Life Family and the Pursuit of Sanity

or… adventures in infertility and babies and family drama!

Duh, Depression, Igit November 1, 2012

Guess what? This is not going to be another long list of woe and forelorn! I mean it WAS going to be, then I thought “Oh my, you’re boring! That’s all you’ve posted in ages and by the way *yawn*” So, I decided to look back and see just how long it’s been that I’ve been barely posting and when I do it’s mostly bitching. Hmm, well turns out that started right around the time I lost Nora. I’m gonna go ahead and guess that you guys were all quite aware that I am battling depression… I on the other hand, was not. I thought I was doing really well, just dealing with lots of hard shit* (I am dealing with hard shit, but not literally because that would mean I was pregnant and I’m not, anyhoo we’re talking figurative hard shit). But, now that I look back, I can see quite clearly “duh, depression!”


I suppose part of this revelation came from G. He asked the marriage counselor last week if he could stop coming and just send me alone. When she asked what the hell that was all about he whispered “I think she’s depressed.” At which point the counselor looked at me and I burst into tears and said “No I’m not, my life is just spiraling out of control, everything is upside down and I’m getting fatter and fatter and my health is shit and the kids are bad and why can’t I just sleep for like 4 days, then I’ll feel better and be able to get shit under control!” To which she replied “I think you’re depressed. Can you get anything off of your plate for a bit? I see you headed for a massive crash and burn.”


So, the next morning I decided to take it easy. Play with the babies, do some crochet work and mostly just chill. For real, not like my normal escapism, but really relax with the littles. I also started some baby steps towards getting the house and everything else back under control. It’s been a week and I’m feeling ever so much better. Not BETTER, but getting there. One of the baby steps I’m taking is finding things to get out of my house everyday. Obviously, if I’m feeling suffocated by stuff, there’s too much of it. Amazingly, getting just 20 misc. items out of the house made a HUGE difference. That’s good. (Iffin’s you want to do a little baby stepping with me, here’s the blog I’m following along to


Also, under the advice of the counselor I’m letting G do stuff around the house. As much as I can. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to deal with him touching my dishwasher or laundry, but… I am not letting it rankle me so much when he does things like put toys away (even in the wrong bins) or get Lil G ready for bed (even in out of season jammies, before his bath and giving him a second milk bottle). This is big for me, guys. Super duper big. It seems more stressful at first, but then it isn’t. It’s really weird. For real, I’m not one that lets people help me, this is gigantic.


Anyway, I just wanted to let you guys know I’ve finally seen the light and am working on not being so boring and whiny 🙂


* Hard Shit:

– Nieces in foster care, one is angry at the world the other ran away for two weeks (to be with her sexually abusive bio-dad) and is now in jeuvenille detention.

– Mom moved out of state. My mom. The only person G would let babysit. My best friend. My mommy**. Moved.

– Big C is such a challenge. I love him, but Whole E. Hell that kid tests my patience.

– Someone gave Lil G the memo that he is two now and terribleness has commenced 🙂

– My psycho-MIL is amping up again.

– RA can suck my ballz.

– Where my money? I need, I need cash.


** Yes, I am a grown ass woman that calls her mother “Mommy,” deal with it.


Identity & Cash July 24, 2012

Filed under: The Blah — arminta @ 2:21 pm

aka Things I Miss, like a lot.


** Before I delve into this landmine of controversy let me say this: I signed up for this. I chose to make sacrifices in exchange for staying home with my son. I have not been thrust into this life against my will. That’s not what this is about. **


So, I mentioned a few days ago that I miss having money. And, I do. But, it’s more than that. I miss being ME.I miss having an identity outside of meeting needs for an army of small tryants and one quite large one. I miss having things that are mine. Nothing is mine anymore. Partially because I don’t contribute substantially to the family finances. But, more because my name is Mom. Here’s how it works: Mom’s toouthbrush? Everybody’s toothbrush! Mom’s laptop? Everybody’s laptop! Mom’s bed? Everybody’s bed. Mom’s dinner? You guessed it!


Usually? That’s OK. I did sign up for it. I do love it. Usually. But, sometimes? I want my own fucking dinner! and? I’d prefer it to be warm. Sometimes? I want to take a goddamn shower without having to worry about toddlers destroying my house! Every now and then? I want to sleeping until I wake up on my own. Cry me a river, right? The plight of every mom. But, it doesn’t change the fact that I feel this way. Now.


