BFF?

I knew today was going to be interesting when I got up at 5am with my husband and my son woke up (usually doesn't get up until 6:30) and then when I got in the shower, I got shampoo in my right eye, only to moments later get shower gel in my left eye. Now, I look like a crazy demon.  My right eyeball is all red where it's usually white. And it still hurts.  lol

So, I'm finally going to tackle the topic of my old best friend.  Thus the song.  Every time I hear it, I think of her.  Somebody That I Used To Know. I'm going to write this like it's my journal, but because I know that it truly is a public medium, I never want to say negative things about anyone using his or her real name.  So, for the purposes of this blog, we'll be calling her Mila.

I don't even know where to start.  This is a girl who in fourth grade answered my note, "Will you be my friend?" by circling "YES," when some other friends (popular girls) were on my case about something and making fun of me, how mean little 4th-graders do.  It was the defining moment in our friendship, because I knew that there was something in her that was always going to accept me for who I am, no matter what the rest of the world said. And that was always the basis of what I got out of our friendship.  There was more, a lot more, but that was the foundation for me.  I would say I'm weird.  If only because I'm so honest about how normal I am.  Most people don't want to show vulnerabilities and I see them as a natural and important part of life.  But it makes me blunt about my feelings and sometimes a little raw for some people. Anyway, that was the whole point of us for me... she loved me for me and she accepted me for exactly who I was and she appreciated it, and I did the same for her.

I guess I'll start with the final act that made me rethink our friendship.  I was pregnant.  I had asked Mila to be my coach and be there with me when I gave birth to my first child.  I have to say that it is probably the biggest honor possible.  She was my maid of honor at my wedding, but this was WAY bigger.  And I didn't even realize it until a month later, once the hugeness of a new baby had sunk in and I even had the energy to think about what she did.  She did come to the hospital while I was in labor, but the whole thing lasted 17 hours and she left after being there for about 5 hours, when I was just getting to 6cm dilated and really getting into the difficult part of it.  That would be enough right there, but the reasoning behind it was just ridiculous.  She said she was tired.  Ok, so she approached my husband before me and asked him if he thought I would be upset if she left.  Really?  He was so floored he could only respond with, "you'll have to ask her."  First of all, there were plenty of places the hospital where she could've napped.  And the mere fact that she didn't do that on her own lets me know that she was not interested in being there. But then the excuses came and it was like her screaming that she didn't want to be there. When she told D she was tired, he offered that she could go to our house (10 mins away) to take a nap and he would call her when I was close to delivery.  She said no, because of our dog (that she's known since he was a tiny puppy) barking when she came in the house.  So, then, my best friend Gary (this will make more sense at the end of this story) told her he would drive her there to "protect" her from the dog.  (At this point, even typing this crap out just seems so utterly absurd.)  She still refused.  Then, she said that she didn't want to drive later when she was really exhausted because she had to drive like 45 mins to her mom's house.  So, of course, Gary offered to drive her home later, so she wouldn't have to worry about falling asleep driving.  Still, she said no.  AFTER ALL THAT, she came to me... epidural kicking in and trying to get a little rest (which ended up being pointless because it complete failed to work on my right side), already into my own world of existence that you go into when you get into hard labor... and she asks me if I would be mad if she left because she was starting to get tired.  In my mind, I didn't give a sh*t about anything.  Seriously, someone could've asked me if they could kill my cats and I would've been like, "that doesn't sound like a good idea, but whatever you think is best." So, I told her go ahead.  She cried and was like, "Are you sure?"  I'm thinking... "Oh my God, what are you talking about?  I don't even know what's going on and I certainly don't care if you are tired."  All I wanted was to convince her that it's fine, so she would quit sucking my energy with the crying while I'm in labor.  So, she left.

And a month later, I realized that things had changed.

There were so many other things before that.  It started with moving to Chicago after college and marrying a wonderful woman who was a terrible match for her, to satisfy her need for emotional dependence on a significant other (which she has always had and still does to this day), and eventually cheating on her with a boy.  I say boy, because he was just that.  I honestly don't remember his age, but he was not over 18 yrs old, she was almost 10 yrs older than him.  This was after a move to Vermont that she did 3 weeks before her wife, who was coming to meet her there once she finished up at her job.  But by the time she got there, Mila had already broken their vows and ruined their relationship.  They did, however, try to make it work for a year, before her wife finally left her.  What happened then?  What should happen when you are someone's best friend, I got her home and she stayed with me because she was broken.  I helped her.  I lifted her up.  I told her she was a good person, even though she did a terrible thing.

