Sleep Helps

Last night the baby screamed at me for forty minutes and then at J for half an hour before falling asleep. Tonight she screamed at me, inconsolably, for two hours. Perhaps we were spoiled because she never had colic but this is heartbreaking. She just howls and sobs and fat tears roll down her little chubby cheeks.

I am tired down in my bones. I feel as though the marrow has been scraped out of me and I am just a shell. A shell that types.

When you feel this way there is nothing really that you do well except list all of the ways that you are failing the people in your life. There are so many. It isn't just the baby's sleep, which is awful, but also this soul-crushing work problem (that shall not be named because I don't need a Dooceing on top of everything else) and the normal life shit. What I really need is a full night's sleep, a couple of days off, a bowl of ice cream and a good boinking. I won't be getting any of those things any time soon I am sure.

Poor J. It must be alarming to watch your wife just loose her shit completely and sadly, just rocking in a corner. Because that is what I am doing and I do not know how to stop.

I will just go to bed. That will help.

Important Lesson

Today as I was leaving work this guy on the corner grinned at me and shouted, "Girl you are wearing the HELL out of those pants. Every black guy around is loving that ASS. Aren't we brothers?!" (he then shouted to two men across the street).

Now those guys really had no choice but to agree (what were they going to scream that no my ass was FAT) and the guy was really more creepy then anything else (and possibly drunk it is hard to say) but my four months post partum self was a little cheered.

And we all learned a little something.

My ass is still kryptonite to black men.

Mixed Results

The sleep regression continues to kick my ass. The tooth popped through at least a bit (I think) last night so here is hoping that she goes back to her old self soon. J did his first night shift last night and judging by the bags under his eyes I don't think he handles the broken sleep any better than I do.

I sort of felt sorry for him, because man have I been there. But then I remembered that YEAH I HAVE BEEN THERE FOR FOUR AND A HALF MONTHS. Yeah, one semi-decent night's sleep doesn't really make me less of a bitch. Let's try for two honey.

Mo had her first solid foods (interesting that they call them solids since they are more like slime than anything else). The rice cereal seemed to confuse her. And apple sauce made her happy even though she spit it out. Since it's all just for fun at this stage anyway we're calling it a win.

Sometimes I look at her and I just think where did you come from? How do I have a baby? And how is she already old enough to spit apple sauce at me? Sometimes I feel like I am going to wake up and it is all a dream. It's hard, this being a mama to a little baby, but it is so good. So good I can tell I need to wrap up in it like a blanket--store this feeling for the hard nights ahead.

Shame Shuffle

In the past couple of months my post baby body has gone back to it's pre-pregnancy, pardon the pun, shitty digestive system. After the blessed blessed reprieve (which seriously was so nice because can you imagine alternating between debilitating constipation and explosive diarrhea while knocked up) of pregnancy well my digestive tract is taking it's duty to make me miserable rather seriously.

And this week, at work, what I have always worried about happened.

I had stomach cramps followed by an ass explosion . . .no biggie. And then I realized. There was no toilet paper in the stall.

Oh y'all. I was trapped in a stall with all the very fancy ladies of my office roaming around and all I wanted was to wipe my ass. I tried to peel any spare bits off the last roll. I even used a damn scrap off the floor (I know, but I was desperate). I finally waited it out until the ladies left the room and then did the shame shuffle a stall over and cleaned up.

You would think that shitting on a table in labor would make these things less humiliating. And you would be wrong.

Sandwich

The knock off of Chick Fil A that they have at McDonald's is freaking delightful and thank god I am not pregnant because I would have eaten my body weight in that nonsense (big time tangent but knockoffs, remember after 9/11 and all the designers kept saying that Al Queida was being funded by people selling Burberri, Fendy and Couch bags--double side note when I was in New York my favorite thing was to walk around and look at the misspelled fake bags, I wish I could have taken photos but the vendors get understandably nervous when you whip out a camera--because yes of course terrorism is about FASHION so you can imagine what kind of shit is being funded by all the crazies selling fakes outside of Sex in the City screenings**end tangent). Anyway that sure is a delightful sandwich. Basically the very best thing that happened to me today.

A lot of crappy things have been happening lately. Nothing that I can talk about here so much except that I know that I am fortunate. My marriage is solid, my baby delightful, we are not having financial problems. . .but being fortunate doesn't really help when I find myself sinking in a rather hopeless situation. One that is making me feel more depressed every day. I have to keep trying to keep my head out of this, my family doesn't deserve to have to deal with this crisis and I don't want to go through it.

