Giving Thanks

I had a both rewarding and frustrating Thanksgiving. First, it is the two year anniversary of the day that we found out we were having Laura Grace. I knew I was pregnant before I took the test, but on Thanksgiving Day two years ago, we found out she was coming :) It is because of this that Thanksgiving has special meaning. Also, it was the first Thanksgiving in five years that I got to spend with my mother and sister. They moved here about six months ago, and are finally able to be a more active part of my life :) I am also A NEW AUNT :) Trey Anthony was born last week, and is adorable.
Now for the bad parts-me the eternal pessimist has to bring them up. My father is the most frustrating person I know. He acts like a mix between a spoiled toddler (not that I know anything about those ;) and a punk teenager. He doesn't care who he hurts in life, it is all about him. I alternate between feeling sorry for him, and outright hating him, to loving him and to be honest that is what hurts worse. He makes me doubt myself everytime I am around him. He makes me feel ugly, fat, and angry. I get angry at myself for not standing up for myself, angry at my father for living, and angry at the world for being imperfect. This year I managed really well I think-but it has still left the scars of guilt. I feel guilty that he is unhappy, self destructive, and so on. Most of all I feel guilty for wanting him out of my life forever. I am not sure I want my daughter to know him, I am deeply ashamed and deeply hurt by him. I know that I make the decision of letting him affect me, but to be honest after taking care of my family, struggling to get through school, and having a relationship with my husband, I don't have the energy for a thick skin. My husband says that I have to learn to accept his faults, and stop focusing on them. He doesn't understand is what part of me thinks, and the other part agrees. I should. But everytime I attempt to let down my guard with him, I get blindsided. I just wish everyone would respect my decision to distance myself.
A less dysfunctional rant is against my mother in law. I really love my inlaws, they are wonderful people. But my mother in law has a touch of OCD when it comes to my daughter. She is driving me crazy. The only example I can give that fully illustrates the situation is what happened this morning...
Laura Grace has a runny nose. My noticed it and asked my husband to hand me a rag. Laura Grace notices it at this point, and promptly wipes it with her blankie. We are not talking about a full blown snotty nose, just a slightly wet one. I think, how cute. My MIL freaks out, says to take the blanket from her because it is now dirty, Clay says it is just fine and for ten minutes it is a crisis because THE GERMS FROM THE SNOTTY BLANKET MIGHT KILL HER!!!!!!!!!!

Can anyone tell I have PMS?

I did have a really good holiday, despite the grievances of strange family members. Tonight as I was rocking Laura Grace to sleep, the feeling of peace was overwhelming. Knowing that I have been given this life from God is amazing. Feeling the warmth of her little body, her breath on my neck, and her little hand patting me as we rocked made me realize that no matter what life throws at me, and no matter how angry I get at family....Thank God I have them in my life.

What exactly does Boop mean?

Laura Grace spent the past few days at my inlaws house. Usually she loves going, and is reluctant to come home. I have always tried to not get offended by this, because grandparents are the only ones that consider juice and french fries a well balanced meal, and that think saying NO is cute..
Anyway, she usually has a blast, and leaves me feeling rather unappreciated. This weekend however, she cried the whole time for mama and dada and Boop. I have no idea who boop is, but apparently she is missing it. When we did pick her up, she looked us over, looked in the car, and burst into tears. For several minutes she frantically pointed in all directions and said "BOOP! BOOP!" over and over. I honestly thought she was saying boob at one point...my sister just had a new baby, perhaps that has triggered some nursing memory. But when I asked Laura Grace about this, she gave me a horrified and rather humiliated look. I then remembered that she never really enjoyed the whole breastfeeding thing, and at 8 months promptly decided she was through. I am regressing....back to the boops.
When we got home she still kept looking for boop. She would get distracted, but whenever she got angry at us (this happened alot tonight) she would throw herself on the floor and scream Boop. Who knows maybe it is a curse word...

A Mindless Rant

I haven't been able to post in awhile, I am so busy! I am in my final year of college, and I am so burned out and fed up with it all! I am a psychology major, and have become really disillusioned with it. I really thought I could make a difference and help people with this degree. Plus, I was crazy enough to think that people are interesting and unique. Now I know the truth...You can only help people after you have been in school for the majority of your adult years fighting to get into grad school, then get published in a scholarly journal, then get published again and again and again...meanwhile, you are trying to get your doctorate so you can actually make a decent salary and work with clients on your own. Not very appealing, especially when you consider that the entire field is pretty much dog eat dog and then only way you are given any attention is if you are some brilliant theorist. I'm sorry but after discussing the intricate details of baby poop with my husband, you come to realize that your life is not going to be full of sophistication anymore.

Maybe I am just being lazy...who knows, once I graduate I may feel differently. All I want to do right now is walk across that stage and then stay home with Laura Grace. I think...that is another issue of debate. I was home with her for a year, then I went back to school. Now, on the weekends and on holidays I remember how tough it is to be at home ALL DAY LONG with a toddler. And she isn't even officially a toddler yet...she is only 16 months. But like every parent, I am convinced that she is brilliant and so therefore is at least three months ahead.

Two days ago, she said "I do it" Her first sentence :) I always thought it would be something sweet, but she actually screeched it at me. Oh well, at least it wasn't something containing profanity.