Saw this and thought - hey, I could do that. It's easier than pretending things are great.
1. I compare my kids. When I do, one or the other always comes up short.
2. I never finish a cup of coffee. Ever. I try and try, but something else always gets in the way, and it's cold before I get to the end.
3. Students with learning disabilities scare me. I don't know how to talk to them - I've never been able to figure out how to explain things so that they can understand them. It makes me realize I'm not as good at my job as I think.
4. I am downright mean to my husband sometimes, and generally bitchy to him the rest of the time. I do it because I really wish he paid more attention to me and my needs, but instead of talking about it, it's easier to push him away.
5. When I think about school, I think I did well because people always told me I was smart. I'm terrified to go back and discover that I'm really as dumb as I feel most days. I feel like a fraud.
6. I haven't managed daily showers since I got married. At best, maybe three times a week. It's just impossible around here.
7. I call my mother almost every day. It's not that I want to talk to her that badly - it's that I have no one else to call.
8. I love my kids, but I love them more when they're sleeping.
9. I'm afraid to talk to doctors.
10. Nine days out of ten, I feel like my life has no purpose, and I'm just going through the motions.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Back to normal...
Whatever that is.
School is back on. Work is going full swing. I have been busy as can be.
More importantly, at least to me, is the fact that my meds have not been working the way that they should. I had another really bad breakdown about two weeks ago, and have been slowly working my way back to the surface since then. I'm still feeling pretty numb most of the time, which is why I have absolutely nothing to say.
Except that my persistently plugged duct (that's been bothering me since March) finally turned into a full-on case of mastitis, complete with angry red streaks, flaming hot and rock hard breast, and such bad flu-like symptoms that I had to call in sick for a day. It's been more painful than my kidney stone, and that's really saying something.
So, I may be taking a small hiatus, just until I'm feeling more like myself and less like the worst possible version of me. We'll see what happens.
School is back on. Work is going full swing. I have been busy as can be.
More importantly, at least to me, is the fact that my meds have not been working the way that they should. I had another really bad breakdown about two weeks ago, and have been slowly working my way back to the surface since then. I'm still feeling pretty numb most of the time, which is why I have absolutely nothing to say.
Except that my persistently plugged duct (that's been bothering me since March) finally turned into a full-on case of mastitis, complete with angry red streaks, flaming hot and rock hard breast, and such bad flu-like symptoms that I had to call in sick for a day. It's been more painful than my kidney stone, and that's really saying something.
So, I may be taking a small hiatus, just until I'm feeling more like myself and less like the worst possible version of me. We'll see what happens.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
this is just to say...
this is just to say
I am back
from vacation
with the kids
and my mom
and though
you were probably
not
that concerned
Forgive me
it has been hectic
so rushed
and so tumultuous
(humblest apologies to WCW. More soon.)
I am back
from vacation
with the kids
and my mom
and though
you were probably
not
that concerned
Forgive me
it has been hectic
so rushed
and so tumultuous
(humblest apologies to WCW. More soon.)
Friday, July 28, 2006
Boggled
So it's naptime at our house, and I'm watching Bringing Home Baby and all the other crap that TLC shows in the afternoons. I usually keep it on in the background, etc.
Anyway, this mom has just brought her newborn* home from the hospital, and the baby was having a hard time latching on. This mom seemed like breastfeeding was something she really wanted to do, and there were no bottles around, etc. So when the baby was fussy and not eating well, she called the lactation consultant. And in my head, I'm thinking, "Good for you! Way to seek help and not just quit! Yay!" So this poor sleep-deprived new mom calls the lactation consultant, and they're showing the conversation on TV. She says, you know, the baby isn't latching well, not really sucking, etc., hasn't pooped since yesterday, what should I do?
The lactation consultant told her that she should give the baby a bottle of formula. Which she did.
Um, way to undermine a woman who was trying to do what was best for her baby in favor of taking the easy way out. What is up with that?
I was pissed on her behalf. I mean, the Bear was formula fed after three months, and she is obviously a genius, so I'm not opposed to bottles as such. But if someone really *wants* to breastfeed, and the person whose job it is to make that easier doesn't even attempt to help? That's awful.
*Who, incidentally, has the same name as Mouse! What is up with people stealing my babynames? Stop it! Right now!
Anyway, this mom has just brought her newborn* home from the hospital, and the baby was having a hard time latching on. This mom seemed like breastfeeding was something she really wanted to do, and there were no bottles around, etc. So when the baby was fussy and not eating well, she called the lactation consultant. And in my head, I'm thinking, "Good for you! Way to seek help and not just quit! Yay!" So this poor sleep-deprived new mom calls the lactation consultant, and they're showing the conversation on TV. She says, you know, the baby isn't latching well, not really sucking, etc., hasn't pooped since yesterday, what should I do?
