Last week I co-hosted a surprise baby shower at my house for a close friend from my play group. It was intimate, just 12 adults plus six tots but regardless of the size of the party I wanted everything to be perfect. I'm a true perfectionist and it is never more evident than when I'm throwing a party. I spent the better part of three days cleaning and decluttering my house (sometimes on my hands and knees), running to the grocery store, decorating, and arranging flowers.
And you know how it goes, when you start cleaning, sometimes you have to make a bigger mess in order to get the end result you really want. So while I did the usual vacuuming, mopping and dusting, I also found myself tackling bigger projects like cleaning out the pantry (our nanny can attest to it being in dire need of attention) and wiping down cabinets and baseboards.
I am a complete nut job.
I accept this assessment.
Mr. K did take a few hours off on one day so I could get some errands done, but most of the preparations were done with a Piglet by my side. As many of you can guess, an almost-two-year-old is not the best cleaning companion.
The shower was so fun. I loved seeing the guest of honor's family (whom I refer to as my Irish relatives) and showering her with darling little pink things. Plus my co-host made these delicious puff pastry delicacies that I was actually able to eat! And she let me keep the leftovers!
During those days leading up to the shower, I worked hard, I pushed myself but I felt pretty good. I even had a one-puke day in there! In my former life as Director of Development at non-profit, I was responsible for overseeing several large events. The days leading up to an event were always charged with energy, adrenaline and very little food or sleep. I always powered through. And literally the day after the event, my body would wave a white flag and I would get really sick. One year it was shingles, another a lung infection and always always a migraine would greet me the next morning. It was a reliable pattern.
So I should not have been surprised that just hours after the shower I felt like utter crap. And by 10 p.m. I swear that all the nausea from the previous three days had built up and unleashed its terribleness on me. It hasn't let up since Thursday night and I've been popping Zofran as often as I'm allowed.
I really should've known better.
No one would've cared if I had left my stack of magazines and mail on counter or that my baseboards weren't sparkling clean. And while my pantry did need cleaning and reorganizing, it could have waited.
Lesson learned.
I need to be gentler to myself. My friend who has twins just a few months younger than Piglet has been lecturing me for months about this. I should have listened more closely to her. Because she's right, being pregnant with twins is NOTHING like being pregnant with one. It's different for obvious reasons, but what it requires from your body is incredible.
The end result is pretty incredible too.
I am standing on the threshold of 15 weeks. The Promised Land. But based on how I've been feeling, I'm not so sure what promise it holds other than more of the same. Oh well, I've made it this far, I can power through. I always do.
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