Saturday, May 20, 2006

My baby can kick your baby's @$$

Just kidding. We are all pacifist-y around here. But I will tell you this, if only to make myself feel better, since the first two helpings of cheesecake couldn't accomplish it:

The Bear speaks. She's been in hyper-verbal mode since about 15 months, but in just the last two months, she's begun speaking in complete sentences. I mean, subject, verb, object, pronouns, prepositional phrases, you name it. I don't know why I didn't run shrieking to the computer to post about it back then, but I've been a little distracted.

So, yeah. My 21 month old baby can say things like, "I want more crackers, please, Mommy," and "I'm poopy. Change Bear's diaper now!"

On the one hand, it's nice because I always know exactly what's bugging her, because she tells me about it. On the other hand, ohmygodpleaseshutupnow! Every time she says something to you, you have to repeat it back to her for confirmation. Otherwise, she will scream the same sentence at you over and over until you finally get it. Ergo, most of our conversations sound like this:

Bear: Bear goes home now. Bye-bye, (other baby). Bye-bye, (teacher). Bear goes home now.
Me: Bear, is it time to go home now?
Bear: Yeah! Bear goes home now. See Mouse. See Daddy. Mommy, carry the Bear please.
Me: (talking to the teacher, distracted by something)
Bear: Mommy carry the Bear! Mommy carry the Bear! Mommy carry the Bear! MOMMY CARRY THE BEAR!
Me: Bear, would you like Mommy to carry you to the car? You know Mommy has to carry Mouse.
Bear: (light dawning) Bear carry Mouse to the car! Let's go, Mommy! Open the door! Open the door! Open the door now! Open the door now!

You get the picture. She's a broken record.

Anyway, somehow knowing that my not-yet-two-year-old can make herself understood makes me feel like less of a bad parent. I may have screwed her up in other ways, but at least she seems smart. Cold comfort, these days.

Friday, May 19, 2006

Heaven and hell

Have I mentioned yet that Husband works nights? He leaves for work around one and gets home around midnight, provided he's not working overtime.

I mention it now because it's become a major issue in our house, and a *huge* contributing factor to my not-really-sure-that's-even-what-it-is depression.

I go to work around 6:30 or so, sneaking down the stairs like I've been shacking somewhere I'm not supposed to. I get off around three. I go to bed about ten. If you look closely at those schedules, you'll notice what I've been noticing. There is no point in time where we are both awake in the same place at the same time.

The upshot of this is that the girls get lots of single parenting - dad in the mornings, mom in the evenings. As soon as I get off work, which is about the time when I want to collapse in a heap on my floor, I am solely responsible for both girls all night. Night is the complicated time - end of the day, everyone is grouchy, dinner, bathtime, bedtime. Not to mention nearly constant nursing to compensate for the daily hunger strike.

I am stressed. I am tired. I don't particularly like either of my children at the moment.

They can be so sweet and happy and good sometimes. We go for walks everyday, and we eat at the table, and we don't watch tv. It's a nice orderly routine we have, for the most part.

But then there are times, like yesterday and today, where I can see the frayed end of my rope looming ever larger in front of me.

Yesterday, I got home from work, sat on the couch, and cried. The girls were fussy, and I just felt lost. I had no one to talk to. I just felt so all alone and totally incapable of tending to their needs. Who will tend to my needs? I just wanted to give up. In desperation, I called Husband at work, which I Never do. He came home and rescued me, by which I mean he gave the Bear her bath and put her to bed while I nursed Mouse. He tried to convince me that I should wean the Mouse, because I'm so tired and moody and hormonal. He badgered me to go "talk to someone" about my feelings, which I interpreted to mean that he wants me to avail myself of our insurance's mental health coverage so he doesn't have to be the one to listen to me cry anymore. I refused both. We fought. We fight a lot these days. I went to bed without saying goodnight. I left this morning without saying goodbye.

