Out of Control March 26, 2012

Right now, my life feels out of control. As in I have no idea where to start to get back on track. Or even where the track is. I’ve been drifting. Treading water. Lately, I’m just drowning… So, I need to get some goals in line and get my lazy ass in gear!

 

•  House: My house is a mess. MESS. Embarrassingly messy. This is not me. Don’t get me wrong, I hate to clean. But, I’ve always had one of those houses where a quick trip through to pick up the out of place stuff was all that was needed to prep for company. Then I had a baby. And that baby came with stuff. A giant truck load of stuff. And it ate my house. And it overwhelmed me. Now my kitchen floor needs mopped, my toilet is gross and the laundry monster is threatening to suffocate me in my sleep. Unacceptable. So, what am I gonna do about it? Well, it is spring break… I suppose I need to clean this shit up. Then get myself a little plan together for keeping on top of it.
• Food: I haven’t been food shopping in two weeks. Don’t get me wrong, we still have food left from the last trip. I could probably feed my family for another week or two without going to the store. Not wholesome or nutritious meals, but meals… Yeah, I need to make a shopping list and get my arse to the store.
• Health: Pinterest be damned, I have to do a juice fast. At the end of my 10 day-er last summer I had lost a bunch of weight and my RA was starting to feel better. It was working. I need to get back on it. Give it a couple of months. Holy hell, if I could lose 50 pounds (200′s I could be in the 200′s!!!) and get my RA better in control my energy would SKY ROCKET. I need energy. I know juice fasting brings me energy. My hang up here is just how much I enjoy yummy tasting food, and the comfort of a nice warm, filling meal. But, I need to put that on the back burner. Temporary pleasure is so much less important than improving my quality of life right now. Those temporary pleasures will ultimately decrease my QOL, a juice fast will improve it. I’m gonna do it. I am!
• Marriage: Yeah, so RPL and crazy families and conflicting parenting styles… not so good for the marriage. We haven’t had sex since we found out that Nora was miscarrying. That’s been like 5 or 6 weeks now. Honestly, I’m in no rush. I was going to say it’s the last thing I want to do right now, but then I realized I probably would rather have sex than properly clean my house… Still this is one of the longest stretches we’ve ever gone and typically for us, no sex is not a good sign. We fight almost every night. He’s driving me crazy. Between saying just stupid shit about current events that don’t even affect us, to totally killing me on the discipline front to making shitty-ass little comments he is driving me bonkers. I don’t know how to turn things around. I don’t have an action plan for this one. Maybe fixing the other things will help it?
• My Appearance: The longer I’ve been out of the work force the rattier my clothing has gotten. My mom infused my wardrobe with some of her clothes she doesn’t wear, but… it’s still not quite a wardrobe anymore. I spend most of my days in pajamas, my shirts have stains on them and nothing fits right or matches. On top of all that, I need a haircut, my nails are a mess and my eyebrows look like Huxley’s. Good grief, why would he even want to have sex with me? Anyway, we don’t really have the cash to invest in how I look, and it’s been low priority to me (obviously), but I’m starting to think maybe it I spruced me up a little I might be able to kick this depression faster?
• Homeschooling: This isn’t so much school as just doing activities with the littles. I started wanting to do something to enrich their little brains everyday, or at least a couple times a week. But, I don’t. I need to get with it, though. Even though the TV is valuable for a small bit during the day, I’m finding the more out of control I feel, the more TV we’re watching. Less TV more activities!!!
• Business: Actually have a plan here! Am going to focus more on patterns. This will hopefully result in more cash… Have 6 more hats to ship, then will be caught up.
• Writing: I have so many ideas!!! Must make myself write everyday.

OK, I think I feel better. At least have the start of a start of a proper to-do list.

Updates & Whatnot March 15, 2012

So, I promised you an update on the situation La Diabla. Plus, you know, there’s other stuff going on, too. The world did not stop moving just because my body killed another innocent baby. Weird how that happens.