After going back to Vermont and finding a boyfriend addiction, she cheated on him, too. It became time for her to do some soul searching.  She went to Mexico for a few months. She came home, she still didn't know who she was or what she wanted, but she had fallen in love several times while in Mexico, which is what it all became about.  But she needed me.  She took my time.  I lovingly gave it.  She went back to Mexico and was gone, again.  It still seemed she would find herself there.  But instead, she found another boyfriend to attach herself to.  Then, suddenly, they were engaged.  He was moving to the US and they were filing for a fiance VISA for him.  She got a job here near us, but then rescinded her acceptance in order to move to the Upper Peninsula (UP), 10 hrs away.  She was set to get married here and changed that to be in Marquette (UP), too, so I couldn't go because of my son. Our other friends couldn't go, either.  Money, children, it was too far away. So began her isolation of herself and her dependence on her mate was solidified when she became pregnant (she is still pregs, due next month, now, April).  I hosted a party at my house so that our group of friends could celebrate her wedding and their baby, and still, she hasn't called, hasn't reached out.  Hasn't tried to make up for what she did (not that it would be easy or even possible), but it became clear to me that it truly means more to her to protect herself from conflict, than to salvage our 25 year best friendship.

Real quick, from earlier, Gary is a friend of mine who moved here from Russia at age 13.  We became friends after I graduated high school and I ended up going to the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor where he was already attending. We have been close ever since.  He was at the hospital when I was in labor.  I didn't ask him to stay, because I knew he had to work the next morning (which Mila didn't), but when she left, my husband and I asked if he would step in and it wasn't even a question. He was there, for hours, holding the throw-up bucket in front of me between every contraction, and to see the birth of the most important person in my life.  DJ was born at 3:37am, and Gary had to work at 6am.  But he stayed.  He rubbed my arms to try and help me with the pain, when my husbands hands were too cold and clamy.  He stood behind me to get the right angle so that he wouldn't see my "stuff" in the mirror I had down there.  lol  That day, he became my best friend.  It only took that one defining moment to show who was truly my friend and who wasn't.

So, although there has been limited communication (texts) between Mila and me over the past year, it has been shallow and then, non-existent since Christmas.  I have dreamed about her several times a week over that year and it's been interesting watching my subconscious grieve through it. At first, I would be screaming at her, yelling, pushing her, punching her. Then, it transformed into ignoring her.  She was always there near me, but I would not talk to her.  Recently, I started talking to her again.  In my dreams, it was like, ok, let's be friends again and just forget everything from the past.  I don't feel that way in reality.  And it's not possible anyway, because I don't ever see her, she's too far away.  But, it's making it so that I wake up with her on my mind in a slightly more favorable way than in a long time.  So, that's why I decided it was time to write about it.

Here is the point. Mila is selfish.  I'm not saying that as an insult, but as a factual statement.  She has ever right to be that way.  And really, we all have to be to some extent.  However, it changed, when it finally it affected me. The only thing that matters to me is that I know that I don't want that type of person in my life. Especially not as my best friend.  I was convincing myself for years that all of her faults didn't matter because she loved me for who I am, but when it came down to it, I couldn't count on her in the most important moment of my life, thus far, and that is when I realized that her cheating and her lying and her selfishness doesn't go away for me. It is who she is. And that is the end of the story.

"So, when we found that we could not make sense, well, you said that we would still be friends.  But, I'll admit that I was glad that it was over.  But you didn't have to cut me off.  Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing.  Now, I don't even need your love, but you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough. ...  Guess that I don't need that, though.  Now you're just somebody that I used to know.
Now you're just somebody that I used to know." - Gotye, Somebody That I Used To Know

PCOS

I am proud to record that at my last weigh-in (Thursday, 2 days ago), I was at 162 lbs. So, since I started my fitness plan, I have lost 6 lbs.  It's been about 3 weeks.  I'm really very impressed with myself that I have been keeping my promise to myself.  Today, I was not feeling well due to PCOS (explained further below), and I didn't want to run, but I made myself go out without my dog and run harder than I have, yet.  And I'm just really feeling like I can count on myself to do what's best for me. 

