I'm not THAT pregnant

Still blogging in blurbs

2012-01-18T22:48:00.002-05:00

There's still not enough spare brains lying around in my head to put together a series of coherent thoughts, so here are some more (marginally coherent) blurbs.

This is one of those days that I wish the internet wasn't quite so public so I could rant about a situation at work without worrying about repercussions. As that isn't the case, I'll just say that there are a lot of things coworkers can do to or regarding me that I can ignore, forget, or forgive, but doing something that (at the very least) implies that I'm sneaky, manipulative, a cheater, or a liar is not one of them.
I finally cleaned off the dining room table tonight. I need R's shot record for tomorrow, and I knew it was buried somewhere in the depths of "Hoarder's" corner, so I had to dig in. It looks so good now that I almost wish I had taken a before picture for you...but that would have been WAY too embarrassing to post. It was that bad. But it's 99% cleared off now, and it's been dusted. B was so excited (he's been on me to get it cleaned for a long time. Not that Mr. It-took-me-two-years-to-make-enough-space-for-one-vehicle-to-park-in-our-four-car-garage has a lot a room to talk, but I digress).
While cleaning on and around the table, I think I found the spot where our resident mouse (that we haven't been able to catch yet) likes to hang out. There were a bunch of what appeared to be mouse turds underneath the radiator behind the table. Gross.
Sometimes, I think I could become a recreational pain pill user, if I had the opportunity.
Yesterday, the ENT told us that W needs to have surgery. His right ear tube fell out a few weeks ago (after being in for two years), and he's all ready had two infections. His hearing test didn't turn out very well, and he had a ton of fluid in that ear, so he needs to be re-tubed. The left tube is still in place, but the doc said it's starting to get a little build up around it, so they'll replace that one while he's under. The doctor also wants to remove his adenoids. Apparently they're made of lymph tissue and can develop something of a nasty, bacteria-filled bio-film, which causes ear problems because they're so close to the Eustachian tubes. He'll have to see them to be sure, but he thinks W's probably need to come out. It's also a minor procedure, but he has to get an IV and be intubated, which they don't have to do for ear tubes. Luckily, adenoid removal (like ear tube placement) is mostly painless, and W will be back to his normal self by the end of surgery day. My biggest concern is keeping him from eating or drinking that morning. He will not be a happy camper.
Do you write "already" or "all ready"? There seems to be a split of authority, but "all ready" is slightly more widely preferred. I always wrote "already," but when I learned that it wasn't correct, I switched. It's still awkward for me to write, and half the time I forget.
Speaking of grammar (NERD ALERT!), I won a subscription to Grammarly from The Never-True Tales, and I am far, far more excited about this than any normal person should be. I'm geeked to start running my work decisions through it to see what I can do to make them better.
I totally should have been a copy editor. Or a language-usage guide writer (I'm coveting a copy of Garner's Modern American Usage, and also think writing/compiling that would be absolutely fascinating).
A sort-of-maybe-down-the-road side-work-type opportunity was presented to me today. I think it would be a fabulous gig, but I'm not sure the restrictions imposed on me by virtue of my current job would allow for it to happen. We'll see.
I'm signed up to "guest lecture" (aka substitute teach) for a college class twice all ready this semester. Also super geeked about this because I really, really want to get into college-level teaching. I've had a small taste, and I liked it.
I also want to go back and get another degree sometime soon. A Ph.D. in something. LLMs hold no interest for me (nor do their subject matters).
I signed up for the current CDP exchange hosted by the lovely and wonderful Doing My Best. I probably shouldn't have, but it was just so much fun last time! I sent a box to Tara (which probably contained far too much junk food/candy for someone who's doing a Paleo diet challenge right now...whoops!), and got one from a lovely woman in the UK. International mail! I think it was my first time, and I found it far more exciting than I should have (even though customs opened and rifled through it).
If you've never sent a CDP, you should. They're so fun to shop for, and I love the warm fuzzies I get from knowing that I've (hopefully) brightened someone's crappy day. I'm thinking about doing small boxes for some real life friends because I love giving them so much. I also throughly enjoy receiving them. I never knew how well a present could turn your day around until I started working my way through my first CDP box.
I'm still working on my 101 Things list. I need about 10 more. (I apparently lied in my last post mentioning this list because I said I was 10 things short a week or more ago. I was more like 20 short then. Not that you care.) Any suggestions? I'm stuck. I just can't think of anything else, besides lame stuff - like breathing, showering, occasionally shaving my legs. Any help would be appreciated.
What's worse than a post of blurby bullets? A long post with blurby bullets. I'll stop now. Night all!

Not a happy post

2012-01-14T22:45:00.000-05:00

I've been meaning to write since about Tuesday of this week, and my intent was to write about something happy. I, uh, haven't really been able to come up with anything happy to write about, though, so I just haven't written. I don't have enough brain power to write anything good tonight (and my butt hurts, so sitting at the computer isn't working for me), so I'll give you some bullets.

The silver lining of my weight gain is that my awesome red pants that I absolutely love (and must have bought during my immediately-post-bar-exam fat period) fit me again. I wore them to work on Tuesday, and they made me smile (this was the only happy thing I came up with this week).
It's been six whole days since either boy has had a fever! This is something of record around here right now (ok, more happy...I'm doing better at this than I thought I would).
My dryer isn't dead. It wouldn't turn on the other day, and B discovered that the cord had burnt up due to a wiring problem. He replaced the cord and wiring today, and the dryer works! Never mind that he mentioned to me that he noticed when we got the dryer (a couple of months after moving in, so about two years ago) that there was something not quite right with the wiring, but he didn't bother to check it out. He's lucky the only casualty there was the dryer cord burning up, and not, like, our entire house going down in flames. I was livid when he told me that. But! All's well that ends well, right?
The boys go to the ENT on Tuesday, and I'm a bit concerned that he's going to tell me W needs to have his right ear tube replaced. The tube fell out maybe a month ago (I could look it up, but I don't feel like it), and he's had two infections since then. The one that happened right when the tube fell out and was NASTY, and the one this week that we caught at the beginning. The fact that he got an ear infection the second that one of his tubes shifted out of place made me a little wary about him needing another surgery, and this second infection has confirmed that fear. I guess we'll see on Tuesday after his hearing test and check up.
The boys' behavior has gone to absolute shit over the past couple of weeks. I don't know what happened, but they're both behaving atrociously, and it's getting to me.
Along with that, the rage has been strong with me the past couple of weeks. I find myself yelling far more than I should (and it's completely ineffective, which just makes me angrier), and getting pissed about stupid stuff. Hormones. Awesome.
I'm pretty sure every period since I had R (I think this one is number seven) has gotten progressively more awful. It started with a vengeance this morning, and I'm feeling crappy because of it (on top of feeling crappy in general lately). I've been feeling some random pains and twinges, and I'm really hoping it's not endometriosis coming back/flaring up/whatever. I don't need to deal with that, too.
Depression (and anxiety, oddly enough) has been kicking my ass for the past couple of weeks. I feel awful, I do nothing, and I'm miserable. My psychiatrist canceled on me last week, and I canceled on my counselor before the psychiatrist canceled because I didn't think I could get a sitter two nights, so I haven't gotten my mental and medical readjustments recently. I think I need both, but it's going to be another week or so.

Ok, that's all. Time to head back to the couch to wallow.

The weighty issue

2012-01-06T23:06:00.002-05:00

The angry, itchy red marks covering my midsection when I changed out of my work clothes tonight were the final straw on my heap o' denial. It wasn't the pants that I'm straining to button, or the horrific number on the GYN's scale (it always measures high). It was my tights. My tights that I wore when I was pregnant with far less discomfort than I had from them today.

I'm getting fat.

Fat is a relative term. I'm a fairly average-sized girl. Always have been. Hope I always will be. But the 15 or better pounds I've put on since November-ish are enough to send me into my own personal fat realm. I'm at my heaviest non-pregnant weight ever, and uncomfortably close to my highest pregnancy weight, too.

This isn't regular holiday festivity weight gain. I might fluctuate by a few pounds from Thanksgiving to New Year's, but I don't go up that much. I think the medicine I started in mid-November might be part of the problem, as I don't think I've been eating much more or much worse than normal. And despite my ass limitations, I haven't been terribly more sedentary than normal. But I'm sure those factors aren't helping anything.

SO! Once I get the clear from my orthopedist and wound doctor - I think I see them both next week - I'm going to start doing Couch25K (ugh, running. Barf!). It's on the 101 things list I'm working on and will post when I finally get it done (I'm about 10 short and out of ideas), but I figure I can start working on it now without it really being cheating. I meant to have the list done and posted and activities started by January 1.

I'm also going to try to watch what I eat, but, dude, I'm terrible at that. My goal is reasonable portion sizes, more grazing, more water, and at least a slight reduction in my weekly total consumption of junk food. It's a place to start, right?

I think I'll talk to the crazy doctor about my medicines, too. If I stay on this stuff, I can't keep gaining weight at this rate. We're talking at least 15 pound in about six weeks. Not cool. This is worse than the stuff I was on straight out of the hospital that put on 10 pounds in five weeks. I can't do this.

How original. A weight loss post for the new year. I swear I didn't plan for it to work out this way! I just can't appropriately fit into...an embarrassing amount of my work clothes any more, and I really don't have the cash to go out and buy a fat wardrobe. Losing the pudge is much more difficult, but theoretically costs less money. Right?

My not-so-secret shame

2012-01-03T20:40:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, The Bloggess published a post about her depression, anxiety, and self-injury that has pretty much blown up the internet (or at least the corner of the internet where I hang out). The sheer number of tweets, facebook posts, and blog posts I've read about Jenny's story has been staggering. The main point most of these people made is that it's time to end the stigma and shame associated with mental illness.

I don't disagree with that sentiment.

I do, however, have a very difficult time embracing that idea and applying it to me. I know mental illness is a sickness like any other, and "catching" it is largely out of my control. I know this. But it doesn't matter. I'm ashamed of myself for getting PPD. I'm embarrassed by the fight I'm fighting every day of my life. A little part of me dies of humiliation every time I talk to someone or post about my PPD. A little part of me is terrified of how my medical condition affects other people's perceptions of who I am and what I'm capable of.

Now my secret shame isn't so secret anymore. And I'm feeling more mortified than ever.

To 2011, on the eve of its death

2011-12-31T06:37:00.000-05:00

Dear 2011,

You are the suckiest year that has ever sucked, quite possibly the worst year of my life, and I hope you die a slow, miserable death. Not really about the dying part; I want you to go the hell away as quickly as possible.

2011, it's not (entirely) me, it's (mostly) you. The circumstances you have brought to me are completely unacceptable, and I'm going to have to ask you to leave and take them with you. You have brought nothing but difficulties, pain, and illness to me and my small family. There have been hospitalizations, financial difficulties, marital problems, struggles with the man (i.e. insurance and Early Intervention), depths of anguish and self-loathing I never knew existed, and more. I'm done with it. I'm ready to start fresh with a new year and try again to make life less craptastic. 2012 is looking far more attractive to me right now than you are. I hope you understand.

Of course, you haven't been completely without positive moments. You brought a trip to visit my bestie in North Carolina, some new bloggy friends, some measure of control over W's sensory issues (sort of), and my first (TWO!) crappy day presents. On balance, though, the good was far outweighed by the bad. I can't have that kind of negativity in my life, so we really need to go our separate ways.

It's not that I hate you, 2011. It's more like I loathe all 365 of your days and wish you nothing but ill. And I'm ok with that. It's time for both of us to move on. All that's left to say to you is good riddance.

Cheers,

Emily

P.S. (For my readers) - Sorry for not linking up to any old posts. Some of the stuff didn't get blogged about, some of it I'm not in a place to be reading tonight, and some, frankly, has been linked to death. Happy New Year! I hope 2012 is better to you than 2011 was.

My 2012 word

2011-12-29T23:26:00.000-05:00

I started doing the "one little word" thing last year because I really suck at resolutions. Last year's word was "peace." It didn't work out as well as I had hoped, though I do think having that idea to focus on helped.

I've shifted my focus a little this year, and have chosen "freedom" as my word. Because you can't have peace without freedom from your demons. Well, I don't think I can, at least, if my past performance is any indication. I'm going to order another resolution ring, too, because I loved having the visual reminder to focus on achieving my peace.

