It's My Laundry And I'll Fold What I Want To

For the time being I am suspending all sock sorting and folding activity. Socks, I am leaving you in this basket from whence I will fetch you on an as-needed basis. Take that, laundry. Yeah yeah, shirts and pants, don't get your panties all in a bunch. I am still gonna fold you (and you too panties, for that matter). Shirts, I even ironed one of you last week. So get off my back. Socks, just deal with it. Think of your time in this basket as a party and mingle.

Happy New Decade!

These days I have 20 minutes (if I am lucky) of free time a day so I don't have the time to write the post I want to write about the last decade. Instead, here is what I will tell you about my blog.

I want to redesign it this year. If anyone knows anyone who can do this on the cheap for me, let me know. Because with 20 minutes of free time, I don't know if this will happen without help.

I want to express thanks to those women bloggers out there who keep me connected to reality.

I want to check my spelling more often. God, it has been embarrassingly bad this year.

I want to find a way to have more time to write.

Happy New Year!

Yup, Another Sleep (Or Lack Thereof) Post

I am posting my comment to Clueless but Hopeful Mama's Post about the sleep differences between her kids and about what a difficult aspect something as seemingly simple as sleep is in the world that is motherhood because as you know if you read my blog, it is a subject that is nearer and dearer to my heart than even poop, pee, spit-up, or snot. And also because my comment was so damn long (sorry CBHM) that I figure I might as well just use it as a post cause I am lazy like that...

I think you should do whatever works for your family. What bugs me is that people think because my baby doesn't sleep well by herself, that I am doing something wrong rather than considering that every kid is different. I have tried EVERYTHING and CIO, especially the kind where you check in, makes my daughter so upset that she stops breathing and is in a state of panic and when I finally get her to sleep she cries ALL NIGHT in her sleep. It is horrible. I wish I could put her down and she would cry for a while and go to sleep but she just does not do that. I know it shouldn't bother me what other people think, but it does.

I've also tried the No Cry Sleep Solution which does the exact opposite for us than it is supposed to do. I think time will be our tincture in this case. And that sucks but it is just how it is.

I really do think that all kids are different when it comes to sleep. Which makes sense because all adults I know are different too. I had a boss who could sit under her desk and take a nap and another who needed ambien every night to sleep. My husband needs to listen to talk radio to fall asleep but then sleeps like a dead horse but I can fall asleep on a dime yet wake up easliy throughout the night. Why should babies be any different?

Woman in the Mucus

So humor me for a moment while I bore you with some Japanese New Wave Cinema references. See, I told you I went to film school once long, long ago. You didn't believe me, did you? Well, that's OK. It is sometimes hard for me to believe too now that I spend all day keeping a toddler from eating the dog food or choking on water bottle caps. But I did. And I happened to like the really boring esoteric stuff. I even made boring esoteric films. Yeah, I was one of those kind of art school nerds. But this is really getting off the subject.

I wanted to talk about what I've been thinking about a lot lately. The book/movie Woman in the Dunes. Have you read/seen it? Well, to Twittersynopsis it, it is about a woman who lives in these remote dunes and has to sweep the sand back every day all day to keep from being drowned in it. There is more to the story--an entomologist dude wondering the dunes finds her and hangs out there (or maybe she finds him? can't remember) and they fight and have sex. But that part isn't really what I am thinking about. I am thinking about the woman in the dunes sweeping up all day just to do it over again the next to keep from drowning in it. Lately, with Bug's seemingly constant colds, I consider myself The Woman in the Mucus. I carry a snot rag to wipe the slime away lest we drown in it. I keep a humidifier going. I boil water on the stove. I Little Noses her nostrils. I syringe out the goobers. Every day.

Motherhood is like that. Isn't it? You get to do the same things every single day. Some days are better than others. Some days you want to hide under the covers. Some days you zen out and do it. Some days you just love the routine and the surprises within the routine. Some days are tantrums and breakdowns. Other days are joy and breakthroughs. Or a little bit of everything. There is a basic routine each day and yet each day is so different from the next. It's the mothering paradox.