So, I was diagnosed with Poly-Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) when I was in college, but shortly after that (while still in college), I was told I don't have it.  At the time, it was commonly misdiagnosed and under-diagnosed because many doctors believed that it was not a real issue or that it was some rare condition that was very extreme.  There was also no treatment.  When I was first diagnosed, I was told that I would not be able to have children.  Of course, I was relieved to have a second doctor tell me later that I did not have it.  Only to find out as an adult that indeed, I do have PCOS and that it explains many adverse symptoms I had always experienced since puberty and that now, there are treatments, and it's not any guarantee that I won't be able to have children (obviously true, see DJ).  Gotta love modern medicine, with it's limitations and miracles. 

So, it is what it sounds like on the surface, a condition in which one develops cysts on her ovaries.  But that's a very superficial name as what is truly going on with this condition is much more complex than that.  It turns out that what is really happening with PCOS is that a woman's body is unable to process carbohydrates adequately.  Which leads to a formula.  Too many carbohydrates during one sitting greatly increases the blood sugar level, which in turn increases insulin production (a hormone produced by the pancreas) to try to process those sugars, which then instigates an increase in androgens (a hormone, principally testosterone - which is mainly converted to estrogen in women, produced in the ovaries, adrenal glands and fat cells) as a response to the excess insulin.  (You can see by the description that PCOS has similarities to diabetes and in fact, is often treated with a common diabetes medication, called Metformin.) When a woman produces too much of these androgens it results in such virilizing effects as acne, hirsutism (excess hair growth in "inappropriate" places, like the chin or upper lip) and thinning hair. Sounds fun, right?  That's not all, women with PCOS are usually overweight.  I had a doctor later in life that refused to believe that I had PCOS because I didn't "look like someone with PCOS", which he later explained to mean that I wasn't "extremely overweight and very hairy".  So, I guess, I have to thank God that I have what a friend of mine said her doctor calls "Thin PCOS", which is a different form of it (I have no clue as to the truth of that, but it seems to make sense, since most doctors insisted on hormone level testing, because they didn't believe that I really had it). Then, FINALLY, along with all of that lovely stuff, your folicles (these develop into eggs to be released by the ovaries) harden and attach to the outside of the ovaries, causing multiple cysts surrounding the ovaries (it was super crazy to actually see these during my prenatal ultrasounds!).  For some women, this is extremely painful and for some women, these cysts can burst which is excruciating.  I only have the pain when my bowels are moving where they lay against my ovaries, and I have never had one burst (thankfully). 

Ok, so all of that to explain that I wasn't feeling well today because, I take Metformin to control the PCOS, which also means that if I eat too many carbs in one sitting, instead of my blood sugar going up, the Metformin helps my body "over-process" the sugars, so to say, which results in a "flushing" of them, or simply put, diarrhea.  Excellent.  I was at a friend's wedding shower today and had a glass of Sprite, 2 small pieces of yummy Kruse and Muer bread and half a bowl of linguine primavera, apparently, all of that = carb city.  I didn't register it as too much, but clearly, my body did.  The solid thing is (no pun intended) that the Metformin forces processing of carbs, which means, I don't hold as much of the sugars in the form of fat, which makes it easier for me to lose weight (which is still harder than it is for most women, even with the Metformin helping).  Also, it's usually one incident of the cha cha chas and then I feel pretty much fine.  So, thankfully, I was able to get that run in that was on my fitness goal sheet for today.

I also take birth control to control the PCOS symptoms.  Yaz is the only one I've used that has really done wonders for the acne, hair growth (in non-hairy places), hair thinning (in hairy places), irritability, PMS, and other unpleasant symptoms.  Between that, the Metformin, and adjusting my diet appropriately, I feel pretty "normal", I guess.  I still break out before my period, but at least it's not as bad as it was when I was first pregnant and then again when I was at the end of nursing and my body had returned to it's previous "normal", but I wasn't yet back on the Yaz.  And I just have to note that Yaz used to be Yazmin and before that it was Yasmin 28 (no z).  It worked the best when it was Yasmin 28.  I fought and fought to keep getting that, even when they changed the formula and the name, but inevitably, I couldn't get the original anymore.  I NEVER broke out on the Yasmin 28.  :(  Oh well, given our society's patriarchal approach to medicine and the completely idiotic lack of current women's health research, application, and acceptance (really, a Catholic hospital can give non-Catholic employees insurance that doesn't cover birth control, but that covers Viagra???), at least doctors actually know what PCOS is, today.  I think my mom probably had the same thing.  It took her 5 years of trying to get pregnant for the first time.  Because of the Metformin treatment, I was able to become pregnant on our first try.  :)  Ending on a positive note.