The lactation consultant told her that she should give the baby a bottle of formula. Which she did.
Um, way to undermine a woman who was trying to do what was best for her baby in favor of taking the easy way out. What is up with that?
I was pissed on her behalf. I mean, the Bear was formula fed after three months, and she is obviously a genius, so I'm not opposed to bottles as such. But if someone really *wants* to breastfeed, and the person whose job it is to make that easier doesn't even attempt to help? That's awful.
*Who, incidentally, has the same name as Mouse! What is up with people stealing my babynames? Stop it! Right now!
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Rockabye, baby, just go to sleep...
So, the Bear has started doing this great new thing wherein she will wake up at night to go "pee-pee in the potty," which I am all about, since she has had three mornings of dry diapers now, but when she wakes up, she decides to stay awake. For hours. And hours. Now she's decided that she doesn't want to go to bed. At all. Ever. And I am horrible for making her go. She's really starting to get a little manipulative about it - drinks, trips to the potty, stories, claims of nightmares... Witness tonight:
Bear is sleepy. Oh, so sleepy. Wants to get in the bathtub at 7:00.
I make her stay up a little later, because I know it's not her falling-asleep-time yet.
She whines. And gripes. And cries. And makes herself generally unpleasant until 7:30, when I finally agree to put them in the bathtub.
Bath, jammies, story, into the bed. All at her request. We kiss goodnight. I head downstairs. It is 8:15.
8:16 - ::sound of feet padding down the hallway:: ::floor creaking:: I sense the Bear hovering at the top of the stairs. She creeps down. Has to pee. Fine. We pee. Back to bed. "Now I'm wakey! I don't wanna take a nap!"
I am very kind, understanding, gentle, and loving. The sun has gone to bed and so must you, etc. We'll eat the bread we baked tonight for breakfast tomorrow, etc. Tuck her back in and leave. I head back downstairs.
Scarcely have I sat upon the couch before I hear
::sound of feet padding down the hallway:: ::floor creaking::
I wait to see if she will say anything. She doesn't move. She can't see me. "Go back to your bed, Bear."
Oh, the calamity. The wailing, the tears. "I had a bad dream, Mama." Yeah, right. You didn't even lay down, and you haven't been to sleep yet. You can't have had a bad dream.
But I am willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. I kiss. I cuddle. I give endless reminders of how Mom will never let anything happen to her girls, always very safe at home, blah blah blah. Wipe nose. Wipe eyes. Wipe mouth. Suggest bed? "I have to poop now." Fine. We go to the bathroom. No poop - but she's willing to sit on the pot and talk my ear off for ten minutes.
Back to bed. Much protesting and crying to be had. This time, I tell her that if she needs to go to the bathroom, she can call out to me, but she needs. to. stay. in. bed. Get in bed, stay in bed. No wanderings. She cries.
Mouse is up.
Feed Mouse, burp Mouse, put her back down. Remind the Bear to Stay In The Bed And Sleep Already. I head back downstairs.
Lather, rinse, repeat. Three times. Each time I get a little less patient, a little more irritated. It is now 10:30. We started this process at 7:30. I am displeased. Finally, I put them in their respective beds, pat each on the butt, and say, not the least bit nicely, "Just go to sleep already! Don't get up again!"
And it worked. So, to recap: falling for the ploys=no sleep. Firm & slightly grumpy=sleeping babies. Whatever it takes, I suppose.
I am so fried. I know the Bear will be up at some ungodly hour of the night, and have to be taken into the guest bed to go back to sleep with one of us. Ugh. I am so Not It tonight. I need a vacation from my summer vacation.
In other random news, we are leaving to visit family for a week. Most of them have never met either of the girls, some of them I haven't even seen since my wedding day. It will be nice to see everyone, but 400+ miles in the car with my kids? Not so exciting to me. I just know Mouse will use that opportunity to cut a tooth. Speaking of which, she has the tiniest corner of a tooth poking out today. Poor kid - she looks miserable. My family will probably think she's HellBaby because of all the toothiness, when she's normally the most laid-back, sweetest kid ever. Oh, well. I know better, if nobody else does.
Also? I think Johnny Depp is the greatest. I saw him on Letterman and he's just... so... you know. Intriguing. I watched an episode of that actor show when he was a guest, and he is really very intelligent. And he was talking about watching his wife give birth to their daughter, and how much respect he had for her, and how much he loved her, and how amazing it was, blah blah blah, and you just know there's nothing sexier than a man who can not only watch but enjoy watching his wife give birth. Plus he looks hot in eyeliner.