Doodle courtesy of the late Sarah of Gitzen Girl.

So there it is. My focus for 2012. Let's hope this year is the year I reach my goal.

Anxiety dream

2011-12-28T21:06:00.001-05:00

I fell asleep last night feeling highly anxious about something. When I woke up this morning, the high anxiety continued. I think this happened because I dreamt about being anxious. My whole dream was flooded with the awful sense of panic and foreboding that come with my anxiety.

I don't remember much of the dream, but I remember being on a balcony or something that only had one support beam in the middle, and was tipping from side to side. There were a bunch of other people on there, too, who were wholly unconcerned about the possibility of falling to our deaths from the wobbly balcony. Every time someone moved, the balcony swayed, and I freaked out some more.

The strangest thing was how REAL the anxiety felt. I've been having very realistic dreams recently, and this was one of the realest. It's just so odd that a dream can affect me so much. It was completely a figment of my imagination, but the feelings it evoked set the tone for my whole day. It was just weird.

Birthday boy

2011-12-27T22:35:00.001-05:00

Today is the day B is once again the same age as me and the cradle-robbing jokes stop for another year. He doesn't really do birthdays, so I'll keep it simple. Happy birthday, B. I hope 29 treats you (and us!) better than 28 did.

All things Christmas

2011-12-26T22:54:00.002-05:00

Now that Christmas is over (and my living room looks like a toy store vomited all over it), it's time for a recap of our festivities.

Not really from Christmas, but he's cute. It counts because he's in Christmas jammies, right?

Decorating Christmas cookies at Grandma's.

Believe it or not, he liked the cookie. He also thought cookie decorating required a party hat.

W and Daddy decorating the tree.

Working on the ill-fated gingerbread house.

Santa came! Never mind that he was a week early. The boys couldn't have cared less.

First picture from "Christmas" morning.

Playing Rudolph.


The actual Christmas morning.

Kinda looks like R didn't participate in any of the festivities, right? I think that was because I was in charge of the camera and of W. I spent so much time making sure W didn't open everyone else's presents that I only got a few pictures, and they tended to be of the kid who was sitting right in front of me. I'm hoping someone else was a bit more conscientious than I was.

Christmas was really nice. We spent Christmas Eve with my in-laws, and the boys got to play with their cousins from North Carolina who they don't see very often. They boys has an AWESOME time together. You've not experienced chaos until you've had a house filled with four boys, ages four and younger.

Christmas Day was spent at my mom's. We usually go to my aunt's for an extended family party, but it didn't work out that way this year, so we just had a quiet day at Grandma's. B made his first prime rib ever, and it turned out awfully tasty.

I got mostly money this year, but B got me a sewing machine and an ice cream maker attachment for my Kitchen Aid mixer. I can't wait to try both of them out. I've now decided that I need to turn my cloffice (the original closet in our bedroom that I decided when we moved in would eventually be my office, even though it's barely big enough for a desk and a chair) into a sewing room. I think it'll work if I swap out my desk for the sewing table my mom gave me, and get rid of the desk chair in there. I would love to have a permanent place for sewing. It'll work out so much better than busting out a TV tray and parking myself on the couch whenever the sewing bug bites.

The boys got approximately 368,713,640 toy cars and trucks. Seriously, assuming we don't lose all of them, these children will never need another Matchbox car or Cars 2 character as long as they live. They also ended up with a huge assortment of Melissa & Doug toys. Santa brought them the band in a box, which has been driving B nuts. He hates lots of noise, and the band in a box is pretty much all assorted percussion instruments. His favorite is when the boys use the maracas as drum sticks and the tambourine as a drum. I shouldn't laugh when they do that, but it's just too funny. The biggest hit with both boys so far has been the VTech Counting Fun Elephant. They both love the popping balls, especially when the balls hit them in the face while they're looking down the chute. My kids are weird.

All-in-all, it was a wonderful holiday. How was your Christmas (or winter holiday of choice)?

Happy Christmas to all!

2011-12-24T22:41:00.003-05:00

We just got back to my mom's after a full day at the in-laws', and we're all starting to wind down for the night. My mom JUST took W up to bed (holy way past bedtime!), and R went down only a few minutes before that. B put himself to bed early. So I figured I'd take advantage of the quiet to wish you all a very Merry Christmas.

Card designed by ThePhotoMommy.

Another year closer to old

2011-12-20T06:34:00.000-05:00

Hey, it's my birthday! Today at 3:29 PM, I get one year closer to officially being old. ("Old" is 30, for those trying to do the math.)

As the husband doesn't really care much about birthdays, I don't expect much out of this one. It's already starting out lame: no "happy birthday" from B when he kissed me on his way out of bed this morning, B has class tonight, so I probably won't see him, no cake, no presents (though I'm considering busting into my CDP stash just so I have something to open...how sad is that?), and the quiet alone time I was hoping for when I woke up way before the alarm went off was ruined when W woke up the second I stepped out my bedroom door and has been replaced by the sounds of Elmo's Christmas/Holiday Special and a preschooler jabbering at the the goings on on the TV (at least I caught him before his yelling woke up R. I don't get why that kid can't wake up quietly, like normal people).

Birthday joy is one of the many things depression (or children, or life, or age and maturity, or something) has sapped from me over the past several years. The birthday just isn't as fun as it used to be. I kinda hate that (see, generally, "Ugh! Why can't I just be happy???").

Anyway, my extra morning time is gone, so I'll quit whining. Time to face the day. I hope you have a happy one!

Some updates

2011-12-11T23:10:00.001-05:00

I'm not really in the mood to write tonight. First, because it's after 11:00 and I know I have to get up at 6:00. Second, my butt hurts, and sitting at B's desk chair isn't helping matters (and I can't blog from my phone. I just can't). Third, I'm ruminating on my abysmal life choices (small and large) and wishing I knew when to keep my damn mouth shut, and no one really wants to read another one of THOSE posts, amiright? And fourth, I'm plain old grouchy.

We had a fairly busy weekend. B worked both days, so I had to get up far before dawn with the boys who don't quite understand how to tell time yet (and when they do, oh, they will be confined to their rooms until at least 7:30. I'd shoot for 8:00, but there's no use dreaming that big).

My mom and I took the boys to a Christmas party on Saturday that turned out to be really nice. W got a talking Finn McMissile car (apparently this is one of the new characters in Cars 2? I haven't seen it), which was a favorite. We were supposed to go to a birthday party Saturday afternoon, but naps (mine included) didn't get over until an hour after the party started, and W decided he was going to be a shit not too long after he woke up. Going out in public would have been disastrous.

Can't really blame the kid, though. He's got a raging ear infection that probably been going on for better than a week now. I'm pretty sure when he started waking up three or four times a night, it was because his ear was bugging him. Now that we make sure to keep him drugged during sleeping hours, he seems to be doing better. One of his ear tubes fell out on Saturday, and his ear has been draining since then. Normally, draining is a good thing because it means all the gunk isn't in the ear causing pain. But W's been getting ear drops since Wednesday night, and his ear is still flowing like most kids' noses do with particularly nasty colds (yes, that's what it looks like. No, I don't feel particularly badly about providing you with that mental image. Welcome to my world...). I think I'm going to have to call the ENT tomorrow. The fact that he got an ear infection the millisecond one of his tubes shifted out of place gives me a very bad feeling that he's going to end up needing another set. That boy is whiny enough on the best of days...I can only imagine what he's like post-anesthesia.

Today was a friend's baby shower, which was really nice. I got to see some of my friends I haven't hung out with in a while, which is always a good time. The boys all went to another Christmas party, and all reports say it went well. The little ones loaded up on junk food and came home with new toys. Isn't that always the measure of party success?

I managed to not get any of my weekend projects completed. Again. Other than doing some laundry and getting a load in the dishwasher, housework once again goes neglected. The big ones I need to get done are inventorying/organizing/wrapping Christmas presents and putting ugly plastic sheeting up on our ancient windows. But I didn't. Maybe I'll get to it this week.

So there's the weekend. Nice, busy, and unproductive. Now I'm going to bed to try to sleep. Those babies wake up way too early.

That was a great three days

2011-12-03T22:36:00.001-05:00

There was a time in the not-too-distant past that I was actually feeling mentally well. I was confident in myself and my ability to heal. I saw a light at the end of the tunnel and thought the light was worth running toward. I wanted to keep fighting the ever-present demons. I wasn't so TIRED.

I miss that time.

I'm glad I can't get fired for being sick

2011-12-01T22:38:00.001-05:00

Good Lord, it never ends around here! It started with the hospitalization in June when I was off work for a week. (Side note: I can't read those posts any more. I just about had a panic attack now because I reread them when I was linking to them. Gah.) I don't have any sick time built up due to having two maternity leaves and two children with ridiculous susceptibility to daycare germs within the first three years of my career, so I didn't have enough time to cover that absence. I think we made that work with me coming in early, staying late, and working a few hours from home (I don't really remember for sure, though. That whole period is a bit fuzzy).

Next, I have my surgery and only take a few days off because I just don't have the time, and unpaid time is never appealing. I end up having to take off an extra day that I hadn't budgeted for because I just couldn't go in. We worked that out, and managed to cover my trip to NC, which I booked long before I scheduled the surgery, and should have had plenty of vacation time for. It required me to come in an hour early for a week or so and do work over my vacation.

Then I get back from NC and get put on bed rest for two weeks because my ass isn't healing. And I literally only have about 30 minutes of sick time to my name. I figured I would have to take any time I couldn't work from home unpaid. Luckily, the administrator had mercy on me and advanced me vacation time to cover my time off (the boss was out of the country at the time and couldn't make that call). When the boss came back, he approved the vacation advance (because you can't advance sick time), and it almost made me cry when he realized he advanced me ALL of my vacation time for next year. I really, really, REALLY hope I don't have to use it all on my ass (or, frankly, any other body part).

So then, I get back this week. I've been coming in early (no easy feat when you have to get an adult, a preschooler, and a toddler up, ready, and out the door by 6:30 AM) and working from home to try to make up as much of the advanced time as I can (because, DUDE, that's my vacation! I don't have any grand plans, but I'd like to be able to take off, like, Christmas Eve or Good Friday or a random mental health day). And, of course, the boys start puking. I thought Will did it last night because he had choked on something, so they went to daycare today, where Rob barfed. Which meant that I had to leave work at noon to get them. I've got another hour and half to put in tonight to make up my time. Thankfully, B is staying home with them tomorrow (which is almost worse because all of him time off is unpaid), so I don't have to worry about that or about anyone at work thinking I'm abusing the system (though I'm sure there are some who do all ready).

I know I shouldn't bitch about having to work at home because I rarely have to do it - and I wouldn't if it were for some project that needed to get done or for a trial or something - but I hate that I'm constantly scrambling to cover my...I was going to say "ass" here, but I really wasn't going for literal...hours. I hate that the kids seem to get sick with stay-home-from-daycare stuff ALL. THE. TIME. and that I've been "sick" so much this year. At this rate, I figured I'm scheduled for my first unencumbered vacation day in August of 2014, when I'm bumped up a seniority grade and get an extra week of vacation.

This is nothing compared to those who don't have the luxury of paid time off, but it's still a pain for me and something that I have to think about and measure and calculate constantly now to make sure I can make it to my doctors' appointments or pick up sick kids. Thank God for FMLA (and for the fact that I haven't used up all my FMLA time for my twelve-month period), or I'm pretty sure I'd be out of a job.

Now if only I can keep him from firing me for non-health related things...

The end

2011-11-30T22:23:00.001-05:00

NaBloPoMo is over! Woo! I'll probably take a few days off now. I'm in the mood for a break.

Bedtime conversations

2011-11-29T22:38:00.001-05:00

Tonight, (about 40 minutes) after B finished W's story time and left him alone to sleep, I get the call.

"Maaaaaahhhhhhhhh Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee." (Imagine the last few Es trailing off pathetically.)

Of course, he only does this when he hears me come upstairs to do something else; then I can't ignore him without causing a full-on, wake-the-baby-who's-actually-sleeping screaming fit. What can I say. The kid knows how to manipulate me.