The Big Picture

I love my son so much!  That sentence seems to downplay how it really feels to have him in my life.  That being said, I have spent the past week convinced that I am ready to have another baby.  But I think the reality is that I've made the decision that I want another one, so I've successfully built a little cabin inside where I've stored all the memories of pregnancy, labor, recovery, and the first about 7 months of DJ's life.  I've skillfully crafted rooms in that cabin to hold the truths about how hard I believe it will be to have a second and whether or not I truly believe that I can do it.  Because, I promise there was more than one time when I was sure that I couldn't handle raising DJ.  Mainly, when I was sick.  Those are the really hard times.  I think I'm either sick or coming down with something now actually, because I feel that utter lack of motivation to do anything other than get through the day.  And then to top it off, I have to go to work.  Ugh.  I don't mind work, normally, but I have to constantly smile and talk to people and when I'm not feeling good, that's the last thing I want to be doing for 5 hours.  At least, it's only for 5 hours.  :)

Anyway, the cabin has been looming in my view today.  Probably because when I'm not feeling tip top, it's easier for negative stuff to creep in.  I call it a cabin, because looking at the big picture, all of that was really an amazing time and resulted in the most wonderful thing I've ever experienced and I will revisit it like a vacation at some point later in life, it's just that right now, I'm reassessing my ability to parent more than one.

I still think I can do it (again, neglecting previous experience here), and I want to and it's really a matter of when.  If we really want another one, than we might as well do it this summer.  The sooner we do, the sooner that baby will be 1 year old and running around and fun.  It's truly the beginning that I'm not looking forward to.  The pregnancy, the nursing.  I love nursing, but I have a hard time with that constant obligation.  It gets REALLY old, especially when there is no break.  That's how I felt about pregnancy, too.  It was horrible and it lasted for MONTHS without a break.  Hopefully, a second will be different.  But right now, I'm rethinking the idea of having a second baby.   I'm trying to see the big picture, but it's difficult when you can't see the forest for the trees. 


Time to get some food in my belly and get ready for work. 

Suddenly, I Am Mom

I had an intensely meaningful dream this morning.  In my dream, I was in and out of sleeping, curled in the fetal position.  My body was sore (which is actually true from getting back to lifting weights two nights ago) and my Mom was there by me, awake.  I faintly remember her rubbing my neck and she said, "You've got some knots along the right side of your neck, so you're going to wake up with a sore throat." (I know that doesn't make sense, but it was a dream, lol.) Then, she started rubbing my hamstrings (I remember while I was lifting, thinking that I was worried that I was going to pull them when I was doing hamstring curls, because it was the first time I did them in so long).  Then DJ started crying and the monitor woke me up, so the dream ended.  But the thing that I remember so clearly from the dream was the feeling of being taken care of. My mom was there and she was taking care of me.  Even knowing that she was there made it so that I didn't care if my throat was going to be sore when I woke up (sore throats are my least favorite ailment). It was that magical feeling of safety and security that comes from MOM.  The way that when my son falls down and it scares him, I can just hold him and talk to him and it makes it feel better.  I didn't actually take the pain away, but somehow the mind is stronger than the body and Mommy can ease the scariness with a sense of security.  

I just have to note that here I am trying to write about being taken care of and my husband won't even let my write.  He keeps talking to me about a bunch of random stuff and it's so distracting.  I've told him so many times that it's virtually impossible for me to read or write when the tv's on or when I'm being talked to because I can't split my attention like that when I'm concentrating on something.  I don't even get to have a minute of my time while he's here!  My son is entertained with his toys, so I'm trying to write while I can, and it's still difficult.  Like, I should be entertaining D while I'm clearly journaling!  These are the trials of motherhood/wife-hood.  I would normally say something to him, but this is such a small price to pay and it would be a stupid argument that would not be worth the inconvenience of just dealing with this. 

