It’s Friday. Here are some Facts.

* I am so sleep-deprived that I’m no longer a fully-functioning adult.

* The grocery store was out of Honeycrisp apples today. I almost cried in the produce section.

* Maddie’s favorite breakfast item is a toaster waffle. In order to try and reduce grocery costs, I’m going to make a bunch of waffles this weekend and freeze them myself. Not only are they cheaper but I can control exactly what goes into them. (Short answer: Bisquick.)

* Speaking of making things myself, this go around I’m making my own baby food. I got an immersion blender last year that works well to mush up stuff. Well, to be honest, I’ve only mushed up apples for applesauce so far, but it’s a Kitchen Aid. So I’m certain it’ll work well on other stuff, too. Those people know how to make a kitchen appliance.

* So far, Maddie has asked for roller skates, new games for her Leapster 2, books and a dress for Christmas.

* I just tried to self-medicate my depression with a candy bar. Now I’m depressed AND nauseated. Also, throw in some self-loathing for trying to use food to cope. Because what I need is to fail at gastric bypass and weigh 300 lbs again. That’d be swell.

* We’re not going home to Cleveland for Christmas. There’s no way to afford $1000 in airfare and presents. We’re going to try and visit next summer instead. Which I’ve said for the last two summers, but who’s counting?

* Sam is supposed to be napping but he’s grousing and crying and moaning instead. It seems I can only successfully get one kid to sleep per day.

* And… now he’s woken up Maddie. GUH-RATE.

I realize this is a miserable excuse for a FFF, but I’m not going to fake a good mood on my own damn blog. I’ve got to fake it in front of my kids and that’s bad enough.

Responsibility

I got a comment on Monday’s post stating that the reader thought I was being irresponsible in regard to going off my medication. She also stated that “The episode you had in the car while returning home from the trip was understandable but not everyone would have melted down quite so bad. It would have been worse without the meds or maybe was worse because you were stopping meds.”

Let’s talk about that, shall we? First of all, how do you know the episode would have been worse without the meds? Are you my doctor? Are you a very close personal friend and confidant? I’m assuming you answered “no” to both of those questions since I don’t know you. Therefore, you’re pretty much completely unqualified to render such a judgment.

Also, “not everyone would have melted down quite so bad?” This automatically means that I require psychiatric medication? Of course not everyone would have melted down quite so bad! And guess what? There are other people that would have melted down even worse. We all handle these things differently based on extenuating circumstances, mental health and past experience. Simply because I handled the situation poorly and engaged in inappropriate behavior does not mean that I’m irresponsible for wanting to see if I’m taking medication needlessly. If I don’t need to be medicated, but instead need behavioral therapy, then that’s what I ought to be doing. Medication does not control my behavior. I do. I will not blame my meltdown on the fact that I had lowered my Z0loft dosage.

I don’t feel it was irresponsible to wean myself off of these medications. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have started doing it and I damn sure wouldn’t have told the world at large about doing it. I thought it would be a waste of a trip to Dallas to visit the doctor, a waste of a co-pay, and a waste of her time so that she could tell me how to wean myself off the medication AGAIN (she explained how when I was first considering getting pregnant). However, my husband and some very close friends thought that it would be best to let the doctor know what was going on. No problem. I have an appointment with her tomorrow afternoon.

I appreciate comments on this blog. I even appreciate comments that express differing viewpoints. That’s part of what makes being a public diarist so fun. However, I do not appreciate blanket statements that are intended to guilt or embarrass myself or my readers. Please make a note of it. Thank you.

Bitter, with a side of sour grapes

So, yeah. BlogHer. BlogfuckingHer. Can you tell I’m still bitter about not going? I’ve got this whole “poor me!” attitude going on which has been exacerbated by some very rough days and nights with Sam.

I’ve decided to take a blog and twitter vacay for the rest of the week. I’m afraid that reading the SQUEE! posts and tweets will give me an excuse to feel worse and get even more bitter.

I’d love to be the bigger person and be super happy for my friends that are going, but all I can think of is how I’m NOT going and I’m going to be STUCK with this kid that refuses to sleep or be separated from me for 30 seconds and how utterly beat-down sleep problems make me feel.

I’m not proud of this attitude. I hope I’ll get over it posthaste.

The Nerve!

Last night while Maddie was at vacation bible school, I took Sam to the grocery store with me. It was an unmitigated disaster. There I was, trying to shop, and he just would. not. stop. I mean, it went on and on through the entire store. I finally had to stop in the pop aisle and give him a stern talking to. I simply will not tolerate this sort of thing.

Here’s photographic evidence of the atrocious behavior:

Seriously, how in the world was I supposed to pay any attention to getting groceries with that right in my face? The nerve of some kids, amirite?

Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t. Pretty much you’re just damned.

Like millions of other stay-at-home moms, I can’t help but continually run the pros and cons in my head. If I went back to work, how much would I have to make in order to have a profit above and beyond paying for two kids in daycare? Would my kids benefit from being around other kids more often or would I essentially letting someone else raise my kids for me? There’d be no time for fun stuff on the weekends because I’d have to get all my errands done then. But, there’d be MONEY with which to do fun things if we had time to do them!

Yesterday, I talked to a good friend/old boss and she told me that my old workplace was going through a huge change and they were going to need someone with my specific licenses and experience. She said if I was interested in coming back to let her know and she’d talk to whomever. I’ve been thinking about it non-stop since then. I vacillate between believing that my kids are better off without material things and with my presence in their lives, and being so tired of being surrounded by tiny dictators and broke. I guess we’re never fully satisfied with what we’ve got, are we?

Overwhelmed

Sam has entered the official “crying like a mofo” stage. For the first two and a half weeks of his life, he barely cried. He fussed and grumbled, but really only cried during sponge baths. Two days ago, that all changed.

And not for the better.

Now he cries when he’s hungry. And when he’s tired. And when he’s getting a diaper change. And when he’s not being held. Nighttime is the worst. I put him down for bed last night at 9:30 and at 1:30 am I was still trying to calm him down and get him to sleep. The only thing that calms him is to be in the Moby Wrap with a pacifier, and it’s physically impossible for him to be in there 24/7. I mean, I have to poop sometime, right?

Anyhow, I had completely forgotten how much I HATE the newborn cry. It makes my internal organs shrivel up and I get all panicky. I also HATE the feeling of helplessness that overwhelms me when I can’t comfort him.

I seem to spend the majority of my time feeling overwhelmed these days. I spend most of the night dealing with Sam’s issues and then I wake up and it feels like everyone needs me for something. The animals need to be fed. Maddie’s smothering me for attention. Sam needs to be fed again. Today, I didn’t eat “breakfast” until 2:30 in the afternoon. I come in dead last when it comes to time allotments. I know that’s normal for mothers, but DAYUM, you know?

So, that’s how it stands now. I’m overwhelmed. My baby cries. My preschooler is stalking me. My husband is frustrated and grumpy. Feel free to stay far, far away from our house.

False Labor, True Pain

Yesterday, I awoke with the energy and desire to clean my house. Not everything, but the things I hate to clean the most. I put some laundry in and did five loads throughout the day. Including our and Maddie’s sheets and remade the beds. I swept the kitchen and entry way and cleaned the baseboards. I steam mopped and then used the magic eraser to get whatever gunk was still left in the grout. Then, Maddie “helped” me vacuum the rest of the house. It might not sound like a lot, but first of all, I’m hugely pregnant. Secondly, our kitchen is the largest room in the house and I HATE mopping with the fire of a thousand suns.

Anyhow, I laid down for an hour and a half in the middle of the day, but apparently that wasn’t enough. By dinner time, I was seriously hurting. It felt like the baby was just going to fall right out. Don’t get me wrong, that’d be a great labor, but still, that shit was uncomfortable. By the time Maddie went to bed at 7:30, I was miserable. I took a warm bath hoping that would help. Nope. I took an anti-contraction pill and laid in bed on my left side. I ate a snack and wound up with terrible nausea in addition to the contractions and pressure. I felt like I was going to snap and lose my shit entirely. I didn’t think I could be any more miserable. I got up and sat in my recliner, which helped with the nausea, but not the contractions. An hour or so later when I stopped feeling sick, I went back to bed. I laid there, timing contractions. When they got to four minutes apart I almost told Gerald we were packing up and heading to the hospital. However, over the course of the next three hours, they gradually got further and further apart. Finally, around 12:30, they were so slight that I managed to fall asleep.

All in all, I was miserable and honestly believed I was in labor for five hours and what do I have to show for it? Not a damn thing. How unfair is that shit??? Anyhow, I’ve got my 35 week OB appointment today, so we’ll see what he says. Let’s hope I can make it through the weekend. You know, without wanting to give myself a c-section in the garage with a hacksaw and some Anbesol.

Coping

Look, I wanna post. Really, I do. But all I’ve got is bitching and moaning about being hugely, miserably pregnant. And let’s face it, no one wants to hear that. Especially after months of reading about how I just couldn’t wait to be pregnant again! (Who’s an idiot? Why, it’s me!)

One week from today I’ll be legitimately ready to get this over with already. There will be no more resting and more walking. And I’m fairly certain there will also be more bitching… but you’re lucky and get to miss it entirely. My husband on the other hand? Not so much. Pray for him. Or start up a collection to pay for his divorce attorney. Either one is fine with him.