So anyway, it's a great goddamn sandwich.

Just Kills Me

Y'all. I do not know how this has happened. My baby girl just keeps growing and growing--doing exactly what she is supposed to do--but I cannot help but miss it. I never truly understood the term bittersweet until I became a mom.

Since her first day on this earth my baby had to be wrapped tight to sleep. The tightest swaddle you can imagine or she wouldn't calm down at all. Then last week she suddenly didn't need it anymore. She was just fine without it.

She has always loved her pacifier. Sucks on it morning, noon and night. But now she doesn't need it anymore. Still at night, still for naps or when things go wrong, but mostly she doesn't need it.

She can laugh. Not the baby giggle but a full chortling belly laugh that shakes her all over and jiggles those hound dog cheeks.

I love this age so much. She just wants to sit and laugh and hang out--she is very good company--I just want to put her in my pocket and keep her this way all the time. But at the moment I think this, I keep thinking I cannot wait until she is big enough to sit up on her own. To eat a cupcake. To say Mama. To give me kisses. I want to hit fast forward and rewind and PAUSE like her babyhood is one giant Tivo.

And yes, that is totally baby barf on her face in the above picture. There is just something about how she is doing the full on Gerber Tyra Banks beauty shot with puke on her that I love so much. She just kills me.

Things That Bug

Dear Women In My Office,
If it is warm enough for shorts, it is too warm for your Uggs. If it is cold enough for Uggs, it is too cold for shorts. And neither of those things are office wear you fucking morons.

Love,
AB

Dear Woman I See Walking Nearly Every Day,
Your baby is beautiful and bald. Stop gluing that fucking disco ball thing to her damn head. It looks like a sparkling tumor. SHE IS A GIRL WE GET IT.

Love,
AB

Dear Baby Girl,
Oh you are the apple of my eye. Now let me fucking sleep. Getting Mama up every two hours is a good way to get yourself written out of the will which is tough to do when you are the sole heir and yet? You are managing. Get it together.

Love,
AB

Dear Head,
I know you are tired. And people are wearing seasonally inappropriate clothes and gluing weird shit to baby heads. But this migraine shit has got to stop. Six days straight you have been all hurty. Please stop. I beg of you.

Love,
The Rest of You

Dear Hair,
Please stop falling out everywhere. I find you on the floor, in the toaster, in my shoes, in the baby's diaper. It is all very upsetting. I am pleased that you are falling out because the thickness was asinine but could you do it in efficient chunks? Perhaps that fall automatically into the trash? Thanks.

Love,
Me

Four AM is Early Yo

Oh y'all.

I was doing so well. Not freaking out about being back to work (now work sucks but meh that is something else entirely), juggling the family, sharing baby duty with J. I was cruising. It was hard but I could do it.

The baby isn't sleeping. I mean she isn't not sleeping. But for a while now she has been sleeping in long chunks and getting up once during the night. But when I hit the wall yesterday I realized it has been a couple of weeks since she fit that pattern. Instead of getting five or six hours straight I have been getting three hours and it is melting my brain.

Crazed googling leads me to believe she is just having a four month sleep regression. And with any luck this will be over in a couple of weeks. But in the mean time my brain is hot molten liquid and I have a migraine that could take down an elephant. I would do just about anything to get eight hours at a time.

This is a lonely feeling. Even though J is going through it with me (he takes the early morning shift when I leave). Even though parents everywhere are all going through this right now. I just feel hopeless and sad and I know I just need to tough it out. But that would be easier with some goddamn sleep.

Wild Life

Mo and I spent last night with my parents. My mother was thrilled beyond measure to have the baby in the house (I am but a necessary accompaniment). I have to admit that the kiddo was in full charm mode--she can give a full bodied laugh now that is impossible to ignore. She wanted to stand stand stand all the time and belched like a trucker for my dad.

Of course she didn't want to nap all day (too much fun) and melted down hard core on the way home. At least she will sleep well tonight.

