We're slackers! Instead of investing our quality Saturday afternoon in baby proofing our home, my husband and I felt the need to help our troubled economic country and spend our hard earned money at Bed, Bath and Beyond, where we bought a new Temperpedic mattress pad and pillows and Michael's where I bought things to make my sons Halloween costume with, I'll keep you posted on if this even turns out (I'm assuming Yes, my husband and supportive family are all shaking their heads and saying No. By the time we'd finished battling the crowd (I'm really confused about who's not spending money-apparently they haven't been to the Michael's plaza in Oceanside)we were hungry, tired and exhausted. We stopped off at Mc'D's, my husband is my sole fast food excuse-without him I'd never have the luxury, came home and threw ourselves on the couch.
We've decided to save the baby proofing for Tuesday, after we grocery shop, go the mall for new clothes for our ever growing son and I cook a pot roast for dinner. Yeah, don't worry, I'll keep you posted on this no baby proofing again.
I can't believe I subject myself to your laughter.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Exhaustion is a 4 Letter Word
You ever have those days? Those days where you're praying your child will fall back asleep so you can get one more hour of sleep or feel like you just might fall asleep while pushing the stroller? Today was one of those days for me. I blame swim class.
Ah, the first day of swimming classes at the rec. I managed not to slip on the wet floor of the locker room and crack my head open, not to drop my son in the pool and let him sink to the bottom before I could grab him and not to wear an inappropriate bathing suit, well I guess that depends of what the other people considered inappropriate since my boobs (or possible my son) seemed to manage to untie the front of my top twice during class, which I'd like to state for the record I caught before it was too late (I don't want to be the breast exposing mom that causes mothers not to let fathers come to class with their children anymore), but the fears that kept me up the night before were diminished by the end. My son liked, I fear using the word love could come back to haunt me, the class. He only cried when the instructor came over and sang to him. By the way, can I side track for a second and ask what's that about? My son laughs and blah blah blah blah's any Pam or Joe on the street, but the second a cute little old lady at the grocery store, or a swim instructor apparently, comes up to him he freaks out? Explain.
Anyway, the water was a bit chilly. So for his and my sake I kept my legs bent and made sure the water stayed over our shoulders (the in and out makes me cold-alas I'm assuming it makes my son cold as well)and between the tossing up and down, the splashing and the holding, not to mention the difficult, wet changing procedure in the locker room after (hello, thank God I wasn't the only one trying to balance their baby and pull off their suit and pull up their pants at the same time), I left the class in pain. It seems as if Mommy and Me Swim Classes at the rec aren't strictly for the benefit of the baby, but for the parents as well. To say my arms and legs were burning would be an understatement.
In the meantime the class did a number on my son as well. My guy had his head on my shoulder before we reached the car, was passed out in his seat less than a block away and continued to sleep for 3 hours after we got home-just enough time for my arms to regain the strength to pick him up again.
But by all means don't go by what I say-my girlfriend who took the class felt fine. Ooph. To her I say congrats because this is definitely a burn you can feel.
I assume this was the route of my exhaustion this morning, but in pondering that I have to ask the inevitable question, why is, "Why are you so tired," ever uttered to a mother?
When someone asks me this I want to look them in the eyes and tell them what I've done today.
"Well, my son got up at 6am, I got up, gave him a bottle, played with him, washed the dishes, fed him a bowl of oatmeal, ate a bowl full of stale Cheerios myself, brought him in the shower with me so I could shower, dried him and myself off, got us dressed, watched Sesame Street, clapped, sang along and said "Yadadada" when Elmo revealed his thought of the day, got the stroller out of the trunk of my car (I keep it in the trunk so I just stop and pull it out on my way out of the house-so much easier than lugging it inside or up my stairs-creative-huh), walked from Monroe to Alabama where I met up with my friend who runs a day care, switched my son from a single stroller into a double with one of the day care kids while she pushed the rest in a triple, went to the park, played, chased, pushed two babies in the swing, strolled back to the day care, fed my son his bottle, loaded him back in the single stroller, walked to Walbaums to pick up things for dinner and formula, stopped at the neighbors to say hi, and sat my child back in the high chair to feed him lunch before his afternoon nap..oh and did I mention it's only 12:30? I still have an entire afternoon of diaper changes, dog walks, feedings, dinner preparing, house cleaning, errand and phone call tagging and wooden stools to paint silver for my son's Halloween costume that I'm bent on making to do?"
