What a long, long week.

I think it was last Monday when I posted in here before. I'm honestly not sure, because it has been a very long week. On Saturday, Feb. 2nd, my husband's paternal Grandmother was found dead in her bedroom. It was determined that she had died in her sleep. My husband and I were initially surprised to hear she had died, for we were not aware of any illness. The woman was 89 years old. My husband's uncle had started the process of planning a big party for her 90th birthday just last month, with her birthday being in July.

Friday, there was the viewing at the funeral home. Against my husband's better judgment and at the unspoken request of my mother-in-law, we brought the baby with us. As I had suspected, having our little boy with us did a great deal to cheer everyone's spirits. My husband was concerned that the little monster was going to start screaming at the absolutely wrong time. This, however, did not prove the case. Actually, the little man did a great job and I'm quite proud of him. Last Friday was a very full day for him, for in the morning and early afternoon we had gone to visit my brother's wife and children.

Saturday, all of us were up early. It is an hour's drive to my sister-in-law's place, and she was going to watch our boy while we went to the funeral mass. It was a beautiful service. All of the hymns that my husband's grandmother loved were sung as part of the mass. There wasn't a dry eye in the house, however, at the end when her sons and the rest of her family sang 'When Irish Eyes Are Smiling'. I just couldn't sing, because the shock of her death finally hit me.

I couldn't find my voice to sing 'Amazing Grace' either. I think, for me, the most painful moment was watching the men load her casket into the hearse. It just was so... final. I've seen loved ones pass on and I've gone to many funerals. I believe, however, that this was probably one of the two most painful one's that I've had to attend. The other was the one for my great-grandmother Hazel, when I was a girl. I didn't realize just how deeply I cared for my husband's grandmother until the shock of her death wore off and the painful reality slapped me in the face.

In all of this, I strove to be the warm, loving presence that provided as much comfort to the family as I possibly could, just as I had done with the death of my husband's maternal grandfather a little over ten years ago. I am not sure how successful I was, but I will say this- I managed to provide a little bit of comfort to my husband's younger cousin and to my father-in-law by acting in the manner that his grandmother would have in that moment.

My husband's cousin hit the point of near inconsolable weeping as we were exiting the church after the casket. It broke my heart to see this young man so shattered. I took him in my arms and held him as he wept, giving him the handkerchief I had with me. We didn't say anything for a moment. I then told him that everything was going to be alright. He nodded and manfully faced the rest of the day with a courage that was beyond his years.

In the case of my father-in-law, I didn't really think much before the words came out of my mouth. I did, however, restrain the urge to swat him across the back of the head as I said it. He had the nerve to apologize for the tears and grief that everyone was showing. He then thanked me for coming, as though I didn't have to do so. I couldn't help the irritated tone and I did catch some of my husband's uncles smiling at this. I snapped at him: "You just lost your mother. Don't you dare apologize for crying. You're supposed to. And I'm family, I'm supposed to be here."

He blinked at me and sighed, having the grace to look a little embarrassed for it. I found out later that this is exactly what my husband's grandmother would have done and said, most likely word for word as well, in that situation. I've actually learned more about my husband's grandmother over the last several days then I did when we had our chats. I'm a lot more like her then I realized. I also now understand why she was so amused with me when I asked her if she had any advice she wanted to impart to me before I had my son. She just smiled and said, "Oh, you know what to do. You'll be fine." I suppose I would have said the exact same thing to some one who reminded me of myself when I was younger and in a situation that was the same as what I had been in at that age.

Hey, here's a chuckle for you, Stargazer!

You are The High Priestess

Science, Wisdom, Knowledge, Education.

The High Priestess is the card of knowledge, instinctual, supernatural, secret knowledge. She holds scrolls of arcane information that she might, or might not reveal to you. The moon crown on her head as well as the crescent by her foot indicates her willingness to illuminate what you otherwise might not see, reveal the secrets you need to know. The High Priestess is also associated with the moon however and can also indicate change or fluxuation, particularily when it comes to your moods.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Anxiety versus recollection.

I'm sitting here feeling that vague anxiety that's been plaguing me for the last several days. So, I decided, for some reason, to look back at some of my older posts in here. As I do so, I realized something: looking at old sources of anxiety does not do much to help make the present ones seem less intimidating.

While my doctor has told me that I can boost my dosage of the anti-anxiety medication slightly, this doesn't sound to me as a good solution. More medication just doesn't seem like the way to solve this. I just wish I knew what the cause of this, that would make it easier for me to cope with this. Well, maybe. I may be a bit too proud and have a little bit of a chip on my shoulder with respect to the matter of taking medication for my psychological problems. I admit this. I am rarely tolerant enough with myself, so feeling that I've some how become weak by my need for the medication is something of an outgrowth of this. (A similar feeling of anger with myself and intolerance with myself was present when I was taking glucophage to control my problems with insulin resistance to help me conceive my son.)

I've been exercising. I have myself on a schedule (when insomnia and the baby don't conspire to shoot that plan down). Generally, I've been doing the things that I need to to help myself cope with this anxiety. I'm even writing about it (as evidenced by this blog entry and the number of pages I'm filling in my off-line journal). It doesn't seem to help and I am at a loss for what else I can do. I have been putting off doing my needlepoint and embroidery because I don't want to accidentally leave some of it around. Visions of disaster happening to my little boy if he accidentally gets his hands on it just keep coming to mind.

I'm just not sure what to do. I don't think adding in my needlepoint or other hand crafts is going to resolve this. If meditation isn't helping then I'm not sure what else will. I really don't want to boost my medication. It's just not a good thing, I was able to handle this with out the drugs at one point, I don't want to have to depend on it later.

Heh, sleep. Yeah, a nice memory! (again)

Teething infants do not equal sleep. Please, all people out there in the world considering children, be advised: this statement is true! Oddly enough, during the day, my little man is usually fairly happy. He's just recently turned into a real chatterbox, even. He's been cooing and laughing, generally making a good deal of noise. I'm just amazed by how talkative he's become over the last two days.

At night, however, he sleeps until 3 or 4 am. He then wakes up screaming bloody murder. This has been for the last few days, roughly. I hope this means that at least one of his teeth is almost in, but I'm not sure. He does seem to be drooling more, to a point where I'm questioning if I should even bother putting a bib on him. :P

Between this spate of him waking late at night and my recent bouts of insomnia, I've taken to lying down with him for naps. It's exhausting and I'm looking forward to having my days back! It's not like I can do things such as vacume the living room floor at 3 in the morning.

Bah, what's the point, right?

So, I've spent my day procrastinating on just about everything. Having a head cold tends to put me into moods like that. I've played with the boy and tried to mentally function, leaving a small mountain of laundry, a slightly smaller mountain of dishes, and a sizable pile of papers to be dealt with. I know that I really shouldn't be too aggravated with myself, but I can't exactly help it.

I've sat here screwing around on the computer when I could have been taking care of these things. I took a nap this morning when I could have resolved the vast majority of the dishes or the filing with out worrying about the boy needing me. And now, as he's finally fallen asleep for his second nap of the day, I just don't have the ... energy to slog thru a sink full of dishes, filing a months worth of correspondance, or folding ... alot of laundry.

Does this make me far too lazy? Or am I just feeling sick and need to give myself a break? I honestly am not entirely sure. I know that last night, as I attempted to meditate, I fell asleep and then slept just about all night on the couch. I hate getting sick, it just sucks the life right out of me. I was barely able to keep up with the boy today.

Ugh!

I hate dealing with paperwork!

So, my dear husband and I have started on the road to financial freedom!

And it's left me feeling like I'm going to die a death of a thousand paper cuts! I recognize that having hard copy of everything is going to make it easier to keep track of what is going on. We can actually prove that bills are paid and such. I know that it's easier for me to keep the numbers straight if I have them on paper in front of me when I balance the checkbook. All of these things make sense and are very practical things to keep in mind.

At the same time, I really do feel like I should just go running off into the dark screaming and gibbering like a madwoman in the face of the small mountain of papers that need to be organized, filed, and dealt with. It is intimidating but yet I know it needs done and I can't let it scare me any longer. It's not like my husband and I will only drag ourselves down if we make financial mistakes here. We now have a little boy to keep in mind.

Sure, it may sound cheezy, but we really are doing this more for the boy then ourselves at the moment. It's a miserable and frustrating thing to get all of our finances in order. It's also rather... painful to realize that you just don't have the money to go out to dinner as often as you like or to do some of those fun things you'd really love to do. We can't exactly say that our fun is more important then making sure that our son has food to eat, clothes to wear, and a safe home to live in. So, we tighten the belt and set our noses to the grindstone.

Fortunately, however, we're not required to enjoy this process. That, I think, probably would make a crazy woman out of me. Right now, however, I am actually looking forward to that sink full of baby bottles and dirty dishes. It gives me a legitimate excuse to avoid more paper cuts as I file away the papers from last month's bills.

repost from elsewhere

It seems that when I find that I am beginning to make progress and get all my ducks in a row, something just comes along to throw me off. I'm sure that y'all have days (weeks, months, years???) like this. I've had a short string of 'em and I'm just going to take a moment to vent a little bit. Please, forgive me and the fact that this isn't exactly cheerful at the moment. I'm having a little difficulty with some of this and I'm still not entirely sure how to approach it all. Who knows, maybe some one has some advice that can help me puzzle it out!