J is camping out at a concert festival this weekend. He has sent text messages and called earlier today and is having a grand time. Honestly, his squeeing about REM has pretty hilarious. He thinks that I should go with him next year, not believing me as usual that I have been to many many concerts at the Gorge and have no desire to camp out there again. It's hot, the porta-potties are always full and I do not need to be pretending to be in high school again. Those festivals are for serious music fans and kids who want to get drunk. I can get unburned and dehydrated at home for free.

Just the same I have had a lovely weekend so far, the weather has been beautiful and the baby charming. I am glad J will be home tomorrow and we can have a little family time. I have a feeling Mo and I have a baseball watching date in the morning. And possibly a walk around the neighborhood. After she milk-bongs her bottle in the morning.

It's a wild life.

Something No One Really Needed To Know

I am going to cause some people to shudder in horror but I don't use toilet seat covers.

I know. But I really can't get too worked up about germs on my butt. Many public space bathrooms are cleaned many times in a day and those that are not . . .well they are likely the kind of places that the Hover is required anyway. I don't know what kind of disease and filth is really intimidated by a little piece of paper. I wouldn't want to eat off of any of these seats but you know, it's not like my ass is germ free.

But what really skeeves me out is when I walk into a stall and the toilet seat cover is still there. Obviously no one cleans the paper and ew some one's butt was just on that.

I realize this makes sense to no one but me.

Changed

I don't think I am alone in the panic I felt while I was pregnant. Beyond all the Oh my god my baby is going to die panic, I also had a healthy case of the freak outs about never having a life again. There is nothing that people love to tell pregnant women (and their partners I assume) about how awful having a baby will be. How you will be fat and ugly and let yourself go. How you won't ever go out again, that you won't get any sleep. How life as you know it is over.

What I've found is that they were right. And wrong.

Life as I know it is over.

But the list of things about my old life is actually fairly small.

1. Sleep. Nobody was shitting about that. Sleeping in is seven am. There are times when I am tired down into the marrow of my bones and I am well aware that my baby is a good sleeper.

2. My weight is basically the same as it was pre-pregnancy. But nothing is in the same place. Suddenly I have the boobs I have been waiting for since seventh grade and well, the experience is over-rated. I can't figure out exactly how to dress this new body of mine without looking heavier than I am. Also, the stretch marks, they are not going to fade. I've seen my mother's stomach and EEEP it is on my damn body.

3. Eating in peace. Baby girl is good but she likes to be paid attention to and that includes during meals. J and I do the whole take turns bit and works out ok. But it's not leisurely by any means.

And that is about it.

I am a homebody by nature. J still goes out frequently for Happy Hours and golf days with his friends. This weekend he is going to a concert on the east side of the state and wow being alone with the baby for three days seemed a lot easier when I agreed to this months ago. But being a homebody has the advantage that J can keep up his social life without it being a huge deal.

I love my daughter. Love my family. There are many things that are not perfect about my life. I am struggling with the same work/life balance shit that every family in America struggles with. J and I rack our brains each night trying to find something. But we are lucky, our situation is actually pretty good and we will figure something out.

My life isn't the same. The little raisin sucking a purple binky down the hall made sure of that. And thank god she did.

One of Many Things I Have No Patience For

Today I was at Subway, just trying to buy a sandwich, when the cashier starts in about the Subway card. I don't have one, and despite her efforts to sell my on the benefits, I do not want one. Mainly because I never end up using them and I have a small wallet.

Of course she has to keep pushing and I finally tell her I will just lose it. She comments that I don't lose my credit card and I tell her that I do, that I am irresponsible.

Why the fuck did I do that? One, it's not true. Two, wtf really? I have no idea. I think I was trying to be polite? Or offer a reason that didn't say anything about her salesmanship? Whatever, it's just dumb.

Side note, I was in sales long enough that I have zero patience for pushy tactics of any kind. J was pricing windows the last few weeks and I made it through one demo. I just wanted to scream. Don't give me your speech just show me the window and tell me the price you ass!

This may be the reason that J got to sit through about ten presentations alone.

Happy Mother's Day

Tomorrow is Mother's Day and I am not going to pretend that this one isn't different for me.

Last year my heart broke a little. I had had a miscarriage and didn't know I was pregnant. I just kept thinking and spinning around in my head. I worried that J and I would never be a family.

This year I feel so lucky. There are a lot of things in my life that are not perfect but there is one thing that is. And she is sleeping down the hall from me right now (oh the cheese, it is like Wisconsin in here).

