I learned not long ago that if you want people to read your blog, you have to kind of talk like you’re having a conversation with someone you don’t know.
Which I guess I am, you know.
I don’t intend to give out this address like I have previous blogs. I don’t want to have to censor myself because I know that my sister and my mother-in-law and probably not many others are reading.
I want to be honest.
So I should introduce myself, since I hope that one day in the future, someone will read this.
My name is Emily. I’m a pretty run of the mill person, I guess. I mean, there’s nothing quite exceptional about me. I turned 30 this month, on the 18th. I haven’t let myself think about that too very much, because I’m afraid I’ll cross over from hormonal to completely batshit crazy.
Oh by the way, I’m pregnant. 27 weeks and some days. I don’t know how important that will turn out to be (well, in the grand scheme of this blog. To me, it’s way important, it’s a big deal, it’s all the stuff I should be saying).
I have two other kids, which kind of puts this pregnancy thing into perspective for me. I thought I’d be a total pro at being pregnant, but seeing as how my youngest is nigh upon six years old…I suppose I’d forgotten the fat feeling. The fat and the OH MY GOD I CAN’T MOVE WITHOUT HURTING feeling.
I digress.
My two other kids besides the one I’m incubating are brilliant works of art, of course. And by “brilliant works of art” I many times mean “gigantic sassy jerkwads who only eat chicken nuggets.”
Max is 7. Ava is 5. I love them with all of me, and I cannot wait to feel that love again. I mean that.
Max and Ava are products of my first marriage, a misguided thing that came together when I was 20 and ended a little over 4 years later. Their father is a good guy and we remain friends, close friends – but if I were still married to him I sincerely believe I would have eaten some Drano long ago. That sounded harsh…but sometimes people are just not meant to be together, you know? It happens. It happened.
So I suppose that a lot of the newness of this pregnancy comes from the fact that I am finally having a child with someone I love, someone who I cannot imagine ever being without, someone with whom I want to watch the whole growing process take place. I can pick out traits that Max and Ava have that belong solely to their father, and I cannot tell you how excited I am to begin learning that with a new person.
Wow.
So I’ve said a lot about being pregnant.
Anyway, I work outside of my house. Every day. A lot of times I hate it. Sometimes it’s a welcome relief.
We live in a community that is a long way from the community we grew up in. We have no family here, and no friends, minus one or two exceptions. It’s hard, especially since there have been some snags. We moved here for Josh’s work – for him to follow his calling and his dream. It’s been harder than we thought.
Every day I wonder if it’s the day we’ll finally decide we’re packing up and moving home.
Although, I don’t know how much of a “home” home would be anymore…
But that’s a post for a another day.
I’m glad you’re here.
Letting off steam 