First off, the holiday season went fairly well for my family and I. It is a thing that I am most thankful for. If it hadn't, I think the last few weeks would have been impossibly hard to bear. My youngest brother is in the Army Reserves and he just shipped out for Afghanistan last week. My whole family is in a tizzy over this, especially with him talking about re-enlisting into the Marine Corps. His wife is not exactly happy but there's been some problems within their marriage, and she's hoping that this tour will scare him into acting more responsibly.

I've been having a real tough time coping with the emotional fall out of all this. I can at least say with some degree of quiet pride that I didn't get into an argument with my brother the last time I saw him, even though his egoism and casually vulgar attitudes really made me angry. Hard on the heels of this, I realized that my problem with depression has come back full force. It is rather embaressing for me to have to take antidepressants. I feel that I should be able to cope with this problem with out these things.

Unfortunately, that is not the case. So, last night, we filled the perscription on the way home and my husband reassured me that this is a legitimate medical problem. He said that if people approached postpartum depression and depression in general as a "real" medical problem, then there wouldn't be people murdering their small children because they were convinced that the babies were doomed for hell by accident of their birth. It's rather chilling to realize that I had internalized that attitude and the rather disgusting version that I had grown up with: psychological problems = attention seeking behavior.

It is my hope that I'll do a better job handling these things, but I can't help feeling like the wind's gone out of my sails. I really wish that it were possible for me to get out into a garden and put this anxious energy to work doing something, like hoeing potatoes or something. Scrubbing out the bathroom can only be done for so long before the fumes from the cleaners make me start wheezing, sadly. That said, thanks for listening to my bit of a rant/whining about life at the moment.

I'm sorry if I happened to bring anyone down also as they read this.

Yeah, it's been a few days...

I'm not going to say how long it has been since I've written in my off-line journal. That'd be a bit longer, and it's all I'm going to admit to. At some point in time, I should probably copy what I've typed up on here into there, so that I've got a 'hard copy' record of it as well. I'm pretty sure that project will be at about the same point as the one I started to make a digital copy of my journals.

Alot has happened over the last several weeks. My darling Stargazer has lost several people in her family over a short span of time. You know that you are in the hearts and thoughts of everyone here in this house. Please, call me if there is anything we can do to be of help to you, love. If anything, I've got plenty of stupid human tricks I can compare notes with you on. I swear some of the people in this town just don't think at all!

I've been forced to admit that my youngest brother is an unrepentant asshole of the first order. His wife is on the verge of divorcing him because of his failure to stand up and act like a man. You know, uphold his end of the bargain to be a husband and a father to their three little girls. And all of this is even as he's shipped out to Afghanistan for the next year. I believe the most excruciating part of all this is the fact that I am torn between feeling like it'd be a good thing if this misogynistic bastard that shares the same genetic background that I do get's whacked in combat and feeling like my goofy little brother that helped me blow up model rockets to tick of Dad is going to die, and being terrified of that.

To say that I feel like I'm in a moral quandry is an understatement it so say one that is beyond my own masterful ability to commit such outrageous understatements. I love my family deeply. They are my own flesh and blood, and one of the few things that I feel you need to be able to count on in life. After all, if you don't have your kin behind you, you're going to be losing a lot of history and alot of support. At the same time, I find myself feeling that the ties of kinship pale in comparison to the abomination that my brother has become over the years. I don't even recognize this man.

I could add more but I don't believe I will.

I'll focus on happier things in another post. I need a little break before I get angry or upset.

Oh, dear, what do I do now?

I'm a fool. I thought that I could just strong arm my way thru something. I thought that if I did things the hard way, it would prove to make things work easier in several other areas. As usual, my stubborn streak hasn't proven enough. Now I'm not sure how to make this right, how to fix this problem.

I don't even know how I should discuss it, because I know it's going to be a huge source of frustration.

Stargazer, I love you.

Before anybody thinks something foolish, there's alot of past history here that I'm not going to bring up for the rest of the internet to know. Somethings just stay between the people who know the facts, and there will be things I mention that are going to fall in to that category.

First off, Stargazer, I love you so much that it hurts. I'm still furious with myself over how I broke your heart years ago and how close I came to losing one of the most important people in my life. I feel terribly embaressed by how much of a coward I am when it comes to telling you how important you are to me. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you and not a day goes by that I don't miss you. He knows that and he feels badly for me. I think that he thinks I'm too hard on myself. I know that you'd say the same thing, and maybe you're both right.

I'm sorry but I really can't forgive myself for how stupid I was then. I got scared I didn't say anything, I didn't even realize when I was starting to dissociate. Looking back on it now, I realize that was what happened that night. It was the same thing that happened when he and I started trying to be intimate after I left that bastard who hurt me. The only difference was I wasn't having those screaming panic attacks where I started hitting myself. I've got to admit, I thank all the Gods for that small mercy. I don't know if I could have handled that. I tried for years to forget that I started to shut down when I felt your hands on my skin, but it haunts me.

Sometimes, I have nightmares of it. Where I can't feel anything and I desparately want to, because it felt so cold inside me and so... dark. There are times where, in my dreams, we're together. You hold me as I cry about my fustrations with the boy, with my husband, with my life in general. In my dreams, you help me to forgive myself, as you always have and you continue to be the calm, radiant presence at my side that you were in that moment. It scared me then and it scares me a little now that you love me.

It scares me even more that one day, you could slip out of my life forever and I'd have never done this. I'd have never told you how I feel about you, even today, and all that I'd have left was bittersweet memories.

I do love you, darling. I love you so very, very much. I'm sorry that I hurt you and if there was some way that I could take all of that back, the distance that came from my idiot pride and my foolish fears to the badly phrased bullshit things I said, I would. I never wanted to hurt you and I still hate myself to this very day for it. I do think I failed you. I tried to love you as you deserved to be loved but I couldn't do it right. Maybe I was too broken at that time, maybe I was just too scared to believe in myself. I don't know.

But I can't find the words to say how much I love you, Stargazer. I'm sorry that I've been so far away. Please forgive me for it, love. I was afraid that I'd hurt you again by being stupid.

Bah, who needs sleep, right?

Or at least, that's how my darling son feels at this moment. He's throwing one monster of a temper tantrum at the moment because it's still nap time. I feel relieved that he's feeling well enough to be showing that he does have a temper like I do, but I'm mildly irritated that he has decided that he really isn't tired (never mind his yawning and rubbing of the eyes).

Ah.. wait! He did finally fall asleep.

It seems to be how nap time has gone since he caught his cold. Here's hoping that now that he's getting over it, my boy will not be so cranky when it's time to sleep. I can't be entirely sure, though, as he has started teething. We'll see how this unfolds, I suppose.

Happy New Year!

Or what ever. :P

I'm feeling a bit apathetic. I think all of that effort making thing for people burned me out some. I'm a little bit ticked off with the post office.

They keep losing my mail. It's be one thing if it got lost because it was stuck to another piece of mail. But, that's not the case, as I learned recently from one of the folks who work there. Apparently, one of the staff there refuses to wear his glasses. He feels it makes him look old.

It also makes him send my mail off to the other side of town. My name is not Vanessa. My husband's name is not Vanessa. And our son isn't named that either. We have a post office box! And one last thing, just because this woman's last name as two 'L's in it, like ours does, it does not mean that we're interchangeable.

As a result of the vanity of one (if not more) of the postal service employees here in town, we're late on paying the bills on a semi-regular basis. If I'm lucky, letters sent to me will actually reach me. I'm still wondering if a package that was sent up shortly after the boy was born didn't reach me because it went over to this woman's house.

Honestly, people, would you please read the address on the packages and letters!

Sorry, I'm a little bit ... aggravated. I spent all day on the phone making sure we had car insurance and that we didn't have a laundry list of problems because this happened again. Once in a while, I can understand, even accept. Every few months, like clockwork, is just insane.

Happy Holidays!

Well, the boy, hubby, and I survived yet another holiday gathering with my side of the family. Generally, things went well. My parents surprised the living daylights out of me by giving me a sewing machine. It was a complete surprise. As my mother needs hers back, I suppose it can be short of nothing but awesome that my sister in law and I were given sewing machines. My grandparents and extended family all seemed to be doing well.

Even though I feel some anger and a measure of resentment towards my grandmother and one of my aunts, I do wish them well. I'm trying to root out the anger and resentment, so that the last few years that I have with my grandmother still walking the earth won't be filled with that. I won't go father along that line of thought because it just gets depressing.

Tonight, we have a big get together at my husband's grandmother's house. I'm hoping it all goes well. I'd be posting up some kind of cute christmas/yule picture of my son, but I don't have the foggiest clue how to do that. So... I've searched the interwebz and found this for your pleasure! Happy Holidays!

Wow, I made him laugh!