Tonight, Friday, was our weekly teacher relaxation session after school, held at our local watering hole. I always bail early to go be with the girls. Tonight, two friends came over to hang out afterward. They played with the girls. We talked. The girls were relatively sweet. I felt the crushing loneliness lifting a bit. It was a nice sensation. Then, after everyone had gone home to their husbands and I sat eating my tasteless frozen entree in front of the computer, holding a fussing Mouse in one arm, the Bear awoke screaming. Since she was wailing, and Mouse was only fussing, I went to check on her. As soon as I set Mouse down, she started screaming as though someone was skewering her. I went to the Bear. Wanted a teething ring. Couldn't find the teething ring anywhere in the house. Mouse still screaming, gasping, coughing in anger. Bear still wailing. Me, wandering frantically about the house, cursing everything I see. Just that quickly, the old feelings of helplessness and frustration came rolling back. I found the Bear's teething ring, put her back to bed, explaining why we couldn't rock in the chair. Came back to Mouse and sat down to feed her, taking a bite of my now-cold frozen entree.

There are days when I just want to quit. I don't feel like doing this anymore.

Monday, May 15, 2006

Oscar the grouch

I have managed to gain two pounds. I'm eating like I'm still pregnant. Tonight's dinner - corn chips and marshmallows with Hawaiian Punch.

A good friend just had a miscarriage, and while I feel bad for her, I was not as sorry as I felt I should be.

My kids have not learned one. damn. thing. since I got back. We're all just killing time til vacation.

I told Husband that I hated him. I don't. Resent deeply? Sure. Hate? No.

My mother irritates me to no end. I pretend like it doesn't bother me.

I don't update enough. Surely that must sadden you determined lurkers. Hi there in Germany!

I don't have the energy to shower - or the time.

I have several very strange symptoms, many of which correlate to the disease my mother has. Husband keeps pestering me to go to the doctor. I keep refusing.

An infertile coworker (and friend) recently hinted that she wanted to ask me to be a surrogate for her and her husband. I can't decide how I feel about this.

I make derogatory comments about my children to other people (never to the girls, though - like that makes it ok).

The baby blues, they continue to linger. Or perhaps this is something else. Nursing hormones? PPD? I'm a downright bitch to pretty much everyone these days...

Perhaps I should go live in a garbage can.

ETA: I'm having a hard time posting this. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something...

Saturday, May 06, 2006


I've been teaching the Bear some fun alternatives to "no" to use in case she ever wants to say anything else. As if that would ever happen. Among her new words - possibly, maybe, perhaps, mayhap, and perchance. I'm an English teacher - stop laughing.

Today, as I was following her up the stairs, I caught a whiff of something. I said, "Bear, do you have a poopy diaper?" To which she impishly replied... "perchance!"

This kid has potential!

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Lightning never strikes...

in the same place twice.

Unless you're me.

Today, I melted my second breast pump. Once again, I put it on to boil for just a minute. Once again, I wandered off and forgot what the hell I was doing. The caveat? This pump - it wasn't mine. No, it was the electric loaner from a friend.

That's ok, though. The Mouse has conveniently altered her feeding schedule. I nurse her before I leave for work at 6:30, once when I come home at noon for lunch, and again after work at 3 or 3:30. She will take one ounce from a bottle in the morning, and one ounce from the bottle in the afternoon. (God bless you, slow-flow nuk nipples!) And then she will nurse. all. night. long.

However, I've been pumping twice a day, just to keep up supply, etc. It's kind of silly - I pump one breast in the morning, get maybe four ounce, and make four one-ounce bottles, which is enough for two days. I pump the other one in the afternoon, same story. I can make four days' worth of bottles in one day. I know she's not eating enough while I'm gone, but she's perfectly content, according to Husband. I haven't seen her fuss once since I went back to work. She's just conveniently decided to take in all her calories at night. From 7-10 she grazes like a wild billygoat, the silly thing.

So, tomorrow will be a no-pump day. I can't wait to see how gigantic and sore my boobs are by the end of the day. You know those lumpy, rock-hard, day-old scones you see at St@rbucks? That will be me! (Minus the blueberries.)