But ya know, saying would just take away the smallest bit of energy I have left. Instead I say "I don't know" and keep walking. Did I mention I'm worried that I might fall asleep while pushing the stroller?
Exhaustion is definitely a four letter word-especially when you don't have the time to indulge it or take the bottle of aspirin necessary to relieve the pain in your body. That's right I'm still crying over my swim class muscles.
Ah, the first day of swimming classes at the rec. I managed not to slip on the wet floor of the locker room and crack my head open, not to drop my son in the pool and let him sink to the bottom before I could grab him and not to wear an inappropriate bathing suit, well I guess that depends of what the other people considered inappropriate since my boobs (or possible my son) seemed to manage to untie the front of my top twice during class, which I'd like to state for the record I caught before it was too late (I don't want to be the breast exposing mom that causes mothers not to let fathers come to class with their children anymore), but the fears that kept me up the night before were diminished by the end. My son liked, I fear using the word love could come back to haunt me, the class. He only cried when the instructor came over and sang to him. By the way, can I side track for a second and ask what's that about? My son laughs and blah blah blah blah's any Pam or Joe on the street, but the second a cute little old lady at the grocery store, or a swim instructor apparently, comes up to him he freaks out? Explain.
Anyway, the water was a bit chilly. So for his and my sake I kept my legs bent and made sure the water stayed over our shoulders (the in and out makes me cold-alas I'm assuming it makes my son cold as well)and between the tossing up and down, the splashing and the holding, not to mention the difficult, wet changing procedure in the locker room after (hello, thank God I wasn't the only one trying to balance their baby and pull off their suit and pull up their pants at the same time), I left the class in pain. It seems as if Mommy and Me Swim Classes at the rec aren't strictly for the benefit of the baby, but for the parents as well. To say my arms and legs were burning would be an understatement.
In the meantime the class did a number on my son as well. My guy had his head on my shoulder before we reached the car, was passed out in his seat less than a block away and continued to sleep for 3 hours after we got home-just enough time for my arms to regain the strength to pick him up again.
But by all means don't go by what I say-my girlfriend who took the class felt fine. Ooph. To her I say congrats because this is definitely a burn you can feel.
I assume this was the route of my exhaustion this morning, but in pondering that I have to ask the inevitable question, why is, "Why are you so tired," ever uttered to a mother?
When someone asks me this I want to look them in the eyes and tell them what I've done today.
"Well, my son got up at 6am, I got up, gave him a bottle, played with him, washed the dishes, fed him a bowl of oatmeal, ate a bowl full of stale Cheerios myself, brought him in the shower with me so I could shower, dried him and myself off, got us dressed, watched Sesame Street, clapped, sang along and said "Yadadada" when Elmo revealed his thought of the day, got the stroller out of the trunk of my car (I keep it in the trunk so I just stop and pull it out on my way out of the house-so much easier than lugging it inside or up my stairs-creative-huh), walked from Monroe to Alabama where I met up with my friend who runs a day care, switched my son from a single stroller into a double with one of the day care kids while she pushed the rest in a triple, went to the park, played, chased, pushed two babies in the swing, strolled back to the day care, fed my son his bottle, loaded him back in the single stroller, walked to Walbaums to pick up things for dinner and formula, stopped at the neighbors to say hi, and sat my child back in the high chair to feed him lunch before his afternoon nap..oh and did I mention it's only 12:30? I still have an entire afternoon of diaper changes, dog walks, feedings, dinner preparing, house cleaning, errand and phone call tagging and wooden stools to paint silver for my son's Halloween costume that I'm bent on making to do?"
But ya know, saying would just take away the smallest bit of energy I have left. Instead I say "I don't know" and keep walking. Did I mention I'm worried that I might fall asleep while pushing the stroller?