To use a more Western image, I suppose it would be to imagine Sisyphus happy. To imagine Sisyphus content as he rolls his boulder up the hill each and every day. In my current situation, it would be a large booger that I roll up the hill every day. Or maybe it is a giant ball of laundry? Or an enormous pile of dishes? What is yours? And can you imagine yourself happy? Or do you want to drop everything and run for the hills?

The Stuff On My Mind

1.  I need to live in the same state as my husband but California is too fucking expensive and the rental properties in areas where you don't get shot at are shitty in our price range.

2. Bug is 15 months and still naps in her swing.  But her recent growth spurt is making it obvious that this is not going to work much longer and this makes me want to curl up in a fetal position and sob.

3.  I just can't seem to get these Christmas cards addressed and in the mail and it is really haunting me.

4. I want sleep really badly and want to cry every time I think about it. 

5.  Breastfeeding is getting old.

6.  Bug has ANOTHER COLD. 

7.  I want a beer.

8. I want to lose this last ten pounds but probably won't until after bfing ends.  Like in ten years or so.

9.  I turned 36 last week.  How the hell did that happen? 

10.  I need sleep.  Did I already say that? Yeah, I know, it is getting boring but it's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Object Permanence Sucks

Nola has always been a little ahead of the curve, but the terrible two's at 10 months? Nola wants everything she sees and when/if she doesn't get it she has begun screaming following by whining to full on crying approaching TANTRUM status--falling to the ground, fists clenched, arms flailing.

And her memory is sharp. Distraction? Not for Nola. I had a Buddha statue atop my dresser. He is made of wood, heavy and holding a bowl with a sharp non baby friendly edge. When she noticed it a couple months ago, she began her "eh eh" hand waving in its direction. Buddha? You want Buddha? And I brought it down for her and showed her how to rub his wonderfully fat belly though she preferred to rub his head. From then on, it was "Ba Ba" when she saw him. Then she hit her head on his hard wooden head while trying to give him a kiss and got an wicked bruise on her forehead so it was bye bye Buddha. But she still knows that he is supposed to be there perched atop my dresser.

Yup, object permanence sucks. The Wet Ones wrapper I left on the table? She wants it. My cup of coffee? She wants it. The junk mail? She wants it. And won't forget about it. This has left me in a parenting quandary between safety and satisfaction. If I am watching would it be so bad for her to play around with the nursing pads? I mean, I know it says choking hazard and YOUR CHILD WILL DIE IF SHE TOUCHES THIS BOX right there on the package. But seriously, I AM RIGHT THERE WITH HER. And it satisfies her for the moment and so what? Am I screwing myself? Probably.




By the way, I am in the market for a more baby-friendly Buddha. Any thoughts?

When to Wean

If it were up to me, I'd choose 12 months. That's right. Nola would blow out her one year old birthday candle, eat a piece of gooey happiness from her ladybug birthday cake, and then swig down her first glass of whole organic milk and decide boobs were for babies--and you know how Nola hates being a baby.

But breastfeeding isn't just about food. It is a relationship and like any other it has its ups and downs. Nola and I started our breastfeeding relationship in the delivery room when she latched on like a pro and nursed until she fell asleep. It was a blissful beginning followed by a lot of drama. There was the thrush misdiagnosis which caused a full month of utter hell. There was also my oversupply issues followed by suspected food allergies which led me to eating a diet free of all eight common allergic foods.

And I am ready to eat cheese again. I had a dream a few nights ago that I was using a huge hunk of cheddar cheese as an edible utensil, dipping it into various food items and scarfing it down. I know, in the light of day this is vomit inducing but in the dream (and for a few seconds after I woke up) it was pure dairy heaven.

But breastfeeding is also about comfort and love and connection. It is also the easiest baby calmer tool given to mothers. Baby bumped her head? Whip out the boob. Baby not feeling good? Whip out the boob. Baby need to sleep? Yup, that's right, whip out the boob. Would I even know how to parent without breastfeeding? Could I comfort her in other ways? Is she ready for that? This is a relationship and two people are involved so even though I am beyond ready to have my body back to myself, I don't know when Nola will be.