But, that’s really only part of the identity issue. The other part, I think, stems from the fact that I was so old (relatively) when I started my family. See, I was already used to a certain life. I had a fair bit of money (between us we brought in *just* over six figures, of which my contribution was about 2/3), enough that I never had to worry about things like eating out (duh, how’d you think my ass got so fat) or buying gadgets or fancy cable or the latest cell phone. If I wanted something, I bought it. Sure, I racked up HUGE credit card bills, but I I could afford to pay them. It is a GIANT adjustment to go from that to $500 a month to feed the family. Period. And, preferably we like to not use all of that because any extra we can scrounge up really needs to go to medical bills. I am SO not used to not being able to pay every bill I receive as soon as it comes in. I hadn’t had to worry about that in a LONG time. That money was part of my identity. Not just the money, but the lifestyle. The drinks after work, the shopping, the present buying. I love buying presents. I’m not going to lie. I miss that.


As much as I hated my last boss, I miss my work, too. I miss feeling good at what I do. Wanna know a secret? Software consulting is lower pressure than raising children. If I screwed up a project at work, or missed a deadline it was fixable. Sure, people would be pissed (most of all me, I hate missing deadlines), but it could be corrected. No one would be scarred for life. No one’s future hinged on my job being done flawlessly. No one cried. No one screamed (save my last boss, asshole). I miss that lower pressure life. I miss hearing things like “good job” and “thank you.”


I miss having the freedom to come and go as I please. I miss being able to run to the store or to Target whenever the mood strikes. I miss not being able to pop out and have drinks with a friend without having to face an inquisition, and crying and general hysteria because “OMG Mommy’s leaving for an hour!!!!! We have no idea how to fend for ourselves for a whole hour without Mommy!!!”


I suspect all of these things would be a little easier to deal with if the finances weren’t so tight. I further suspect that I wouldn’t be wound so tight if it wasn’t just dealing with my own kid. Having my sister’s kids all day is really taking its’ toll. Big C is almost 9. You know how most kids start that pre-teen mouthy, lippy, know-it-all phase around 9? Now, combine that with ADHD and ODD. Fun! He completely fucked my plans last weekend AND got me and my sister in a fight. Lil C, well, actually (and this is a HUGE change from when he first started coming here) I could deal with just Lil G and Lil C. Ladybug… yeah, that one’s about to get kicked out on her ear. She is bad. I don’t know any other way to put it. Big C was hyper, but still controlled. He rarely broke things. Lil C was whiny, but didn’t get into everything. Ladybug? Into everything, breaks stuff, makes big messes, fights, bites, hits, kicks, tells me to “shut up” 100 times a day. I love her, but she’s killing me.


So there’s all that…


Then there’s the whole “what to do with my time” thing. Obviously, I want to be the best mommy and nanny. And, I have to keep the house clean (which I’m horrible at, really I should be fired from that job). But there’s all this “other” stuff that I was really looking forward to. I thought I’d have time for and would enjoy and be able to do. The Etsy shop is one thing, but I thought I’d have time to write and do mommy & me classes and be more. I had this idea in my mind of taking these kids to the park and museum and writing in the afternoon while the big ones played and little ones napped and having a clean house when my hubs got home. Instead? My house is a mess, I have 3 half finished outlines that I haven’t written chapter one for, my Etsy shop is limping along (mostly my own fault for not putting more effort into it), we rarely go out, I don’t even shower everyday, and overall I’d say I mostly just feel like I’m treading water.


So, instead of doing anything about it I’m pissing and moaning on the internet, because I’m so overwhelmed the thought of tackling it is scary and daunting. Much like my weight. I know I could/should make better use of my time, but I’m so tired and so overwhelmed I just can’t seem to get any traction. Which is the biggest hit to my identity. I’m a doer. I’m a get it done’er. I’m a make a plan, work your plan’er. I am not a sit a whiner.


OK, I gotta go DO something before G gets home from work and figures out that I’ve done nothing (well, except Sissy damage control) all day…


The Health, It Sucks May 25, 2012

So, part of my appt with Dr Rheumy was getting my routine blood work done. The MGUS levels are all staying pretty normal, thankfully. No one’s too worried about that right now (yay!).


But, as you are all well aware I’ve been in a depressed funk for a while and OMG THE PAIN. So, she ran some tests to look for other issues.