You know, I realize that telling jokes to an infant is kinda pointless. At the same time, I was beginning to get a little desperate for trying to find away to make him laugh. Prior to last night, my little boy had only laughed once for me. That was while we played a quick game of peek-a-boo at the doctor's office as I was getting him ready to go home, about a month ago.

Oh, but last night did we have a winner! I made him laugh pretty good, just at the wrong time. Him laughing is good, spitting up while laughing is not so good. We were playing on his mat and I tapped a ball that was suspended over his face. It brushed against his cheek as I said "kaboom" and he giggled. I did it again and he laughed. We spent about 5 minutes this way until he got sick. Next time, I think I'll wait longer then 20 minutes after he has a bottle to play that way again.


In the picture above, we're playing 'binky-tag'. Obviously, you can see he enjoys it. This little monster will spit out his pacifier to have you put it back in for him to spit out again for what feels like hours. It's good that he enjoys it, because it makes the whole drama less maddening. Seeing that huge smile on that little face... well, it suddenly makes 'binky-tag' more fun for the grown-up involved too.

My little boy still hates baths. He does, however, love playing with the towel. Just the other night, he was trying to pull it up over his head and kick it off. To say the least, I found it to be the cutest thing to watch. The thing that I am really astounded by, however, is how fast he's growing. That picture up there is a little over a month old. He's grown much more since then. It's jaw-dropping to realize that this cute little outfit just won't fit him now. While he doesn't like playtime on his belly, he's getting better about it. I figure if we keep at it, he'll stop screaming when I put him down on his belly to go wash dishes or make myself a cup of tea.

He's been hitting several of the milestones for his age fairly well. Even so, I can't help but feel a little worry that he hasn't figured out how to roll over yet. I know that it may be a bit early for me to worry about that, but it's a mild source of anxiety. I also find myself wondering what on earth I'll do about getting this more more socialization. I realize that with the cold weather, I can't exactly walk down to the library with him. A 15 minute stroller ride in the middle of winter just isn't the same as a 15 minute stroller ride in the middle of autumn.

That said, I've got to admit things are going really well. Now, I just need to figure out how to make him laugh more often and we'll be set.

ack...

I've been trying to get back into the swing of that tarot reading by phone thing I was doing shortly before my son was born. I admit, I do feel anxious that things are not going to pick back up. I've been trying to redirect my nervous energy into doing things that are productive towards this venture. I feel, however, that my efforts are not going to be enough.

I hate the holiday season because this time of year the feeling of not having enough money is somewhat impossible to avoid. It's a terrible feeling and it is one that I'm all too familiar with. I can't help but feel angry when I find it implied that my efforts are not going to be good enough because I didn't buy the gifts I'm giving from the store. It is something that I can't avoid because it's shouted at me from every media outlet on the face of the earth this time of year.

Heck, I can't even get away from it on the computer. I get pop-up ads spamming me with offers to buy the latest gizmo or gadget for the people in my family. I find that I feel guilty at times because I can't afford to go buy something. I have this terrible suspicion that my husband's cousin is going to turn up her nose at the purse and cell phone cozy that I made for her. I have a fear that everyone who gets these hand made gifts this year is going to be disappointed because their hearts were set on something else.

Wretched doesn't begin to describe how it feels. And in the midst of flailing about with my worries over things like if people are going to like what I give them, I find I get into a panic over the bills and if I can cut any more corners in the budget to possibly make it easier to pay off the various expenses we accumulated over the last year. It really does feel like no matter how hard we try, we just sink farther into the financial quicksand each year.

And think, this is me on anti-depressants right now!

I hate this time of year on a semi-regular basis for so many more reasons then having to listen to Bing Crosby so many times my eyes bleed. I've got to admit, if I am forced to listen to christmas/holiday music for a full 24 hours, I may possibly go into a homicidal rampage. Why, you ask? Because that stuff is enough to create brain aneurysms and are a form of torture more inhumane then being forced to suffer thru Barney for a full 24 hours. (And let me tell you, that right there is a sadistic hell that I do not wish upon my worst enemies!) Christmas/holiday music tell us to cheer up and that we're going to get everything we want. It tells us that everyone is all wrapped up in this confectionery state of bliss and similar rot.

It's surfeit to cover up the disgusting truths of the world.

Ok, I'm going to stop before this rant gets more depressing or more cranky, which ever would happen first.

I also reiterate my ban on perkiness!

Slowly making progress... I think.

I've been gradually working on getting the christmas presents done for my six nieces. I have five done. The last proves to be the one requiring the most work. I'm crocheting a chess board. I've made 32 white granny squares. I now need to make 32 dark blue granny squares. The bag for holding the chess pieces is finished, though I've discovered that the extra chess pieces are missing 4 white pawns, a white knight, and a black rook. I think I'm going to need to go buy a cheapie chess set and scavenge the pieces out of it.

I have the aprons for my brother-in-law's girls done. They're getting some kitchen toys and aprons. As they've been starting to learn how to cook, I've decided to give something that encourages it. The hats for my youngest brother's children are done. I still need to finish piecing together and sewing the small quilt that I started for my son. The boy has a small army of blankets, but I wanted to make him a quilt, too. I'm about a third of the way finished with the piecing together of the squares of fabric.

I made the multicolored blanket that my husband wanted. I now want to make him something else for christmas. He knows about the blanket, I want to give him something that will be a nice surprise. I'm not entirely sure what it will be yet, but I'll figure something out. I finished the crocheted shawl from my husband's grandmother, as I learned that the woman doesn't exactly like the one she has right now. I still need to sew up the cell phone cozy and the purse that I made for my husband's cousin.

Aside from the quilt that I'm making for my son, I believe that I'm also going to make him a toy. I'm just not sure what to make. I've a few different options, as it stands I'm leaning towards a teddy bear or a lion. I'm not entirely sure which I prefer. I do still need to cut out, piece together, and sew the doll for my youngest niece. I'm fairly certain that I'll have the sewing done by the end of this week. I may even have the last bit of stitching that I need to do on the baby blanket for my son finished as well. This was a blanket that I started quite some time ago and I didn't get it completed until now. I just don't like how the last bit of stitching came out, so I am probably going to pull it out and resew it.

I have the gift for my sister-in-law finished. I'm giving her some orange scented bath salts, a bottle of apple-pie scented bubble bath, and (if I can manage it) some lavender infused white wine. I've been debating what to give my mother this year and I think that we're going to do like we had discussed when we got the portraits done of the boy. We'll need some cheapie picture frames, but it'll make a wonderful gift for the grandparents!

I was hoping to beable to get some photo books made by christmas of the wedding pictures. It doesn't appear that it will work out that way this year. I still want to get that done, so it may be a matter of printing things up at home and binding them at Kinkos or something. I'm not sure. I will be making a cover for the little cooking journal that I'll be giving my other sister-in-law for christmas.

So, I guess I am making progress. It just doesn't feel like it when I'm in the middle of working on stuff. It feels like I'm slogging my way thru needlecraft hell.

That said, I wonder what I should surprise my husband with...

Blah.

My husband's asleep right now. The boy is taking a nap. Some would figure that I'd be thrilled because I get some time to myself. Instead, I just feel bored and lonely. Kinda dopey, I suppose, but I do. Perhaps I'll do some cleaning to entertain myself. Cheezy free games in the internet just don't hold the usual amusement/brain cell killing value.

I'm making alot of progress on getting christmas presents done. I have a purse and a cellphone cozy to sew together. I've been crocheting the squares for a chess board for my eldest niece. I believe we have enough loose chess pieces kicking around here to make two full sets and a partial. I've finished the hats for my other brother's kids. I even got two bibs done for the 7 month old. I'm debating if I should make her a little placemat for the table. If I have time after I get the chess board done, I might do that.

I'm at a loss for what to make for my son. I'm getting aggrivated working on this little crib quilt. I don't think it'll be done in time for christmas. I may sew him a nice little outfit with some of the fabric I have kicking around here. I still have two little aprons to make for my husband's brother's kids. The girls are starting to learn about cooking from their parents, so I'm going to give them some play pots and a pair of aprons. Maybe I'll make some child sized pot holders too, I don't know.

I finished the blanket my husband wanted for christmas, but I really don't feel it is a good gift for him. I want to do something different, something... unexpected and nicer. I will figure it out eventually. In the meantime, however, I think I'll work on getting some cleaning done in the living room. Maybe I'll balance the checkbook after I wash the dishes in the kitchen. I don't know, because that quilt still needs pieced together and the remaining squares need crocheted for that chessboard. I'll figure it out eventually, I suppose.

hmm...

I think I'll just put together another blog to chronicle some of the adventures surrounding this boy of mine.

I'm not entirely sure, though. Something to debate while I try to connive my husband into hooking up the printer so we can print off some of the pictures for the scrap book. :)

Overzelous... no, not really.

Here's some pictures from the summer and from last month. I suppose my husband did get a little happy with the camera, but the trade off was some spectacular pictures. I've been making things for the boy since I found out I was pregnant. Here's some of the photos to show what I made.

The first is from when I was 8 months pregnant. In the picture is two sweaters I made and a pair of booties. The blue sweater and booties are the ones that he wore in the hospital (because they made the maternity wing so cold that a meat locker would seem tropical in comparison).

Next is the sweater that I insist looks like melted crayons. My husband begged me first to make the sweater and then to make him a blanket from this yarn. I still have a partial skein of that yarn. It's being used for some snow hats for my brother's daughters. I don't think I'll be able to get away from it! This picture is of the sweater in progress.



Now, I struggled with this yarn. I had several different patterns that I attempted. Because of how this yarn was dyed, none of them came out not looking hideous. To say the least my husband, who loves to try to blind me with the color combinations he comes up with, was quite entertained.

Finally, my mother gave me the pattern for this sweater. I made a few mistakes working on it, but even so, it didn't look completely ugly when it was done.


This is the completed sweater. All it's missing is the crayon box stuck to it! :)



There is one more picture that I'd like to share. This is of the red sweater set that I made. I put my little boy in this outfit for his first trip to the library. He may not be old enough for a library card, but it doesn't mean he can't go over there and look around.



This was to be his coming home outfit but the weather was far too warm. I had a back up outfit also, which was used for his portrait that went out with his birth announcements to family and friends. It was too hot for the back up outfit too! It was so hot that day that he was wearing the onesie that I had for him and a pair of soft mitts with stars on them.

Somedays, I really do hate computers.

Sorry if it's impossible to read either of the last two posts. For some reason, the fonts are acting funny and I can't get this thing to do what I wanted it to. Oh well, the computer wins, again. :(

Maybe, I should have my husband fix it for me.

>:)

Speaking of the boy...

It is so hard to believe that my little boy is now three months old. He's already grown out of most of the clothes that I made for him while I was pregnant and the outfit that he wore for his first picture. I'm not getting all teary-eyed, but I am wondering where the time went.

Today, he finally tried solid food for the first time. He's of a mixed opinion. The boy can't decide if he hates the texture of solid food or enjoys the taste. It was cute to watch him alternate between the rice and his bottle. He decided very quickly that after he had a little bite of his cereal he wanted to wash it down with formula.

He's doing alot better about spending time on his belly. He's actually playing a little bit when I put him down on his belly, rather then scream for ten minutes and fall asleep every time. He still isn't very happy about bath time. I figure he'll decide at some point that it's not ritual torture and actually enjoy the experience. Until then, I just have to listen to him scream while I wash him.

I do have to say, I did have a little success the other day. He played in the tub for about 5 minutes. Splashed me some, kicked his feet, cooed, and then started screaming. Maybe we need to try some play time in the tub, get out his rubber ducky and the fishies for him to just sit in there and play in the water, perhaps. I'm not sure. Maybe I'll try giving him a bubble bath, because he does love bubbles.

I've been getting one heck of a work out for my lungs. Between singing to him and blowing bubbles, I don't think my lungs have seen this much work since I was in high school choir. He hasn't figured out how to roll over yet, but he's trying. The sitting part isn't quite figured out yet either. It's more like he's propped up and keeping his head steady. But he's making progress, and that's a good thing. The boy just loves playing peek-a-boo. I made him giggle for the first time just last week by playing peek-a-boo with him.

And of course the little monster has now refused to laugh since then. Instead, he just smiles, sticks out his tounge, and blows raspberries at me. I'll make him laugh again some how. I want his father to hear him laugh and I want that little boy to laugh alot. All of that said, I guess we're all doing well. Even if he's throwing a temper-tantrum because he doesn't want to be in bed right now. Here's another picture of him, just because he's *so* cute.

Ugh, I hate the holiday shopping season.

I just need to get this off my chest...

Will you people knock it off with the stupid behavior!?!?!

Just because the holidays are coming doesn't mean you have a free pass to be rude and obnoxious!

Ok, I think I can proceed forward with out exploding.

I think.

I went to the store last night to purchase a few things that I needed for the baby. I encountered a madhouse and the inmates were running the asylum! Maybe it's just me, but I didn't think that it was good form to be running thru the store with the cart out in front of you at arms length when you're clearly over the age of 9 and the aisles have more then one person in them at a given time. Perhaps it's just me, but I think that can qualify as a bad idea!

My opinion, however, matters as much as... well, I just won't complete that statement because it's more then a little bit rude. Those of you who have witnessed my occasional forays into vulgarity would have found my completed sentiment to be far more offensive then past statements. So, let's just say that my opinion on this matter is not shared by the general population of shoppers at this time of year, apparently.

I can say in all honesty, there is precious little on this earth that can prove more offensive then the holiday shopper when you have the very item they are seeking. Especially when you have just purchased the last of the store's inventory of said item and are walking out of the store as they are entering. I swear, I thought I was going to get mugged over a baby seat! Never mind the fact that the store in the plaza across the street have many, many more of the exact same item for about $10 more. Never mind the fact that the next shipment of them was going to be in tonight!

No, I was apparently deserving of the vile looks of hatred and the malignant comments as I walked past. I actually had some one insinuate that I had stolen the item. I don't generally want to slap complete strangers, but that made my hand twitch and I wanted that woman to send a post card from next week as to what the weather was like. What is it with people this time of year?

Is it really that hard to use the simplest of manners and a little bit of courtesy? A few more "please" and "thank-you"s would probably work alot better then shoving the woman with a baby in her cart out of your way! Granted, that didn't happen to me. It happened to a little Hispanic woman who looked like she was about to burst out into tears just like her infant daughter. It makes me furious to see this kind of stuff.

Sure, you're busy and you have alot of people to shop for. You have a tight time frame and a tighter budget. It doesn't excuse your acting like a moron. It doesn't excuse bad behavior from your children, spouse, mother-in-law, or anybody else that's with you because you're shopping for the perfect present. It's not the things that matter, you idiots!

It's the People that matter.






Yeah, I really do hate this time of year. Thank god, I didn't have to go shopping on Black Friday. I may have actually lost my cool and decked some one for trying to trample me and the boy.

Stealing computer time again!

As I have the time, I am going to post here quickly. Things are going fairly well here. I'm thankful for it and thankful for the fact that I've a husband who is very supportive of me. I may whine and complain about how he doesn't do the dishes as often as I'd like and how he doesn't vacume the floor in the living room more often then every three months, but I do deeply appreciate what he does for me and our son.

Housework is the usual endless nightmare. I don't think I'm ever going to get this place fully clean. It seems like once I make progress thirty new things pop up to be washed, put away, or otherwise dealt with. It's lead to my deciding to never wash dishes or put laundry away before I go to sleep. I've had a few nightmares of the ever increasing pile of dishes to wash and the endless basket of laundry only to wake up to finding there's a sink full of the dishes from dinner the night before and the other half of the baby's laundry waiting to be taken care of. I'm glad that we didn't go with cloth diapers, because I'd have lost my marbles if I had to fold and put away those too.

I've sent out the majority of the birth announcements last week. I've a few more to stick in the mail. But I'm pretty much done. I just need to remember to finish the last 10 and mail them. I'm going to try to send them out with the bills that need paid this week. Here's hoping that I can make it that far. I am not looking forward to balancing the checkbook. It seems like there's always more bills to be paid then there is funds to pay them. I'm pretty sure that it's just my emotional response to it all, but it really sucks, even if I'm not taking an entirely accurate view of the picture.

I do, however, now have the opportunity to post a picture of my son and I. My husband has uploaded pictures to the computer and shown me how to get to them. So, with out any further ado, here's a picture of me and the baby. :)

stealing computer time

Well, I'm inhaling my lunch and trying to steal a bit of time on the computer before the kid wakes up from his nap. As his fussing at the moment proves, I'm not entirely successful. I now am faced with a choice, do I go eat my soup or do I pick up the baby?

Since I know he's going to fuss loud and as long as he can get away with it, I suppose I'll pick him up and bring him into the living room to play while I eat. Maybe I'll get lucky and he won't scream too much then.

So much for an interesting post. :P

Where'd the last 2 months go?

Well, my little boy is now 2 months old. He's 22.5 in long and 9.6 lbs. It's hard to believe that the last 2 months has flown by. Right now, he's down for a nap so I have a few minutes to be on the computer and then I've to do dishes. He has gone from not really interacting much with me or his father to doing things like cooing and making silly faces at us. I'd post more but he just woke up fussing. I'll try to remember to add more later.

almost 2 months... so, how long until he's 18?

Ok, so it's not that bad, but there are moments. He's a great little kid and we just got the pictures from the photographer to prove just how cute he is. Now I need to send out an army of birth announcements. I think I may go insane if I have to do these by hand. :p

I'm not sure how to describe the last several weeks. On one hand, I've been doing fairly well. At the same time, postpartum depression was making it feel like hell. I finally went to the doctor after I had been attempting the various solutions suggested to me by friends and family. The doctor said that I've got a textbook case of postpartum depression and then prescribed a SSRI. I can say honestly that I am feeling a huge difference because I haven't been half as anxious.

I think the fact that I enjoyed playing with the baby today is a good sign. Now I just need to keep doing the practical things and push forward. The medicine is just part of the solution.

Denial is not a river in Egypt.

It is, however, something I've been doing of late. I'm pretty sure that my dear husband is going to either be upset with me for not telling him before now or state that he's known the whole while but didn't want to say anything to avoid upsetting me. Either way, it feels like I'm in trouble and I hate that feeling. Feeling like I'm in trouble, however, is nothing compared to feeling depressed.

That, Reader, has been what I've been denying over the past month. The fog of the baby blues lifted and I'm not as bad off as I was before. But I'm still depressed and I'm doing very poorly on the coping end here. I don't know what to do because the horrendous feelings of inadequacy that hit me are surrounding my interactions with my child in a huge, ugly way.

Baby talk, I can't bring myself to do it. I feel like a flaming idiot for it and I worry that he won't learn proper English if I do it. The games where you rough house a little bit (for one this small, it's stuff like razberries on the belly, but you get the picture), I'm afraid of hurting him. No, not afraid, positively petrified of the idea. Sitting down and playing with him and his toys, I feel guilty because the house is a disaster and I shouldn't be goofing off when it needs tended to. And when I do tend the housework, I feel guilty because I'm not interacting with my baby.

I can't stop worrying over damn near everything. I think my husband is sick of my asking him if everything is going to be ok. I'm anxious that we don't have enough money to buy diapers after all the bills are paid. I'm anxious that I'll keep forgetting to pump, have my milk supply dry up and then we won't be able to feed the baby because of how expensive formula is. I'm terrified that I'm a bad wife because I'm not spending as much time and attention on my husband as I did before the baby was born. I'm terrified that I'm a terrible mother because I'm not spending every waking moment showering this kid with attention, playing with him, and doing everything in my power to see that he never cries for want of anything. I'm afraid that I'm going crazy and that I'll be shipped off to an institution, not able to see my family again for many years.

I feel guilty for pretty much everything. Even eating, because of my anxiety over having enough food in the house, I'm afraid that I'll eat too much and we won't have enough food to last till the next paycheck. The only thing I don't feel guilty for is breathing, aside from that I'm having a hard time listing the other things that don't pop up when I'm alone with the baby. I'd love to have some one come over and spend time with me. Because that's when this is really bad.

I can fake it and almost believe that I'm perfectly fine when I'm not alone with him. There are times where I really do feel happy, like everyone tells me I'm supposed to. More often, however, I feel like I need to clean the apartment and get everything done. I never can manage to clean everything, and when I try I forget to pump and the baby gets fed late. I try but I can never manage to get past treading water on the cleaning front.

Now that there's more stuff here since my trip out with my aunt last night, I've moved back several paces. I just want to cry in fustration. I can't take care of all this. Hubby gets home from work and he's exhausted. And I damn near throw the baby at him sometimes because I'm afraid that if he starts crying again, I'll actually act on the urge to drop him. Like the other times I've been depressed, destructive thoughts have been coming to mind. I've been managing to stave them off by telling myself that I can't entertain them because people depend on me. I have an obligation to take care of myself and not do something stupid, like hurt myself. And then I justify skipping meals or not doing my hair by saying that I got busy. When I looked at it and I just didn't have the energy or I felt too wretched about myself to even try.

I can't call some one up and ask them to come over because of how much of a disaster this place is. I am just too embaressed by it all. I'm staying at home, I should be able to keep the dishes clean and most of the stuff around here put away. My mother managed to do so with three children. I should be able to do this, shouldn't I? I should be happy right now, shouldn't I? I'm a mother, like I always dreamed I'd be. I have a wonderful baby boy that I always wanted. I don't need to put him in the care of some stranger and pray to god that he's ok at the end of the day. I get to be home and watch him grow and learn about the wonderful world we live in every day. I get to teach him things. I should be happy, I've had my dreams come true.

But I'm not. I still feel wretched about the fact that I delivered via C-section and I can't get this kid to latch on at the breast and nurse despite anything I try to do. I still feel like I'm somewhere between a failure and a walking catastrophy waiting to happen 80% of the time. I still want to just go walk off away from everyone and everything in my life and hide, that it'd make my inadequacy fade away from their lives and how I'm bungeling everything up. I still feel just as scared as I was in the hospital that I'm going to do something horribly wrong or make the wrong decision and absolutely destroy this precious little life entrusted to me.

Am I a lazy, crybaby wretch who just doesn't want to do the "grown up woman" thing? Am I over reacting and I don't know what the hell I'm talking about? Am I going crazy? Or, are my fears legitimate? Am I not a wimp for taking the drugs offered to me at the time of delivery with the first of the real labor pains? Is my stating that the decision to take said drugs for the sake of not causing complications due to fetal distress later in the pregnancy something other then an excuse? Am I not a failure for these things or the difficulty with feeding the baby at my breast?

I don't know. I just know that I'm terrified and I feel like a boot-scraping from a muddy cow field is worth more then I am right now. And I've felt that way for several months, which is why I wasn't as giddy as I probably should have been up until it was time to give birth to this baby.

More musing upon the fun of babies...

This occurred to me as I was sitting down to pump so I can feed my little darling and he decided to start fussing in the other room. Read and enjoy!

How do babies know the most inopportune times to fuss? Granted, they'll fuss at anytime, but it seems like there is some rule that determines if it is an exceptionally inconvenient time, they must have a crying fit. Here's a hypothetical scenario that has probably played out unnumbered times around the world:

The child seems to have settled down finally for a nap and you decided to scrub the foot encrusted dishes that have sat waiting for the last 72 hours (at least). You're up to your elbows in water hot enough to scald the flesh from your bones. A plethora of knives, forks, and other instruments of tetanus bearing doom lurk under the surface, awaiting the tender ministrations of steel wool and industrial strength cleaner, as well as to julienne your water softened flesh with the slightest mistaken movement.

It is then, at the precise moment you are reaching in to clean the forth potential item of death that an ear piercing shriek summons you. In your startled parental terror, you envision your mewling newborn child being carried off by a pack of rabid hyenas to either be devowered or introduced to all the bad behaviors of those raised by wolves (of whom the hyena is the trouble-maker cousin).

Now, I am certain that a number of parental 'suicides' are actually due to massive injury sustained by dish washing caregivers whom have sliced a major artery in their rush to replace the lost pacifier. A pacifier which is ignored by the child whom falls back to sleep with the first parental footfall past the nursery threshold.*





*Please note, suicide is not something I advocate. Neither am I making light of the pain suffered by the family, loved ones, and friends of a victim of suicide. As one who has occasionally struggled with this particular demon, I feel that I can make light of it to some extent. It helps me to stave that bit of temptation off. If you don't like it, dear Reader, I really don't care.

Re-post from my Keen Blog

Just because I think my little rant about spit up will amuse folks...

Here's the other Blog --> http://blogs.keen.com/Cydira

Schedules and other fun things with a baby!

I had the mistaken impression that my little one would settle down into something that resembles a schedule by now (actually, a little before now). I think the only thing that resembles anything like a schedule is that if he gets his bottle at midnight, he will sleep thru most of the night. It's a bit difficult to otherwise schedule anything. As such, I will be available on the phone when he is napping or playing quietly. If you happen to hear fussing in the background when you call, please do not be too alarmed.

Bathing this child is almost enough to make me rethink that cat bathing should be a martial art. Baby bathing is almost as bad. Granted, you don't have an angry feline ready to claw you to ribbons for comitting the grevious insult of getting it wet, but trying to hold the child still to clean them is nigh on impossible. I don't know if I will ever get to a point where I can accomplish this by myself! Right now, it feels like we need three people to do it.

One person to keep the baby from wriggling around so much he goes under water (not that there's much there, but some how this kid manages to nearly get his head into the mere inch of water in his little tub). One person to bathe him (who must have three hands to counter flailing limbs). And a third person to entertain the child and hopefully keep him from making all parties deaf with his hollering at the indignity of being nude, let alone soaped up and washed. So, like I was implying earlier, maybe this should be a martial art!

Some of the things that babies do I really had absolutely no comprehension of what it meant. Spit up, for example, is not mearly some little gob of formula that winds up on the chin to be wiped off with the bib after burping. Spit up can also be:

1. A fountain of formula that flies out of the nose and mouth of the child if he drinks one ounce too many. The probability of it landing on your clothes or the rug is proportional to the value of the clothes and inversely proportional to the avaiability of resources to steam clean formula out of the rug.
2. A thin stream that resembles milk colored phlegm from the nose, making a new mother wonder at first if the child has a cold when it first appears.
3. A clothing accessory for mother (or father, or any other person burping the child). Extra special people may have spit up as a hair accessory! (Hence the reason why I wear my hair in a ponytail or under a bandanna when I'm burping the baby!)
4. A clothing accessory for the child. Forget just on the burp cloth or the bib, this stuff goes everywhere!
   
5. A pre-wash for the not so dirty infant swing. After all, those things really do need washed every 5 minutes, right? It says so in the owner's manual, in the really fine print!

I love the little monster, but I have times where I want to pull my hair out. And then, he's so cute that I'm amazed I ever feel so fustrated. As I have been telling my husband, the cuteness is an evolutionary trait. It lulls us into a false sense of security, thinking that the fussiness, explosive diapers, and sleepless nights just happen that one time. Boy, is this parenting thing going to be a wild ride.

A bit of shameless self promotion, please forgive me of any irritation but:

If you're looking for a tarot reading, please contact me on Keen. I'd be happy to do one for you, my rates are posted here. I am still learning how to put together web pages, so if the information on the page is confusing, I apologize. Please, e-mail me and I'll be happy to clear up any questions you might have.

Wow, we all survived the first month!

Sitting here with my little monster on my lap (in one of the greatest inventions known to mankind, a sling!), I'm not entirely sure what to write. It's been a month. It certianly does not feel like it has been a month since he was born. Between mood swings, sleep deprivation, and just desperately trying to adjust to his being among us, I think this feels like the world's longest week. Then again, he wasn't quite this big the day we came home and I don't think he was quite this active either.

I don't think I really have too many 'cute' baby stories at the moment. Some things that just left me wonder-struck are really quite small in the grand scheme. Things like how he looks when he smiles, the tiny size of his hands and feet, and how excited he gets when he first hears his father's voice when hubby gets home from work... they're not very dramatic but they just strike me as marvels.

And then there are the things that I never fully believed in until this child was born. No, not some mystic revelations or that Elvis is living with his space alien friends in the neighborhood of the star Vega. No, it's things a bit more mundane. I did not really believe in explosive bowel movements, for example, until this child had one that I could hear at the other end of the apartment with out the baby monitor on! I never really did believe that pacifiers could be repulsed from the baby's mouth like a pair of ni-cad magnets aligned at opposite poles, but that binky shot clear across the room as soon as my fingers left it.

I didn't comprehend that an infant could manage to go thru half of their wardrobe (which takes up half of the closet) in one day due to soiling themselves. I wasn't fully prepared for the way this child can manage to some how violate the laws of physics with his ability to have a bowel movement that transported itself (in part) from within his diaper to on my clothes, with out any appreciable amount on his pants. I'm still baffled by the way he managed to spit up and have it all down the back of his clothes. I mean, the boy was sitting up in his swing, facing forward, with the thing not even moving. There was no way for his spit up to get onto the back of his clothes unless by some strange effect I don't understand.

Do the bodily excretions of an infant exhibit the quantum particle's effects on a macroscopic scale? It really is the only explination that I can think of at the moment.

And to think, this is but after the first month of this child being home. What will come next? Probably bankruptcy with the cost of diapers and diaper wipes.

So, how do I do this, again?

I am finally getting to a point where there's something of a schedule for this kid. This is great, except for the fact that I now need to figure out how to fit into this schedule the details of running a household and my on-line business. It's a bit tricky and rather nerve wracking. I can see why my Father said that a schedule is your biggest ally in raising a child.

That said, I think the biggest challenge I'm having right now is not the schedule. I think I'm having difficulty with trying to figure out just what I'm going to be doing next with my business. I want to improve my marketing scheme by setting up a website. Not just doing the little website that is thru Keen for my listing, but a real website for my business. Making the financial investment to purchase a domain name and hosting is making me nervous. I realize that this is not something difficult. I know it's not rocket science, but I can't help but worry that if I can't bring in enough money this will be another point where money is just flowing out of this home.

We really can't afford a financial problem like that. So, I'm feeling anxious at the moment. I am also a little nervous because I finally have started to make real progress with establishing my 'name'. That initial boost of confidence that came from the happy replies and the impressed responses to my tarot reading skills has turned into a little bit of a concern that I may not be able to live up to the expectations that my clients will have of me. I recognize that this is my worrying over something for the sake of worrying, but it's been bothering me today.

All of that said and done, I hope that I can get this running my own business thing figured out. I hope that I can remember to take care of the taxes and other tithing to the government in proper order. Most of all, I hope that this can prove to bring in enough money in a fashion that allows me to take care of this little baby and keep house with out loosing my mind. Yep, a schedule is definitely going to be my best friend in this particular little front.

pfft...

Sometimes, I wish I could just snap my fingers and the whole place would be clean. As it stands, I don't think that we'll see a spotless apartment again for many months. :P

UGH!

Ok, I'm done whining, now off to go start making some progress on this mess.

I may just survive this motherhood thing...

Right now, the kid's asleep in the sling on my lap. He looks real cute when he's sleeping. I almost don't have the heart to wake him up for his next feeding. We've all been doing ok around here. Sleep is actually starting to happen at night, even if it is broken by the 3 am feeding. I've been feeling happier and less like I'm completely screwing everything up. Maybe it means that my hormones are finally settling out.

I'm a bit fustrated because the clothes that I have don't fit me right. Those clothes that I had about two years ago from when I was over weight, well, that's about what size I am now. My goal is to get the weight from the pregnancy down by next summer. I've been walking and doing a little light exercise recently. It's wonderful to be healed up enough to actually do some of this stuff again. I never thought that I'd enjoy doing sit-ups, but I did. It was a weird experience. :) Hubby's starting to show that he's making real progress on losing weight himself too.

He started working on improving his own health about two months ago. I didn't really notice because I was half insane from being pregnant. As it stands, I think he's probably lost almost an inch off his waistline, but I'm not entirely sure. I am proud of him for all of that effort, though. It's not easy to be doing things like putting yourself on a diet or making yourself go exercise when you've got about twenty different things pulling you in different directions. So, now, we're striving for healthy meals at home and getting some exercise in when we can.

We've gone for several walks recently, and it was really nice. Who knows, maybe next summer or later in the fall this year, we can go and actually take a few hikes on the trails in some parks we love. It's been a while since we've gone walking at the county park and I hope that we can do so soon. I can't remember if it's still open, as it is after labor day. I may need to check on that before I suggest it to him. :)

The baby is growing like a weed. I was going nuts trying to do the whole "put the baby on a schedule" thing and it wasn't working. So, we decided to give it a try with feeding the baby on demand. It's actually working alot better and the kid is eating/drinking more. The next challenge to conquer is getting him to transition from bottle feeding to breast feeding. It'll be a whole lot easier then continuing to do what I am doing now. I've been pumping and then feeding it to him in a bottle. We had a little success earlier this week getting him to suckle.

I figure if we keep at it, the boy will learn how. It's already pretty clear that he prefers the taste of breast milk to that of formula. I found that interesting. Perhaps it tastes as bad as it smells when he burps, I don't know. If I can just get this little boy to calm down when it's time to feed, I know that I'll see a lot more successes on the breast feeding front.

I'll try to post a pic of me and the baby soon. I almost have figured out how to [b]use[/b] the camera. Now to learn how to get the pictures!

first week down, how many more to go?

Well, the three of us survived our first week home. I'm torn on a few different fronts on how to handle a few different things. I want to breastfeed but the baby has difficulty latching on. He gets so excited/anxious when he tries that he just doesn't manage to get any real feeding done most of the times we try. I've been giving him a bottle with breast milk in it, but I really wish I could be feeding him at the breast. I'm not sure what the best option is at the moment.

Hubby has been working hard on trying to juggle supporting me in my postpartum insanity and dealing with the insanity of work. I love him dearly and I greatly appreciate the effort he has been putting in, but I don't know if I'm demanding too much of him. He deserves time to relax and such. It makes me mad that he has to use his vacation time to take time to be with the baby and I. I know that there's alot of fires to be put out at work and that in alot of ways my dear husband has been the reason why things run smoothly over there. I recognize that his boss depends on him alot for help, and with good reason, because my husband is damn good at what he does and as loyal as an old dog.

At the same time, I'm upset because he hasn't been given time to just relax before the baby was born. We didn't get to go spend some time together as a couple before the child came along, like a little vacation somewhere for a weekend. It was something we had tried to plan over the summer but it never worked out. Now, he's going from the stress of work (where they're trying very hard to improve their standing in the market, again) to the stress of being home with a wife whose half crazy because of hormones and a week old baby. It makes me worry that he's going to resent me for the times where I need him to cuddle me and tell me it'll be ok. And right now, it seems to be happening as often as the baby is looking to be cuddled.

The other source of consternation and confusion is how to manage to get things finished up with rearrangement around here. I don't know where I'm going to put various things and that makes me nervous. I don't know how to arrange things in a manner that will be most efficent. That makes me nervous. I feel like this place isn't big enough for us and that makes me highly uncomfortable. I'm sure that this feeling will pass after we get everything sorted out, but right now I feel like a cat in a rocking chair factory.

And the worst thing right now is the fact that I'm not 'glowing with happiness' when it seems like damn near everybody is insisting that I should be. Apparently, it's normal for new mothers to spend some time doing things like dressing the baby up in every single new outfit for him/her they own. It's apparently normal for them to tickle and such the kid even if they're sleeping. I just can't bring myself to do it and I'm not at the point of being damn near idiotic with happiness. I'm actually feeling rather numb most of the time. The happy face is a front to make the people who tell me I should be happy shut up. There are moments where I'm happy but most of the time it's a cross between nervous and numb.

