Dear Talulah

Dear Talulah,

I am sorry that you dealt with stress last night. I wish you were born so I could hold you and put you in your bassinet if there was any loud noise in our house. I hope that as you and your sister get older, we never have the relationship that my mother and I have or my aunt and her daughter have for that moment. I promise to always to try to understand you and what you are going through. And just know that even if you feel like I don't understand what your going through or where your coming from...trust me I know. I love you more then you will ever know. You are my daughter. I will always love you.

Mom

I'm just a home for Talulah

Day Gazillion and four. Translation, eight days passed my due date. I truly have to say I hate being pregnant right now. And I really don't care what any one else has to say about that. My kids are driving me crazy, the oldest to the youngest. My husband, my mother, cousin....and even the dog are driving me crazy. Right now in our three bed room house we have our family, which consist of My husband, Ramon, my self, evil pregnant lady, Zen, our oldest son, Wednesday, who will be our oldest daughter as soon as Talulah decides to come out, Enso, our youngest son, and Wasabi, our very horny dog who is constantly licking him self and humping the stuff animals. In addition to us we have my cousin aka niece living with us, and my mother is visiting for a month from Utah. Little info on that, it was suppose to be a week!

I believe I'm on the verge of an anxiety attack. My baby, Talulah... is in position, her head is down and her butt is up...and her cute little feet or some part of her body are stuck in my ribs or hips. I feel immobile. I can not drive any where. It's to uncomfortable, so it's not safe. I defiantly can't drive leaning like a cholo. I feel like a oopa loopa. REALLY! I am 5 foot 1 and all this weight is.....well weighing me down. I am out of breath just walking down the street. I am having irregular contractions. But man, weeks of contractions is tiring. and YES I know the difference between Braxton Hicks!

Not to mention my family. I am constantly being yelled at to rest. Ya, that's real calming. Also I have the pressure of giving birth. I have my husband home for the rest of the week, after Friday he goes back to work and won't be home or able to be their with me when the time comes to deliver. My mom is leaving back to Utah Wednesday my grandmother comes in Tuesday and someone has to stay with the kiddo's while I'm in labor. Plus all the friends I have who were not working when I first got pregnant, now all have jobs. First I thought I could give birth all by my self. However the closer the time gets (or not) I'm getting anxious and scared to be by my self. I never thought I would be afraid to do this by myself. I've given birth three times before. I really don't want to be alone during labor. I was alone a lot during this pregnancy.

My mom asked me when I thought the baby is coming. I had to tell her honestly I really don't know. She just cried. "The baby is not coming out because of me". That's what she said. Every one around me is an emotional wreck and I have to be the calm during the storm to keep them all together, when all I really want to do is sit in my room and cry until Talulah come out.

This one is a mommy Blog.

I was looking around my house for my journal that had written in while I was away in Nevada. Goodness that felt like an eternity. I was so sad. Then towards the end I was angry. Which I feel was a good emotion to have. It gave me the strength that I needed to bring the kids back. And not get intimidated by Carlos. I never understood why it bothered me so much when ever Carlos attacked my parenting skills. Once he said that I should comb Wednesday's hair better. He mentioned that the girl he was dating at the time always had her daughter's here up in a pony tail an her shoes where always clean. God, it bothered me. I hung up the phone, laid in the bed and cried. It wasn't until the next day that I realized that the kids had been with him for two days, and that I had sent them clean and "combed". At the time Carlos was around his girlfriend, he was the one responsible for Wednesday. Yet I allowed him to in so many words call me a bad mom. Now Wednesday is back home, and she still hates for me to touch her hair. She's told me that her dad combs her hair better. Someday I'm going to make a movie about daughters and brushing their hair. And yes their is definitely gonna be a scene where the mom goes ballistic and maybe a few broken mirrors and toilet. The audience will realize that the mom was just imagining all this in her head.. Don't worry folks CPS will not be called during filming. Lately my daughter has been on a role. If I so much as brush my arm against her in the morning she yell's "YOUR HURTING ME....STOP HURTING ME". I had my hands on her shoulders guiding her to the restroom to get ready for school. I couldn't believe that she yelled, "DON'T PUSH ME"! What the hell!!!! The "what the hell" is from me. I just don't understand it. Is it because the baby is due any minute. Is it because we have guest in the house. Which by the way is my mother and OMG she likes to butt in when she shouldn't. I wonder if Wednesday misses her dad. When they first came home from there father's he called every other day. Now he calls once a week. And to top it off he talks longer to her brother. I do know that she wants all my time to her self. The one thing that I worry about being a mother of more then one child is that I am not giving my attention equally to all of my children.
I was thinking the other day. I consider my self a nice person. I follow the rules and I functioning part of society. I hardly cuss out loud. I volunteer, I don't beat or starve my children. I am still a child of abuse,neglect, and more abuse. Despite all of that I always strive to be good human being.......what I'm trying to say is that my children have never had the childhood that I have had. I have made sure of that and at times they treat me like dirt. I don't have the heart to tell them how lucky they are to have parents who love them and that when they come home they are safe. Have I over compensated for my short comings in life with my children? And had it back fired? Or am I reading to much into this and my daughter is just acting like a daughter or better said a BRAT!