Uncertain

I had an interesting conversation with my inner child today. Apparently her name is Julie, she thinks I’m stupid and hates me. 

Despite the temper tantrum she threw at the beginning of our conversation she came up with some very interesting insights for me. 

Me: Why do you think I’m stupid?

Julie: YOU’RE INTERSTED IN THE WRONG THINGS.

Later

Me: I’m willing to learn

Julie: You don’t need to learn anymore. Don’t you already know enough yet?

Later

Me: I love you.

Julie: No…you don’t. I scare you. I represent chaos. Unrepentant abandon. Joy. Freedom. You’re too much of a control freak to love me.

Clearly my inner child has some things on her mind. Maybe now that a dialogue has been established we can come to a better understanding of some things.

On Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays I go to the public library from 6 pm until about 8:30 pm. This is my time to do whatever I want to do. I’ve signed up for a few free online classes through the library. I wander through the library and check out books I know I’m not going to read. 

When I leave the house I have to leave a detailed list for my husband and six year old of all the things they have to accomplish in the time I’m gone, complete with the amount of time that should be spent on each task. For example: bath 30 min, homework 20 min, reading 20 min, etc…

If I don’t leave the list then nothing gets done and I’m left trying to get my daughter to complete all of her work on Thursday nights. 

I hate having to treat my husband like this. I feel like I have three kids instead of two but I don’t know what else to do. Fighting with him doesn’t work. 

This isn’t the only area where this issue crops up. While I was pregnant last year we decided to put in hardwood floors (the carpet was nasty). I couldn’t help because I was in my last trimester and the work was just too physical for me. My husband promised to get it done before the baby was born. He didn’t. 

My husband stayed home for a month after the baby was born. He promised he’d get the floors done then. He didn’t.

When my daughter was 2 months old I took her and my oldest to the zoo for the day by myself. He promised that it would be enough time for him to get the floor done. He didn’t get it done.

Our sprinkler system is broken. This weekend I carted my two daughters around with me and excused him from hanging out with my grandma so that he could get it fixed. He didn’t get it done, but he had time to go to his buddies house and brew beer.

Is it any wonder I’m so tired?

My oldest daughter isn’t being bullied. I was so anxious after my last post, I ran home and asked her. However, she did seem to like being asked. Maybe she just needed to know that I cared about her.

It was a whirlwind weekend just as I predicted. All I can say about Grandma’s visit is that I’m glad she stayed with my dad and all I had to do was visit with her for a few hours a day. She’s very spry for a 76ish woman and plum tuckered me out. 

The baby is sleeping better. I wish I could say she was feeling better but it seems that she is teething. Poor kid, if it’s not one thing it’s another. At least her poopy is starting to turn yellowish-brown again. It was green. From what I’ve read the green pooy was the fermented lactose that has been sitting in her system causing all her discomfort. Since her poopy is going back to a normal color it must mean that all of the bad stuff is almost out of her gut.

Switching my baby from breast feeding to the bottle has caused some postpartum depression to flare up. I looked up a psychiatrist today. It may be a few more days before I call. 

Last night was a long night or was is a long morning? Either way, it sucked.

My 6 year old came downstairs at 3 am because she had a nightmare. Something about one of the boys at school blowing up the school with a bomb. We had a problem with this boy threatening to bring his BB gun to school and shoot her earlier in the year. She ended up staying home from school on Monday because she threw up a couple of times in the morning before school. Other than throwing up she didn’t seem sick. I have to wonder if something else is going on with this boy.

My 3 month old hasn’t been sleeping well between the hours of 1 am and 4 am. I think her body is still processing all the fermented lactose in her gut and this makes her uncomfortable. 

To top it all off, my grandmother is coming in to town this evening. The next few days are going to be extremely busy and tiring. My grandmother is a total extrovert and I’m a total introvert. It is exhausting spending time with her. 

These next few days are going to further deplete my already depleted system. Grrr!

It’s been four days since I switched my infant daughter from nursing to lactose sensitive formula. She’s doing much better. I’m doing worse.

I struggle with depression even during the best of times. My failure to nurse my second daughter for a full year the way I did my first has triggered all my negative thought patterns. I’m struggling to stay afloat.

I know that switching my daughter to formula was the best move for her. She’s so much happier now. No more screaming for two to three hours in the evening. She’s sleeping better and more deeply. When she’s awake, she’s alert and ready to play. 

Knowing all of that in my heart doesn’t keep the voices in my head from screaming at me. 

