Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Cinderella starts day camp in two weeks.
A camp that BioMom promised Cinderella she could attend this summer without discussing it with Hubby or Me.
A camp that BioMom had written into the custody agreement back in January to ensure Cinderella would go.
A camp that runs for 4 weeks, for only 4 hours a day and costs $1000.
A camp that Hubby was ordered to pay for half.
A camp that we cannot afford and now The Boy has lost out on any chance for summer activities.
A camp for which I was the ASSumed chauffeur.
This last fact evidenced by BioMom's response to Hubby asking if she can handle transporting Cinderella to and from our Home:
That's the job of a Stay-At-Home-Mom.
Is that what you think I do?
Yeah, you just get up go to Her room and kick the door.
Well, I do sometimes take The Mouse into her room and close the door quickly when she gets distracted and does not eat. But that's it.
He is staring at me confused by my response because it contradicts what he knows is the Truth.
I'm full of shit and we both know it.
Suddenly I saw myself as The Boy saw me and I didn't like what was being reflected.
I didn't want to be that Mother.
The Mother who yelled unspeakable things when she couldn't handle a little bit of stress.
The Mother whose kids sometimes described as being Mean.
The Mother who caused her kids to back away from her in fear.
The Mother whose kids felt the need to deflect her rage by offering unsolicited hugs and kisses.
To see myself through my son's eyes caused indescribable shame.
Shame over the fact that every time I lost my temper I was changing who He was.
Shame over the poor example I was setting.
Don't get frustrated. Ask for help if you need it.
I had given this advice to Him more than I had taken it.
The hypocricy of my words made me sick to my stomach.
I was becoming that Mother.
That all changed the day I sat down with Hubby and confessed my behavior and fear that I was suffering from post-partum depression.
The day when I called my OB office and walked out of there with a prescription.
That was almost three weeks ago.
With much fear, trepidation and a lot of encouragement I began taking those little blue pills. My happy pills.
And they are helping.
I am able to cope better,
(And anyone who has ever lived with a three year old knows that I am being tested. DAILY.)
I am becoming the Mother I want to be.
I don't yell as much. I am calmer. More relaxed. More patient.
Now when I look into my son's eyes I like what I see.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
If you are going to drive 2 hours from home without your wallet and only
1/2 tank of gas, remember to pack some supplies to ration when you have
to pull into a rest stop halfway home while you wait for your husband to
bring you gas money.
Chocolate makes everything better.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Grace Under Pressure.
That is me.
What would have been more impressive however is if I had actually utilized this ...
Oh. No. It's. Not.
In the back of my car.
Which is where I INGENIOUSLY put it in case I were to ever find myself WITHOUT one.
But wait! There's more!
The contents inside! Let's take a look-see.
Hmm... well whadd'ya know! Everything one could ever want in case one were to find themselves in an emergency situation such as, oh... I don't know... a leaking shitty diaper and no (apparent) diaper bag!
Diapers. Changing Pad. Extra Clothes.
Who would have thought that I could be so BRILLIANT?!
Obviously, I did at one point.
And then promptly forgot.
(I saw it while going out to get the mail late yesterday afternoon and I just happened to look into the back of my car.)
(Ok, I was actually looking at my reflection in my car windows because I have lost almost all of my pregnancy weight and we don't have any full length mirrors in the house and contrary to what The Hubby says I look damn good. Oh, Vanity They Name Is Woman. And your point is what? What I lack in brains I will happily make up for in looks.)
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Failure to bring said diaper bag along with you for the five minute car ride to and from the preschool (because, really, what could happen in such a short amount of time???) WILL result in you having to place said baby face down on the front seat of your vehicle while you rummage through the glove compartment in the middle of the parking lot looking for extra Dunkin' Donuts napkins to wipe up baby shit while the child whom you have come to pick up exclaims how D.I.S.G.U.S.T.I.N.G. the poop is and how WRONG it is and you will just beg him to pleeaassee put on your straps and BE QUIET.
(And as you are rummaging through the glove compartment looking for napkins with your baby face down on the front seat, she begins speaking to you in her baby-grunt language as if to ask you, "What the hell, Ma?!?")
(There were but four... FOUR napkins, BTW)
And then in a moment of desperation you will take the VERY LAST Dunkin' Donuts napkin to push any remaining poop back INTO the diaper along with the napkin creating a make-shift dam to hold back any additional oozing of the poop until you can get home and clean up your baby the right way. With WIPES and a fresh CLEAN diaper for God's sake!
Monday, June 19, 2006
Had I made the right decision?
I barely know Her. And here I am leaving Her in my Home with my 6 month old while I pick up The Boy from Preschool.
She had been to my House once before. The week prior.
I've seen Her off and on over the past 6 months at the Breastfeeding Support Group offered at our local Hospital.
Her baby is a couple of months older than The Mouse.
Like me, She doesn't know many Moms in the area.
Like me, She saw a potential friendship budding and wanted us to get to know each other better. She had come over this day for Lunch and then an afternoon at the Park.
We hadn't had the chance to eat before I had to leave to get The Boy.
His school is only 5 minutes away. It'd be so nice to run in without being weighed down by a 16lb infant in a 10lb carrier.
Can I leave The Mouse with you while I run to pick up The Boy?
Sure! We'll be here.
She had just sat down on the living room floor to feed her Daughter.
Ok, I'll be right back.
I didn't think twice of my decision until I had turned off our block.
Was I being too trusting of this Stranger?