Exhaustion is definitely a four letter word-especially when you don't have the time to indulge it or take the bottle of aspirin necessary to relieve the pain in your body. That's right I'm still crying over my swim class muscles.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Child Proofing Update
Tomorrow is the officially date and list has continued to grow. Who is this kid, I ask myself? A destructive whirlwind or a 9 month old? Our latest thing to go is a handed down picture of Central Park that always lined our kitchen wall. Now all that remains is an ugly white barren wall with a silver electric box and torn wall, which was all so discreetly covered. Ah, my beautiful home. What will be next the white refrigerator my son keeps licking. Yeah, I said licking. Uhhh. What did I do with all my time when my son was just in a sitting position? Oh that's right I watched TV, ate bon bons and had luncheon with the ladies. Yeah. As if my PP would have allowed me to enjoy any of that.
Elmo's Do
So am I the only mom who notices when Elmo's hair looks disheveled, like he just rolled out of bed or something? It always makes me wonder how many Elmo puppets Sesame Street has and if the disheveled Elmo was the stand-in who got called into duty and out of the closet at the last minute.
I always say to my son, "Honey, do you think Elmo have a hard morning?" To which he continues to stare at the screen, mouth wide open and scream "Ahh" at the top of his lungs every time Elmo appears and kicks his feet and turns away when Elmo leaves.
Oh by the way, for those wondering about the fact that I'm watching Sesame Street with my son, yes I am one of those moms who lets their baby watch TV. And I don't feel a tad guilty about it. I sit with him during our morning hour of S.S. and sing the songs and do the letters of the day with him, oh and did I mention that my Spanish has improved dramatically? Maybe it's the parents who end up learning more from S.S. than the kids. Hmm, food for thought.
But back to the point, am I the only mom noticing Elmo's crazy hair sometimes?
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
So Back to the Post Partum Thing Again
I had a dream last night, I know again with the dreams. It was my birthday and all my friends were there, including my sister and a few of her freinds. We all got dressed up and were going out for the night. I was so excited. I couldn't wait to dance, to sip a cold martini and to lose total control (of course in the dream I didn't have a 9 month old I had to come home to). Anywho, the night was looking bright, and as I said I was feeling the excitement, but as I came out of the bathroom I noticed my freind MM walking past me in a black dress with sexy heels, loads of makeup on and big gold hoop earrings. She smiled and kept going. When I got back to our table, which oddly enough was in the mall back home in front of Mcdonald's now, no one was there. Just a few lame people I didn't really know that well, but who were all excited to see me and hang out sat across from me asking me what we should do next. Come to find out my friends thought my birthday night was lame and ditched me to go the the city. I didn't even have a ride home. I was so pissed! It was my birthday. MY day. People were supposed to be celebrating me and do what I wanted to do, even if it was lame. And since when did my friends ditch me? I ended up getting a ride home with my sister and was then transported to the beach where my friend JS was hanging out looking for shells. She was in her grey sweats and JETS t-shirt (hollar!). Turns out she didn't go to the city with the rest of the girls because she thought they were lame and she was looking for me. We spent the rest of the night looking for shells and having a long talk about where I've been and why I've been hiding.
I didn't remember the dream until I went for a walk with my son. Just the two of us, well technically just I since he was already passed out and dreaming, alone, with no cellphone (I purposely left it home)and the pretty houses of Walnut Street (I like to mix it up) when I thought hard about the dream. It got me thinking of other things. Important things like how we make a point to go out to dinner at least every other month so we stay connected, how we always celebrate one anothers birthdays together and even more I remembered the last birthday I spent with them-my 30th(I was big and pregnant for my 31st, so we skipped it).
All 15 of us gathered at a nice restaurant in Rockville Center. We wined, dined and feasted on a delicious birthday cake-then we were kicked out. Our loudness had caused quite a distraction among the other diners, in all fairness who puts 15 women in the center of a restaurant at a long table instead of to the side at a round-what did they think we were going to do-whisper?. To make it worse the manager, an angry woman, came over to me as I walked from the bathroom, unaware that the party was for me, and complained about my friends and our disruptive behavior. To get her back my friends sang "Happy Birthday" at the top of their lungs, some would say to the point of screaming, and then asked for the check. Afterwards we stood outside, gathering our group for the next destination-dancing-my fav!-when one of the girls decided to go back in and confront the manager. Moments later one girl turned into another into another, and soon five of the girls were yelling at the manager in front of her boss, who agreed that we were treated improperly, but not letting things lie-we were now no longer asked to leave for the night-we were perminately BANNED! Banned-from a restaurant! Who does that? Apparently we do.