 

- La Diabla: So, G took Baby G over to Aunt C’s a couple of times on Sunday morning when I was in the throws of 1st trimestery zombieland. His Aunt C called La Diabla so she could come see the baby, too. Grr… Now, we have long agreed that she will not dictate how we live our lives. For instance, if we are out in public and she turns up, we will go on about our business. But, to me, this is a little different. I feel he should have left. Not because I wanted him to (although the thought of that troll touching my baby makes me want to hurl), but because he told her that he wasn’t interested in seeing her and that he didn’t want her around his son. If you’re going to say things like that, you need to back them up. But, that’s his business. He made it sound like he was unhappy that she turned up and blah, blah, blah, then… did the same bloody thing the following weekend. He’s not being honest with someone, and I think it’s himself. So, I cannot tolerate this whole pretending that nothings happened nonsense, nor do I want that unrepentant bitch anywhere near my child. In other times I might have played it cool, but now that Baby G is involved I actually stood up for my family and told G that she is NOT to be around my son. Period. If she desires a relationship with any member of this family (other than G, I have no right to but in there) then she will agree to family counseling. No counseling, no relationship. She’ll never do it. But, I figure if she does, we all benefit. If she doesn’t, I am able to say I remained willing to make things work, but that she was the uncooperative one. I’m not normally one for games (and I do think that is kind of a game, because I know she won’t ever agree to family counseling), but desperate times…

 

- Once again, I am so pissed that things have worked out this way. Because even though I don’t really like my MIL, she could be really useful. Not only that, we could be friends of sorts. She would be a good one for taking the kids out and couponing together and stuff like that. I wish we could have that kind of relationship. That’s probably why I set the condition of family counseling. I know it’ll never happen. I need to not even let myself think it. But, I do. I wish it could be like that. I hate that I wish that. I wish I could really hate her as much as I want to.

 

- My Health: Sucks. My RA is out of control, I’m in so much pain. I wish I could just feel good. Or, even OK. But, as it is, I’m always tired and achy. My feet hurt so bad and my left ankle is nearly unbearable by bedtime. So, I asked Dr. Rheumy for new drugs today. Strong drugs. Drugs that we’ve been avoiding because we’ve been pro-creating, and now we’re not. She gave me drugs. I am pleasantly stoned right now. I wouldn’t say I’m in much less pain (not that I expected to be on the first day), but, who gives a shit? I’m nice an relaxed. This isn’t really what I want, though…

 

- So What the Hell Do I Want?: Yeah, another big topic around here. Apparently I need goals. Not just for me, either, for the whole family. We need to stop drifting this way. Now that we’ve decided to actively prevent pregnancy, it feels like a whole new world has opened to us. More on this to come.

My Uterus: Home of Zombie Baby March 2, 2012

I guess I shouldn’t really call it a zombie baby. It’s more of a zombie “gestational sac plus, the starts of a yolk sac, we think if we hold the wand at this angle.” It’s growing, not nearly where it should be, but growing all the same. So, we have a definitive answer on WTF is up, right?

 

HA!

 

You’re so funny. You know what we know? Jack fuckin’ nothin.’ It’s still just too early to tell. Let’s look again in a week. At which point we’ll hope for a definitive yolk sac & hopefully a fetal pole. After that, we’ll wait another week and hope for an actual baby to turn up at some point.

 

The doctor was not-reassuring-at-all. He literally said “too early to tell, come back next week.” But the tech was much nicer after he left. She said she’s seen this situation go both ways. More often than not it goes the very-bad-sad way, but it’s not unheard of to go the other way, too.

 

So, we wait. And wait. And freaking wait.

