Fannee Doolee

I Open at the Close

39 1/2 Weeks, originally uploaded by Fannee Doolee.

After this post, I plan on posting only one more - a birth announcement, with perhaps a short account of the labor/delivery experience (for those of you who want the details), but really more of a post-script to this journey that started in the coffice some eighteen months ago.

As I come to the end of this blog, I realize how much it has come to mean to me--not only as a memoir and somewhat satisfying piece of multi-media literature, but as a means of communication that has kept me connected and re-connected me to family and friends near and far.  Fannee Doolee is more than just my musings - it is a product of every person who has read or will read it, whether you've joined in the fray of commenting, sent me private e-mails, or remained one of the many "stalkers" who silently stop by and reflect on my ramblings only in your own private thoughts or prayers.

As I come to the end of this pregnancy, I realize that the journey has led me down a far different path than I had plotted for myself.  I embraced this pregnancy as a "sign from God" that I am worthy and capable of mothering one more child.  Foolishly, I set myself up for failure by believing I would either breeze through a healthy and manageable pregnancy while escalating my career and being everything a mother could be to my family, or somehow finding the strength to do so despite sickness and discomforts.  I have done neither.

And yet, my reward at the end of this path is far greater than being deemed some sort of ordained Supermom.  Not only do I realize that I will never be the perfect wife/mother/lawyer/person, but much more importantly, that I don't have to.  Rather, my reward is a far more valuable realization:  help is there for those who need it (to quote J.K. Rowling once more).  Like a lost driver who finally, finally, breaks down and asks for directions, I see what a blessing it has been for me to follow the path before me, despite the bumps and challenges, because it led me to the inevitable place where I have no choice but to ask for help.  You can't imagine how difficult that was for me to do--and what an epiphany it has been to learn to do it.  In asking for help, the greatest blessing has been revealed to me in the overwhelming support from those closest to me as well as the most unexpected sources.  I am entirely surrounded by people who love me, despite my flaws and my needs, who walk with me along similar paths of uncertainty, who lead me with the wisdom of their own experiences, and who wait for me at the end of the road.

The End Is Near

With three weeks left until my due date, the end of a challenging (but, thankfully, healthy) pregnancy is in sight.  I am ready to not be pregnant anymore, and hopefully ready to take on a newborn. 

This is also the beginning of the end of Fanneedoolee, as I've decided to put a little closure (or at least a hard page break) on this chapter of my life and take a rest from blogging for a while.  I've made this decision mostly from practicality - as you may have noticed, I've hardly blogged at all since taking on my new full-time ++ role as a SAHM - but also because this seems to be a good time to wrap things up.

When I started this blog, I wanted to create a snapshot of our family to preserve for Logan and Keelin to look back on someday, and I think I've done that now.  With the new baby arriving, the end of our life as a family of four (and sometimes five) is likewise near.  I realize now that I also started this blog as a way for me to feel more in touch with the part of my life from which I'd been so cut off.  When I was working and away from the house 10-12 hours per day, posting pictures of the kids and capturing special moments about our family helped me feel more connected, and I think also played a big role in my realization that I need to be with my family more right now.  Period.

Being here 24/7--and being more immersed in my family than I ever have before-- has tipped the scales away from reflecting in favor or experiencing.  I've got to spend a while walking in these shoes a bit more before I'm able pay homage to the next chapter of my/our lives with any meaningful insight, or even clever prose. 

So, I am planning to end Fanneedoolee with a final post shortly after the baby arrives, marking the ending and also the beginning of this point in the journey with a birth announcement.  (I know we'll all be excited to find out which name makes the final cut - myself included!).  I've got a few other loose ends to wrap up, and I will continue to upload pictures to my flickr photo stream, which may serve as my virtual baby book for #3!  I will also leave the site up for a bit until I figure out how to save it to a disk or migrate it to a site where it can live on indefinitely without me having to pay a monthly fee.

So, thanks again to you, dear readers, and stand by for the conclusion--I expect I'll have at least a few cliff-hangers to leave you all anxiously awaiting for the next volume:  Fanneedoolee and the Decade of Domestic Delirium, perhaps?  Or maybe Fanneedoolee and the Haunted Housewife Hollows?   Fanneedoolee and the Wickedly Winsome WalMart Shopping Spree??

I Feel Like Dancin'

OK, this is way better than the now-defunct Cheriokie site, although I hope that, like Cheriokie, this site is also disenabled someday because if our children ever view this, it could scar them for life.  And, for the record, this is no exaggeration of Patrick's "manhood" . . .

I Feel Like Dancin'

Thanks, Marie, for the inspiration!

The Strength to Bear It

An leaves for Vietnam tomorrow.   She and I just finished a grueling but invigorating week leading a first grade class through vacation bible school. 

As glorious as our recent role-reversal has been, Patrick and I are still trying to figure out how all the bills will get paid, and adding to that the possibility of the additional considerable expense that comes with our realization that private school may be the best fit for Logan next year. 