We laughed all the way to the club and days afterwards. Truth be told I'm not one for calm friends. I like them wild, loud and fun. I still smile when I think of that night, and the night that came after. You see I met my friends at a LB restaurant where I worked as a waitress. That's another long story onto itself that maybe I'll talk about one day. Now, when you work at a restuarant some of the perks are that you get taken care of by other restaurants. So since my boss had called in our reservations and made it known that we were the C&R girls coming for a birthday, which was hooked up I might add, I think it might be understated that the sit down meeting we had with him the next night was not taken to kindly-especially when majority of us were hung over.
So back to the Post Partum thing again, why aren't I calling my freinds? Why am I being so distant and so unwilling to let them in my life in a time when I need them, and I know only them would be loving, caring and non-judemental? I'm not sure. And maybe that unsureness is what's going to make me pick up the phone to call them, especially one close friend who's taken this whole thing pretty personal. To LM, or LP as you're now known, I'm sorry. This was never about you.
I didn't remember the dream until I went for a walk with my son. Just the two of us, well technically just I since he was already passed out and dreaming, alone, with no cellphone (I purposely left it home)and the pretty houses of Walnut Street (I like to mix it up) when I thought hard about the dream. It got me thinking of other things. Important things like how we make a point to go out to dinner at least every other month so we stay connected, how we always celebrate one anothers birthdays together and even more I remembered the last birthday I spent with them-my 30th(I was big and pregnant for my 31st, so we skipped it).
All 15 of us gathered at a nice restaurant in Rockville Center. We wined, dined and feasted on a delicious birthday cake-then we were kicked out. Our loudness had caused quite a distraction among the other diners, in all fairness who puts 15 women in the center of a restaurant at a long table instead of to the side at a round-what did they think we were going to do-whisper?. To make it worse the manager, an angry woman, came over to me as I walked from the bathroom, unaware that the party was for me, and complained about my friends and our disruptive behavior. To get her back my friends sang "Happy Birthday" at the top of their lungs, some would say to the point of screaming, and then asked for the check. Afterwards we stood outside, gathering our group for the next destination-dancing-my fav!-when one of the girls decided to go back in and confront the manager. Moments later one girl turned into another into another, and soon five of the girls were yelling at the manager in front of her boss, who agreed that we were treated improperly, but not letting things lie-we were now no longer asked to leave for the night-we were perminately BANNED! Banned-from a restaurant! Who does that? Apparently we do.
We laughed all the way to the club and days afterwards. Truth be told I'm not one for calm friends. I like them wild, loud and fun. I still smile when I think of that night, and the night that came after. You see I met my friends at a LB restaurant where I worked as a waitress. That's another long story onto itself that maybe I'll talk about one day. Now, when you work at a restuarant some of the perks are that you get taken care of by other restaurants. So since my boss had called in our reservations and made it known that we were the C&R girls coming for a birthday, which was hooked up I might add, I think it might be understated that the sit down meeting we had with him the next night was not taken to kindly-especially when majority of us were hung over.
So back to the Post Partum thing again, why aren't I calling my freinds? Why am I being so distant and so unwilling to let them in my life in a time when I need them, and I know only them would be loving, caring and non-judemental? I'm not sure. And maybe that unsureness is what's going to make me pick up the phone to call them, especially one close friend who's taken this whole thing pretty personal. To LM, or LP as you're now known, I'm sorry. This was never about you.
The Worm Has Landed..Into My Liqour Cabinet
Holy Mary of Mayhem is childproofing hard. I mean, I know it's hard, but until the process starts and you actually take a look at all the things your child will get into do you realize how hard.
Regretfully we hadn't started baby proofing our apartment yet. I know we should have, and yes I got the emails from BabyCenter two months ago urging mothers to begin baby proofing now, before the baby starts to crawl and get into things, but I was too busy. Busy doing what I'm not sure. But the point is my son who was just worming his way around last week has seemed to sprung into a centipede over night. Almost as soon as I let him down on the ground he's racing his little butt across the floor and to the computer cords, Cable Vision box (he likes to pull out the card), or the coffee table. How this happened so quickly I'm not sure. Shouldn't there have been a delay? A slight process to the crawling regime that prepares parents ahead of time? Apparently BabyCenter knows more than I do, and I suspect, if any of their editors were ever to read this they'd probably laugh and say "Told ya so."