So, I do what I do every other night, and head into his bedroom for a couple of minutes of snuggling and chatter. He can't seem to sleep without me laying down with him for a bit (though I hear he does fine when I'm not physically in the building where he's sleeping - again with the manipulation thing). This is how tonight's episode played out (with interpretations as necessary):

Me: What's wrong, Buddy?

W: Fie mih-nuhs. ["Five minutes." His way of asking me to lay in his bed with him for five minutes before leaving.]

Me (settling my far-too-large-for-a-toddler-bed frame on to the bed): All right.

W: [Several minutes of random jabbering about trains and his sea horse and Grandma and such.]

Moment of silence

W (grabbing a chunk of my hair): Wha's dis, Mommy?

Me: That's my hair.

W: Get haircut? [I don't know if he heard B say something about my haircut when I came home tonight, or if he actually noticed that it looked different. I'm betting on the former.]

Me: Yep, I did.

W (excited): Get sucker?

Me: No, I didn't get a sucker after my haircut.

W (really excited): Get orrge [orange] sucker?

Me (trying to contain my laughter): No, honey, I didn't get any suckers. They only give those to big boys.

W (practically bouncing out of bed): I get orrge sucker! Iss YUMMY!

And scene.

I'm not sure why I found that little exchange so funny (and I'm sure none of you did...sorry. My blog and all, you know). First, I'm surprised that he remembered getting an orange sucker after his last haircut. I suppose I shouldn't be, though. He remembers all kinds of random stuff like that. Second, I think the fact that he got so excited about my imaginary sucker was cute.

Yeah, it's lame. But it's also late and I'm tired, so you get what you get. It's the end of November. I can't give you a better excuse than that.

Brought to you by the letter "sleep"

2011-11-28T19:31:00.001-05:00

Tonight I have to make the choice between blogging and sleeping. I think it's pretty clear who wins. Sorry. We'll try again tomorrow.

The dreaded high school reunion

2011-11-27T22:27:00.001-05:00

My high school class had its first reunion last night. Ten years. Makes me feel old. I was technically on the "planning committee" because one of the class officers (mistakenly) thought I was an officer our senior year. I was not excited about this development. Particularly because the lone male in the group and I got our ideas voted down, but whatever. I ended up passing off all of my responsibilities a couple of weeks ago when I seriously thought I was going to end up in the hospital again; I didn't want to be the one who didn't follow through. Not having to do anything was sort of nice, though I did get volunteered to sit at the check-in table for an hour.

The reunion ended up being held at a local organization's basement bar with a potluck and cash bar. It actually didn't turn out as horribly as you might think. There were probably 50-60 people there (out of a class of 200), and most of them still live in the area and are still friends. So that was a little weird for the rest of us. There was a bit of an uproar from a section of the class (mostly the bandies) because someone had posted someone about playing flip cup on the reunion's facebook page. Apparently that meant that those going to the official reunion were too immature for a group of 28-year-olds. This other group is planning their own reunion, for the "adults," at some other time. I still have some contact with one of the organizers of the counter-reunion, so I got an invite. I don't think I'm going. Because, seriously? Getting your panties in a bunch about some of the attendees wanting to play flip cup is far less mature than actually playing flip cup, as far as I'm concerned. And just in case you were wondering, no flip cup ever occurred. There were several games of beer pong, though. Immature bastards.

Two of my three best friends from high school were there, and so were a few other people I was close to. That was about the end of my circle, though. I at least said hi everyone and did the whole awkward "Where are you living? What are you doing? How's life?" chat with them. It was nice to see L and K again, as I haven't talked to either of them in a long time. The three of us were sitting and chatting when a guy friend walked up and commented, "This just looks way too natural. Can you believe it's been 10 years?" I kinda felt the same. It seems so odd to think it's been 10 years since the three of us sat and chatted and had fun together. Nowadays, there's all kinds of uncomfortable back story underlying our interactions, but there were moments when I could have sworn we were back in L's basement, giggling after a showing of Half Baked.

Quick aside. We actually had a conversation about Half Baked and how the hell we ever started watching/liking it. None of us could remember where it came from, and we all concurred that it's really not a very good movie. Definitely not good enough to be watched 458,345,346 times in a four-year period.

Anyway, back to the reunion. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have made it through without my friend vodka hanging out with me. The whole event was just weird. And awkward. Did I mention awkward? I'm glad we don't have to do it again for another 10 years. Though, really, the awkward factor's probably going to be multiplied by 100 by the time we get to 20 years post-high school, isn't it?

In real life

2011-11-26T09:52:00.000-05:00

This will probably seem odd to you, but I'm kind of weird about people I know in real life finding my blog. I have a group of girlfriends (we'll call them the girls, for easy reference later on) who all know about it and have been around since the beginning, but that doesn't bother me. Maybe it's because we all started out as internet friends? Who knows. I do know that any IRL people outside this circle knowing about the blog kinda freaks me out.

I think what it really comes down to is I don't like people I know knowing stuff about me that I don't know they know (did you follow that?). I can't even get away from my control-freak nature while spilling my guts to the whole wide internet. I don't like thinking that someone I come across during my day knows all about my crazy, when I have no clue that they're look at me through that lens. Obviously, this is a hazard of blogging. I took that into account within a few months of starting the blog, and have since been careful to keep my full name, my city, my personal e-mail address and Facebook account, and certain other identifying factors out of my blog. I regularly make sure that no one Googling me before a job interview would find the blog in their search results. I hoped to make it as difficult as possible for people I know to find me.

And I think I've failed miserably (story of my life, right?). Based on what I've gleaned from StatCounter, I know someone who works somewhere in the organization I do reads the blog. I don't know who or which department; it could be a prosecutor or clerk I see regularly, it could be someone in an office I've never set foot in. But they know me. I'm also pretty sure my sister found my blog (hi, Laura!), and I think she did it through Twitter. I've also been followed on Twitter by a friend from law school. I only use my first name and blog e-mail for my Twitter account and we don't have any common followers/followees, which leads me to believe maybe she came across my blog before she found me on Twitter. There are also a couple of readers from local law firms, at least one of which employs someone I graduated with. This is all just educated guessing, but it's enough to make me slightly paranoid.

Knowledge of these real-life connections has made me start censoring myself a bit more. I honestly can't afford for all the posts in my head to end up on paper. I'm terrified of this blog becoming highly damaging to me (see, paranoia), even though I love writing here and having a space all my own. I'm constantly walking the fine line between my need to purge my brain and my need to publicly save face.

Oddly enough, I have no problem with the fact that the girls read my blog. I know that they look at me through the lens of crazy. I also have no problem with internet strangers who have become friends reading. With them, I think it's because I'm (most likely) never going to have to look them in the eye and have them judge me. Judging is a HUGE trigger for me. There's yet another reason I don't want my real-life people knowing about my blog self - it gives them judgment fodder.

Though this blog started as a record of my foray into motherhood, I never intended to share it with family or make it a means of sharing information about the boys with those far away. I had a private blog for that (and failed miserably at maintaining it, by the way). I'm not a big-time-mega-huge blogger. I don't expect my writing to be read by thousands (or even hundreds). And for some naive reason, I truly never expected my writing to be read by people in my physical circle. I've been working on accepting the fact that my blog has "grown" to that point and being comfortable with all that entails. It's kind of hard, though, and still makes me a little uncomfortable. Has anyone else gone through this, or is this just one more manifestation of my crazy?

Black Friday

2011-11-25T08:30:00.000-05:00

I've never been hugely into Black Friday shopping. Getting up that early isn't in my nature, even when I can save a bajillion dollars on DVDs, electronics, and ugly pajamas. I've gone out a few times when there's something I've decided I need (like the $20 shop vac for my brother-in-law's Christmas present a few years ago, or the uber cheap glider and ottoman I decided I had to have when I was pregnant with R, or the new printer that cost less than buying ink cartridges for the printer we had), but I generally don't get up in the middle of the night and shop 'til I drop. If anything, I tend to head out later in the morning - around 9:00 or 10:00 - hoping that some of the stuff that caught my eye might still be in stock. It almost never is, but that doesn't matter too much to me.

Even if I don't intend to brave the crowds, I love looking through the ads, seeing what the good deals are, making fun of the ridiculous ones, weighing which store give the best free gift if you show up at an hour God never intended man to see. My mom always buys a paper on Thanksgiving day, and the ads are spread out all over the living room and passed from person to person.

This year, I'm skipping it completely. I intend to stay as far away from retail outlets as possible today. I think it's from some combination of being broke, being lazy, and being 85% done with my Christmas shopping (thank you, blog giveaways! I'm going to do a post about this...if I ever bother to get off my ass (or hip, if we're being accurate) and take pictures). I've glanced through the ads, and would love, love, love to hunt down a new laptop to replace my poor, miserable baby that my children killed while I was on vacation, but I'm trying to be financially prudent, and our checkbook tells me that buying a new laptop - even at Black Friday prices - is a bad idea. Stupid being a grown up.

What about you? Do you go all out for Black Friday shopping?

Thanksgiving, blah, blah, blah

2011-11-24T22:42:00.000-05:00

I'll start by saying that I know I have lots and lots to be thankful for. Kids, home, job, friends, blah, blah, blah. I get it. But I'm not feeling it. Not at all. I think I can confidently say that I am the unhappiest I've ever been. I'm feeling beaten down by life and without feasible options. It's hard to be thankful when that's your life. I don't expect you to get it unless you've been there. But it's where I am right now.

Getting tired

2011-11-23T22:39:00.000-05:00

I can tell the end of the month is coming up (BTW, where did November go???) because I'm getting supremely sick of blogging every day. I have nothing to say that is interesting, insightful, whiny, or otherwise worth typing. Less than a week to go. I can DO this!

Unreasonable expectations?

2011-11-22T11:09:00.001-05:00

I, like everyone, have expectations of the people living in my home. I don't think they're unreasonable, but it seems that those living in my household - me included - have difficulty meeting my expectations. Seeing that I live in the midst of it, I need some perspective. Are my expectations unreasonable?

My familial expectations:

Treat each other respectfully.
Do your part of the housework.
If one spouse is extra busy/sick/out of town/otherwise unavailable, the other should step up to assist with the unavailable spouse's household responsibilities.
Childcare duties should be shared equally.
Take the initiative to help out; don't wait to be ~~nagged~~ asked.
Cooperate and work for the good of the whole family.

So, what do you think? Am I being unreasonable? What are some of your family expectations?

Mommy blogger FAIL

2011-11-21T00:18:00.000-05:00

I've always partially thought of this blog as something of a digital baby book for my kids, since I'm certainly not keeping paper ones for them. I always thought I was doing a fairly decent job of it, too. Until tonight. W is seeing a new OT tomorrow, and the paperwork is asking me all kinds of ridiculous questions about when he rolled over, sat up, walked, etc. - what do I look like? His mom? I assumed that going back through the archives would quickly answer my questions, and I could go on with my life.

I was so wrong.

All I learned by perusing my blog is that I haven't kept very good records of W's milestones - major or minor. Some of the stuff was there, but not things like when he started "4 point creeping" (I don't even know what that means). I didn't look, but I'm going to assume that my record keeping is just as shoddy (and probably worse) for R.

Though I didn't get the information I started out seeking, I did get reminded - again and again and again for two-and-a-half hours - of how crappy I am at this whole mothering thing. I've done a GREAT job of documenting the minutia of every.single.one. of my parenting failures. And let me tell you, there have been a LOT of them. As far as the successes, those are few and far between. That, or I've just failed to document my parenting successes. Anything's possible.

Reading my archives was depressing. Cheers to those of you who've read from the beginning or have read my archives and still stick around. Now that I've read them, I kinda want to jump ship and never hear from me ever again. I'm slightly jealous of those of you actually have that option.

Sleeping with me is dangerous

2011-11-20T13:12:00.001-05:00

While reading the drug information that came with my sleeping pill, I came across the paragraph warning about users sometimes doing things while they're asleep with no memory of the event in the morning. It included things like sleep walking, eating, driving, making phone calls, and even having sex. I read it to B, who fervently started wishing for a couple of bouts of sleep sex (such a dude). Unfortunately for him, no sleep sex - or any other non-sleeping sleep activities - occurred.