 

I suppose I’d be cool with all this waiting if it didn’t bring MORE worry with it. Because let’s say this thing does turn around, get it’s act together and grow a proper baby with a beating heart at some point in future… obviously, there is something wrong that’s it’s not growing properly now. Could it affect the baby later? Could the baby be physically impaired because of this? I don’t know how I feel about that. Obviously, no matter what I’d love the baby and do anything it needed. It’s not about that. It’s about what if these interventions caused a baby to born with major difficulties? It would be my fault. Of course, all of that is assuming it ever grows a heart and the ability to live inside my body, let alone outside of it…

 

I need a drink.

Writing: That Thing I’m Supposed to Be Doing October 12, 2011

So, of course, I’m staying home to bond with Baby G and make sure he’s raised right and what-not. That is The Main Thing. But, honestly, I never expected it to be ALL I did. I rather expected that I’d be writing all the time and my house would be clean and I’d have a raging Etsy business and holy crap I should have done this years ago, we’re rolling in the dough!

As it is… the kids are cared for, but I don’t write much, my house is a wreck, the Etsy business isn’t doing that great (worth the effort I’ve put into it, but not booming) and frankly, we’re broke. Broke, broke. Well, I mean, the bills are getting paid (sometimes late) and we’re eating just fine (i.e. too much), but Christmas is definitely going to be a stretch and we rarely have more than $20 left at the end of the week.

Which brings me to my point. I could alleviate the financial strain by getting a part time job. (Mind you, I do watch 4 kids in addition to my own 45 hours a week, so this would be a second job.) Lots of places are hiring for the holiday season and $75 or $100 a week would be a HUGE boost right now.

OR

I could throw those same 15-20 hours a week into my creative pursuits that were supposed to be making extra cash to begin with. The payoff wouldn’t be so immediate or guaranteed, but it would have the potential to be bigger and would not require being away from Mr. G. It wouldn’t require leaving the house. It wouldn’t require scheduling conflicts or having a boss. I really don’t miss having a boss.

I do miss talking to grown-ups, though. And leaving the house occasionally. See how this circle works?

I have to make a decision, though. I have to do SOMETHING. Doing nothing just isn’t working… I am not accustomed to being this broke. I like buying Christmas presents. I really want to sell a book. And I have so many ideas. I’m totally doing the National Novel Writing Month challenge in November. But that doesn’t help.

So ya’ll have any word of wisdom?

Opposites Attract – or Do They? September 29, 2011

Well, here it is the middle of the night and once again I cannot sleep. Despite being stuffed full of vicodin. What’s up? Anxiety! Since the accident I have been having a hard time with anxiety. My mind just races, I feel the need to be awake and listening for the baby and most of all I fear I’m letting something really important slide. I don’t know what the really important thing is, but it’s sliding and shall surely burn my biscuits directly. This is not a fun place to be right now.

 

Speaking of no fun, my home has become a bit of a battlefield. I have made no secret of the fact that infertility almost claimed my marriage. We came very close to calling it quits. But, with infertility, we had a common enemy. We were fighting together, and while it was hard, it ultimately brought us closer. Parenting is basically the opposite of that. At least it is for us. Now, instead of a common enemy, we have a common interest. For the most part we agree on the basics concerning the care and life goals for Baby G. But, the devil is in the details I’m afraid…

 

See, I’m pretty much of the belief that letting kids explore and learn and play is the best way to teach them confidence and curiosity and a love of learning. I’m kind of a free-range, attachment mama type. I basically let Graham tell me how much hands on interaction he needs, and otherwise I keep an eye out, but I don’t hover. If he cries, I comfort him. If he points and grunts at something, I tell him about it (and when appropriate, let him handle it). If he brings me a book, I read it to him. If he doesn’t bring me a book, sometimes I just read out loud, anyway, and see if he wants to come over and listen. If he toddles down the hall to his room… well, sometimes I just let him. I’ll keep an ear out and mozy down to check in on him a few (read 2-5) minutes later, if he hasn’t already come back. If he sits in his tent with a toy, I let him. Even if it means I can’t see him for a bit. He is in the same room with me, after all. I kind of think this lets him know that it’s OK to be independent. It’s OK to be away from mama for a bit. And, I also let the babies work out their own disagreements (to an extent). Because, I think it helps them develop social and problem solving skills.