What if I misjudged Her?
Was this one of those I-Should-Have-Trusted-My-Gut-Moments that you see on TV? Where a distraught Mother is being interviewed because Her child has been abducted by someone She thought was totally trustworthy?
Or was I simply being Paranoid [as I have been apt to do since Her Birth]?
I found myself going through the what-if scenarios and then second guessing myself. Confused over how to differentiate between my Gut and simple Paranoia.
What If I come home and her Car is not there? I don't even know what kind of car she drives. I looked at it as I pulling out of my driveway but did not commit anything but the color to memory.
I'd be a terrible eye witness.
She had just suffered a miscarriage a few months earlier. Two days prior had been nuzzling The Mouse when the Group of us met at the park. She kept telling me how much she missed having a Baby to nuzzle.
What if she takes my baby to replace the one she lost?
I've watched way too much Lifetime TV over the years. Made-for-TV-movies fueled my Paranoia.
Do I turn back and take the Mouse with me?
How do I explain my sudden return without offending a potential new friend?
Do I keep going?
How do I forgive myself if something were to happen? For ignoring what I shrugged off as Paranoia but what was in actuality Maternal Intuition?
How in the hell can you tell One from the Other?!?
When I came home everything was I had left it. The Mouse was still in her exersaucer because my Friend was afraid of taking the liberty of picking Her up [even though she admitted to wanting to, because HELLO? Have you ever seen my child?].
I confessed my little conflict to Her.
She was not offended. She understood completely about a Mother's fears.
You left so quickly that I was going to offer to wait outside while you were gone.
She felt the same uneasiness as I did.
I felt reassured.
And yet I still felt guilt over not erring more on the side of caution if for no other reason than to spare myself the stress and anxiety in leaving my child with not-quite-a-Stranger-but-almost-Friend.
Thursday, June 8, 2006
8pm. I am nursing Her in her room before putting her down for the night.
We are gently rocking to Brahm's Lullaby as we do every night. It's our little ritual.
I stop rocking for a minute. The room however does not stop. It continues to rock.
What the hell?
The dizzy spell is brief but disturbing. The lights are dimmed so I wonder if it was just that my eyes weren't focusing properly.
It happens again.
I then remember the label on the bottle of my little blue pills.
Possible Side Effects: Dizziness.
Well, this is fun.
I realize that I still have to get The Mouse into Her crib.
I linger in the rocker as I wait to see if the dizziness will return while mapping my route to the crib scouting out every available flat surface in case I need to grab hold of something along the 3ft trek to her bed.
The dizziness does not return and The Mouse is put safely to bed for the night.
I am feeling sleepy.
Possible Side Effect: Drowsiness.
I retire to the bedroom. It's too early for me to go to sleep. The Mouse will need a Dream Feed around 11pm. So I put on the TV for company.
9pm. A rumbly in my tumbly and not of the Silly Old Bear kind.
Possible Side Effect: Nausea.
Hot damn, drugs are fun!
The nausea lasts for about an hour before I drift asleep. My internal clock wakes me around midnight for The Mouse's final feed of the night.
Monday. 9pm. No dizziness, but OH! the nausea.
Tuesday. 6:30am. Pounding headache, nausea AND vomitting.
I begin thinking this isn't worth it. If this is how I am going to feel, I'd rather just be depressed, or stressed or anxious, or WhateverTheHellItIs that I am.
Thursday. 11:30pm. The side effects are diminishing. I haven't had any nausea for two nights and no dizziness since Monday.
But I am tired. Oh, so tired.
And I am waiting.
Waiting for the more pleasant side effects to come.
Tuesday, June 6, 2006
A nervous twitch brought upon by my penchant for hiding around corners and jumping out in an attempt to scare the bejesus out of them.
I get the most Sadistic thrill out of this.
I know, I am EVIL.
But then every now and again I am reminded that one good turn deserves another.
It's been noted before that The Boy ... umm... prefers my company.
This day, as he does every day, he follows me downstairs for the millionth time.
Bored of the Lets-Shadow-Mommy-Everywhere-She-Goes Game I decide to shake things up a bit. I have enough of a head start to reach the bottom of the stairs first and partake of a little Hide 'N
I find the perfect spot. Under the desk. In the darkened office.
I giggle to myself as I take my spot and imagine his face as he comes into the office to look for me when I suddenly lunge at him from beneath his father's desk.
And yet, I giggle to myself. Giggle with the uncontrollable giddiness of a catholic school girl in church.
This is gonna be good.
The Boy reaches the bottom of the steps.
I can feel my excitement bubbling up.
He walks towards the office door.
My heart races, my stomach tenses. I try to stifle my giggles.
He'll never suspect.
15 minutes later, I am still under the desk. Stiff neck. Sore knees. Aching back. No longer giggling.
The Boy, having been sucked into the mesmerizing glow of the boob tube and whisked away to Bikini Bottom has forgotten the whole reason why he had followed me downstairs in the first place leaving me crouched under a desk, in the dark, like a loser.
An sad, pathetic, instant-karma's-gonna-get-you LOOZ-AH.
Saturday, June 3, 2006
Such a pretty blue.
The color of my eyes.
Robin's Egg Blue according to my Mom.
A tranquil calming color.
This is what they are supposed to do.
Calm my stress, bring some relief to whatever-it-is that I'm experiencing.
Instead they are causing me more anxiety.
Frightened of taking them and of not taking them.
Which is worse?