I did start having some really realistic dreams. You know, the ones where you wake up thinking you actually got ready for work, and then you panic because you've now overslept and you're still in your PJs? Yeah, those. One morning, I commented to B that I'd had a dream about him yelling at me for kicking him in the nuts and it was kinda funny. He gave me a funny look and told me it wasn't a dream. I guess I had actually kneed him in the balls three or four times while I was soundly sleeping, and he had yelled at me to stop it. I have no recollection of the ball-kneeing activities, just a foggy one of him yelling at me.

A couple of weeks ago, I also apparently backhanded B while I was sleeping. According to him, he rolled over and must have somehow hit me in the surgical incision. I immediately wound up and backhanded him across the chest. Hard. I think I actually left a mark. I first learned of the slapping when he told me about it the next night right before bed. I thought it was pretty hilarious. B did not. He's actually sort of concerned about sleeping with me now. I can't say I really blame him. It'll be pretty embarrassing for him to have to explain away the inevitable black eye.

So the moral here, I guess, is that you don't want to sleep with me when I'm drugged. Well, at least not if you're B; I shared a bed with my bestie for four nights and didn't injure her once. Maybe it's his payback for wishing for sleep sex. Yeah, I think we'll go with that.

I swear I'm not really 95

2011-11-19T20:47:00.000-05:00

Buttgate 2011 continues. After my most recent trip to the doctor, I learned that my incision appears to be healing well, but it also apparently has MRSA bacteria in it. It's not really infected, per se, but the bacteria is there, so we have to treat it. I came home from that appointment with a new packing in my wound and FIVE prescriptions.

For those playing along at home, that means I'm currently on NINE prescription medications. Nine. And that doesn't include the five or six OTC pain meds, vitamin, and supplements I take. That is what I call ridiculous, my friends. I've actually started keeping a list - an actual, written list - in my purse in case I end up in the ER or something. Or go to a new doctor. That came in handy, actually.

I seriously considered buying a pill organizer today. It was a fleeting thought...then I remembered that I'm not actually geriatric, and I decided against it.

Magnetic nail polish

2011-11-18T13:38:00.000-05:00

While I was in NC, my friend came home from work talking about her friend's new magnetic nail polish. I had no idea what she was talking about, but she explained it and we googled it, and it sounded pretty cool. It's nail polish that has metal shavings in it. You put on a thick coat, then hold the magnet in the bottle cap over your nail for a few seconds. The shavings move around and make cool little lines. Sephora seems to be the place to get it.

We went shopping on Saturday, but couldn't find the nail polish in the Sephora store. It was conveniently located right at the register for impulse purchasers, and it worked perfectly. L decided to impulsively buy a bottle at checkout. We chose the purple. I'm wearing it now.

It was a bit of a pain to do, but I like it. Apparently a different brand has other magnets that make different patterns, like a starburst or zigzags. I'm kinda in love with this stuff, but would never actually spend the money to buy myself a $16 bottle of nail polish. I'm thinking it would be a fun gift for a nail-obsessed lady in your life, though.

Twitter. Three months later

2011-11-17T21:39:00.000-05:00

I joined Twitter three months ago. I got into it thinking I would hate it. But I really kinda love it. I love having somewhere to deposit my stupid, random thoughts throughout the day. You know, the things that are too short to blog about and too inconsequential to talk to someone about. Now, my brain has an outlet for all that stuff. Lucky for my followers, right?

So I guess the moral is, don't bash it until you've tried it. I tried it, and I like it.

Butt update

2011-11-16T17:55:00.001-05:00

I have my mom's laptop for a little bit, so I can do some updating.

WARNING: The next few paragraphs contain medical information. If words like "drainage" and "fistula" squick you out, you might want to skip them. The short version: incision isn't healing and moving make healing take longer. Thus, bed rest and as little moving as possible.

Now for the long version. I'm on bed rest because my butt incision isn't healing like it should be. Approximately 24 hours after my orthopedist pronounced my incision healed, it started draining. I went to the doctor, who told me two small spots on the incision had reopened, glued everything shut, and sent me on my merry way (for the record, medical super glue STINGS when they put it on an open wound. I have a new appreciation for what R went through when he split his eyebrow open last summer). The glue fell off, the drainage continued and kept getting worse. I went back in right before I left for NC (I plan to write about my trip eventually...but I kinda need a computer for that...). The doc glued me together again and sent me home. The glue fell off on my way to Durham (like two days after it was put on; that stuff usually lasts at least a couple of weeks), and the drainage kept getting worse and worse. I was soaking a gauze pad every few hours. It was disgusting.

By Saturday night, I had leaked through all my gauze and my clothes, so I headed to urgent care hoping the doctor there could glue me back together and get me back to Ohio so I could see my doctor. She pretty much handed me some gauze and tape and told me to see my doctor when I got home. It was totally worth my time and the non-insurance-covered urgent care trip (oh, the insurance rant from this trip is worth a whole post on its own).

I made myself an appointment with the orthopedist first thing Tuesday morning. After examining my gross, oozing incision and making sure nothing was infected (luckily, looks like it's not), he sent me for an immediate CT scan to make sure I hadn't developed an anal fistula (if you're really curious about fistulas, go here. I don't recommend it). He didn't think I had, but he needed to be sure. The scan required both oral and IV contrast. What this means in people terms is that I had to drink a bunch of nasty water stuff, wait for an hour, then get an IV put in for exactly 60 seconds of dye injection. I was not prepared to invest that much time in this scan. The doc told me he had talked to radiology and they'd get me right in, so I assumed it would be a quick appointment. You know what the say about assuming...

I about lost it during the CT. I'd been on the verge of tears all morning, and I'd had it by the time I had to get the IV. I managed to keep the tears to leaking instead of sobbing, and convinced the tech that I was crying because my butt hurt.

After my scan was done, I was back to the orthopedist's, where I laid ass-up on the table for a loooooong time. The doc finally came in with another surgeon, and they told me there was a small pocket of air under the incision that was keeping the underlying tissue from completely healing. He also said there was no fistula, though two radiologists said my scan was inconclusive because of the air pocket. They wanted to do some sort of rectal contrast scan to be super sure, but my orthopedist - God love him - told them no. If there were a fistula in my bum, we would know. The discharge would be, um, more poo-like.

My doctor is going on vacation this week, so he brought the other surgeon (who was in the OR during my surgery) in to make sure someone who knows what's going on is available if I need it. Surgeon 2 did a culture of my incision to make sure nothing inappropriate is growing in there. Then he opened the hole a bit more so he could pack it and let the nasty discharge come out faster. Let me tell you, that hurt like a bitch. Both doctors are pretty convinced that I did too much too soon after surgery, which is part of the reason my incision isn't healing properly. Thus the bed rest. Less moving = less pulling and rubbing in the butt crack region = faster healing. Yay.

So I'm hanging out at home, dealing with some major drainage. Gross, gross, gross. I'm hoping this fixes the problems because wound drainage is nasty, and I'm done taping my butt up every couple of hours.

Phoning it in

2011-11-15T21:10:00.000-05:00

Earlier today, I decided that I was phoning in my NaBloPoMo post today because I was crabby and didn't feel like writing. Little did I know that my in-my-head post title would turn out to be so accurate. Apparently, the boys knocked my laptop off the shelf while I was gone, and I'm pretty sure they killed it. I am NOT happy about this.

Also, for accountability sake, I'm letting you all know that I'm off work on bedrest until after Thanksgiving. I'l fill in the details later, but if I use the excuse that I'm too busy or have too much going on when I forget to e-mail/call/write/send you a birthday present/whatever, feel free to call me on it. I've got nothing but time for the next 12 days.

Also also, phone blogging sucks. Not that I've mentioned that before or anything.

Sad face

2011-11-14T10:05:00.000-05:00

I'm leaving to go home today, and it makes me sad. I don't get to see L nearly enough, and our time together is always too short. I guess I don't have much more to say about that...just that I'm sad. But I'm really hoping the relaxation and happiness that I've felt this weekend hang around once I'm back in the O-H. We can all dream, right?

Psychiatric follies

2011-11-13T09:50:00.000-05:00

I'm guessing no one else will find this as amusing as I do, but I'll post it anyway...

My psychiatrist is a nice guy, but a bit lacking in social skills. The way everyone talked about him, I thought he might have Asperger's. I revised that opinion a bit once I finally met him, but he's still not the most socially adept person I've ever met. At my last appointment, toward the end of our time, we got into a discussion about a newly-acquired bad habit of mine. As I was getting ready to head out the door, he says, "And, Emily, you're going to want to stop [doing that]." The sheer ridiculousness and simplicity of that statement - you know, because it's so simple to just stop it, whatever that "it" might be - made me laugh so hard that I would almost classify it as a cackle. When I laughed, I think he realized the inanity of his statement, and quickly added, "Obviously." It wasn't a very good cover. I giggled about that most of the way home.

Feeling groovy

2011-11-12T09:46:00.000-05:00

I'm feeling really good today. Like, better than I have in a couple of months. I don't know if that's a result of being away from the stress of my everyday for a weekend or the medication changes my psychiatrist made last week, but it's working for me. I hope this sticks around.

In other news, I haven't called home yet. I texted B when my flight landed, but that's been it. And I don't feel the least bit guilty about it. That's bad, isn't it?

Hello from North Carolina!

2011-11-11T09:29:00.001-05:00

Today, I'm hanging out at my bestie's apartment in beautiful North Carolina, where apparently a high of 53 degrees is nippy (that made me laugh...I think in Ohio, "nippy" starts somewhere in the mid-30s). I'm here alone for now because L has to work 1). because her boss is a d-bag, and 2)....well, mostly because her boss is a d-bag. I'm cool with that, though. I've been left in charge of the couch and the remote, which gives me a chance to chill out, rest the bum after nine hours of sitting yesterday, nap, and play on the internet on Bernie McBurnerson, the fire-survivor laptop (who still smells like burning every time it turns on, even two years after L's house burnt down). I might wander over to the nearby shopping center for a brow wax at some point, too, as I wasn't able to fit one in before I came down and I desperately need one.

It's amazing how quickly this trip is recharging me. The three hours we spent talking last night were awesome. I miss her so much that it hurts. I've been a terrible friend for the past six to nine months, but she still loves me. These are the best kind of friends to have.

Leaving on a jet plane

2011-11-10T09:46:00.000-05:00

I leave late this afternoon to fly to NC to visit my BFF. Squeeeee!!! I am so freaking excited. It's only been about six months since I last saw her, but it feels like forever. I hate that she lives so far away, and I hate that a year when we get to see each other twice is a raging success.

I really hope my butt cooperates during this trip. I know I'm not going to see the sights, but it would be really awesome to do something other than laying around on L's couch all weekend. Regardless, it's going to be great to see her. Only a few more hours!

Tattoo time

2011-11-09T21:43:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about getting another tattoo. I'm in the "I want a tattoo, but I don't know what or where" phase.

I was going to show you the ONE thing I've ever pinned on Pinterest, but apparently it's disappeared. And Pinterest doesn't want to cooperate and let me search for stuff tonight, so I can't find it. Boo. Anyway, it was an awesome tattoo someone had done along the outer edge of their foot. I don't remember what it said, but I really liked the location.

I feel like I need to save this tattoo to commemorate something big. B doesn't want me to get another one, so if I'm going to do it and piss him off, it might as well be for a good reason.

I'll keep you updated as Tattoo Search 2011 progresses. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them!

Craniosacral therapy

2011-11-08T20:30:00.000-05:00

The older I've gotten and the more health problems I've had to deal with, the more I find myself gravitating toward ~~hippie~~ alternative treatments. It started with massage for some semi-chronic back pain. It was awesome and did wonders for me. Since then I've dabbled in some other non-traditional treatments for myself and the boys. W went to the chiropractor when he was itty bitty. (By that point, I was desperate for anything that might stop the constant screaming...job and insurance changes stopped us from going more than once, so I don't know if it really worked.)

Our newest adventure is in craniosacral therapy. W's first OT (whom I LOVED) quit working at the hospital this summer so she could open her own office doing more of the hands-on stuff that she loves doing. After contacting her about something else and talking about why CST might be good for W, I figured we'd give it a shot. If we got nothing else out of it, at least I'd be helping out a small business owner I really like.

Yesterday was W's second session. The first one didn't go so well. He wanted to play and didn't want the therapist to touch him (which, uh, is sort of the point). Today's went better. Not much, but a little bit. She was at least able to do a few releases (I think that's what they're called...), and she showed me a couple of things I can do with him at home. She also convinced me to book myself a session. I'm an easy sell, what can I say?

