Momedy

The last blog I started was called “The Prose of Patience”, and it has exactly 0 posts.

It was January of 2014 and I’d just miscarried our first child, and those first weeks afterward seemed impossibly long as we looked into our future wondering what the rest of our fertility journey would look like.

So I started the blog thinking it would be a good place to document any positives I could find about being forced into that kind of patience. For those of you who don’t know me well, this seems like a good time to tell you that patience is not in my nature. If you sat a 3 year old down in front of a bowl of m&ms, you’d see a better display of patience than you get from me in most situations.

Luckily for Eric, who has to live with me, the day after I started The Prose Of Patience we were incredibly blessed to find out we were expecting Evelyn, and that whole idea went out the window.

These days I spend a lot of time waiting in other, smaller capacities. For example — In the waiting room at dance class, with two younger kids to entertain, for 45 minutes. Also known as eternity.

I follow @busytoddler on Instagram, and it’s an absolute treasure trove of ideas on keeping toddlers entertained in just such a circumstance.

Of course I never quite get around to implementing, and instead pass the time trying to see how long it takes Lottie to realize there’s a wipe on her head.

It was fourteen glorious and entertaining minutes, and I snort laughed so hard that I peed my in my pants. Not that that’s a shocking occurrence with a pelvic floor that has birthed 3 kids. I peed in my pants loading the dishwasher this afternoon, too.

My favorite of all the waiting I do is the 30 minutes we spend in the car twice a week while Evelyn is at speech. I throw some milk at Lottie and some trail mix at Alex and buy myself silence for 28.5 of those minutes.

Inevitably this turns into social media time, when I can scroll aimlessly through my various newsfeeds without “can I see!?” shouted directly into my eardrum.

And let me tell you, my newsfeeds are waiting for me.

You know how you’ll be texting a friend about something random like seasonal vests for your pet and then the next time you log onto Facebook, this ad is waiting for you?

Mine does the same, except I haven’t been texting anyone about it. Facebook can just read my mind, and no sooner do my eyes hit that screen then ads for things that I MUST OWN start popping up.

Like these wraparound, HD, glare-reducing night driving glasses:

If you’re wondering where you’ve seen these before …

… here they are on my 92 year old grandfather.

It’s like Facebook knew all about my driving anxiety and how it’s worst at night, and boom, served me up a trial I couldn’t pass.

They don’t work, by the by, and in fact it’s like wearing sunglasses at night and still seeing halos around stoplights and starbursts around headlights. They do significantly brighten up a cloudy day though, so I think I’ll keep them for the 153 of those we have coming up this winter.

One day I was wondering whether constantly cleaning my ears was contributing to my hearing loss. Next time I logged on:

I bought it. How could I not?? I’m still waiting for it to arrive and I can. Not. Wait.

Other “impulse” purchases have been these tailgating gloves (for all the tailgating I do with a baby, a toddler and a preschooler). They have a coozy attached so you can hold your beer without it slipping from your hindered grasp …

… and this Christmas tree for my kids to decorate, in the unrealistic hopes it will keep them away from the real tree:

At 30% off how could I pass it up?

Sweet Baby Ray’s head is probably exploding right now as he reads this. “So THAT’s what the $9.65 charge to ‘Make Goodies’ was. Gotta say I’m a little relieved. ”

Facebook must know this, and they must know he’s a hunter, because they latest ad they sent my way was this:

It may or may not end up under the Christmas tree this year (the real one).

I’m working hard on saying no to these ads, or at least limiting myself to $20 a month, which I in turn don’t spend at Starbucks that month. Not that I have the opportunity to go there often, anyway.

In fact the Starbucks line is one place I actually miss waiting. In silence. Alone. With a fully intact pelvic floor. I’ll be back there, someday. And until then, there are plenty of Facebook ads to keep me busy.