In Awe

A few weeks ago I developed the photos from one of the two cameras we have. Over 400 photos of Nola. My beautiful baby girl. The photos of her just born. The one my mom snapped of her that she wasn't supposed to. I am so glad she did. Just born. Brand new. And yet she was already there. Why should I be surprised by her activity level? By the fact that she never stops moving? She would shift inside my belly all day long. My belly noticeably taking on strange shapes and curves throughout the day. She was having fun. She was swimming and playing and moving at will. Her inability to move after birth surprised and frustrated her. Nursing was her only comfort in this world. She still LOVES to nurse. And she is now WALKING. My not even ten month old baby is walking. I am so happy for her. She has wanted to walk since she was born and now her muscles are finally capable of carrying her through this world. I am so happy and so sad. And so proud. And most of all, humbled by the experience of motherhood. By the experience of being Nola's mother.

Closer to a Year Than Just Born

Nola is eight months old tomorrow. She is constant motion. I thought her goal was to walk. I am wrong. Her goal is to run. She is a giggling, screaming, crawling, babbling, standing, peek-a-boo playing ball of energy. She is so busy. She is consumed with life. She is everything bright and beautiful. She is my favorite person. My brother-in-law hypothesized that as soon as she learns to run she'll realize that what she really wants to do is fly. I think he may be right.

Tummy Time

This is my muffin top.

I don't think these pictures quite do it justice but it is the biggest tummy I have ever had.

aside from when I was pregnant.

Good Thing I'm on Zoloft

I had been thinking lately of getting off my crazy drugs because I feel like my body has stabilized and therefore my hormones aren't making my brain a sea of anxiety. Even with the state of the economy, the fact that our environment is seriously fucked, the reality of making a huge move which includes being away from Dylan most of the week, and having recently found a scorpion in the garage, I have been feeling pretty balanced.

But then came the swine flu. Fuck. A 23 month old died. The president is telling schools to close if they suspect cases. And all I can say is thank god for Zoloft because without it I might be huddled in a corner holding Nola praying the rosary.

Before/After

I wasn't kidding when I said my roots were SCARY. I finally got my hair done a couple weeks ago. I hadn't had my hair done since before Nola was born. As god is my witness, I will never go this long again. This is a promise I am keeping to myself. After two weeks, I am still thanking heaven every time I pass a mirror. I have my next appointment scheduled.

Before:



After:

Now I have to work on those eyebrows.

The Sleepless Wonder

My nickname for Nola is sleepless wonder. Actually, that is not totally accurate because she does sleep. She naps. However, the naps are in her swing. She is almost seven months and I know I am not going to be able to let her do that much longer. She does sleep at night but wakes up every two hours for a little boob then right back to sleep. So in reality, I am the sleepless wonder. I haven't sleep for more than two hours straight since she was about two months old. When she was a newborn she slept longer but then got into the habit of using the boob at her little awakenings to go back to sleep. I really don't know how to break the habit. I just keep hoping that one day she'll sleep a little longer between awakenings. I know this is wishful thinking. I've tried all advice aside from CIO but Nola has a mind of her own and is going to do things her way. I like this about her but damn I need some sleep.

Perfection

absent

It has been so long since I have blogged. This is primarily because I have a very active almost six month old who never sleeps. It is also because so much is going on I don't know where to begin.

Here is a little tidbit though---Nola Jane is getting her first tooth!

Also, I quit my job.

Joy

I Hate Being a Baby Face

Hope

Hope. I am stuck in the house trying to clear myself and my baby of thrush. From what I've read, this could be a long road. Sometimes I feel so down I feel hopeless. I can't believe that this is what my baby's first months of life are like. This isn't how it is supposed to be. But every now and then throughout the day, I remember that we just elected Obama, and maybe I am crazy but it gives me hope that things can change.

I Want My Mommy

I am in tears. My mom just left for the airport to go home. She has been here since two days before the baby was born. I don't think I can do this by myself. I have never wished I lived close to family more than I do now. I feel like I am all alone in this and terrified.