It is cute though. The way his little butt scoots around, pops up in the air and wiggles side to side to get to where he's going, or the way he followed me into the bathroom the other morning for the first time and surprised his father who was singing to him from in there as well-no not at the same time! How horrible of a mother do you think I am? Not that I'm in the bathroom with his father, but that I'd just leave him crawling around without supervision. Because if that were true I wouldn't have caught the liquor bottles that my son decided to reach up and knock down yesterday. That's right, he's only 9 months old and my husband and I are already having to hide our stash. Oh and the dog's dish. He likes to scoot his little self on over and splash his hands in the dog's water bowl, while the dog is eating out of her food bowl mind you. I have to give kudos to our dog who simply takes a break from her food to look at him and then glance up with me with that face that says, "Seriously?"
So we've got the liquor cabinet, the dog's dish, the Cable Vision card, glass coffee table, computer wires and bathroom cabinets to lock up this Saturday (my husbands off-woohoo!)but everyday I seem to find so much more. I forgot about the plug covers we'll need for the outlets, the crib that now needs to be lowered, the toilet seat that needs to be locked down (can't wait to see my husband try and leave the toilet seat up now-guess there are similarities between baby proofing and husband proofing)and the millions of cute items I have around the house that can no longer be for the time being.
Oh and did I mention I had a dream that my son was slipping through the porch railings from our second floor apartment? Needless to say, we'll have to figure out a way to cover the large gap in the bottom of them as well.
Ahh, child proofing. What will be next? Giving away my Prada purse, the only label I own..that reminds me I think someone told me I could sell it on eBay and use the cash to get a new one..hmmmm?
Regretfully we hadn't started baby proofing our apartment yet. I know we should have, and yes I got the emails from BabyCenter two months ago urging mothers to begin baby proofing now, before the baby starts to crawl and get into things, but I was too busy. Busy doing what I'm not sure. But the point is my son who was just worming his way around last week has seemed to sprung into a centipede over night. Almost as soon as I let him down on the ground he's racing his little butt across the floor and to the computer cords, Cable Vision box (he likes to pull out the card), or the coffee table. How this happened so quickly I'm not sure. Shouldn't there have been a delay? A slight process to the crawling regime that prepares parents ahead of time? Apparently BabyCenter knows more than I do, and I suspect, if any of their editors were ever to read this they'd probably laugh and say "Told ya so."
It is cute though. The way his little butt scoots around, pops up in the air and wiggles side to side to get to where he's going, or the way he followed me into the bathroom the other morning for the first time and surprised his father who was singing to him from in there as well-no not at the same time! How horrible of a mother do you think I am? Not that I'm in the bathroom with his father, but that I'd just leave him crawling around without supervision. Because if that were true I wouldn't have caught the liquor bottles that my son decided to reach up and knock down yesterday. That's right, he's only 9 months old and my husband and I are already having to hide our stash. Oh and the dog's dish. He likes to scoot his little self on over and splash his hands in the dog's water bowl, while the dog is eating out of her food bowl mind you. I have to give kudos to our dog who simply takes a break from her food to look at him and then glance up with me with that face that says, "Seriously?"
So we've got the liquor cabinet, the dog's dish, the Cable Vision card, glass coffee table, computer wires and bathroom cabinets to lock up this Saturday (my husbands off-woohoo!)but everyday I seem to find so much more. I forgot about the plug covers we'll need for the outlets, the crib that now needs to be lowered, the toilet seat that needs to be locked down (can't wait to see my husband try and leave the toilet seat up now-guess there are similarities between baby proofing and husband proofing)and the millions of cute items I have around the house that can no longer be for the time being.
Oh and did I mention I had a dream that my son was slipping through the porch railings from our second floor apartment? Needless to say, we'll have to figure out a way to cover the large gap in the bottom of them as well.
Ahh, child proofing. What will be next? Giving away my Prada purse, the only label I own..that reminds me I think someone told me I could sell it on eBay and use the cash to get a new one..hmmmm?