I'm hoping that the CST will complement W's occupational therapy to help with his sensory issues. He's so, so much better than he was a year ago, but he's still got a long way to go, especially if I expect him to be able to function in a classroom-type setting. My biggest fear is that he's going to be labeled ADD/ADHD as soon as he's in a classroom, and someone is going to push medicating him. He doesn't have ADD or ADHD. He doesn't need medicines. He needs LOTS of sensory input. I guess we're just going to have to wait and see how he develops and progresses with is therapies over the next year or so.

If you're interested in CST and live in my area, give Jeanne a call (and tell her I sent you). She's awesome and will craniosacral you right up.

Asking a blogger on a date

2011-11-07T06:30:00.000-05:00

There's a blogger out there I've been reading for quite a while, and I really admire her. I will be in her area sometime soon, and I'd kinda like to ask her out for coffee or something. I would love to meet her, but I feel like it would be super weird to just e-mail her saying "Hey, love your blog, come meet me!"

What do you think? How would you react if you got that e-mail? Is there any way for me to ask her without sounding creepy? Should I just scrap this idea all together?

Home alone

2011-11-06T18:21:00.000-05:00

One of B's fraternity brother got married last night. We were both supposed to go, but after a week plus of pushing myself (specifically, my assular region) more than I should, the thought of spending several hours sitting in the car, followed by several hours of sitting at the ceremony and reception, was just too much. Instead, the boys went to my mom's as planned, and I stayed home alone. It's been sort of nice. I did nothing but lay on the couch watching DVDed shows and napping. My house is a sty, and I should have been cleaning, though, so I'm feeling a bit guilty about that.

B had a great time at the wedding. I was really bummed that I didn't get to go see all the guys...it's been about a year since the last wedding where we all met up. But the one thing I was really upset about? Missing out on holding and cuddling and snuggling one of the guys' six-week-old baby boy. Sweet sleepy babies nuzzled up against me is the ONE thing I miss about the baby days. It's wonderful to have a warm little bundle of sweetness in my arms and to smell the delicious baby smell. Plus, when he starts screaming, I get to give him back. Now THAT is my idea of parenting. Man, I need a snuggle baby.

Music and writing

2011-11-05T08:04:00.000-04:00

I liked Thursday's NaBloPoMo prompt, so I'm writing about it today. The prompt was: "Can you listen to music and write? What song did you hear today?"

The fact is, I can listen to just about anything and still write. I like having background noise when I'm working. I think it helps me focus. Most days, I have something playing on my work computer. I find listening to music and pounding away on the keyboard almost therapeutic. Reading can be more difficult for me with music, but writing almost never is.

Today's musical selections included the playlist on my cloud drive that I affectionately call "Blah." It's the best depression music I've been able to cobble together from my musical downloads. It has lots of Shinedown (I'm totally in love with Shinedown right now), some Fuel, a little Breaking Benjamin and Seether, and assorted random sad/angry songs. My go-to depression music was always Counting Crows' "August and Everything After" and Fuel's "Something Like Human." But I've managed to lose both of those CDs (oh yeah. I had them on CD) without ever transferring them to my computer. I know the Counting Crows CD was left in the player of my totaled Pacifica when it was scrapped because B didn't know about it and didn't think to look in there, but I have no idea where the Fuel one went. I miss those CDs.

Faking thanks

2011-11-04T18:00:00.003-04:00

I hate the world and most of its inhabitants today, but rather than regale you with my sob story, I'll give you five (-ish...I'm not sure I'm up to that many tonight) things I'm thankful for.

B not having class tonight for the first time in almost a week. It's giving me a chance to hide from the children and be miserable in peace.
Diet Coke. I'm never NOT thankful for that stuff.
Laying down. My butt hurts like a mother today, and sitting at work has been brutal.
Crappy Day Presents. Seriously, these are the best idea EVER. (If you've never given/gotten one and are intrigued, Doing My Best is hosting a CDP exchange. Check it out here.)
Sleep. Because, obviously.

Hey look. I did it. Yay. Now off to go wallow some more.

A milestone

2011-11-03T20:59:00.000-04:00

I went to write something of consequence tonight when I realized that last night's post was my 500th. So I thought I would mention that little blogging milestone tonight instead. Yay me!

I also want to mention that I fly out to see my bestie in ONE WEEK!!! Squee!

Fear and loathing

2011-11-02T20:16:00.000-04:00

That just about sums up my innermost thoughts right now. Fear and loathing are the two emotions ruling my life at the moment. Fear of the things going on inside of me, within my family, in my life. Loathing of everything I am, every choice I've made, everything I do.

Ladies (and possibly the unlucky gentleman who somehow stumbled upon the blog), I am not ok. It started out as my typical one-week-pre-period blah phase. But my period has come and gone, and I'm not feeling better. I'm actually feeling much, much worse. I've been overwhelmed by anger and anxiety lately. The anger I'm used to.The anxiety I'm not. Depression - not anxiety - is my "thing;" I'm much more comfortable with the D than I am with the A. I don't like the constant inner churning. At least with depression I mostly don't feel anything.

I've talked to my counselor. I (finally) see my psychiatrist in a week. I don't think it really matters. It's not like anything helps anyway.

Aww, what the hell

2011-11-01T20:52:00.002-04:00

I've signed myself for a third year of ~~that November blogging event with the worst short form name ever that makes me cringe every time I even think it~~ NaBloPoMo.I have very low hopes for me actually making it through this year. But I'll give it a shot anyway. One day down, twenty-nine more to go. Whee!

Anyone else playing along this month?

Happenings

2011-10-26T23:41:00.000-04:00

I'm feeling very Theory of a Deadman lately. (Warning: the video contains, uh, colorful language. Don't listen if that's not your thing).

So, instead of talking about me, let's discuss the kids. Here's some of what they've been up to lately.

Goofing around with Daddy.

Scooping pumpkin guts. He wasn't particularly excited about it.

Baby with a knife. Always an excellent idea.

B loooooves getting his picture taken.

Pumpkins are hilarious!

The results: W's, Daddy's, and Robby's.

Frosting the birthday cake he baked for Grandma.

R thought about helping...

...but decided that licking the spatula would be more fun.

Mmmmmm, frosting!

Feeding the chickens.

Chickens are kinda awesome.

Mommy's little helper.

Failing, failing

2011-10-22T11:00:00.000-04:00

Dammit, I'm back here. Again. Life is crumbling down around me. Again. I can't do anything right. Again. I'm failing at life. Again.

The depression triggers have been coming at me hard and fast this week. Pain. Physical healing issues. Marriage trouble. Financial stressors. People judging me and my parenting. Cancelled psychiatrist appointment. Needy children. It goes on.

And I have so much to do. So much. My performance goes way, way down when this happens, which just makes me feel like even more of a failure. Unfortunately, I still have to get stuff done. It's taking everything in me to not cancel all our weekend plans, ship the boys to Grandma's, and hide in my room crying until life goes away.

And life never goes away, does it?

Number five

2011-10-21T21:39:00.001-04:00

Five years ago today, I was a newly-minted Mrs.

Photo taken by a friend...or relative...I think.

I barely recognize the stupid girl walking down that aisle five years ago. I find it even harder to recognize the stupid girl who fell in love with her tall, gangly, sort-of-nerdy groom in physics class ten years ago. And that's...well, that's really all I have to say about that.

Even when things are ~~horribly tumultuous~~ sort of rocky, I feel like the beginning of our marriage at least needs to be recognized, you know?

Sunday brain dump

2011-10-16T21:44:00.000-04:00

I would really love to give you guys an actual post sometime, but it's just not in the cards right now. I'm way too unfocused to come up with anything more than another obnoxious blurb post.

Surgical recovery continues. Some days are good, some are not. I think the boys have just about reached their breaking point with the "no pick ups by mommy" thing; they're both uber, uber clingy.

I discovered the secret to having a house that doesn't smell. You need to get rid of anyone who a) is male, and b) still regularly craps their pants. That happened last weekend, and my house actually smelled pleasant! (Ok, maybe not pleasant, but definitely not rancid). I liked it.

Not being able to pick up the boys means that I've had to go to work an hour earlier than normal since I went back so B can put R in the car for me before he goes to work. That's getting old. I'm not looking forward to getting up at 5:00 tomorrow. And, assuming I'm cleared to lift babies at my appointment on Tuesday, I'm still not going to get to "sleep in" because I (allegedly) have a trial on Wednesday and Thursday.

I went to the symphony for the first time ever last night. It was pretty awesome. I also found out that one of the family nights the local symphony is doing is Super Why!-themed. W's big on Super Why! right now, and I think he would love this. My mom's talking about buying him tickets for Christmas.

Speaking of Super Why!, I think that's what W is going to be for Halloween. He hasn't expressed any sort of costume preference, and I bought him a superhero costume from Powercapes for his birthday. Throw the costume on over a green sweatsuit, add a pair of blue undies and yellow belt on top, and viola. Super Why! R gets to be a penguin. Because we have a penguin costume in the appropriate size. It's grand being the younger sibling.

I'm having trouble sleeping again, but I'm slightly afraid to mix my sleeping pill with my percoset. No one said anything to me about this at the hospital, but it just doesn't seem like a good idea. Maybe I'm over-thinking things.

I'm hungry. And nothing sounds even remotely appetizing. Maybe I'll finish off the B&J's red velvet ice cream in the freezer.

W's birthday is in less than two weeks. I'm starting to feel really guilty about not doing a party for him. We're going to do cake with the family one day, but I feel like he should get a party with his friends. I know this is completely ridiculous because he's three and doesn't need a birthday party, but I feel slightly guilty nonetheless.

At my counseling appointment yesterday, my psychiatrist said - and I quote - "Emily, you have officially made me crazy!" I think this means I win at counseling, right?

I had something else to put here, but my mom texted me and now I don't remember it. I think I'll just shut up and go get a snack now instead of torturing you further.

Quick update

2011-10-09T22:01:00.000-04:00

Just wanted to let everyone know that I'm still alive. I'm doing ok and recovering fairly well. My butt only hurts when I roll over, lay on my back, bend over, or try to sit down. Awesome, right? I also have a massive crater in my mouth from the breathing tube they used on me, which hurts like a sonofabitch, and bruises on my shoulder and both sides of my jaw from the surgery positioning stuff, so that's fun. I have to call the doc tomorrow to schedule my check for hematomas/change my dressing appointment. The healing continues.

My mom stayed with me and took care of me all weekend, which was really nice. I hated being completely confined to the couch all weekend, but it was nice to have someone wait on me hand and foot for three days. She also brought tons of junk food that we snacked on all weekend, and introduced me to Ben & Jerry's Red Velvet Ice Cream. If you haven't tried this stuff yet, you must! It's soooooooooo good!

After my mom left tonight, I was feeling a bit bummed because I was left in the care of B, who is a terrible nursemaid (he knows this and admits it), so I decided to open my first ever crappy day present. I took some pictures and will do a whole post on it later. But for now, a big thanks to DMB for making me smile (and maybe squee a bit) tonight.

On a random and unrelated note, I love this blog post about Diet Coke and why it's not the devil. Bring on the DC!

Man, lots of exclamation points tonight. I need to stop doing that. Time to go ice my bum, take a pain pill, and return some e-mails (probably not in that order...some of those e-mails are professional).

T-day

2011-10-06T20:09:00.001-04:00

My butt, it is removed. I'm terribly sore. Morphine is good, even if it did almost make me puke. I'm staying at the hospital tonight. I'm on complete bed rest right now to avoid any possibility of disturbing the incision. Phone blogging still sucks. Using a bed pan sucks even more. That'sall I've got for now. Write more soon (when I'm slightly more lucid). Love you all..

Doctor said I need an asseotomy*

2011-09-29T20:36:00.000-04:00

In case you haven't been following my ass saga, here's the short version: I've had chronic tailbone pain since I got pregnant with R (actually, the sore tailbone was the first inkling I had that I might be pregnant a second time). I've been seeing an orthopedist and trying a bunch of stuff that hasn't worked, including anti-inflammatories, muscle relaxers, cortisone shots, chiropractic adjustment, voodoo, etc. At my appointment this week, my doc told me the time had come: I need surgery. Neat.

My surgery is scheduled for next Thursday at 12:30. I'm having the last two vertebra of my spine removed (all the inflammation and ouchieness is between the second- and third-to-last vertebra). You'll be shocked to hear this isn't a common surgery - my doctor has only done it twice before. The good news is that those two patients had their pain completely go away after surgery. Sounds like a fairly simple procedure (except for the risk of a perforated colon), but I might have to stay overnight if the pain is bad.

So. I'm having my ass removed next week. I know you're jealous.

* Before you say anything, I know it's technically an "assectomy" (ass removal) rather than an "asseotomy" (ass cutting or opening) - if I learned nothing else in high school anatomy, I learned that** - but that's not how the Half Baked quote goes.***

** Well, that and it's "seniorosis," not "senioritis" (though if you have a particularly skanky group of seniors, "-itis" might be appropriate), and if you let the girl who refuses to touch the dissection cat name your cat, you get a cat named Pickles.

*** How come the only movie I ever seem to be able to quote is Half Baked? I think that probably means there's something wrong with me, doesn't it?

Sleep deprivation is a dangerous drug

2011-09-27T21:49:00.001-04:00

I had some stuff to get done in the evenings last week, and I decided to skip my sleeping pill so I could stay awake past 9:00 (and, uh, remember it all in the morning). I got SO MUCH DONE that night. So I kept skipping. I haven't taken one in over a week. I also haven't slept more than about four hours a night in over a week. I haven't slept this little since before the lovely sleeping pills made an appearance in my life over two months ago.

I am tired. And I'm getting stuff done! But I'm tired. But my bathroom is clean! But I'm barely able to keep my eyes open right now. But, but, but CLEANING! ANSWERING E-MAILS! CATCHING UP ON BLOGS!

I'd forgotten how productive I used to be after all three boys got to bed. I'm a night owl by nature; I love doing my work late at night. Unfortunately, the glamorous life of a fake lawyer/mother of toddlers isn't super conducive to burning the midnight oil.

It's addictive, though. Last night I stayed up super late, and I didn't even have anything to do. I was practically falling asleep on my keyboard, but I stayed awake. Just because I could. It's like I've reverted back to toddlerhood. You know, fighting sleep just to prove I can. It's not good. I think I'm going to give up the (no-sleep) drug and go back to the (knock-me-out) drug.

Until I find a new sewing project that I just HAVE to get done after bedtime, that is.

Confessions of a Snuggie convert

2011-09-25T21:14:00.000-04:00

I have a secret. A shameful, embarrassing secret. I've been keeping this secret for almost two years. The arrival of cool evenings and a calendar that tells me I'm not yet allowed to turn on the heat make me feel like this is the perfect time to confess.

My name is Emily, and I love my Snuggie.

That's right. Not only do I own a Snuggie, but I love my Snuggie. (Not so much that I'd wear it out in public and/or dance the Macarena in it, but, you know, enough that I'm willing to publicly admit it).

It all started on Christmas Eve 2009. My father-in-law bought each of the "daughters" a Snuggie. I'm pretty sure he did it just because it amused him - he has a reputation for doing that (see, e.g., the Stinky the Garbage Truck he bought W for his second birthday). I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who kept my Snuggie.

Several days later, we returned home from all the festivities. I must have been drunk (ok, that's not true. I was just cold), but when B dared me to bust out the Snuggie, I did it. And I fell in love.

It's soft. And comfy. And lightweight, but so, so warm. I love being all covered up and still being able to use my hands for such important things as surfing the internet and changing the channels on the TV. It's heavenly.

It also embarrasses the hell out of B when I wear it, which is just an added bonus.

I can't be the only one, right? What about you? Do you love your Snuggie? More importantly, are you willing to admit it to the internet?

Professionalism 101

2011-09-20T21:16:00.003-04:00

I got the following (slightly redacted) e-mail today:

"Greetings * * *Grievance Committee Chair:

"Wehave received what is frankly a bunch of gobbledygook from former Dr. [Nutjob]. She appears to have been convicted of various crimes * * *. She has also lost her medical license with the Med Board. We sent hergrievance forms to try to get her to at least associate specific allegationswith specific individuals. She has done this. Kinda. Seriously, there must be some back story to this lady. She seems prettywacky from her writings. She claims to have filed several grievances withyour committees* * *.

"Canyou confirm whether she has filed with you, whether you are doing anything ifshe has, and whether you know what I’m guessing is the juicy back story on thisthing?

"Thanks.

"[Lawyer who's probably been around long enough to know better]"

In case you haven't figured it out right now, this isn't really the kind of thing you should put in writinhg and sent to another lawyer. Particularly when you work for a government agency. I know it's not as salacious as some lawyer e-mails out there, but you take what you can get when you're a fake lawyer. My colleague who also got the e-mail stopped by my office to comment on it. I'll be honest, the only response I have to this is "She's batshit crazy." But I know better than to put that in writing on a government e-mail account where most - if not all - of what I write is public record. I plan to call the sending lawyer tomorrow to let her know my thoughts. Because I really don't want Dr. Nutjob to have any written ammunition to use against me when she sues everyone who's ever looked at her funny.*

* I'm fully aware that this post constitutes written ammunition against me. But there's not really much useful stuff here. I hope.

The stories you can't share

2011-09-18T23:08:00.001-04:00

Anyone who's blogged for a while without alienating or pissing off a lot of their real-life friends/family/employers knows that some stories are not the blogger's to tell. You know you're an integral part of the story, and you want, need, ache to share, but the story isn't really yours. You're stuck. You just know you can't tell the story because of the repercussions it would cause. So it sits inside, waiting for the time when it might be ok to come out of hiding.

Dare I say it was...fun...?

2011-09-14T22:02:00.002-04:00

The boys and I stayed home Monday and Tuesday due to my little plague rat's bout of croup (yeah, wasn't a teething fever. My bad). By Tuesday, W was getting a bit stir crazy from being stuck home without other children to run around with. I wouldn't let him go outside while R was awake because running around made R's breathing worse. I finally consented to some time "ow-ide" during R's nap.

We ran several races around the yard - I don't know how, but I managed to lose every time - and then spent a long time driving some of his little plastic trucks down the slide. W's laughter was infectious and his enthusiasm was contagious. And you know what? I had fun. I actually had fun playing with my kid. Real, actual fun. It was almost mind-blowing.

This is probably no big deal for most of you. You probably have real, actual fun with your kids all the time.

For me, though, this is huge.

Flushing my toilet with impunity

2011-09-12T22:39:00.001-04:00

I mentioned a (WHOLE FREAKING) month ago that our sewer was clogged with tree roots. First, B told me his friend had the equipment to fix it. He didn't. Then B tells me the chemical stuff he bought would help. It didn't. Then B says he's going to call a plumber (whose phone number and price estimate I provided him). It never happened.

During the month of sewer clog inaction, we had to regulate our water and sewer usage to make sure we didn't flood the whole basement (we only flooded a minor portion of the basement near the floor drain). The changes we had to make included: adopting an "if it's yellow, let it mellow" philosophy; keeping showers to five minutes or less; only doing one load of laundry ever four or five hours (and not at all if the dishwasher needed to be run or the children needed a bath). Any time we did any of the "forbidden" activities (especially if two were done close in time), the floor drain filled and spilled over, bringing with it the stench of sewage. It was gross. No, repulsive is more accurate.

Once I finally got it through my head that B was clearly not going to take care of getting the sewer cleaned, fate stepped in. R woke up with a teething fever this morning that was low-grade, but enough that he would have been sent home from daycare as soon as the motrin wore off. So we all stayed home. Around 8:00 this morning, I had the brilliant idea that I could call the plumber, since I was going to be home all damn day. So I did.

They came around 2:00, spent an hour cleaning out tree roots, and assured me that the sewer line looks great - my greatest fear was finding out we need to replace the whole line. He did say the manhole by us is filled with tree roots, so we need to call the city and have them come look at it. He also told us we were doing far better than the house down the street whose sewer they had just spent hours pulling baby wipes out of. I thought baby wipe 101 was "NO WIPES IN THE TOILET!" Someone down there must have missed the memo.

So the sewer saga is over for now. I still need to take gallons of bleach and gallons of Killz to the floors and walls down there to kill any sewer nastiness that accumulated over a month of floor drain overflows. But I'm now able to flush after every potty trip, and shower long enough to shave my sasquatch legs (for the last time of the season, might I add). That's success for now, I suppose.

Operation Bleach the Eff Out of My Basement commences tomorrow.

Tattoo fun facts

2011-09-11T21:10:00.002-04:00

It's been almost a year since I got my tattoo. My BFF got her tattoo at the same time. Her tattoo is named Fred*. Fred has adventures:

See, Fred went to the beach.

This is important later.

My friend Amanda turns 30 tomorrow (Happy early birthday, Amanda!). To celebrate, she's getting a tattoo. I suggested she go see Crazy Pierre**, who did my tattoo. He was kind of nuts - we got to hear all about his anarchical beliefs and his baby mama troubles - but he did good work. Honestly, the only reason I saw Pierre was because Hot Ryan** was no longer at the shop I went to. But he turned out to be a pretty good choice.

Amanda took my suggestion and called to schedule an appointment with Pierre. I got this e-mail later that day:

SO. Just so you know. I made an appointment at [shop] to get a tattoo on Monday and Pierre doesn't work there anymore. Turns out he is wanted by the police and fled the state. HA!

I laughed like an idiot when I read this. It seemed so fitting for Pierre. I found it so amusing that I passed it on to my BFF. Her response (via Facebook):

Based on info given to me by Emily S[], we must now call [Fred] "felony [Fred]."

Since I made the appointments and picked the shop and artist, I suppose I'm sort of responsible for Fred's new name. That's why I took it upon myself to create Fred's next adventure. I present to you "Fred goes to jail":

You can tell he's a felon by the orange jumpsuit.

With any luck, when I go to visit BFF (and Fred) in November (less than two months! SQUEE!) Fred's newest adventure can actually be realized!***

* Name changed to protect the innocent.

** Names not change, but slightly embellished.

*** Ok, not really. Felonies = law license suspension, and I kinda like my law license.

The other me(s)

2011-09-09T22:12:00.000-04:00

My surnames (maiden and married) are not the most common. They're nothing super strange, but they're no Smith or Jones, either.

If you google "Emily MaidenName," you'll find results for me and two other Emily MaidenNames (I'd use the first initial, but it's the same for both of my last names). One is in some branch of the armed forces, runs marathons, and, coincidentally, is also a lawyer. The other is an awesome photographer who's also a Fulbright scholar. I...well, let's just say that I don't appear in the first 10 pages of the google search for my old name any more, but when I did, the stuff that came up was a couple of mentions on the honor's college website from my alma mater and maybe the title of my undergraduate thesis. Nothing cool.

Until recently, I was the only "Emily MarriedName" on the interwebs. Suddenly, though, another one has appeared. She's still in high school (which explains her lack of internet presence before this), and searching for her gives you such gems as her MySpace page - yes, those do apparently still exist - and some comments on her sophomore English class' summer reading blog. The search for my married name is nearly as boring as my maiden name search (Emily's a lawyer! Look at Emily's publicly available lawyer information! Emily got married and had a wedding registry!), but it's more exciting than a 16-year-old's, I suppose.

I think it's kinda fun to see who else is out there that people might find when they're looking for me. Luckily for me, none of the other Emilys are major douche bags or anything awful. I definitely wouldn't mind being confused for either of the other Emily MaidenNames (particularly the photographer one. She seems pretty damn awesome). Emily MarriedName is, well, 16. She's cute and seems perky, but she's still 16. I don't think anyone over the age of 21 would want to be confused with a 16-year-old.

Does anyone else do this, or is it just me? Ever found out anything fun about one of the other yous?

It got weird, didn't it?

2011-09-07T22:58:00.002-04:00

I realized tonight that blogging and Twitter have kinda killed my sense of internet boundaries. When I was new to the whole "internet" thing, I was cautious and reserved when it came to commenting on others' blogs. I was one of those "I hope you don't think I'm weird..." kind of commenters. It was strange for me - a girl who is highly socially awkward and terrible at making friends without making an ass of herself - to just write about something someone else put out there. I felt like it wasn't my place because I didn't know these women. I eventually figured out that commenting on strangers' blogs was sort of the point, so I kept doing it.