I keep wondering why lactose sensitivity skipped my first daughter. I believe it may be because she had two more weeks gestating than my second daughter. Because of my high blood pressure my second daughter was born at 39 weeks. My first daughter was born at 41 weeks.

It’s another reason I feel like I failed my daughters. I may have to see my doctor soon if my thoughts continue getting worse.

The bright side: my boobs don’t hurt anymore.

My baby turned 3 months old this week. Most everything has been going well, except breastfeeding.

She has suffered from GERD and colic from the beginning. The GERD finally started getting better at around 2 months old. The colic, however, at 3 months old just seemed to be getting worse.

This week I have been experimenting with a formula for babies with lactose sensitivity. The difference has been amazing. We’ve had several evenings this week with no colic, just a blissfully happy baby.

Yesterday I mainly gave her formula and it was a great day. This morning at 4 am when she woke up I nursed her. Mostly because my breasts were full and a little painful. 

Within 30 min she spit up all over me and then had a very slimy green poopy. We’re definitely switching to just formula.

I’m a little sad but not terribly surprised. I’ve been lactose intolerant all of my life. My mom couldn’t nurse me.

For whatever reason my first born didn’t have any issues when she was an infant and I was able to nurse her until she was a year old. However, as she has gotten older she has developed lactose sensitivities. 

All that really matters is that my little one is happy and healthy. Now I just have to wait until my body gets the message. 

As I approach my 33rd birthday I’m finding that a lot of things are reminding me of high school.

• Giggling at things because I have a dirty mind.

• Being curious about titillating stories. I may find myself downloading it one day when I’m bored. Reading a story like this may be the only action my sex life sees in a while. 

• In high school I lived in t-shirts and jeans. Now I live in t-shirts and yoga pants. However, back then the t-shirts were baggy and the jeans were tight. Now the t-shirts are tight and the pants are stretchy. Having two kids gave me big boobs and a fat a**.

I think a part of me hoped that my life would be more…well…glamorous by now. It’s hard to feel glamorous when your changing your shirt for the third time in a day because the baby spit up, again. 

I’m probably waxing nostalgic about my high school days because those were the days of minimal responsibility and I had a bright future ahead of me. I just didn’t know it at the time.

I don’t regret my responsibilities now but sometimes they can feel heavy. The future is still bright though the shine dulls a bit when I’m in the middle of the baby’s screaming fit. 

My baby is now three months old and for the first time since she was born I feeling like I’m treading water instead of drowning. I still can’t see land. It lies just over the horizon but I know that if I keep heading in the same direction I’ll see it soon. 

I’m feeling down and manic today. I’ve been going non-stop since my daughter was born 10 weeks ago and I’m exhausted. The last couple of days I’ve let myself take a little bit of a break. I’ve gone to bed early and haven’t done much in the way of house work. Though, to be honest, my idea of housework is making sure the dishes are done every night and making sure the living areas are picked up regularly. The rest of it will get done when it gets done. 

Taking a little bit of a break was a mistake. When I’ve gotten up the last couple of mornings the dishes have still been on the counter and there is stuff everywhere. I keep hoping that my husband will pick up the slack when I need a break and I’ve actually asked him to on several occasions but he always ends up forgetting. I guess I need to ask him to do the dishes on the nights that I want to go to bed early, but something in me cringes at that. Just once I wish someone would take care of me without me having to ask for it.

I guess this is what my mom was always going on about when I was a kid. She’d check out for a while then when she’d wake up she’d look around her at the mess my brother, dad, and I had made and freak out. She was always complaining that things never got done around the house unless she was yelling at us or she did them herself. 

I guess I’m letting the mom-in-my-head get to me. I understand where she’s coming from. As a mom I spend all my time caring for others and no one seems to care for me. I have to take care of myself as well as everyone else and sometimes it just sucks.

fanfic

I’m going to have to try my hand at writing fanfic. These last couple of weeks things have been heating up in the fanfic world. First with Fifty Shades of Grey and then with Wesley Crusher Teenage F*** Machine.I’m not posting links because I’ve heard the second one is going to be removed soon. 

What’s really funny is that I used to read stuff like this in middle school and high school (*cough* 15 years ago *cough*). I remember one memorable little ditty about Smurfette being the only female smurf. Only back then I didn’t have to pay for these types of stories, they just got passed around the school. 

I just can’t help but wonder why these stories are so popular all of a sudden. Did we all just happen to find ourselves back in high school?