Now I understand my mother so much more. I understand how much she loves me, how much she loves my sister, all the things she did for us and why. I feel lucky to have my daughter, to be her mother.

Family Recipe

Buster and I are holed up in the bedroom. He is intermittently napping and fretting and I am eating stir fried green beans. The baby is (finally) asleep, the husband is playing softball and Darla is at the vet recovering from surgery. Fortunately, Darla will be fine, she had a non-cancerous tumor removed but yeah . . .he needs to fret and I deserve my green beans.

The first week back at work has been . . .work. Mostly it is fine, some things have been a disaster. Luckily, the baby has been just fine. My getting up at 4am means that I get home in time to spend some real time with her. I am tired as all fuck but then again I would be anyway. Spending four hours with her each night vs. one helps with the crushing guilt. If I had only one hour with her I would feel like I need to be at my very uber-Momness--something that can hard to do right after work (or ever). But with four hours, well no one's perfect Sunshine.

Mostly I just feel relief to be getting more of me back. I think that comes with an older baby in general. Your body comes back a bit, so does your brain. At this time last year I was already pregnant so . . .just being able to have a drink and some sushi once in a while feels like a vacation.

I didn't know what motherhood would be like. I suppose no one does, they just think of fluffy wings and fling themselves off a cliff. The first weeks are hard and you feel exposed and raw and flayed. Like a naked chicken being dipped in batter over a fryer. But now you are sleeping a little more and having adult conversations and wearing shoes with heels and the baby is smiling and laughing and it's still hard and you are still raw but it's not so scary. You get used to hanging precariously over hot oil.

I am not the same as I was. My body is different, my hair is oddly curlier, I care less what other people think . . .and I can't really remember the time before. It feels like a long time ago. J and I keep adjusting, fiddling with the recipe to get things just right. And I think we will get there someday. And hope that someday is soon.

Missed Her

Today was my first day back at work from leave. I survived. That is how it went.

I was smart, and started on a Thursday. Everyone was just glad that I actually came back (if they only knew) and it made it a little easier.

Of course after the three am feeding this morning I cried for an hour and then just gave up and went to the office. J was impressed because he thought I would cry all night. I guess I should stop making room for that badass badge on my Mama Sash because I am fooling exactly no one.

I feel so incredibly lucky to have had this time with her. I am not built for stay-at-home momhood, which I think is so hard, even if it were financially workable for us (it isn't) so I am glad to have this to remember. She needed me these first few months and I needed to do this to become a mom. It wasn't natural to me--I needed the bootcamp. I know that not everyone is able to afford this luxury (which is a commentary on our country, we honestly expect people to go back to work immediately after birth? this is good for anyone?). Mo won't remember any of this but I will.

The guilt is crushing though. My job is not family friendly. It is high stress. I has a long commute. It sucks my soul. And I can't do anything about it except bust ass and hope the recession never really hits us.

And cry. I suspect I will do a lot of that.

How Did This Happen?

Somehow the kiddo is three months old. And I am headed back to work Thursday. And I couldn't be happier about it.

Well that isn't true. I wish that I didn't have to commute. Because as much as I am glad to be working again I will really miss the baby. And I am worried that I am going to be exhausted getting up before five every day. But I suppose we will figure it out.

I also feel a little guilty about wanting to go back. This is my deal because I am carefully following my rule of trying not to tell anyone anything. You can't win the whole work vs. stay home debate. Just like you should never tell anyone where your baby sleeps or what she is eating. EVER.

She's working on getting two teeth (yeah I know, at three months). And I am thinking weaning is going to happen when those suckers cut. We're all trying to sort out the new routines. And I am hoping that maybe I will become more interesting. She's a great baby, but I am pretty boring with all diapers and hanging out at home.

Other than that things are quiet around here. My best friend just visited this weekend. We sold some land this weekend. We are just cruising through spring.

I still don't know how the baby can be three months though.

Boring Mom Stuff

I have been sick since we got back from Iowa. I just have the cough left but it is brutal. My whole body hurts from the force of it. Up until two days ago the baby had escaped it, but she is filled to the brim with snot now. FABOO

About an hour ago she lost her mind and begged to go to bed. I wish the girl could talk because, "Mother, I would like to go to sleep now," would be much preferred over face melting screaming and rage. Oh the rage.

I think she is sleeping now. PLEASE LET HER SLEEP FOR A WHILE.