And found one. FUCK!


You know vitamin D is important shit, right? I knew it prevented rickets, but otherwise wasn’t too sure what it was doing. Turns out it’s a hormone, and is involved in all kinds of body functions. If your vitamin D is low you can’t absorb calcium, or lose weight. And if it gets too low you’re at risk for organ (especially heart) failure. So that seems like a big deal. Turns out I am “severely” vitamin D deficient.


How severely? Well, “optimum” levels are 50-80. 30 is the lowest possible “normal” reading. Organ failure and rickets concerns start at 5. Mine is a 6.


Spent the morning in the sun with the small people. Have giant ass supplements to take (prescription strength vitamin D, what, what). Am probably going to die anyway. (being melodramatic…)


Feeling a Little Better & a Little Worse March 31, 2012


Being spring break and all, I finally bit the dust and conquered three rooms of my house. The kitchen, living room and bathroom are CLEAN, yo! My mom came on Thursday and pulled out the appliances and whatnot in the kitchen and got it really clean, even in the “invisible” spaces. Then she helped me flip over my heavy arse living room furniture, so we could clean under there, too. I found ALL the missing toys. Poor Bert’s been under there since Thanksgiving! So, I feel so much better about the house. It no longer feels like this:


Also, I did go food shopping and bought the stuff to make five of the Pinterest meals I was salivating over the most. So far one was awful and two were great. When these meals are gone, I’m going to start my juice fast. The hubs is in complete agreement on this plan. So, next week I’ll be back on the juice wagon.


I think I mentioned that I stopped the Arava. Which was the breeding un-friendly drug. We have decided to still spend a couple of months actively preventing, then we’ll re-address. Or, as I like to phrase it, we should have listened to Mrs. Gamgee in the first darn place!



Holy sickballs, Batman! I freaking hate being sick. I have been sick less than normal, though, what with not interacting with the public on the daily anymore and actually building some kind of immune system with my juicer. But, this latest bug got me and Baby G square in the ears, nose and throat. He was really bad for a couple of days (wouldn’t eat of drink, getting on the verge of needing IV fluids), but thankfully forcing water and medicine down his throat seemed to have worked, because he’s drinking today and less cranky pants. He’s napping now, and has been down 2 hours, which is twice as long as he napped yesterday, so fingers crossed he’s on the mend. Because I am not. I feel asstastic! Gonna take a nap myself I think when the hubs gets home.


The brokeness is wearing thin. I miss having disposable income. Less than 2 years until the big credit card is paid off, though, then we will have money again. Hanging in there…


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.


It’s Early Folks February 27, 2012

Before I start my bitching/pissing/whining/moaning, I would like to give a huge thanks to my awesome bloggity friends. Seriously, you guys rock. Your words really stick with me and I so wish I could apparate so we could hang out in person, sometimes 🙂


And now, some random thoughts…


Actually, I’ve changed my mind. I was gonna talk about it not being fair that I still feel the same and if this pregnancy isn’t going to be viable it could at least have the decency to not make me feel so pregnant. (Nausea and all this a.m.) But, as I was typing the first paragraph Baby G woke up.


Try though I might, I just can’t be bitter when I listen to him shout “blocks, blocks, blocks, QUACK.” Hmm, wonder what he’s thinking about? Now he’s singing “e-i-e-i-o” except it sounds more like “e-yo!” It is the most beautiful sound in the world. His little chatters keep me grounded. Losing another sucks, but I have him. If we never get another, we have him.


OK, now a funny story before I go get him…


G took him over to Aunt C’s last weekend (a whole other topic I skipped during miscarriage-gate, but will fill-in soon) where he was bitten by their bird. Which “grrr” but he wasn’t injured, just a little shocked. So, ever since then, he points at pictures of birds and says “ow!” and holds his finger. Then I ask him what happened and he says “birdie bite! birdie bite!” and I say “oh, no!” or “bad birdie” then we both laugh. In seemingly unrelated news, G frequently refers to a penis as a “bird.” So, last night while Lil G was having a bath and he stood up, put one finger on his penis and said “ow!” Naturally, I asked him what happened and he said “birdie bite! birdie bite!” then proceeded to CRACK UP. Of course, I cracked up as well. He knew he made a joke. (Further proof that he is his father’s child, it was a dick joke…)