So, two things about that dream are important.  The whole reason for the title of my blog. Suddenly, I Am Mom.  I remember when I was pregnant and almost ready to have DJ, I would think about my mom and what's she's done for me and my brothers (and my dad when they were still married).  The idea of me becoming that was overwhelming.  I just thought, "Can I fill those shoes?  Can I evoke these feelings in another human being?"  It seemed like an impossible feat.  Not that I ever questioned my ability to care for a child and a family.  Thankfully, that was one thing that I've always felt sure about.  It was just how amazing and giving and just plainly the way my mother makes me feel is something that I just felt was going to be impossible for me.  She's a saint.  Can I be a saint?

The second thing that this dream made me realize is my need for being taking care of for a change.  I'm actually shedding some tears, right now.  It's been so long since I've felt that feeling of having my mom care for me in a mother/child way.  And I mean, like a young child.  She was massaging my sore muscles right where I was worried it was going to hurt the worst and she was giving me a loving forewarning that I was going to have a sore throat when I finally woke up, but it was as though her telling me took it away.  I was relaxed.  I was safe.  I was dependent, instead of responsible.  Even though I was sore and uncomfortable, I felt better than I can remember feeling in SO LONG.  I didn't want to wake up.  And, it's not that I don't want to care for my son and my husband, I DO.  I love it, in fact.  But I just forgot what it felt like to be taken care of like that. 


There is a man here to measure for a potential balcony and patio out back, so that's it for now.  Exciting!  :)

Mommy Fitness

Ok, so I realized the other day that I felt like my body and my brain were turning to jello because I wasn't using either of them nearly enough, especially my body, since DJ was born.  After some great conversation with my girl, Dylan (the one in New York), she had the idea and I agreed to be each other's coach for fitness.  We set goals and made a plan and emailed it to each other, so that we can be held accountable for everything.  Here's my plan:

FITNESS PLAN AND GOALS

Exercise Goals:

Monday	Tuesday	Wednesday	Thursday	Friday	Saturday	Sunday
1 Mile		1 Mile			1 Mile
Weights		Weights		Weights
	DJ stroll		DJ stroll

Always park as far away from destinations as possible for more walking.

Food Goals:

Always keep fresh vegetables and fruit in the house.

Be conscious that each meal contains necessary nutrition (amounts and content).

Eat something small every 2 hours between meals (up metabolism).

Always use plain yogurt instead of sour cream (lower fat).

No more than 45g of carbohydrates 5x/day (preferably 35g) (lower androgens).

Body Goals:

Back fat.          Arm fat.           Double chin.

Strong abdominal muscles, leg muscles, back muscles (for next baby).

Sit upright with good posture as often as possible (engage abdomen).

145 lbs. by July 13, 2012 (4 months: ~1.35lbs per week).

So, if you didn't do the math, I was at 168 big ol' lbs starting last Saturday.  I haven't actually weighed myself in months, since my last dr appt., but I hadn't changed anything in my life since then, so I can rightfully assume that I'm still around the same.   But I need to check, because I've already been running three times in the past week and starting yesterday, I changed my eating habits.  Maybe I've lost that first pound already!


Couple things I want to make note of.  First, weight... I'm actually just fine with my current weight and I don't even own a scale, because I typically judge my body on how healthy I am and how I feel rather than weight.  I'm 5'7".  And 168, although technically overweight, is not bad.  At least, it sits well on me.  Some people would say they think I'm fat because I've got belly rolls and saddle bags, but I'm not overly disgusted with myself.  But this perspective took an attitude change.  When I look at myself, I see MOM.  All those things on my body that are stretched or extra-padded, are my battle scars that resulted in my baby and it reminds me of what is really important.  NOT the fact that my boobs are pancakes after nursing for 8 months.  :)  Second, the REASON for these fitness goals is for me 2 different things.  It's so that I can FEEL better, because anyone who's ever exercised consistently at any point knows that you just feel better when you're more active.  And, it's so that my body will be strong and healthy and ready when it's time to carry that next child.  I was 168lbs when I became pregnant with DJ, and I was back to that by my 6 week appt. after he was born.  I'd like to say I'm proud of that, but I honestly think it's just genetics.  But, I can't even imagine how much better it will be (especially when I have to add a toddler to the weight of the new baby that I'll be carrying around) to start off weighing even less this time.  Whatever I can do to save my back and prevent swollen ankles and feet!!  :)


Tribute to Awolnation with Sail, because this is my current running song.  This is the song that gave me the motivation to pick up these feet and move em!!!!! Although, I run to the original, I can't find the embed code for that one to put it on here and I like this remix!  It's even more intense than the original!