A concerned friend of mine is suggesting that I may have a touch of postpartum depression. I don't know, maybe I do. I just know that there doesn't seem to be enough time in the day to even catch up on stuff, never mind finish anything. It makes me want to cry in frustration. And I have this nagging fear that I'm not a good mother because I don't know what I'm supposed to do at every time with a newborn baby. I am afraid that I'm not a good mother because I'm not gushing with love for my baby boy already. I'm afraid that I'm not a good mother because I would rather sleep then get up in the middle of the night to feed him. ... The list of reasons why I am afraid I'm not a good mother is easily a country mile long.

And that makes me sad too.

I thought you were supposed to be happy when you have a baby. Not scared, sad, and numb. I can understand exhausted or exasperated, but the other three, I'm not so sure about that.

Wow, I'm a mother!

Well, the big day has finally arrived. It actually came last week. Here's what the hubby posted for some friends of ours on a forum we both visit:

Hey, guys! Finally got home, figured I'd update everyone.

Douglas was born on August 22, at 1:01am EDT, weighing 7lbs, 8.5oz.

After a few days of some really bad contractions which I think turned out to be false labor, I took Deb in Tuesday morning because she thought her water broke. Turns out she didn't, but she was ALMOST dialated enough to be in full labor.

A walk around the suite fixed that REAL quick.

She spent 18 hours in full labor, but no dice. The hospital, in trying to make it painless, pushed her too hard too fast. Her uterus got too tired and we had to have a C-section. Damned doctors.

Baby and mommy are healthy. Deb's still got some swelling that's being treated, and of course she has to recover from surgery, so she'll be there for a few days yet.

I've gotta finish putting the crib together and arranging apartment furniture. We were in the midst of that when our baby boy came along a week early.

Thank you all SO MUCH for your well-wishes. It warms my heart, truely.

I've got pictures. They will be posted sometime in the next week or so. Yay for the digital camera the wife gave me for Christmas!

My being incommunicado for the last week has been because I was working with hubby to get everything ready here for the baby's arrival and then I was at the hospital resting. The experience of being at the hospital has some ups and some downs, I'll be ranting about that later. Yep, that's right ranting. More aggrivations then just the crappy food (and why the heck is it that hospital food is so bad as a general rule?).

It's funny, we expected him to be born this week and he showed up a week early. I'm now working on trying my hardest not to let the wacky hormone swings and the nervousness about being a new mother interrupt my enjoyment of being a mother. That said, I get worried as hell when this kid just won't stop crying. My mother tells me that is something all new mothers and fathers go thru and it'll be better next week. I admit it, I'm excited but I also feel like a cat in a rocking chair factory. :)

10 days and counting

Well, it's ten days until the due date. I'm nervous, excited, and generally feeling a bit like I'm all over the place right now. This weekend, my dear and darling husband has been working very hard to get things rearranged so that the furniture we need for the baby can be in here. His brother so very generously helped us out. It was a good thing, to say the least, as I'm at a point where I'm not exactly useful for doing things like moving bookcases and such.

I didn't really get to do much more then supervise. It was frustrating because I felt like I should be jumping into the fray and helping out, too. I have been having some kinda wild mood swings over the last few days. I feel like it's making me a terrible person to put up with, never mind live with right now. Hubby has been generally of good cheer about it all and managing it with a sense of aplomb that I wish I could accomplish at the moment. I didn't exactly enjoy being hit with a weepy sense of angst that I was losing my sex-life for good and that I was doomed to be a mediocre parent at best. It was especially terrible because it happened at 11 O'clock at night last night, right when we were going to bed.

From what I've been told, mood swings get worse as it gets closer to delivery. I'm hoping that since I didn't have really wild mood swings before now, these won't rival some of the ones that I had back in high school. As funny as it may sound, I think I was a crazy child in high school because of the plain insanity of hormones (aggravated by the fact that I've poly-cystic ovary syndrome, which means the hormones aren't functioning quite right to begin with). The other worry that I have is that with the hormones being all over the place, I may just have to deal with a bad case of postpartum depression. That makes me very nervous, to be honest because some folks in my family didn't just have postpartum depression but a postpartum psychosis.

I've to admit, though, the different reproductive system related problems that I've got running around in my family, I'm thankful that it's not as bad as it could be. The baby is healthy. I'm healthy. (I don't know why the doctors are always just about glowing as they tell me how proud/happy they are that I've been taking good care of myself. It's almost as weird as the hospital staff not fully comprehending that I was pregnant and I had appendicitis back in January.) The first thing that was tried worked for helping us conceive, unlike my aunt who had to go thru years of fertility treatments and a few lost pregnancies to have her little boy. I'm really thankful for this child. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to have children because of all the problems that run in my family. So this... this is a huge blessing for many, many reasons.

So now, we just have to make it thru the next week (approximately). Then we'll have a new, wonderful little baby in our home. It's funny, because this is all happening so close to our wedding anniversary. Hubby was joking with me that it was planned perfectly, I didn't need to think about what to give him as a gift at all for our anniversary. I realize that money is going to be a bit tight with the baby and all, but I still want to do something special for him. It's been three years on the 5th of next month that we've been married. It doesn't feel like it.

Some how, I'll think of something, even if he insists that I don't need to. He's helped me make so many of my dreams come true. I just can't ignore that or the fact that it's a great excuse to really do something wonderful for him. The man's the best thing to ever happen to me.

Baby shower gossip. :)

Sorry I didn't post this sooner. Life has gotten busy and I've been feeling very tired of late. On the up-side, it seems that the baby has begun to descend to the proper position and it's raining right now (which means much less humidity).

The baby shower was held at my husband's parents' house a few weeks ago. The weather was stunning and fortunately not too warm. The color scheme was blue and white. I've noticed that a great many things in my life have had that color scheme (high school grad party, engagement party, baby shower, a birthday party...). I wonder if it's a weird coincidence or some twist of fate. Either way, aside from the color scheme, the other major theme was 'It's a Boy!'

Fortunately, folks didn't get too nuts over it all. I was a bit concerned that they'd go crazy. You never know with my husband's sister. The food was standard picnic fare with an ice cream cake for dessert. I was quite glad that I've taken to carrying lactaid in my purse with me everywhere. I don't think I would have been able to have about half of the food there if I hadn't had it.

I generally hate the dopey games that they make you play at baby showers. Anyone who knows me also knows that I'm not a fan of Bingo in any incarnation of the game. Fortunately, there was only one game played at the baby shower. Unfortunately, I had to suffer thru 'Baby Bingo'. I think I hid my distaste for playing Bingo fairly well. Though I knew that my brother's wife and my mother were both secretly smiling at how much I was suffering. To me, Bingo is the most god-forsakenly boring game on the face of the earth. It doesn't matter how cute you try to make it, it's still boring. We only played 2 rounds, so I wasn't bored for too long. The serious Bingo players in the group, I noticed, lit right up like Christmas trees at the prospect of playing. The kids had fun also, so I guess it wasn't too bad.

It really was a huge surprise that Mom was there. I had expected her to still be out in Ohio or on the road. Everyone except for my husband and I were in on the surprise, apparently. It was wonderful to see her when I had prepared myself not to. I don't think I can really put into words how much it meant for her to be there. Mom had missed my bridal shower because she was on the road trying to get a little more money to help pay for the wedding. It was a huge disappointment, and that was before the familial drama of my Grandmother's stunt.

I now realize that I am switching back and forth between capitalizing Mom and mother. As well as making other grammatical errors. I don't think I care at the moment. :) Sorry, Lady Cinnibar, but the internal editor is on vacation right now. :P (It's always fun to drive my former english major friends nuts... LOL)

The other major highlights of the party were:

• My husband and his father eating the charred hot-dogs. One of these things still had smoke coming off of it! And they were thrilled that these things were so burned. Just goes to show you, I am married to an odd man. :)


• Watching my brother-in-law's girls and my eldest niece play with the adorable little puppy they had brought with them. I think it's called a cockapoo (it's a cross between a cockatiel and a poodle) and is named Toffy. Real pretty little thing with fur the color of caramel and cream, and has a very sweet temperament, too.


• The gift of the refurbished antique rocking chair from my husband's parents left me as speechless as seeing my mother there. This chair, if my suspicion is correct, came from the house of his late grandfather. It is a wonderful and very comfortable rocking chair. If I can manage it, I'll try to post a picture of this thing up here. I'm not very good with figuring out the whole digital camera stuff.


• Having my eldest niece and my mother in law help me out of the rocking chair after I sat down in it was probably the funniest part of the afternoon, too. Wonderful chair, but it's difficult to get out of because it doesn't have arms!

On the whole, the party was light-years away from what I had been dreading. It was a nice, casual affair. I'm disappointed that my friends weren't able to be there. As one of the gals in Buffalo did note, there is the possibility of a 'welcome baby' party after the kid is born. It was a nice family party and I'm thankful for it. I mailed out the army of thank you cards just recently. I still need to get the film developed with the pictures from the shower on it. As things get settled out, I'll try to either make an on-line photo album or some how share these with you folks who are interested.