 

G is kind of the opposite of that. He is a hoverer. That man has perfected the art of hovering. He feels the need to constantly engage/interact/check-on/follow the baby. Even when said baby is perfectly content, doing his own thing. G thinks the baby gates should always be up, so Graham can’t toddle down the hall into his room (or the bathroom!). G is of the opinion that if we can’t physically see the baby, we need to fix it. He also is big on holding his hands over furniture edges as Mr. G walks (yes! walks!) by them. And, it’s not out of the ordinary for him to do things like clear a toy path where-ever Graham happens to be walking and/or pick up tiny crumbs off of the carpet and analyze them for choking hazards. Additionally, he has been known to pitch small parts to the bigger kids toys (as well as move their primary toy bins to the basement) because they might be choking hazards. Because everything is a choking hazard. E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. He also feels the need to intervene in every minor skirmish betwixt the toddler duo, that he sees.

 

Opposites. That’s us. At the end of the day, we have the same goal. We want a happy, healthy, well-adjusted kid who becomes a successful, happy, healthy, well-adjusted adult. We want to know that we did everything we could to give him the best possible start in life.

 

And, that would be where the fighting begins… our parenting philosophies are so different and our goals are exactly the same. So, nightly there is disapproval expressed at how I’ve cared for the baby throughout the day. (FYI… diaper rash can totally be related to teething. I don’t care what anyone says. I change my baby very often, ya’ll know my feelings on diapers, and when (only when) he’s about to get teeth, he gets diaper rash for a day or two. Which is exhibit A in the “Minta is a bad mommy” prosecution case.) Consequently, nightly, there is tongue clucking at how the hovering is going to turn my baby into a co-dependant pansy-boy. Vicious circle.

Except, you see, I lose. Because at the end of the day, daddy has never been driving when someone else ran a red light and nearly killed us all. Which means “daddy has never endangered the baby’s life.” While of course, I could argue that mommy hasn’t either (please note: was smashed by irresponsible nitwit who ran a red light!!!!), I can’t. Because I feel impossibly guilty over the accident. I feel like I should have seen it coming, I should have known. I should have stopped it. I know I can’t go back and I know replaying it in my head over and over again looking for the magically sign that I missed won’t do any good. But, it would seem we’re both holding me responsible for the accident from which Baby G came out without so much as a red mark, but which has left a deep wound on my credibility as a parent.

Funnies May 12, 2011

OK, I had to interrupt the scheduled bitching (oh, yes, there’s more bitching to come) to bring you the funnies of my day

#1 Conversation between me and Lil C over lunch. Backstory, Uncle G took Lil C to Dick’s Sporting Goods store last Friday.

LC: Can we go to Dick’s house?

Me (having not put 2 & 2 together yet): I don’t know Dick, honey, maybe you can ask your Mommy…

LC: But that’s where my tents are!

Me (aha!): You mean Dick’s at the mall?

LC: Yes!

Me: I can’t go to Dick’s, honey.

LC: Because Uncle G took your car to work?

Me: No, because I’m a girl.

LC: … … … Girls are afraid of Dick’s?

Me: Deathly.

Bwahahahahahahahahah!!!!!!!!!

#2 Conversation between me & G regarding Baby G’s bedtime diaper:

G: Get him a diaper and jammies and I’ll get him ready for bed.

Me: OK!!!! Shit, all his covers are in the dryer! Here, I’ll get you a disposable.

G: What? You trained me on the cotton ones, I don’t know what to do with that!

He can no longer claim he doesn’t know what to do with “the cotton ones” now, though

Mother’s Day – The Never Ending Holiday of Pain May 2, 2011

This year I have an actual living, breathing, peeing, pooping, babbling, sitting, army crawling, pulling up, almost standing, real life baby. So, Mother’s Day should be all “hooray for me.” And it kind of is. But…

There is some debate in this blogger’s house as to whether or not this is my “first” Mother’s Day (and as such, to be made into a big a deal). My answer is: No. Don’t get me wrong, make a big fuss. Cook me breakfast and for the love of all that is holy help with some of the elimination duties. But, this isn’t my first Mother’s Day. It’s a special Mother’s Day. But not my first.