Ok, so I had to post this stuff because I'm really excited and I want to have an easy to access record of my goals, my plan, and my mission.  :)  "'F'ing MBAs," as Dylan would say.  ;)

The Humbling River

 

"Nature, nurture, heaven, and home. Sum of all and by them driven to conquer every mountain shore, but I've never crossed the river.  

Brave the forest, brave the stone, brave the icy winds and fire. Braved and beat them on my own, yet I'm helpless by the river. 

Angel, Angel, what have I done?  A face, the quakes, the wind, the fire.  I've conquered country, crown, and throne. Why can't I cross this river?  

'Pay no mind to the battles you've won.  It'll take a lot more than rage and muscle.  Open your heart and hands, my son, or you'll never make it o'er the river.  It'll take a lot more than words and guns.  A whole lot more than riches and muscle.  The hands of the many must join as one, and together we'll cross the river.'

It will take a lot more than words and guns.  A whole lot more than riches and muscle.  The hands of the many must join as one and together we'll cross the river.  

And together we'll cross the river...

And together we'll cross the river...

And TOGETHER we'll cross the river..."

- The Humbling River, Puscifer

Man, this song speaks to me.  So much.  It makes me think of today's politics and rhetoric.  What a republican would call "socialism" and what a democrat would call "social or economic equality".  

To me, it's humanity.  We are all here together.  People forget that we can't overcome obstacles or reach goals if we are divided.  And sadly, today, it will take a whole lot more than riches, muscle, words, and guns - to come together and accomplish something great.  It will take EVERYONE being HUMBLE.  Is that possible?  I AM helpless by the river - all by myself.  


I want to believe that the humbling river represents entrance into Heaven, or maybe even just transcending some spiritual realm that we cannot gain access to in our current state of existence as a race of humans.  Like crossing the river would lead to a transformation - to ultimate peace, maybe.  


I was planning on writing about sex today, because I had an amazing conversation with my husband last night and it's been something with which I have been struggling.  But, it's just not in me to go there right now.  I will, later, because I can only imagine that there are plenty of other moms who are feeling the same way I have been feeling. 


But having my home to myself today and listening to this song has inspired me to think philosophically.  I am confused about why our race of human beings still believes, in this day and age, that war and fighting is going to accomplish anything positive.  We are still fighting.  We are still "conquering".  Like we're cavemen, or animals.  We are civilized humans with the ability to use language and reason.  And I'm not blaming one side of any war or another.  I'm blaming ALL people who would choose to fight and conquer because of money, instead of choosing to be humble and work together to reach certain ends.  Some call it capitalism, I call it GREED.  And I'm not saying that I have a better solution.  But I am saying that it's not right.  It's just not moral to step on others for our own selfish gain. Whatever that want is, it is not greater in value than the worth of whomever is being trodden on to obtain it. 


I am not innocent.  I have played that game.  But I no longer choose to live that way.  It is not worth it.  I will take less in order to keep my faith and some sense of inherent goodness intact.  That means something to me.  It's important to me.  I will bow my head and reach out my hand, even if it means that I am amputated and decapitated.  Figuratively.  There is still the chance that someone will take my hand and join me.  


Here's hoping...

Motherhood Is Lonely

"Tonight, we are young, so let's set the world on fire. We can burn brighter than the sun." - We Are Young,  Fun

I feel old.  I feel lonely.  Having to give myself to someone else all the time is so hard.  Motherhood makes you rough.  Calloused.  You have to be, or you won't survive it, not if you want to do a good job.

Just Skyped with my girlfriend in New York and can I just say that it's amazing how much it truly helps to communicate with not just other moms but with women who care about you, in general.  Since I gave up my best girl friend almost a year ago (a tale for another time), I have been somewhat lacking in the arena of supportive female friends.  And not just women in general, but the ones that have been there forever.  Thank God, I still have my mom, but she is a middle school teacher and until June, it's tough to break through that veil of impossibility that is her job. 

Oh and by the way, the purpose of the song above is just an homage to that wonderful woman in New York as a tribute to our unending attempt to keep life as moms balanced.

Speaking of mothers... my mom, now Grandma, is on her way here now to spend some time with me and the boy and then she's taking him overnight, because D works overtime all weekend and I'm working all weekend, too.  I hope we do something fun tonight!