I blame the Russian.

It's all this guy's fault. :)

Your Score: Katharine Hepburn

You scored 23% grit, 14% wit, 47% flair, and 28% class!

You are the fabulously quirky and independent woman of character. You go your own way, follow your own drummer, take your own lead. You stand head and shoulders next to your partner, but you are perfectly willing and able to stand alone. Others might be more classically beautiful or conventionally woman-like, but you possess a more fundamental common sense and off-kilter charm, making interesting men fall at your feet. You can pick them up or leave them there as you see fit. You share the screen with the likes of Spencer Tracy and Cary Grant, thinking men who like strong women.

Find out what kind of classic leading man you'd make by taking the
Classic Leading Man Test.

Link: The Classic Dames Test written by gidgetgoes on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Wow! I'm actually learning how to do this stuff!

For the first time ever, I made a web-page on my own! I'm feeling quite thrilled and proud of myself. I'd been scared to try for a few years. With the fact that I'm starting a business on the internet, I needed to have a web-page. At first, I tried to make one using Geocities. It came out ok, but I couldn't link to it on Keen, where I'm running my business.

I asked my busy husband to help me move the page to Keen. In the midst of his being busy with work and trying to get himself ready for the baby, I realized this morning, it would be better if I took some steps to try to make this page myself. So... I gave it a shot and it actually came out ok. If you look at the section that begins "Meet Your Reader" ... well... I did that!!

I'm feeling *so* proud of myself right now. :) I just thought I'd share that little bit of happiness with all of you before I go rummage around to find my notes on the baby shower.

...

Of course, I wrote down notes! I've been forgetting what I went to get out of the fridge as I'm opening the thing up! If I don't write notes, I'll just have a vague blur for a recollection of the baby shower! And I thought that the forgetfulness to this extent was just a myth... I was *so* wrong! Now... what was I going to do?

Just kidding! Be back soon!

Well, it's August.

I don't know about you guys, but it's hot as an oven here. Today, the temperature got up to almost the mid 90s and I think you can probably just wring the water out of the air. Tomorrow, it's supposed to be hotter. I'm not exactly looking forward to it. While we've got some air conditioning now, it confines me to just one room of the apartment. :P

I'm sure that some of you are wondering how I'm doing and just what the juicy details of the baby shower are. I apologize for the fact that I forgot to update here. The past week has been busy mainly in the direction of making baby clothes, when I've been awake. It's somewhat foolish, or at least I feel somewhat foolish, for how I get tired for no apparent reason right now. I understand that because I'm pregnant and it's hot out, my body is feeling more worn out by everything. I just wish that I didn't get so sleepy all the time. It's been difficult to get things done. I'd love to be able to get the dishes done and have this place cleaned up at the end of the day. I don't exactly manage that right now, however.

I may get some of the things I want to do done, like getting the mail or folding up my laundry, but others will fall by the wayside as I run out of steam. I find myself sitting at the computer looking at silly pictures or sitting and reading a book, if I'm not napping right now. Either I'm physically exhausted or I'm mentally drained. Neither work too well for accomplishing much, but I've been doing my best not to feel too guilty over it. But, that's what's been interrupting my posting recently.

I'll ramble about the baby shower in the next post. And it won't be a week until it shows up, I promise!

Amazing how things change...

I guess all I needed was a good dinner and my honey to talk to. I'm not feeling half as shaky and freaked out. I'm still anxious about stuff, but not to the degree I was earlier. I'm hoping that I can manage to get him to sit down long enough to help me with budget stuff next week, but I don't feel like it's all doomed.

The restaurant we went to has finally finished their remodeling. It was a charming but slightly run-down establishment before. Now, well, it looks completely different. The worn green carpeting is gone, the army of over grown plants along the divider between sections in the back has been scaled down, and the cracked, peeling vinyl seated booths are no more. It is a huge difference. Now, the place has a sleek look and you can really feel that the restaurant has room for a body to move in there.

The food has always been good. The service has been excellent just about every time we have gone in. With the addition of the new hardwood floors, beautifully refurbished booths (that I think are larger), and a general freshening up of the paint, it makes the place look very, very nice. All of this started about four months ago when the business came under new management. The folks that are in charge made a few subtle changes to the menu lay out before ordering whole new menus that are a lot easier to read. They kept the things that sold really well and got rid of the ones that hadn't done well since the late 1970s.

That right there was something that made a little bit of a buzz in town among the regulars. When they started to add new desserts to the menu, more chatter happened and business started to perk up. The place isn't a big, hopping joint but I think it's on its way there. If you're ever in our neck of the woods, we'll have to take you over to Peppermints. I think that they've got the best grilled chicken in the three counties for under $10 and I'm positively addicted to their chef's grilled vegetables. Something about the way these things come out, they're not mushy or burned. It's just enough to bring out the color of the vegetables and still keep 'em crisp.

To say the least, my mood has been dramatically improved. :) Now to go and tackle other projects and tasks around home. At least I got the most miserable of 'em all done. And my darling husband is going to be helping me out with the other one I hate, dishes. It's wonderful, absolutely wonderful that he has been helping out more around the house. I love the fact that as his stress levels at work go down, he helps out more and is generally more cheerful. Here's hoping that things keep going this way!

I feel almost ready to SCREAM!

I absolutely hate going thru the bills. I recognize it is a necessary evil. Unfortunately, it is something that just must be done. As I've spent multiple hours dealing with this headache, I feel almost ready to spontaneously combust or scream. I'm honestly not sure which. And to think, some time over the next week, the budget for next month needs made and the check register gets to be compared to the bank statement. Oh how much joy and rapture will this be, indeed.

It doesn't help that the pile of bills and mail that I just went thru had been sitting for months. Fortunately, most of the bills are paid. Those that are awaiting payment and filing are now in a nice, neat little stack next to my desk. I still feel on the verge of a complete freak out because I've been sorting and filing old medical bills and expenses. Right now, I can feel my hands beginning to tremble and I'm torn between being cranky as hell and just whimpering in anxiety.

It's a huge mess. I'll admit it. Between the mountain of medical bills related to the year that I didn't really have a job and had many lung problems and the bills all relating to the health needs I've had over the past three years, I think the amount of debt in this front is probably equal to the amount I owe on my student loans. I honestly don't know, which is part of what has me freaking out right now. I have no damn clue how much money I owe people.

It makes trying to get the financial picture settled out scary as hell. I really do wish that I had my husband's constitution. It seems like the man never gets sick. When he gets a cold, it's the sniffles where as I am sick in bed for a week with a sinus infection and a cough that the neighbors hear thru the wall. Now, I am finding myself dreading things like when cold and flu season comes because I don't know if the baby is going to take after me or my husband. I don't know if I'm going to be horribly ill at some point and be absolutely useless for taking care of the baby. It's ... it's rather terrifying because I don't know what to do right now.

I'm doing my best to remain healthy. We've got good health insurance. I try to keep our home relatively clean and make sure that we eat healthy. It feels like the rest is just up to the fates. After all, who knows when my ovaries will decide it's time to have a grapefruit sized cyst or if my lungs just feel that it's a ducky idea to not function quite right because of my allergies. Here's hoping that my anxiety attacks don't start coming back as I handle things with the money around here. Gods, I hate dealing with this crap.

It actually went somwhat well...

I'll give a more complete report of how the adventure known as the baby shower went last Saturday during the daylight hours. I'm making progress on things like baby clothes and getting the apartment ready for a massive amount of furniture rearrangement. The last few days have been odd. Monday I slept all day because I was exhausted for some unknown reason. Today, I woke up because the baby was kicking a lot at about 8 am. I'm not going to try to figure this out.

I've moved the supply of antacids to the bedroom because the heartburn has gotten to the point where it wakes me up and doesn't let me sleep more often then 3 times a night. I'm hoping that this will be gone as soon as the baby is born. The last thing I need is for the heartburn and the lactose intolerance to potentially continue.

I've most of the thank you cards written from the baby shower. I now need to address them and send them in the mail. I will try to remember to send letters out to the various people I must be writing as well, I'm not sure how successful I will be. I've completed the pre-registration paperwork for the hospital and I'm in the beginning of completing the new patient paperwork for the baby. As I move forward on these things, I am baffled yet again by the sheer mass of bureaucratic paper pushing that is required for events such as birthing a child, getting married, or dying. I suppose hell is well populated with the persons who felt these paper trails were necessary, because it's pure suffering to be fighting with all of it.

I'm not looking forward to the 'fun' of the social security paperwork. It was a huge headache just to get my stuff updated when I got married and changed my last name. I don't want to think about how painful it will be to do the paperwork for the baby. Either way, I'll be posting more tomorrow. Right now, I'm going to drink my glass of water (grimacing at the heartburn) and maybe read up on some nice recipes.

an artist's perspective

I like unusual and unique artwork. I think that this gentleman's work clearly qualifies. I just found this blog and I've got to say it's amazing.

Bent Objects

Excellent work Terry! I look forward to seeing more as time moves forward!