My MIL was supposed to move out today. But her blinds weren't put in. Most of her stuff is in her apartment but she hasn't really moved. I am so excited she is going (she is too so no one feel sorry for her) I think we all need some space.

EIGHT Full Hours

Mo continues to cement her reputation as PERFECT BABY by sleeping eight hours straight last night. She picked the best possible time to do this since I really needed a good night's sleep to finish of this cold/flu/BLACK DEATH of mine (I'm coughing up blood, is that scary to anyone else?).

She did this a couple of times while we were in Iowa (ok once it was seven hours I WILL TAKE IT) and I figured it was from exhaustion. I mean she had been passed around to eight million people and I could see how that would wear a little one out. Now she has done it during a normally day and WOW PLEASE DO THIS EVERY NIGHT.

Monday I had a job interview. LORD. I was so nervous (and had a fever, can you imagine the sweating). I haven't really interviewed for anything outside of my current company in years. This new job is in an industry that I don't know anything about and all I can say is that if they called me tomorrow and made me a great offer I still do not know what I would say. HELPFUL.

Also, as a side note, I totally recommend getting your IUD inserted while you are already sick. That way you do not really care about what is happening. I expected it to hurt a lot more than it did and other than some annoying bleeding it's been no big deal. It was pretty surreal to have some one peering at my vagina and giggle, "oh you are definitely breastfeeding!"

Apparently, your tissues get really thin when you breastfeed. And then she told me all about how this will make sex hurt more and blah blah blah. I am just saying that husbands and boyfriends must just LOVE this woman. Because you know, nothing makes a tired woman want to have sex even more than PAIN.

A Mish Mash

I did feel like a moron in the days leading up to my trip. Because I was really nervous about diapers. As a mom of a two month old baby I should be a pro with diapers but actually . . . I hadn't used a disposable since babysitting about seventeen years ago. And when I pulled one out all I could do was say "dur . . ."

The legs don't look like they will hold anything in at all. And how tight are you supposed to fit them and BAH. I felt like a moron but yeah.

The results were mixed. I did figure them out (not hard I KNOW) and my first instincts were right--those legs don't hold in anything. I have to admit they suck up pee like a mother fucker and if my child only peed I would be all about this. But she shits. A lot. Early and often. And disposables are pretty worthless for that. She had a blow out our first day in Iowa. And then another next day. Fortunately, I ignored J when he mocked me for using the covers from the cloth diapers over the disposables and those held everything in so her clothes weren't destroyed. I have solved the damn mystery of why everyone goes through so many clothes with infants. Their diapers BLOW.

She did sleep like a champ on the trip though, and was dry as a bone (wearing a HUGE INFLATED diaper) when she woke up. I do sort of miss that.

None of this makes up for me having to spend far too long figuring out the damn things in the first place. DAMN.

I had an interview today. Basically my first in five years? And it was strange. It's doing what I do now, but for a totally different industry in a totally different sort of company. I didn't talk as much as I might normally since I woke up with NO VOICE at all. And they seemed to just want to plow through things quickly. I don't know if that is because they liked me or hated me. I have no read on it at all.

Worse. If they called me tomorrow and offered it to me, for the money I want, I do not know what I would say. DUR.

While I was at the interview J had to take Momo to her well baby appointment. WITH SHOTS. I guess she took it like a trooper with a minimum of fuss. Crying for just a couple of minutes. And through the Power of My Breasts she is now average size instead of TEENY. I do acknowledge that the baby MAY have had something to do with that. We are a good team.

She is now passed out with my MIL. Poor little thing.

OR BIG THING since she moved up 30 percentage points on the growth chart.

Miss You All

Behold.

The child and I have returned from the cornfields unharmed.

Well she is unharmed I have a wicked cough and a temperature.

Baby cemented her status of Propaganda Baby (the baby that convinces you that babies are not too much work and OH SO adorable and wouldn't you like to have one/another one?) by making about three peeps on all four flights. And while I earned my parenting merit badge by changing four poopie diapers in the air (including a blow out) she was really about as perfect as she can be.

In the days to come you will read about my first brush with disposable diapers (I am an idiot!), how even the perfect baby cannot handle that many people in a house that is like an oven and how I have a job interview tomorrow (WTF?!?! What do I wear? What the hell am I doing? Is it wrong to go with an ugly cough?).

But for now I am going to lay in my own bed and cry.