Full Circle – Or some other ironic title like that.

Well, it seems that life is, indeed, cyclical here at Chez Dressed Up. Apparently, I only grow the over-achieving babies who don’t feel like they need a full 37 weeks of gestation. Thank goodness this is our last kid.

Here’s where things stand presently: I’m at risk for pre-term labor. I’m home on bed rest until 34 weeks. Luckily, it’s the “light” kind of bed rest in that I can still do things around the house and sit in my recliner instead of lying in bed on my left side all damn day. I’m taking a medication called procardia to ward off contractions. It works unless I’m too active, but it’s got some shitty side effects like racing heart, dizziness, headache, and shakiness. Plus, I already have pretty low blood pressure to begin with so this stuff lowers it even more and makes me feel like ass.

Those of you following along at home will remember that I started a new job a little over two months ago. Queen of Horrible Timing? Yeah, that’s me. Anyhow, the good news is that my job is totally work-from-home-able and management would much rather me work from home then do my work themselves for the next however long. I’m going into the office tomorrow to meet with them and go over the details. And if for some reason that all goes to hell in a hand basket, then I’ve got short-term disability that will cover me. The fact that I’ll still be getting paid means that Maddie can continue to go to daycare during the day. We’ve reduced her hours to 5 hours a day, 5 days a week and I feel like it’s a win-win. She gets to sleep in since we don’t have to be there until 9am, she still gets the benefit of playing with other kids and learning new things, and I can rest/work without feeling guilty for ignoring her.

Most importantly, The Boy is doing very well. At my last sonogram on Wednesday, he weighed 2lbs, 8 oz and was in the 69th percentile for size. This is a relief since I’ve lost another pound, putting me at gaining just 7 pounds for this entire pregnancy. All of his parts are accounted for and seem to be functioning within nominal parameters. He’s extraordinarily active which is a blessing and a curse. I’m guessing he’s going to end up being a total spaz like his big sister but it’s reassuring to feel him kick the shit out of me and know he’s still in there and doing all right.

The big downside to the whole bed rest debacle is that I’m crazy nesting and can’t really do anything about it. I’m trying to limit myself to one chore per day so that I feel like things are still being done and my house is still clean without overdoing it. I’m DYING to put together the nursery and start buying things, but that has to wait. The Boy’s room is currently our guestroom and last remaining bedroom. (Note to self: Go back in time and choose to build the bigger house. You’ll thank me for it.) Gerald’s mom will be here next week for a follow-up on her heart valve replacement, so we need a guestroom for her. Then, we can at least set up most of the baby’s furniture. Gerald’s mom will be coming back again when The Boy is born and staying for a few weeks, so she’ll need a place to sleep. We’ll leave her bed in there and then move it out when she goes home. We’re most likely going to move it into Maddie’s room and move her out of her toddler bed. (The guest bed is a twin trundle, so if we have guests we can expand it and boot Maddie out to sleep with us or whatev.) All in all, we’ll be in pretty good shape. I’m just so anxious to GET GOING, ALREADY!

GAH! This post is rambley and all over the damn place, isn’t it? I go for months not posting anything worthwhile and then BAM! Overload! Well, you’d better get used to it, my pretties. I have a feeling I’m going to finally have the time to blog again on the reg. Now might be the time to manage your Reader subscriptions, if you catch my drift.

Threshold

I’m pretty sure I’ve reached the limit of the amount of douchebaggery I can tolerate from my kid. Lately, EVERY damn THING is a battle of wills. I always win because I’m good at picking my battles and I never relent, but at what cost? Maddie and I seem to spend the majority of our time together being at odds. I miss playing and having fun with her. Oh sure, we start out that way, but inevitably she needs to push boundaries and shit goes downhill FAST. Gerald and I simply will not tolerate bratty behavior. We refuse to have one of those kids. I believe with all my heart that we’re doing what’s best for Maddie and raising her to be a respectful, polite and honest person but DAYUM! It’s not easy. (Please don’t get your knickers in a twist over this. Yes, we are firm and somewhat strict with Maddie. We are in no way abusive or mean to her. Unless you count forcing her to have clean hair, go to bed at a decent hour and live on something other than chocolate milk and M&Ms. Which she, of course, considers abuse of the most heinous nature.)

I know this is all normal, healthy development, but oh the absolute suckage that is the age of three. I miss my sweet, non-hellbeast of a daughter. I’m positive she misses her patient and kind mama, too.

I’ll just keep reminding myself that this is just a phase and like every other sucky-ass phase we’ve been through (not sleeping, screaming, not eating, teething, etc…) it will end and we’ll be better of for having gone through it. Maybe if I say it enough, I’ll start to believe it.