For some reason, this makes my husband angry. As if it’s somehow disrespectful to Baby G that I consider myself a mother to our angels. But, I am their mother, and HE is their father. They may not be here pooping and crying and laughing and smiling, but that doesn’t make them any less our children. Just less alive.

So, we have a point of conflict. I feel that ALL of our children should be recognized on days for parents and grandparents, but Daddy G only feels that living children count. Obviously, I lose. Because I always lose. Because even if I don’t lose, the topic is just ignored, so I might as well have lost.

Grrr… stupid Mother’s Day! Can’t we just have “help a mama” hour everyday? Even better plan… change a diaper a day! Or give a bath. Or feed the baby dinner! Or shit, just play with him so I can chill on Harry Potter Lego’s (BTW, best game ever!).

OK, I’ll quit bitching, because I do have a cuddly, smiley, bitey, hair-pully, breathing, rolling all around, Elmo wrestling baby asleep in my bed (OK, the family bed) and he thinks I am the shiz of all shiz. He lights up when he sees me, he thinks my voice is magic, and he’s mine! I cannot even express how much I love this little man.

It Must be Just Like Living in Paradise November 26, 2010

Well, folks, looks like I’m a blog failure this month. Caring for two little ones and starting a business will do that to your hobbies. A business? Yes, I am currently building stock, designing a marketing campaign and setting up an Etsy shop for my new crochet/knit wares line. I’m thinking it shall be called Baby Stitches. We’ll see. But, alas, I find the need to sell my goods and contribute more to the family financially.

 

Why?

 

Well, two reasons. Firstlies, I’m used to being the primary income. It feels very odd to be contributing so little. I was not prepared for this feeling of smallness that has come with my income being reduced so dramatically. I feel as if the family checking account does not contain my money and that I shouldn’t spend money on myself, now. I feel like luxuries (like haircuts) should not be wasted on people who don’t earn them (me). Which is, of course, just bonkers. I spent many years contributing, so in a way I’ve already earned these years. Also, I do work 45 hours a week, I just only make $1 an hour. Anyway, I’m having some issues with not earning. I recognize that they are crazy, but I am still having them.

 

The other reason is more to do with G. We have been quite “off” lately. There are three things that I feel he is harboring against me: Baby G fell off of his changing table 5 weeks ago (he is OK, he landed on blankets, we took him to the ER anyway, but everything checked out just fine), the tension with his mother and my not working. He has admitted that he hasn’t forgiven me for allowing the baby to fall. I haven’t forgiven myself, for that matter. On the other hand… I am not a careless mother. I didn’t leave him unattended. I had my hand on him. It was a freak accident. Shouldn’t my husband be understanding and forgiving, especially in light of how hard on myself I’m being? But, he’s not. He’s being quite cold, sarcastic and frankly mean to me.

 

We are having more dust ups than ever before. I tried talking to him about it. He said he didn’t “see it.” He also said he didn’t remember telling me to “shut the fuck up” just five minutes before. But anyway, my point is talking about it didn’t seem to help because today was the same. I know this probably isn’t entirely the case, but I do feel it is related to the substantial drop in disposable cash. He didn’t treat me this way when I was earning enough money that he never had to check on spending whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

 

So, I am starting a business. Trying to up the cash flow. Maybe it won’t help my marriage, but I’ll be able to afford a haircut.

A Talent of Mine August 19, 2010

Day 19, still going…

At one point I’d have named something creative as a talent of mine, perhaps playing the cello, or decorating cakes. But, I am most out of practice in both of these pursuits. There was a time I’d have said something work related, like gathering project requirements or formulating complex SQL statements. While I am good at those things, I’m not sure they qualify as a talent, and I’m setting them aside for this new adventure. I hope one day I can say being a mother, as that is something I hope to have a great talent for.

