Because I don't blog very much, I sometimes feel pressure to write only when I actually have something profound to talk about. Well, I don't really, but here's what's been on my mind lately (a random mishmash of things, I know):

pregnancy

Many of you know that I really don't like to be pregnant. I'm sick for the first 15 weeks (give or take a week), I feel out-of-sorts, I'm exhausted, I get huge, heartburn, as well as other maladies that I won't mention here. But I'm finding that I'm actually enjoying this pregnancy. It has been the easiest of the three for whatever reason, which isn't to say that it's not without it's irritations (can you say itchy, scratchy rash?), but perhaps knowing that it's most likely my last pregnancy is making me savor every little kick that I am feeling.

I think too that being pregnant over the winter is making this pregnancy more pleasant -- with my last pregnancy, I was enormous and it was one of the hottest summers on record (she was born the day before the Chicago Marathon that had to be called off early due to heat). I was so tired. I'm really excited to meet this little one and am fully intending on cherishing the time that I have with him/her (no, we aren't finding out the gender) because I have a renewed appreciation for how quickly they really do grow up...

compassion, or lack thereof

I had an epiphany the other night. I realized how uncompassionate I can sometimes be towards my children, which I think is a direct correlation to the fact that I stay home with them, which is completely counterintuitive! You'd think that I'd be more compassionate because I know them that much better. And in some situations I am. But I also think about the distinct advantages that my children have because we're in a position that I am able to stay at home, as well as having enough money and resources to more than take care of our wants and needs. My children have never really had another childcare provider other than me, so that makes me think that they should be more secure, more free, and less whiny than other children. But that isn't always the case, in fact, it seems like quite the opposite, which frustrates me!

And then I watch a film like God Grew Tired of Us about the Lost Boys of Sudan and the horrors that they have had to endure and it makes me even less sympathetic towards my own children. Boys as young as 5 years old had to leave their families and join with the rest of boys in a 1,000 mile trek through the deserts of Sudan! And my 5 year old son can't get off of his bum to pick up his jacket that he threw on the floor?!

My brother and I were in daycare and then afterschool care for just about our entire lives, until we were old enough to become "latchkey" kids. I believe that was one of the things that helped me become independent. It did have its drawbacks, but when I see my ultra-clingy children (i.e., I never have to worry about them darting off in a playground or in public, they are normally glued to my sides), I wish that they were more independent and I wonder if I have made them this way.

When I brought this idea up to my husband, he tells me that if I worked full-time, my emotion would be guilt, not compassion. He's probably right. But isn't there a fine line between guilt & compassion?

doc martin

Chris & I don't normally watch very much TV. We watch sports and Masterpiece Theater when we do watch, for the most part. However, our local PBS station started airing this British show called Doc Martin and we love it! So much so that I signed up for a hulu account just so we could watch and not be constrained by PBS. And then we signed up for Netflix so we could watch season 4! Yes, I am a bit of a self-professed anglophile, but even my husband who is not enjoyed it. Can't wait for season 5 coming out this year!