I made bread tonight. It smells all nice and yeasty in my house. So yummy, and so easy - easier than wrangling both girls into carseats and hauling them to the store and back home again. And the Bear got to help, which she totally enjoys.
Two years ago tonight, I was in labor with the Bear. I was sick and scared and in pain and pretty much just freaked out. Had I known what a cool kid she would turn into, I probably would have been a lot less freaked (although I'm pretty damn sure it wouldn't have done a thing for the pain). She rocks.
Bear is sleepy. Oh, so sleepy. Wants to get in the bathtub at 7:00.
I make her stay up a little later, because I know it's not her falling-asleep-time yet.
She whines. And gripes. And cries. And makes herself generally unpleasant until 7:30, when I finally agree to put them in the bathtub.
Bath, jammies, story, into the bed. All at her request. We kiss goodnight. I head downstairs. It is 8:15.
8:16 - ::sound of feet padding down the hallway:: ::floor creaking:: I sense the Bear hovering at the top of the stairs. She creeps down. Has to pee. Fine. We pee. Back to bed. "Now I'm wakey! I don't wanna take a nap!"
I am very kind, understanding, gentle, and loving. The sun has gone to bed and so must you, etc. We'll eat the bread we baked tonight for breakfast tomorrow, etc. Tuck her back in and leave. I head back downstairs.
Scarcely have I sat upon the couch before I hear
::sound of feet padding down the hallway:: ::floor creaking::
I wait to see if she will say anything. She doesn't move. She can't see me. "Go back to your bed, Bear."
Oh, the calamity. The wailing, the tears. "I had a bad dream, Mama." Yeah, right. You didn't even lay down, and you haven't been to sleep yet. You can't have had a bad dream.
But I am willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. I kiss. I cuddle. I give endless reminders of how Mom will never let anything happen to her girls, always very safe at home, blah blah blah. Wipe nose. Wipe eyes. Wipe mouth. Suggest bed? "I have to poop now." Fine. We go to the bathroom. No poop - but she's willing to sit on the pot and talk my ear off for ten minutes.
Back to bed. Much protesting and crying to be had. This time, I tell her that if she needs to go to the bathroom, she can call out to me, but she needs. to. stay. in. bed. Get in bed, stay in bed. No wanderings. She cries.
Mouse is up.
Feed Mouse, burp Mouse, put her back down. Remind the Bear to Stay In The Bed And Sleep Already. I head back downstairs.
Lather, rinse, repeat. Three times. Each time I get a little less patient, a little more irritated. It is now 10:30. We started this process at 7:30. I am displeased. Finally, I put them in their respective beds, pat each on the butt, and say, not the least bit nicely, "Just go to sleep already! Don't get up again!"
And it worked. So, to recap: falling for the ploys=no sleep. Firm & slightly grumpy=sleeping babies. Whatever it takes, I suppose.
I am so fried. I know the Bear will be up at some ungodly hour of the night, and have to be taken into the guest bed to go back to sleep with one of us. Ugh. I am so Not It tonight. I need a vacation from my summer vacation.
In other random news, we are leaving to visit family for a week. Most of them have never met either of the girls, some of them I haven't even seen since my wedding day. It will be nice to see everyone, but 400+ miles in the car with my kids? Not so exciting to me. I just know Mouse will use that opportunity to cut a tooth. Speaking of which, she has the tiniest corner of a tooth poking out today. Poor kid - she looks miserable. My family will probably think she's HellBaby because of all the toothiness, when she's normally the most laid-back, sweetest kid ever. Oh, well. I know better, if nobody else does.
Also? I think Johnny Depp is the greatest. I saw him on Letterman and he's just... so... you know. Intriguing. I watched an episode of that actor show when he was a guest, and he is really very intelligent. And he was talking about watching his wife give birth to their daughter, and how much respect he had for her, and how much he loved her, and how amazing it was, blah blah blah, and you just know there's nothing sexier than a man who can not only watch but enjoy watching his wife give birth. Plus he looks hot in eyeliner.
I made bread tonight. It smells all nice and yeasty in my house. So yummy, and so easy - easier than wrangling both girls into carseats and hauling them to the store and back home again. And the Bear got to help, which she totally enjoys.
Two years ago tonight, I was in labor with the Bear. I was sick and scared and in pain and pretty much just freaked out. Had I known what a cool kid she would turn into, I probably would have been a lot less freaked (although I'm pretty damn sure it wouldn't have done a thing for the pain). She rocks.
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