Kiki is on the verge of turning three, although some days, it seems more like fifteen. 

Charlotte/Frances/Megan/Lucy/Sophia continues to kick and squirm more tumultuously each day (though none of her pokes and prods give me any indication as to which of the aforementioned name possibilities she prefers - feel free to cast your votes through comments as I am taking all the naming help I can get at this point).

In sum, I am feeling stronger yet more challenged than I have in a long, long time - possibly ever.  I have never wanted to give and do so much for my children--more than I feel I know how to do, and yet, I cannot quite believe that I am bearing as much of this glorious cross I have been given as I have so far. 

I spent much of last night pondering and woke this morning thinking Why?  Why all of this at the same time?  Isn't the challenge of just raising our own two children enough?  Will I really have what it takes to bring a third precious child into this mix without detracting from what I have to give to the others?  Can I possible give An even the tiniest bit of insight to get her through what she must go through this summer and help her to return next fall? 

How would I feel if I were being called upon to do less?  This is certainly not an area in which I'd want to underachieve.  At the risk of sounding like a completely unworthy martyr, I'll share the thought that came to me this morning -- the penultimate scene of the move Schindler's List. 

Schindler saves hundreds of Jews from death during the holocaust, and yet, when it's all over and he looks back on what he's done, all he can think of is why didn't he do more?  Why wasn't he able to save more people?  It certainly was not for want of effort - I won't re-tell the story, but through the tale of this one man who put more than his own life on the line to save others, I realize when you are called upon to do something for the most valuable reason there is, you can't help but yearn to have done more when you finally get to the point of laying down that cross. 

I have always been somewhat of an over-achiever (or at least an over-attempter), and my children mean more than anything to me.  I've known since we first thought of having another baby that I did not want to get to the end of my child-raising years and wonder if we could have had a third.  I also accept that, while I may have doubts in my own abilities, I know I would not be called on to do a job where children are concerned if the Big Boss didn't feel I could handle it.  Now, it's just a matter of convincing myself. 

I've Been Memed

Croiky!  I've been tagged by Marie Millard to respond to a meme (which is sort of a blog-version of a chain-letter, or an e-mail survey,  kind of like this one) .   Problem is, I have an unwritten policy that, with few exceptions, I boycott all chain letters, demonstration parties, memes, etc. for the main reason that I feel guilty to do some when I know I don't have the time/money/energy to do them all. 

This present meme that Nancy tagged me with is particularly problematic in that the instructions are simply to list eight random facts about yourself, then tag eight other people to do the same.   I don't know eight other bloggers to whom I could pass this on, and I'm hard pressed to think of eight random facts that are remotely interesting and which I'm willing to air publicly.  I mean, my mother reads this blog--I know she's just dying to see "#4:  The most unusual place I've "made whoopee" is . . . "  Sorry.  That one's going to have to stay between me, the honored guest and a few pigeons at an abandoned outdoor shopping mall in Texas. . . .

Anyway, in the interest of being a good sport . . . here goes:

1.  My family has a distinct fascination with bodily functions and the need to blog about them. 

2. When I was five, I had a recurring nightmare in which I was being chased by a skeleton creature that consisted of only a skull atop two bony feet.  This dream terrified me for years.  I never told anyone about it until I was in college, and within three seconds of describing this little skull-head on feet chasing me around, I had my roommates on the floor in tears of laughter.  It was almost as funny as my friend's nightmarish revelation that began, "OK.  I'm a log.  And there's a mommy log, and a daddy log, and we're all being chased by these really mean dogs."

3.  I once worked at the Kahiki, an ultra-tacky Polynesian restaurant in Columbus that has since been torn down, but somewhere frozen egg-rolls are still being produced under its name.  I was a hostess, and on certain shifts, I had to also pull duties as "the Mystery Girl" and deliver birthday cakes and flaming drinks while clad in a bikini top and grass skirt to unsuspecting patrons whose jaws dropped to see my glowing white skin illuminated by the black-lighting effects.

4.  My college roommates and I were affectionately known as "the Witches" - a reference to The Witches of Eastwick.

5.  My first job out of college was working for a non-profit arts magazine run by two crazy editors whose idea of amusement was to throw rotten fruit from our second-story window at cars in the parking lot below.

6.  My second job out of college was working at the local presenter's office for nationally touring Broadway Shows, through which I experienced face time with the likes of Carol Channing, Jerry Lewis, Robert Goulet, John Davidson, Ralph Machio, John Schneider, Petula Clark and Stephanie Powers.

7.  My mom had a huge crush on John Davidson during his That's Incredible days.

8.  I've never been to paradise, but I've been to me. 

Field Day

Well, I've officially survived my first week of stay at home motherhood (the kids have survived, too), and what better way to celebrate than by volunteering for Field Day at Logan's school.