Right now, though… Right now, I’m feeling quite in limbo. Stuck between lives with no ambition or talent to speak of. At least, that’s how I felt all day. I have been pondering this post all day, because I really couldn’t think of “my talent.”

Then G came home. We snuggled and talked and had a good time. Then we started talking about our bodies and health. G made a joke about how if I continued to lose weight while nursing I was going to need a tummy tuck. So, I made a joke about needing to use chip clips to hold back my loose skin, or else Baby G was destined to be an only child. G cracked up. He laughed and laughed and talked about how I should write a stand up routine because I really was that funny. He called me a cross between Rosanne and Katt Williams.

I don’t know if I’m really that funny, or if he was just being overly complimentary because “had a good time” was a euphemism for “had really good sex” and it had been a while since the man had a proper bj. But… I can make my husband laugh, and feel good. So, we’ll go with being a good wife is my talent, and I might also be funny from time to time.

P.S.

As I write this, I’ve just drained the last of the soda from his cup and placed it back as if it were full… maybe I spoke too soon about being a good wife!

P.P.S.

I felt bad about stealing his soda, so I refilled it and put his phone on the charger.

Tuesdays are for Meltdowns August 18, 2010

Right, then. I am insane. It is official.

Tonight, I acted like a right loon over nothing. Well, not nothing. But nothing to be acting like a loon over. Apparently the stress has bottled up and chose to release itself quite inconveniently all over G. The one person who’s been there 100%. The man busted his ass all weekend, and I yelled at him over one load of laundry not being done. Because: AM BITCH.

What happened? Well, it started with my dad calling. He asked about me & the baby, but he seemed to have more on his mind. And, he did. He really wanted to talk about whether I thought it was a good idea for him to move in with my mother while he finished school because he was having a hard time making it to school on time because of work and he can’t miss many more days or he’ll be kicked out. Because right now, I need to be worrying about his stress, too. Don’t get me wrong, I care. I care too much is the problem. I worry about my dad. He’s not in very good health, he’s not in very good shape financially, and he’s not very good with discipline and keeping his shit together. So, anyway, I talked to him about his issues. Because that’s what I do.

While I was talking to him, G was getting frustrated, because he had bought me ice cream, that I wasn’t eating and I wasn’t paying him my undivided attention.

So, when we got home, G made a snarky comment about me being on the phone, the pug got under the bed (because the gate wasn’t closed…), I found that she had torn up one of my new chair pads and I spilled my melted ice cream (that I really wanted) all over my birthing class papers.

I Fucking Lost It.

I cried, I screamed, I tried to beat the pug with her leash (she ran under the bed). This is NOT my normal behavior. I completely went psycho. I told G it was all his fault for making the snarky comment, which started the snowball effect. Then I cried some more, until I puked.

I am not proud of this behavior. I do not approve of it at all. I had no control. Seriously, none. I was like a lunatic pulling at my hair, scratching at my face and screaming/crying. NO CONTROL. Scary.

Now I’m all better (besides feeling foolish for behaving that way) and can see that the things that felt so monumental at the time (I really wanted that ice cream) were quite small. But at the time? You’d have thought the house fell down.

So, for the second Tuesday in a row, I’ve behaved like a loon and it’s getting worse. If I make it to next Tuesday expect a change to a full on werewolf or harpy or something…

*******************************

For the record, I’m pretty sure underlying stress was the culprit… you know little things like:

- My boss is illegally withholding my paycheck for no reason and refusing to discuss it with me.

- I have a lot of work that I feel responsible to get done before I leave (potentially for ever) but also feel like I should not do this work, because I haven’t been paid in 20 days.

- I do not feel ready to have this baby.

- I repeat, I do NOT feel ready to have this baby.

- That pug is really going to have to go.