to be ready to come. Its funny how smells can trigger memories like that. I will say this: I did not love being pregnant. It was hard.
But I love that I got to be pregnant. Love it. And isn't it funny how the things in our life that are the hardest, or the biggest struggle, are the things that we treasure the most.
And I've said it before, and I'll say it again... I love being a mother. I love everything about it. And I know this is kind of treasonous to say, but I even like the part when she wakes up at night (still) to eat or be held or whatever, because its kind of a secret special time that just she and I get to have together, and I know its fleeting.
And yes I am tired. (And yes I have the sleep books...I just choose to ignore them, judge me all you want.) Which mostly I don't mind all that much. I used to work nights--and that I hated. This-- well, this I just accept as part of the package.
Except tiredness seems to make me way more clumsy (than usual), and while making my oatmeal I dropped my beloved Nigella blue ceramic measuring cup on the stupid tile floor and it shattered. (By the way, don't you just love Nigella? My mom totally has a crush on her...I do too.) Lucky for you I have a photo of it.
I happen to have that photo because in my glory month of food while pregnant I almost posted my mom's famous cinnamon roll recipe on this very blog. But I didn't. Because there are basically two reasons that people like me, and one of them is cinnamon rolls. And you know...why buy the cow...?
So anyway, I was pretty sad about the measuring cup. (sad enough to write a blog!) but in my very mature and insightful way, I figured it was worth the trade-off.
To have her...the other reason mostly that people like me. (Who is at this very moment chirping at me in her sweet sing-songy voice).
And then I drank a root beer in celebration. (but don't worry its sweetened with sugar not HFCS...so totally healthy)
And if you need an idea for a Christmas gift for me...I could use a new set of those measuring cups. Just kidding...like I would solicit gifts on my blog.
(I'm totally not kidding).