Since this is the first year we've had a child in the public school system, this is the first time since, oh, 1983 that I've been to Field Day.  I remember relay races, high jumps, the standing broad jump (an event in which I "medaled," believe it or not) and other fairly rigorous athletic contests. 

Today's games were a bit different.  The "field" consisted of seventeen different stations, including parachutes, corn hole, a variety of creative relay races, and even a cleverly-adapted Muggle version of Quidditch.  Each class started at a station, then after 8 minutes, a bullhorn sounded, signaling the time to rotate.  Half of the parent volunteers went with the class, and the other half stayed to run the station.

I volunteered to stay with our starting activity - line dancing - with the agreement that the rotators would switch out with the stayers half way through the course.  For a straight, sweaty hour, I did the Macarena, the Chicken Dance, the YMCA and something called the Cha Cha Slide:

I wish I'd seen this video before this morning.  Even so (and despite being 5 months pregnant), I DOMINATED the field.   The other moms cheered me on as I led class after class through the motions.  As Dooce migh say, I was the Valedictorian of line dancing. 

Fortunately, I broke away from the Macarena in time to join Logan's class for the water relay activities.  We will both sleep well tonight!

Transitions

As most of my family and friends now know, in a spur of events that has led me to significantly alter my About page for the first time since starting this blog, our family is transitioning from the Working Mom/Stay At Home Dad model to that of Working His Butt Off Dad/Stay At Home Full Time and Work Part Time to Stay Sane And Make Ends Meet Mom model.   And as much and as long as I've waited for the day to come when I could finally doff my "Esq." for the "S.A.H.M.", it's all a bit scary right now.

Reading back over my last post -Mothers' Day - just a week ago, I can't help but think it was all a rouse.  Even then, they were secretly plotting how they would bombard me with trivial dilemmas that rapidly escalate to screaming fits of such sheer magnitude that within days I will be locking myself in the bathroom and slowly peeling the skin from my face just for relief.  I comprehend why people beat their kids.  Or drink.  Or disappear. 

Yes, it's been three (3) whole days, and already I am here.  As much as I hate to write this all out publicly, I have to think that somewhere, sometime, some other moms or dads have felt or will feel this way.  Sheer Hell loves company.

Not that my kids are any less amazing, precious and dear to me than they have always been.  (Nor, as far as we know, do our kids suffer from anything more serious than typical sibling/toddler issues - albeit to behavioral extremes - but thank God they are healthy and "normal" because I don't know how I would deal with any additional challenges.)  In fact, I realize that it is because they are everything to me that the toll is so great.  It's not what they won't do, but what I can't do that cuts me to the core.

So my prayer now must be, Please God - let this be the lowest point.  Things can only get better from here.  If I made it through this day, please let me somehow make it through again, and again, and again if I have to.   Let this day be the low water mark that makes any other day that we all get through alive seem like a cause for celebration.  As I figure this out, please let there be no lasting harm to my children, for surely if I'm doing the best I can and can't be blamed for my failures, neither should they.  If they remember anything at all of this transition time in particular, let it be how much I love them, and how hard I tried to make this work.   And God, if there's a kiss and hug and an "I love you mommy" at the end of every day as there have been even for these worst of all days, that will be enough.  Amen. 

The Greatest Gift

So Lucky, originally uploaded by Fannee Doolee.

I feel so lucky this Mothers' Day.  I couldn't be more aware of the love, appreciation and support from my family, especially my children.  Click on the photo above to see more great shots in my flickr photo stream, including some truly inspiring artwork from the kids (and Patrick). 

Situation: Terminal

Poor Phil.  I think in my sporadic efforts to revive him, I may have inadvertently drowned him.   He's been my constant, loyal companion at work; the least I could do was bring him home to die.  I thought I'd set him up in the dining room, where he can enjoy the early morning sun through the diffused shades, although that even might be too much light for a philodendron.   

Any gardeners out there who can give me tips on how to care for Phil in what may be his final days? 

Blah . . .

Sweet bloody hell, I am still barfing.  My face is a rosacea-covered mess.  Phil is a withered mass of brown roots. 

Sorry for the lack of posts - I've got some great photos, if I can just find the time/energy/inspiration, I will get them up on flickr.  Maybe Nana can post some of hers in the meantime? 

Thanks for taking the kids for a week, Nana.  Thanks to all for the calls, e-mails etc. to see how I'm doing.  Thanks for the article you sent, sgk - very applicable!  Sorry I missed your b-day Dr. Mjb, and no - it's not gall stones.  Thanks for the cards to the kiddees, Grannee Doolee, hope I manage to get a b-day card off to you today!!  Thanks for blogging, Grace, Marie & Cap'n O - if I can't post, at least I can look forward to your updates!  Thanks to my Google-wise friends for finding me & checking in at a time when I need it most - good to hear from you!!

Give me another week or two - hopefully I'll be back & better than ever!(?)  Mark you calendars for 4/27 - ultrasound that day that will possibly reveal who's in my belly. 

Happy Easter.