Monday, September 22, 2008
Apple Orchards, Beautiful Parks and $200,000 mansions!
Ah, the life outside of Long Island. So quiet, so serene, so..inexpensive! On a weekend trip to Pennsylvania this past weekend my sister-in-law M took me for a walk around her quaint neighborhood and lead me straight to a house that was for sale two blocks away from her. This was no coincidence. My sister-in-law M and brother-in-law R have been trying to get my husband and I to move to Pennsylvania since the sky was blue. They have a good case for it too. M has two children, our godson who's 3 and her latest daughter who's 6 months, she only works part-time, which means more time for walks and talks with our children together, and she lives an hour away from my mother-in-law, whom I might add babysits every other weekend for her-can you say jealous! I did find a cottage like home that sat on the corner of a street. It looked like the kind of home where children ran and played, apple pie cooled on the window sill, mom stays home and cleans the home and makes it crafty, and my favorite of all, the screened in side porch that sat under a full green tree and stretched out into the garden, a place where mom and dad sit and sip on a warm cup of coffee, all cozy in their warm sweaters, and read the Sunday paper or their latest book. The biggest bonus of all-the house was in walking distance to their children's school and playground. Talk about your June Cleaver scenario. This would be home. This could be home, and for only $200,000 we could actually buy this home. M let me chew on this, along with a 5 page hand out of other houses that were for sale, like a 1800 farmhouse with a lake, original hardwood floors, original stone fireplaces in every room, including the kitchen, a wrap around porch, 13 acres and 6 bedrooms for $375,000. $375,000!!! That wouldn't even get me a tiny home crammed in the West End! But even though all these amenities sounded grand, and the warm apple pie that I envisioned cooling on the window sill aroused my senses, Long Beach is still were I want to make my home.
I might live in a one bedroom apartment, that my husband, dog and I share with my son, but I have the ocean, I have the beach, I have the city and I have me. My life has began to grow here. I have great friends, wonderful neighbors and a swim class that I have to find an appropriate bathing suit for this weekend.
But back to my weekend in Pennsylvania, I can't say enough nice things. I always love visiting my family and spending the afternoons with my nieces and nephews. We went to a beautiful farm and went apple picking, something that I have to say is a weakness of mine, for those that know me know that I can not pass a farm stand and just drive by. I have to stop, smell the mums, squeeze the tomatoes and linger over the pumpkins, all while buying delicious pieces of homemade fudge and cups of warm apple cider. Yum!
M & R also took us to "The Shady Maple" for breakfast. This was my first "smorgasbord" experience. I swear it looked like more of an amusement park than a place to eat. As soon as you walked in there's ticket booths where you pay for your meal and then get escorted to your table, since there are about 5,000 of them-no joke! We went on a Friday morning and the place was packed. I can only imagine what it would be like on the weekend. There's rows about rows of food choices. There's a french toast and pancake section, waffles section, make your own omelet section, basically any kind of breakfast food you can imagine is in this place. My only regret is that we left in a hurry and were unable to make it to the gift shop downstairs, which is supposedly enormous. If you ever pass a Shady Maple you have to experience it just for the experience alone.
The premise of the weekend voyage was for a golf tournament my husband and his brothers were in, their golf addicts to put it mildly, and it was successful. The womenfolk had fun with the kids, and even got to see a movie "The House Bunny" which left me feeling insecure about my body and wondering how many sit ups I'd have to do before my body looked like Anna Farris, and the menfolk got their play out and even got to watch the Giants game together in that afternoon. All in all it was one well worth it trip.
Now, getting started actually settling down from my summer vacations and establishing some time of "helpful" schedule is another story.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Facing Life After the Post Partum
You ever have those times in your life when you need a break? Need to step away from the everyday, the chaotic life around you and even your friends?
Mine is going on two months now.
It's not that I don't love anyone, or appreciate them or want them in my life. It's that I need to focus on me, my son and get centered. Life spun out of control for me. One day I was fine, running a million errands, writing my brains out, loving my 6 month old son, and looking for new ways to start building on to my career and life, when out of no where the rug was ripped from under my feet and I was curled up in bed, visiting the Emergency Room with no warning at all.