The longer I've been doing this stuff, the more comfortable I've gotten with interacting via the interwebs. But sometimes I think I've gotten a little too comfortable. Sometimes I think I get creepy, which goes back to the whole "socially awkward, terrible at making friends" thing. When I feel a connection - real or imagined - with another blogger, I tend to jump in with both feet. It's like, in my head, we would totally be friends in real life, so I act like we already are friends in real life. I need to pull back on that. I really don't want to be known as that one creepy blogger girl whose communications make others feel uncomfortable.

Can I get an elective hysterectomy at 28?

2011-09-06T22:07:00.001-04:00

I've know for years that I have issues with hormones. It's only become apparent recently how serious those issues are. I've noticed since my crazy days (and possibly the month or so before that...my brain has wrapped those days in a very soft focus so I don't remember those couple of months perfectly clearly) the week-ish before my period hits, I go off the deep end again. It's like clockwork. And it's baaaaaaaaaaad. It's also really bizarre.

It also happens to occur right about the time I have a psychiatrist appointment scheduled, so I go into that appointment feeling like absolute shit about myself, even when I'm happy(ish) and smiling (sometimes) the other three weeks of the month. I'm going to write this down so I can mention it when I go to my next psychiatrist appointment feeling like permanently disappearing under a rock.

I think my best possible solution at this point is a hysterectomy. They let you do those electively, don't they? Before you're 30? Menopause can't be that bad...lots of old ladies live through it every day. I wonder how long my GYN will laugh at me before telling me no.

But that's really the only plausible solution I can come up with. Unless there's some sort of super-dose psych medicine I can take for a few days before I start my period that will at least keep me level-ish until my uterus does its thing and I can get back to being (relatively) happy(esque) the rest of the month.

Anyone have serious-but-semi-stable depression/anxiety/other mental health issue that takes hormone-related nosedives once a month? What have you done to combat the problems? Is there anything out there other than ute-yanking? There has to be, right?

They're out there

2011-08-31T21:36:00.000-04:00

As I was listening to the radio this morning, the host of the show took some phone calls for a contest. I'm pretty sure one of the callers was a fellow ~~prisoner~~ patient when I was in the hospital. She had the same moderately unusual name and did the same nerve-grating squeally-shrieky laugh thing. It had to be her. And it made my stomach lurch a little.

The past three months, I've had a fear of running into someone I was hospitalized with lurking in the back of my head. Early on, I worried about this quite a bit. What would I do if I ran into someone? Would they recognize me? Would I say hi? Would I ignore them? Would we talk about the psych ward - only thing we have in common? Would it be the most awkward thing in the whole entire world? The further away my hospitalization gets, the less these thoughts cross my mind. In fact, I hardly ever entertain them any more.

Then I hear one of the other patients on the radio, and I'm reminded that these people still exist and are still out there somewhere, probably not all that far away from me. It's kinda weird to think about. I just hope I never end up actually seeing one of them in person. I'm not sure I could handle the awkwardness.

Getting better sucks*

2011-08-29T22:30:00.000-04:00

It's been a rough few ~~days~~ ~~weeks~~ ~~months~~ weeks. And the work I've been doing on and for myself has been HARD. Really, really hard. I'm tired of working so hard and seeing so few results. Nothing I do seems to get me any closer to my ultimate goals. The things I'm reaching for seem so.far.away. Everything is so overwhelming; I barely even know where to start. My sources of professional help are only helpful to a point. But then I get home, and it all crashed down on me again, and I don't know what to do. I'm so frozen that I can't even determine which baby step to take at this point in time. When I do takes some sort of action, it seems to not make a dent in the surface of problem. Slowing chipping away at the giant, petrified shit pile my life has become over the past year-and-a-half or so is tedious, painful, exhausting, and FRUITLESS.

I want the healing to be over. I want my family life to magically be better. I want me to magically become happy, fulfilled, and adoring of my kids. And crushed hopes - even when they're of the pipe-dream type - never feel good.

So there you have it. This why (the process of) getting better sucks. I just keep hoping the end result of actually getting better makes it worthwhile (but even that mantra's getting a little old).

*If you don't won't to read the whole post, here's a pretty good summary: Whine, whine, whine. Whine, WHINE, whine, whine, whine. Gripe, complain, desperate-sounding final though. The end.

Weekend fun

2011-08-28T21:49:00.000-04:00

It was a fun, busy weekend. Friday night, we spent some time hanging out as a family and playing in the back yard.

R loves lawnmower rides. I promise he does.

After dinner, the boys and I went to the neighborhood ice cream place with our neighbors. This was a poor choice. The kids were being awful (when W is the best behaved of the bunch, that's saying something). When we finally made it home, we had a visitor.

Yes, I let my children play with random cats. Why do you ask?

W shared his slushy with Kitty. Kitty liked it.

Saturday, B helped some of our friends move. These are the friends who manage to be on vacation every time we move, but whatever. We still love them, and I still volunteer my husband to help them move heavy objects. My mother-in-law came up to play with the boys, so Mommy got to go to therapy and run some errands. Yay! Actually, it was great. Pre-offspring, I used to do all of my running around for the week on Saturdays, and I loved the alone time. I'd forgotten how much I liked those hours until I got to have them again this weekend. I need to arrange for this more often.

Today, the boys and I went to my moms to attend a fun fest at the church a block from her house. It was a ton of fun, and all free! They had inflatables, face painting, games for preschoolers, an old firetruck, decorate-your-own cupcake stand, balloon animals, and awesome junk food (sno-cones, cotton candy, popcorn, and hotdogs) I forgot my camera and my mom's battery died about half an hour in, so the only pics I have are from my cell (and these are mostly from the end of the afternoon).

Once we discovered the firetruck, W didn't want to do anything else.

Firefighter W! Who is blocking baby brother.

R - my baby who cannot possibly be mine because he doesn't really like sweets - refused my attempts to feed him sno-cones and cotton candy, but fell in love with the cupcake. I told my mom to grab a red velvet one for him to "decorate" because I figured I would end up eating it. I was very, very wrong. One taste of the frosting, and it was all over. The little old ladies manning the cupcake station just fell in love with this kid. They were fawning over him and his cake-smeared face like he was the cutest thing they'd ever seen. The pics don't really demonstrate the extent of the cake carnage. By the time he was done (and by "done", I mean "Mom and I took the cupcake remains away from him") he and I were both covered in cake. He must have been dying for some milk to go with his cake because he kept burying his sticky little face in my boobs and rooting around like he belonged there. I pointed out to him that the boob fountain had been closed for months, but he didn't listen.

Hmm...what is this white stuff?

Delicious is what! Get in my belleh!

We came home to a delicious beer-brined chicken B made while we were out playing. Unfortunately, W morphed into a melty puddle of stressed out baby when we got home. It was proof that he still NEEDS his daily nap. R was also crabby due to lack of nap time, so everyone went to bed super early tonight. We were kid-free by 7:30 tonight. It was nice. Now I'm just waiting for the laundry to get done so I can also go to bed.

How was your weekend?

Best teethers EVAH

2011-08-25T21:37:00.000-04:00

Until a week or so ago, I had never heard of Chewy Tubes. And I have no idea why. None. They're marketed as tools for improving jaw strength and biting and chewing skills. But these things are AWESOME teethers.

Someone in Will's therapy pool suggested we get him some to help break him of the unfortunate thumb sucking habit he picked up out of NOWHERE a couple of months ago. I finally got them ordered and they arrived yesterday. In the past 24 hours, they've become the most highly-coveted toys in our home. W has be throwing fits if R even gets near one of the tubes, and about had a meltdown when I told him he had to share one of the four with his little brother.

R is working on some new teeth right now, and it didn't take long for me to see how the Chewy Tubes are perfect for him. This is what they look like:


Image from bipgear.com

The thicker the tube, the more resistance it gives and the more jaw strength it requires to chew on it. I gave R the yellow one (the smallest of the four). The short end of the T is a little thicker and more heavy-duty. R was using that part to work on his front teeth. The stem is PERFECT for reaching those pesky molars. I searched and searched and searched for something that would give W some relief for his molars when he was working on them, but none of the teethers I found were long enough to reach the back of his jaw. R's little molars were gnawing away on his tube within minutes.

These are a bit pricey for a teether (the average price + shipping price I found was between $7.00 and $7.50). If it provides some relief from the tooth-induced crankies and screamies, it might be worth it though. I got mine from Amazon, but there are other places around the web that they're available. I don't know of any physical stores that sell them, but I'm sure such stores exist. If you have a cranky molar teether, go buy one. Worth. It.

I think the best part of them is that the kids look like mini Popeyes when they're running around with these pipe-like thinks sticking out of their mouths. Cracks me up.

Note: sounds like a review, but it's not - I bought and paid for these out of my own pocket. I'm just lovin' our new teethers, and wanted to share the love with my bloggy peeps.

Should they be roomies?

2011-08-24T22:17:00.000-04:00

When we found out I was pregnant - literally the day after we signed the contract on our current, two-bedroom house - we determined that we would be ok, space-wise, because we have this tiny, fake bedroom that could act as the "nursery" until the baby was sleeping through the night and could share a room with W. We haven't moved R from the nursery to W's room yet, but this is still the ultimate plan. Once R was sleeping through the night, I decided to put off the move until R was in a big boy bed. Even though we're not there yet, I'm starting to think it's time.

B goes back to union school next week. Thankfully, our worst fears didn't come true and he only has class two nights a week. However, this still means I have to put the boys to bed on my own two nights a week. For the longest time, the one-mom-two-babies bedtime wasn't an issue because W would tolerate being away from me for a few minutes and would stay in the living room watching TV. Now, however, when I do solo bedtime, W is running up and down the stairs, opening R's door, turning on R's light (switch is in the hallway), and noisily playing in his room. No consequences or ~~bribes~~ positive reinforcements keep his hyper little bum downstairs (or quiet. I would accept upstairs and quiet).

As I sat ~~reciting W a story from memory while aimlessly turning pages in the book~~ reading W's bedtime story tonight, I got to thinking that my solo mom nights would go much more smoothly if the boys were in the same room and I could rock them, read them stories, and put them down at the same time. They're already on very similar sleep/wake schedules, and R will soon be on the same nap schedule W has at daycare (their nap times don't always coincide right now). So it makes sense, right? Following this train of thought, I also had a niggling feeling that this could be a really, REALLY bad idea.

An added bonus to this arrangement would be creating a "playroom"* where we could put some of the toys currently living in the living room, as well as the bigger toys in W's room. W is currently slightly possessive of the toys housed in his room (the kitchen set, the train table, the singing mirror that he has no interest in unless R is trying to play with it, etc.), and I'm hoping that putting them in a communal toy room would get him to realize that the toys aren't all his, but are his AND R's.

What do you think, readers? Is moving my crib-dwelling 16-month-old son into his two-year-and-10-month-old brother's room? Are the single bedtime and communal toys benefits outweighed by the sheer stupidity of thinking two toddler boys can sleep in the same room without killing each other or destroying the furniture?

* I have to use quotation marks when referring to this space because this room is 5' x 12', and I have a really difficult time calling it anything other than "the space that used to be two closets, but the prior owner was a doofus who turned it in into...this..."

A scary road

2011-08-23T22:07:00.000-04:00

This is how it started last time.

Not how the ultimate crazy spiral started, but how the long, slow decline that dropped me off the edge of the cliff started.

I'm feeling those things, going back to those places. The only difference this time is I know what's coming and it's pushed my anxiety levels through the roof.

I'm the kind of girl who needs order and big steps. The disarray and baby steps filling my life right now are major contributing factors, I'm sure. Stagnation is the story of my life, and my impatient self doesn't do well with that.

I miss the old me. I want a full (or at least mostly full) bucket again.

I see my psychiatrist tomorrow and my counselor on Saturday. I'll be fine. I just wish I could curl up and hide until "fine" happens.

Fatalistically flawed

2011-08-22T22:24:00.000-04:00

I'll warn you in advance that I'm writing this post-sleeping pill. Stop reading if you have no tolerance for rambling.

