Sounds Like 1st Trimester

"Have you called your mom yet?"

"No"

"Have you written Frannie's blog?"

"No"

"Have you talked to any of your sisters?"

"No"

"You are in a funk with your family"

"No Beth, I'm just in a funk"

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Last weekend I talked to my sister about motherhood.

"When you are sick and pregnant nothing is quite right." She noted.

Yes! That is it! Nothing feels quite right. Like my blog. Like me. Like my family. Things should be different.

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I didn't have anything to wear to church on Sunday. I looked at my closet and nothing mentally fit. I could've tried some dresses on, but my mind had already decided. I didn't want to wear anything I could see. So I put on my black stand-by dress and tried to revive it with some pink accessories. I used to be cute, I swear I used to be cute.

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After church Kiel and I went home to break the fast. We ate our leftovers from the Olive Garden. Lately food and I cannot agree on ANYTHING. I thought the Zuppa Toscana soup would satisfy my appetite but after two bites I gave it to Kiel. I usually cook on Sundays. But I can't make food right now, because my love seems restricted.

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Back at the apartment Saturday morning.

"I'll make breakfast if you do the laundry." Kiel bartered.

"Sure" I shrugged.

I had a small portion of breakfast and then couldn't get up to do the laundry. The day I have a laundry room in my home will probably feel much like winning the Lotto.

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My mother's house is adorable. Every pillow, vase and sculpture sings a happy song. It's the coziest home you'll ever visit and everything is homemade. Nothing is chirping at my house. I haven't vacuumed or swept in weeks. I don't feel like doing anything while I am gestating. I get to pick these things, right?

"Were you concerned about having a cute house when your children were little?" I asked my mother.

"No, but I always tried to have a clean house." She replied.

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Kiel and I went apartment/house hunting. We walked into a home we could never afford. I will use these words to describe the home: Spacious, Georgeous, Breathtaking, I want it.

"We should talk to a lender." I say.

"You want to buy a home right now?"

I think about it, "well, we should talk to one anyway."

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We are in the bare living room tonight.

I want a snack.

I get up and get spinach dip with croustini.

No good.

Instead I grab a jar of spicy pickles take a few bites and still feel unsatisfied. I get up and slice a bell pepper.

I think, what am I doing?

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I got a promotion.

Have I told my blog that yet?

It's great, last week I had meetings till midnight. This week I have meetings in the early AM.

All day I decide which background and what CTA (Call To Action) buttons are going to attract the most customers and therefore improve conversion.

Well actually, I'm responsible for way more than that.

But basically I could care less.

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I am not right. And that is the point. I am not right because I am not listening to what is right. Right for me, my body, my season of life.

My season is not about Job promotions.

It is not about the perfect snack.

I need a permanent house so I can nest and create a safe home.

Good organization and lots of cues from nature.

A clean house.

My season is not about fashion.

It is about picking a few items, showing off the best part of my body.

Easy laundered shirts.

Look nice, but not encumbered.

Clean clothes.

My season is not about cooking elegant meals.

I do not have the heart to treat food the way it should be treated.

It is okay to eat watermelon, oatmeal and toast.

Pirate Booty and Corn Pops.

Just eat something.

My season is for babies.

For sleeping when I can.

For belly and breast expansion and retraction.

A season for schedules and predictability.

A quiet time, a time to be at home (except I'm at work), a time to focus on growing and gathering.

Love this season. (I don't want to ask my energy to do more than this, though some women can.)

Then, then, then! I will start to dream again. I will dream of the season of home cooked meals and vacuum lines in my carpet. The time to cultivate a more sophisticated wardrobe and mornings to stay in bed until noon. I will earn my way to a kitchen full of spices and surprises. Parties, gatherings, social outings. First this. Then the gold living room. (Did I mention I want a gold living room?)