The other day I ran into one of my old friends walking down the street. I was glad to see her, glad to say hi, glad to talk about what everyone was up to, but the question was on her mind. With every "So what have you been up to," and "How are things going" was the underlining question she was dying but to afraid to ask me-"What happened to you" or "How are you feeling?" I'm not sure why people feel as if they have to tiptoe around it. I had (have) postpartum. It's a simple as that. I don't hate my son. I don't regret being a mom. And I'm not trying to isolate myself from the world, okay maybe just a little bit. But it's seeing my friend and watching her smiling face scrunch into a concerned forehead that's analyzing what I'm saying and how I'm acting to decipher if I'm okay now, that keeps me from picking up the phone or answering the everlasting emails about getting together with everyone.
In my friends defense they were blindsided. One day I was attending our monthly dinners, meeting my other mom friend for lunch and walking the boards everyday and the next I wasn't talking to them in person, or anyway other than a quick text telling them I was having issues and was going away for a bit. The truth. I don't know why I haven't picked up the phone. The fact is I'm still not ready. I'm still a bit sad and I'm still anxious. I'm sad that my family isn't closer, that my husband works so much, that I'm lonely and I'm nervous that everything I do as a mother is incorrect.
But you wouldn't know that if you met me. I seem calm, cool, collective and funny-okay well maybe not calm or collective-but I am funny (kudos to self). And I think I do a fairly good job of fooling myself too.
Upon the third day of a random headache and vision blurs that wouldn't go away, the doctor in the Emergency Room told me my body was under extreme exhaustion and in turn was shutting down.
"Do you have anyone you could call to stay with you and the baby for a few days so that you can rest your body and try to relax?"
Niagara Falls has never poured as hard as I did when the doctor uttered these words.
My mom and entire family was 5 hours away, my husbands were 3 and everyone else had jobs, commitments-lives! There was no one to call, and this had been my anxiety from day one.
My husband rearranged his schedule so that he was home with me during the day and working later at night, after the baby and myself had been put to sleep.
Two days after that fateful ER visit I went back to my regular doctor who had now done X-ray test, Eye tests and was even about to check my heart for an arrhythmia when he pulled me into his office and told me he thought I was under going postpartum.
I thought he was crazy. He thought I needed Prozac and Xantax.
But the pill popping started making things a little clearer. I did have friends and a wonderful neighbor that could watch my son from time to time, so I wasn't alone in the true essence of the word-I just felt like I was. My family told me they thought something was wrong and were about to confront me, my mother-in-law admitted that she understood what the doctor was talking about and my husband practically got down on his knees and thanked heaven that someone besides him was seeing his sane wife a now insane wreck-not the smiling happy mother she was portraying on the street.
After that I went on what seems like a world wind vacation. I took my son and went to my mothers for a week, met my husband in the Poconos to be with my his family for a week, turned around and went to Virginia to visit my cousin with my family again for a week, left for the Hampton's with my girlfriend for a weekend and then went to Saratoga to be with my husband's family once again. With my son, my dog and several bags in tow I traveled all around getting help when I needed it and a few extra hours of sleep from time to time.
Now that I'm back, settling into a routine and establishing a life that balances my son's needs with my own, I feel placed. That sounds like such a strange term, but it's all I can use to describe myself now. Placed.
But I still need my space. Orally I might have a lot to say and much that I need to express, but currently I have nothing to say.
And until I can continue to get my life straight I can't say much at all.
Mine is going on two months now.
It's not that I don't love anyone, or appreciate them or want them in my life. It's that I need to focus on me, my son and get centered. Life spun out of control for me. One day I was fine, running a million errands, writing my brains out, loving my 6 month old son, and looking for new ways to start building on to my career and life, when out of no where the rug was ripped from under my feet and I was curled up in bed, visiting the Emergency Room with no warning at all.
The other day I ran into one of my old friends walking down the street. I was glad to see her, glad to say hi, glad to talk about what everyone was up to, but the question was on her mind. With every "So what have you been up to," and "How are things going" was the underlining question she was dying but to afraid to ask me-"What happened to you" or "How are you feeling?" I'm not sure why people feel as if they have to tiptoe around it. I had (have) postpartum. It's a simple as that. I don't hate my son. I don't regret being a mom. And I'm not trying to isolate myself from the world, okay maybe just a little bit. But it's seeing my friend and watching her smiling face scrunch into a concerned forehead that's analyzing what I'm saying and how I'm acting to decipher if I'm okay now, that keeps me from picking up the phone or answering the everlasting emails about getting together with everyone.
In my friends defense they were blindsided. One day I was attending our monthly dinners, meeting my other mom friend for lunch and walking the boards everyday and the next I wasn't talking to them in person, or anyway other than a quick text telling them I was having issues and was going away for a bit. The truth. I don't know why I haven't picked up the phone. The fact is I'm still not ready. I'm still a bit sad and I'm still anxious. I'm sad that my family isn't closer, that my husband works so much, that I'm lonely and I'm nervous that everything I do as a mother is incorrect.
But you wouldn't know that if you met me. I seem calm, cool, collective and funny-okay well maybe not calm or collective-but I am funny (kudos to self). And I think I do a fairly good job of fooling myself too.
Upon the third day of a random headache and vision blurs that wouldn't go away, the doctor in the Emergency Room told me my body was under extreme exhaustion and in turn was shutting down.
"Do you have anyone you could call to stay with you and the baby for a few days so that you can rest your body and try to relax?"
Niagara Falls has never poured as hard as I did when the doctor uttered these words.
My mom and entire family was 5 hours away, my husbands were 3 and everyone else had jobs, commitments-lives! There was no one to call, and this had been my anxiety from day one.
My husband rearranged his schedule so that he was home with me during the day and working later at night, after the baby and myself had been put to sleep.
Two days after that fateful ER visit I went back to my regular doctor who had now done X-ray test, Eye tests and was even about to check my heart for an arrhythmia when he pulled me into his office and told me he thought I was under going postpartum.
I thought he was crazy. He thought I needed Prozac and Xantax.
But the pill popping started making things a little clearer. I did have friends and a wonderful neighbor that could watch my son from time to time, so I wasn't alone in the true essence of the word-I just felt like I was. My family told me they thought something was wrong and were about to confront me, my mother-in-law admitted that she understood what the doctor was talking about and my husband practically got down on his knees and thanked heaven that someone besides him was seeing his sane wife a now insane wreck-not the smiling happy mother she was portraying on the street.
After that I went on what seems like a world wind vacation. I took my son and went to my mothers for a week, met my husband in the Poconos to be with my his family for a week, turned around and went to Virginia to visit my cousin with my family again for a week, left for the Hampton's with my girlfriend for a weekend and then went to Saratoga to be with my husband's family once again. With my son, my dog and several bags in tow I traveled all around getting help when I needed it and a few extra hours of sleep from time to time.
Now that I'm back, settling into a routine and establishing a life that balances my son's needs with my own, I feel placed. That sounds like such a strange term, but it's all I can use to describe myself now. Placed.
But I still need my space. Orally I might have a lot to say and much that I need to express, but currently I have nothing to say.
And until I can continue to get my life straight I can't say much at all.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Rec Center Sign Ups
I woke up at 6:30 this morning, not because of the baby but because of Swim Class Registration. Think I'm nuts? Not if you've ever signed up for a course at the library or rec before. By the time I dressed my son, forced him to drink an early bottle, gulped-literally-a cup of coffee and made it to the rec there was already a line around the corner. And I got there at 7:15! Sign up wasn't for another 45 minutes, but apparently I still wasn't early enough. Thankfully my little 8 month old successfully made the swim class cut off! Which means I will have several Fall mornings to bask in the bubble blowing warm pool of the rec with my smiling son.
I've already got it planned out in my mind. We'll take a nice walk to the rec, swim and play for an hour and then change back into our weekend cozy sweats, stop at Starbucks for a deliciously warm coffee and copy of the Times and tuck my little one into bed for a nice nap while I read and sip the rest of the afternoon away (or an hour of it at least).
Fall is already starting to sound so lovely.
I've already got it planned out in my mind. We'll take a nice walk to the rec, swim and play for an hour and then change back into our weekend cozy sweats, stop at Starbucks for a deliciously warm coffee and copy of the Times and tuck my little one into bed for a nice nap while I read and sip the rest of the afternoon away (or an hour of it at least).
Fall is already starting to sound so lovely.
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