My amazing mom, Grandma (tribute blog to come later):

Short And Sweet

DJ has been a crabby patty today.  Let me tell you, he HATES when I am looking at my phone or working on the computer.  He literally puts his body and/or face in my way so that I can't see what I'm doing.  It doesn't bother me, because I know that it means he needs attention and he's absolutely right that I shouldn't have my face in the computer or in my phone at that time.  I should be focusing on him.  He is far more important.  So, I always put down or stop what I'm doing to give him some loving. But that's a side note, he was teething today.  It's the back teeth, which are the WORST!  Even his infant Motrin drops didn't help today.  Poor guy.  I wish I could just take his pain away.  It took a good hour and a half to get him to sleep for his first nap.  But, thank God, his daddy is home, now!  I can actually think about dinner and look at this computer screen for a second without distraction.  Props to single moms... don't know how you do it!!!

Just for fun, here's a sneak preview of a bearded baby hat I made for a friend today!  it's for a 3-yr-old, so it's WAY too big for DJ! lol

 

Working Mom

So, I'm wondering how in the world working for 5 hours on my feet for $8/hr somehow seems necessary.  It makes me feel like I'm "doing something".  I have friends that are home with their child(ren) who know what I'm talking about.  If I stay home and enjoy my son and taking care of my family, I feel guilty. Inevitably, a person who has always worked and suddenly no longer does, feels guilty about not working.  It's so weird, because logically, I have come to make sense of how I am contributing. Literally, I have laid it all out financially, and I am contributing by staying home and everything that I've been doing (nursing, cloth diapering, making my own baby food, plus house work, etc.).  I am actually saving (or bringing in, depending on how you look at it) a good income, it's just intangible!  But it doesn't matter.  It's almost as if I feel like because I brought this child into the world, I should be able to support him AND bring in half of the income we need to support the rest of the family.

But is that really it?  Because like I said, I can satisfy that guilty discomfort by going to an almost minimum-wage-paying job for 8 hours on the weekend that hurts my feet and leaves me exhausted.  And I made myself what - $60?  But it does work.  That $60 barely covers what I spend on products at my retail job with enough left to buy a couple skeins of yarn and fill my gas tank half-way, so it doesn't make sense to me. Can anyone help me on this one?

I know it's pride.  It makes me feel respectable when I can say to others, "I have to work that day," for example.  Where did this stigma come from?  This feeling that if I don't have a taxable income, I'm somehow less respectable?  When in reality, I'm working every day!!  Raising my son has been exhausting and hard work!!!!  My girlfriend and I have discussed whether it might actually be easier to take our sons to daycare and go to a desk job, where we can take breaks and have lunch without someone climbing on us and wanting to eat half our food. It is really exhausting to entertain someone all day!  I get to take a nap when he does, but I NEED a nap after raising him for a day.  If I worked at my old job at the Department of Human Services doing social work, I would still be extended because social work is demanding and draining, but I didn't need a nap everyday and if I need to stop and take a break for a minute, I can.  I can't do that when I want at home.  My son dictates what I do with 100% of my time. 

One thing I do know that helps me remember my worth is to think back to pregnancy, labor, delivery, and the first few months of DJ's life.  I had a tough pregnancy and you literally NEVER get a break from that for 9 months.  Labor contained the hardest 5 hours (total labor was 17 hours, but the beginning wasn't hard) I've ever experienced in my life.  And I am so proud of how I handled it!  I got an epidural at 5 cm because I was too tired to keep dealing with the pain, but it didn't work on the entire right side of my body, so essentially I had a natural birth, because I promise you one numb side makes zero difference when you have 100% pain on the entire other side.  And knowing that I made it through that without completely losing it and staying calm and as relaxed as I could reminds me of the strength I have.  Then the baby's born and it's immediately to work nursing and cleaning and changing, even though you're bruised, torn, sore, and tired - more tired than ever - is there a word that means more tired and exhausted than those particular words, because if there is, that is the word that should be used for those first few days after the baby is born. And then once I was home, it was 8 months of being tethered to that baby, nursing every 20 minutes sometimes, never more than  2.5 hours between feedings.  

Remembering all of that, I have unending self-respect.  But I have to remember all of that, and I don't know if I want to always remember all of that (especially if I want to have a second one) !  lol

Anyway, Dj is climbing and whining and hungry, so this concludes today's post.  It felt a little like complaining today, but I really just want to make sure that I document for myself what it really takes to be a decent mom.  :)

The boy who makes it all worthwhile playing in his cardboard box fort: