Troubles

We’ve had troubled times a’plenty for awhile now, and it’s got me down.  I’m usually able to make a sarcastic remark here and there to make myself feel better and keep my spirits up (sarcasm=BEST COPING MECHANISM EVER), but lately, in light of some recent life-changing events, I’ve been randomly bursting out in tears and generally miserable a good part of the time.  It sucks, because I feel the weight of the world pushing down on me- all of my responsibilities and the things I should do or want to do but don’t quite know where to even fucking begin- sometimes it gets to be simply too much.

And I worry.  ACK, with the worry!  Worry about the kids and finances and the future.  I worry about possibilities and fret over likelihoods and go back and forth from decision to decision.  One thing at a time, I know.  One foot in front of the other.  But then AGAIN with the crashing down of all things and AGAIN with the pain in my chest, that tight, aching, empty, scared, lonely feeling in the pit of my stomach that leaves me feeling completely hopeless, and so AGAIN with the tears.

I wish that someone would just tell me what to do.  I want someone to TELL ME WHAT TO DO and HOW TO DO IT.

These boys, they break my heart and give me strength at the same time:

Do the Right Thing

Ah, parenting.  Things sure are different when all you have to worry about is yourself.  The days of sleeping in, drinking hot coffee (as opposed to coffee that used to be hot but has been sitting on the counter for 155496388297 minutes while you clean up barf/wipe an ass that isn’t your own/dig Cheerios out from between the couch cushions and has morphed into lukewarm sewer water, sewer water that you DRINK ANYWAY because caffeine!  CAFFEINE IS MAH BEST FRIEND!  I’ll take you any which way I can getcha!), and not thinking twice about watching trash t.v. at 11 a.m. are GONE GONE GONE.  Things really change when you decide to spawn off other humans.  Suddenly, you are responsible for one or two or, in the case of Jon & Kate Plus 8, eight other lives.  And you know while you are pregnant that it’ll be a big change.  In your head, you know this.  But you don’t REALLY know.  And I can’t think of one thing that I could say to an expecting first-time mom or dad that would ever prepare them for that change.  “Oh, heh, you’ll be fine,” I’d lie.  “Just make it through those first few weeks, Newborn Boot Camp as I call it, and you will be fine.”  Ha.  Ha, hahahaha, HAHAHA, bwaHAHAHAHAHA!  Right.

Don’t get me wrong, parenting is awesome.  The smiles and giggles and drunk-frat-boy first steps and silly things they say, the clever We Should All Take a Tip From the Three-Year-Old things they observe, the hugs and the kisses and the kiddie art that will collect on your fridge and make you smile every time you go to get a glass of milk, and the LOVE!  Ah, the love.  You will never know another love like this. Still, the fact remains.  You have choices to make, decisions to drink yourself into a frenzy over, and they NEVER FREAKING END.

Take this flu shot thing, for example.  This lone subject is enough to make my head explode like a watermelon being dropped on hard concrete.  Do it!  Don’t do it!  They’ll die from the flu!  They’ll be fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!  Back and forth and back and forth.  We finally decided that the entire family will get a flu shot, but that doesn’t mean that I feel 100% good about it.  It means that 51% of my decision-making self was for the flu shot, and 49% of my decision-making self was against it.  We’ve made our decision and I can’t think about it for another minute.  I’ll go through this all again next fall.

I guess I just wish that people would chill the frick out about everything.  You might think that we’d all be in this parenting thing together, collective members of a secret society where we listen to each other, nod our heads and shout,  “Dude!  My kid does that too!”  None of us really knows what we’re doing.  If my gut is telling me to do one thing and your gut is telling you to do a different thing, that is okay with me.  Formula feed!  Breastfeed!  Vaccinate!  Don’t vaccinate!  Natural birth!  C-section!  Cloth diapers!  Pampers!  Circumcise!  DO NOT CIRCUMCISE!  Even people who do not have kids are starting to form strong opinions about these things.  Which is fine, until they start telling me what I should and shouldn’t be doing.  I remember being at a friend’s house while I was pregnant with Ethan.  We were just hanging out in the backyard and somehow I got into an argument with their neighbor over the fence about the fact that I was undecided on whether or not to circumcise E.  It is WAR.  Unfortunately, parenting is one thing that we can never seem to agree to disagree on.  It doesn’t seem like that is going to change any time soon.

Super Absorbent

I am just too busy to blog these days.  On the rare occasion that both kids are napping simultaneously or entertaining themselves quietly and I have nothing else to do, I sink into the couch and watch Giada at Home or just lie on the living room floor and stare at the ceiling.  We’re still running this garage door business, I start a class at TWU on the 31st, I’m working out regularly a few times per week, I go out solo once per week, Drew and I try to have a date night once per week, and these kids of mine just keep going and going and going.  Which I guess is what kids do, huh.  Anyway, then there is laundry and dishes and cooking and cleaning and bills, and I really should give myself a pedicure and maybe throw away that plastic bag full of giant maxi-pads* that I brought home from the hospital when I had O over six months ago, and I need to reorganize the kitchen cabinets and clean out the junk drawer and make doctor appointments and OH LOOK MORE LAUNDRY.

This blog has gone straight down the crapper, and while I hope to blog regularly again one day, right now I’m just too busy.  I do, however, manage to log on to Facebook approximately 255496377819554396 times per day.  I need an intervention.

*Have you ever SEEN one of those giant after-birth pads?  Show it to someone who has never had children and the look of horror that follows is priceless.**

**It is truly amazing that I have any friends left at all, with me flapping the Earth’s Biggest Maxi-Pad in the innocent faces of those who come over to hang out while laughing maniacally.

Bedtime

He is fussy and I am putting him to bed early.  His big brown eyes are glossy and dazed.  I sit near his crib and cradle him in my arms, shutting out the noisy world around us.  The sudden silence calms him.  He begins to breastfeed.  His tiny, dimpled hands steady my breast on each side.  He is warm and soft and freshly bathed.  His plump, bare legs hang down at my side.  He stops for a moment and looks up at me, puzzled.  His right hand reaches for my hair, and he lets the cascading waves graze his fingertips.  He pulls away from his meal to study my face.  I grin automatically, and the corners of his mouth turn up into a big, beaming, open-mouthed smile in response.  His eyes sparkle.  He takes a deep breath and returns to his nightcap, focused now on filling his little belly.  I am warm inside, and my heart aches with joy.

Sleep well, baby boy.

Alrighty then!

Time keeps on slippin’, slippin’, slippin’… picking up, dusting off, moving on.  It’s true, you always come out of these situations both stronger and wiser.  I try to keep this blog light and silly, but life sure isn’t always that way.  Writing my last post actually made me feel better. 

Now, back to our light and silly regularly scheduled program:

Wass up, ladies!

It’s CRAZY ETHAN!

How YOU doin’?

My name is Ollie and I’m here to say, I like baby food prunes in a major way.  I like to watch Food Network with mom.  That Giada De Laurentiis, she’s the bomb.

BOYEE!

I’d eat her Parmigiano-Reggiano any day.

(Word.)

Burden

I know that look, the lying look.  I felt that something wasn’t right, could feel it in my bones.  I knew, I know.  We’ve been through this twice before.  He says that this time is different.  Last time was different.  But it never really is.  He has a secret, a deep, dark secret.  I could sense it’s presence but couldn’t quite touch it, couldn’t put my finger on it.  All the lies and the denial and the risk-taking.  God, what would’ve happened if… I don’t want to think about that now.  Thinking about it all makes me angry.  Tightens the sour knot that is permanently nestled in the pit of my stomach.  Leaves a bad taste in my mouth.  Picks at the already bleeding wounds in my heart.  Irritates the scars that will never fade. 

We are damaged.  This weight is unbearably hard to carry.

Hammock FAIL

OMG!  OMG I love you so much!  Let’s go lounge in the hammock together! 

Ooops. 

(He was SUPPOSED to get in on the other end so that we’d be facing each other.  No, I did not clarify this, but he was supposed to read my mind, of course.  Isn’t that standard hammock protocol?)

(Also, where is my other flip-flop?)

(Doesn’t Bob Marley look concerned for my well-being?  Thanks, Bob!)

Where am I?  Mommy?  How do I get down?  Wha? 

(I was SO mortified at this point.  This kind of thing does not happen to me often, but when it does every fiber of my being aches with embarrassment.  Worst Part: We were with a bunch of people we had never met before, so now I’ll probably always be known as Hammock Girl.  Best Part: My social awkwardness for the remainder of the evening could be blamed on the resulting head injury.)

My life is over.

(I finally had to just roll over, flip around, dust myself off, and try to look cool.  Because I totally meant to do that.  What?)

(*SOB*)

(Also-also, I like how I managed to hold on to my bottle of water the whole time.  I about broke my neck and lost a shoe, but I’ll be DAMNED if gravity takes my water, too!  You’d have thought there was VODKA in there, or something.)

Guess I’m not getting laid tonight.

(Gee, sweetie, I’d love to [insert household chore or other daunting task], but my NECK hurts so much I just don’t think I can manage!)

The End.

Every Post for the Rest of Eternity Will Include At Least One Baby Picture, obviously…

After two weeks of Ferberizing, I think O has finally caught on.  He cries for maybe twenty minutes now, and it seems more like a going-through-the-motions cry, like “Waaa, I know you aren’t going to come get me but I can’t give up that easily, waaa, waaa, this is really getting old isn’t it?  Waaa, waaa, waaa, zzzzzzzzzzzzz” and then he passes out like a frat boy after one too many beer bongs.  Silence is fucking golden.

We bought an exersaucer for Ollie last week and today we started him on solid foods.  He is growing up so faaaaaaaaaaaaast!  I always feel bad giving my babies the requisite bland rice cereal; I imagine that it tastes like paper mache paste.  Not that I’ve ever eaten paper mache paste, but, well… you know what I mean.  I’m always tempted to add a little sugar or cinnamon or at least some mashed banana to it, but I know better.  He had the expected reaction of confusion and disgust, so it was a good time.  Fun for everyone!

Mmm mmm, good!

I don’t think he knew there was something in his mouth at this point.

Flashback: Ethan’s first solid food. 

Flashback the Second: Ethan displays the typical confusion and disgust.

Ollie examines this mysterious new utensil.

Mah boys.

Mr. Oliver Levi

Flashback Nombre Trois: Mr. Ethan Phillip

He is scooting and rolling all over the place now.  Crawling (aka ALL HELL BREAKING LOOSE) is not far away.

In this picture he is saying, “Please take your camera and shove it somewhere dark and painful.”  So SICK of all the media attention!  With that haircut I half expected him to attack me with an umbrella.

Flashback Numero Eleven BILLION: Ethan says, “Piss off, Mom.”

Never!

All the Cuteness, You’ve Been FERBERIZED

We’ve been “Ferberizing” Ollie for almost a week now.  (Ferberizing is a method of sleep-training where you put your baby down in his crib awake and kiss him good night, and when he cries [as he inevitably will], you wait 5 minutes before going in to comfort him.  Give him a pat and some reassuring words [but don't pick him up!] and then leave the room again.  This time, wait 10 minutes before going back in.  Rinse and repeat, increasing the amount of time you wait before going back in each time.)  (Also, it’s good to enjoy a fat glass of wine while you’re doing this.  Listening to a crying screaming baby will MAKE YOU LOSE YOUR DAMN MIND.  Refrain, however, from actually giving the wine to your baby.  I know it’s tempting, but please remember that it is illegal or frowned upon or some such nonsense.)  Tonight will be night 7.  The longest he cried was something like 118 minutes.  (!!!)  Last night he broke a record and only cried for about 40 minutes. 

I really do not like letting my baby cry.  But trust me- THERE IS NO OTHER WAY.  Up until last week I had been nursing him to sleep and then… GET THIS… holding him for hours while he slept.  I’d set up shop on the couch (drink, snack, tv remotes, work notebook and schedule, cell phone, shot of heroin, etc.), nurse him to sleep, and then I’d be afraid to put him down so I would just HOLD him.  Big mistake.  I knew better, but The Real Housewives of New Jersey was on, people!  I just wanted some peace and quiet.  And hey, it really works your bicep muscles!  Holding a 13-pound hunk of ham for 3 hours also really wreaks havoc on your back, though, too.  We “Ferberized” Ethan, and it worked wonderfully.  So now we are doing it with Ollie.  Man, sleep problems are the worst.  Ethan still comes into bed with us in the middle of the night.  If it’s not one thing, it’s another.  I’m pretty sure I won’t get a solid 8-hours of sleep again until I’m almost 40.

Anyway, here is All the Cuteness.  Because there is SO MUCH OF IT!  I couldn’t decide which pictures were the most adorable, so I just posted ALL OF THEM.   And these two are LUCKY that they are so cute!  Please don’t be fooled.  They can be total assholes.

Well!

8 1/2 days was about all I could do on The Cleanse.  I don’t know HOW in the world Oprah managed to get through it!  Wait, maybe it’s because she had a freaking personal chef for part of the time.  Can you imagine?  HAVING A PERSONAL CHEF?  Gah.  Anyway, I sprinkled cheese on my salad at lunch, had cheese and gluten-filled crackers and a slice of spice cake at a family Father’s Day gathering this afternoon, and I am seriously (SERIOUSLY) enjoying a glass of wine now.  The only thing I don’t feel like eating is meat.  I can do without meat.  Or maybe have it be more of a condiment than a main event. 

Anyway, THERE.  I threw in the towel.  I don’t know what happened.  I was so fucking gung-ho about it all for like a week and then, BAM, I became cranky and just wanted some damn ranch on my salad.  It’s weird because I wanted to be strong for The Internets.  The minute I decided that this wasn’t fun anymore, I thought, BUT THE INTERNET!  I have to stay strong for ALL MY READERS!  All the readers who are thinking, Heh, we’ll see how long THIS lasts.  I have to show them that I am strong!  But then I decided that I don’t really need enlightenment.  I just need a glass of wine and some good cheese.  With a side of portion control and mindfulness.

And that is why I am going straight to hell.

The End

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY TO ALL THE HARD-WORKING FAMILY MEN OUT THERE!  I’m lucky to have married one of them.