Tonight cemented in my head the fact that I almost certainly have something very wrong with my brain. Ok, ok, there's ample evidence of that throughout the pages of this blog. But tonight's revelation was different. Tonight I realized that I have a completely fatalistic view of myself and my life. The second anything goes wrong, my thoughts immediately go the "I'm destined to fail and should just put myself out of everyone's misery" route. Not a good way to be. I mean, stubbing a toe or having a tiff with a coworker aren't incidents that prompt normal (or even semi-normal-ish) people to think about getting the hell out. I know this. I also know that I do not fall into either the "normal" or "semi-normal-ish" categories when it comes to such things.

I wasn't always this way. I really wasn't. My main method of problem-solving never used to be idle thoughts of "I'd be better off dead." This seems to be a habit that I picked up a few months ago during the time leading up to my slight break from sanity. Now I keep wondering how much longer my brain's going to hold on to this way of thinking.

I'm shooting for "not long" because spending my bad days calculating things like exactly how much damage the giant tree that grows in the middle of a nearby side street might do to my car is exhausting. Not to mention extremely unhealthy.

Five signs you're watching too much children's television

2011-08-19T20:29:00.000-04:00

1. When your toddler requests a show's theme song as a lullaby, you're able to belt it out without having to think of a single word.

2. You don't need a clock in the morning; you know which show's on when you leave early, which is on when you leave on time, and which one means you're running late.

3. You find yourself using characters' catchphrases all.the.time.

4. You know which of your kid's unintelligible words corresponds to which kids' show.

5. You have your very own favorite shows...and may or may not continue watching them even when your kid isn't in the room.

Bye, bye curls

2011-08-18T21:20:00.000-04:00

Tonight was the night R's sweet baby curls met their demise. Here's how he started out the evening:

Oh, the curls! I die.

We waited for-EV-er for our turn, but R was a champ. He was happy and mostly stayed out of trouble. I was impressed. He was less impressive once he got in the chair. It started out well enough, but soon progressed to angry baby.

Being that irritated around a sucker took some work.

After these pics, he quickly devolved into screaming and flailing. He spent the rest of the haircut sitting in my lap sobbing, screaming, and trying his damnedest to slither off my lap. I really wish I could have gotten some video of it.

At the end of the cut, he was just pissed at life. He spent the whole time I was gathering our things and paying throwing himself on the floor in a fit of rage.

His life is so rough.

In the end, his haircut turned out pretty well, despite the fact that the stylist and I were fighting him the whole time. But now his sweet curls are gone, and a big boy has taken my baby's place.

Unrelated, but also of note tonight, W took his first crap behind the couch. I don't have any pictures of that (you're welcome). He'd gone potty and I didn't put a diaper back on him because it was almost bath time. He was playing behind the couch for a few minutes, then came out looking worried and saying something about going potty. I figured he had to go again, so we headed up to the bathroom. Nothing happened, so I tossed him in the tub and forgot about it.

About 10 minutes ago, I started writing and kept smelling something. I assumed it was B and his gas. He claimed it wasn't. On a hunch, I looked behind the couch, and sure enough, there was a toddler-sized turd back there. I laughed my ass off. B was far less impressed. He takes issue with the kids running around diaper-less and is always freaking out about them peeing on stuff. This was pretty much his worst nightmare. But we learned tonight that when W says "I go potty" while looking anxious and concerned, it means "I've already gone potty," rather than "I need to go potty." Live and learn, I suppose.

I'm pretty sure that was a flying pig

2011-08-17T21:17:00.000-04:00

Lord help me, I finally caved. I joined Twitter. And launched my Facebook page. I almost feel like these are signs of the Apocalypse.

I can't promise I'll actually do anything with either one, but follow and like me anyway?

Stagnation and fate

2011-08-16T21:50:00.000-04:00

This morning, a coworker asked me if everything is ok. She said I haven't seemed like my normal, perky self since she came back from vacation - which is also the week I came back from Camp Crazy. I brushed her off with a "Well, I wouldn't normally call myself perky anyway!" then sequestered myself back in my office.

I mentioned the convo to the ladies I eat lunch with, and did not get the response I was expecting. Two of them didn't say anythihng, but the third kind of muttered something along the lines of "Yeah, it's been awhile." That gave me pause. I thought I was doing better and putting on a socially acceptable front. Now I'm thinking I've done less well at being my "normal perky self" than I thought.

Progress = stagnated.

* * *

Ever felt slightly cheated by fate? Last night, I needed a laundromat. There are two that are mostly equidistant from my house. I chose one of them and headed that way. I had the address and a general idea of where I was going. But my phone's GPS refused to connect and the plaza(s) where the laundromat did not have laundromats in them. I'm not normally a "fate" kind of person, but I just had this feeling I was fated to go to the other laundromat. Something was going to happen. So I went (and it was extremely easy to locate, BTW). I got there, started my laundry, sat, waited, and...nothing. Not a damn notable thing happened. Nothing bad happened at the other place, either.

I'm feeling slightly cheated by fate for making my night so boring. But at least the laundromat trip made a good cover for sneaking off to a meeting I didn't want to go to and really didn't want to discuss with B. So there was that.

* * *

Random girl, out.

Could it be?

2011-08-14T22:04:00.000-04:00

Three times this weekend -THREE TIMES! - W asked to go potty and then actually WENT POTTY! Like, he peed while sitting on the toilet (and never once asked for foundation). He's also been asking to have his diaper changed far more frequently than he was even a couple of weeks ago. Any time he's wet, he wants a change. I don't want to jinx myself, but these are signs, right?

Just to be safe, we won't discuss this issue any further. Instead, here's a picture from the county fair today. Did you know our cow barn has a milk vending machine in it? Genius, I tell you (even though the bottle caused a little bit of a milk goatee).

This is his "cheese" face.

I do not get this kid

2011-08-12T18:58:00.000-04:00

W has been...more trying than usual lately. He is having more and more "sensie" days (we figured he's not quite old enough to be emo yet, and he's a little too male to be a drama queen, so B has been referring to W as "sensie"). He's almost reverted to the kid he was pre-SPD diagnosis and associated therapies. He's gotten super clingy again and completely loses his shit when I leave. He's refusing to interact with - or even look at - B most of the time. He's a little demon when I leave him at daycare. He's throwing major tantrums when I leave him in his room at bedtime. He won't even let B change his diapers any more. He also started sucking his thumb a month or so ago and does it all.the.time. now.

It's exhausting. And infuriating. I have no idea what has gotten into him or what I can do to get it out of him. I think we all know that my grasp on parenting ability is tenuous at best. W's behavior on sensie days pushes me right to the brink. I truly can't deal with him. I don't know what I can do to make him better able to cope with, um, everything.

On top of that, R has started to copy his brother's separation anxiety. When W is around, R also doesn't want me to leave him with Daddy, or leave him, period.

In the end, it all comes back to me. The boys only seem to act like this around me. They only have massive fits when I'm leaving. They only turn into whiny little monsters when I get home. They only hate Daddy when they have another parent option. If fact, our daycare lady tells me that the second my car disappears from view, W turns off the screaming and tears like a faucet. It's obviously an act he puts on for me. And I have no idea what to do about it. I don't know what I can do differently.

I've honestly thought that permanently leaving might not be a bad option. It would take care of so many issues. I lose the restraints and responsibilities of marriage and motherhood, the boys lose the source of their ridiculous behavior, and B loses the crazy pain in the ass wife he's stuck with. We all win.

Or I could just take W back to OT. It's been a long while since he's been to an OT appointment due to illness, Mommy's lack of time off work, and our OT's resignation. I'm wondering if that will at least calm him down to the point he was a month or so ago. That's all I can even ask for right now.

I call a do-over

2011-08-10T22:06:00.000-04:00

Last night's post was a shining example of what happens when I unthinkingly take my sleeping pill BEFORE sitting down to do my nightly internet business. Sorry about that. This morning I recalled writing about my ass and including pictures, but the rest was a bit hazy. Kinda like blogging after getting really drunk, but without all the beer bongs and table dancing.

Anyway, I'd suggest trying again tonight, but I don't really have anything of substance to talk about. I'll give you some ~~brain vomit~~ general goings on around here, in bullets.

Our sewer line is clogged. Allegedly, part of the problem is tree roots. B told me that and I'm exact reaction was, "Tree roots? How are there tree roots in our sewer? We don't have any fucking trees!" True statement. There is one tree on our property that is sizable enough to have sewer-skewering roots, and it's not really anywhere near the sewer line. Whatevs. B has a friend who owns rotor-rooter-type equipment, so I think the problem is semi taken care of. Or it will be, once the chemical stuff we also needed does its thing.
I think I'm going to have to take R for his first haircut soon. He has this gorgeous, strawberry-blond curly hair that I just want to grow and get cute (I imagine it will look much like this cutie's when it gets a bit longer). But he's starting to get scraggly bangs and Daddy's bitching about his "hippie hair" (in B's world, hippie hair = anything that is past the top of the ears). As long as I can supervise the cut so he doesn't end up with a buzz, I think it'll be ok.
Speaking of hair cuts, I'm currently coveting a super expensive one. If you have curly hair, you know the importance of going to someone who knows how to handle curls. I've recently become obsessed with Ouidad and really want one of her "carve and slice" hair cuts. The problem with that is they're pricey and the nearest salon that does them is 75 miles away. I'm saving up for one, but it's going to be a while.
I've been craving Pop Tarts. Frosted cherry ones. No idea why.
I got so excited to watch Project Runway tonight. Then I realized it's only Wednesday.
I'm watching a show called "Babies Behind Bars" right now, and it's slightly depressing. It also just talked about recidivism rates being at 30%, which makes it even more depressing.
I have a counseling appointment Saturday. I'm starting to wonder if my counselor is going to punch me in the face one of these days for coming in and whining about the same stuff over and ver and over again. I swear I try to fix this stuff, but it never seems to work out for me.

I suppose that's enough for tonight. Slightly (very, very slightly) more coherent than last night's post, no?

My ass is a pain in my...ass...

2011-08-09T21:33:00.000-04:00

I'm sure I've mentioned my tailbone issues somewhere along the line. As a quick recap, I started having some pain when I was pregnant with W that went away. It came back early, early on when I was pregnant with R (I remember noticing that my tailbone hurt about a week before I found out I was pregnant) and hasn't really gone away since. I've been seeing an orthopedist and getting cortisone shots for the past year or so. I was ok from the time of my cortisone shot in February until about June. I finally got an appointment a month ago, got another shot, and got sent for an MRI. Today was my follow up.

So. While reviewing my MRI with my, my doc repeatedly mentioned how "weird" my tailbone situation is. Apparently, a normal tailbone looks like this:

And mine looks more like this:

(pics from the Kemper Tailbone Injury Foundation)

A little swelling and fluid, but no fractures and my other internal organs apparently look lovely. Notice the almost-90-degree angle of the bottom two vertebra. That's where it got "weird." We have no idea why my tailbone looks like that, though working theories are congenital malformation or some sort of significant ass trauma. We do know that when your butt bone looks like that, it causes pain while sitting. And there's basically nothing to do about it except cortisone shots or surgically removing the offending vertebra (which comes with a risk of a punctured colon. Fun!). I don't really feel like having my bum hacked into right now (not to mention that I would probably get fired for taking time off for recovery), so shots it is. *Shudder*

If you've ever had a cortisone shot, you know they're not fun. If you haven't, they shove a ginormous needle right down to your bone and shoot an almost-gelatinous medication into the trouble zone. It hurts. A lot. They make sitting hurt for like a week afterward. Ripping a band-aid out of you crack is no fun, either, FYI.

I'm typing this while lying on my side on the floor because even lying flat on my back puts too much pressure on the tailbone and hurts. I didn't expect a shot today, so I didn't prepare by taking pain killers before hand and arrange for my mom to help with the boys so I could spend the evening laying down. As I didn't have those luxuries, I had to attend gymnastics class, do baths, and play jungle gym for two rambunctious boys, and sit for the normal bedtime stuff.

The take-home lesson for today is this: don't do anything that would require you to need cortisone shots, particularly in the bumular region. And if you do, make sure you have a good donut and someone who will enable you to laze on the couch for the evening.

And that, my friends, is why my ass is a pain in my ass.

And the winners are...

2011-08-06T20:18:00.000-04:00

A drum roll please.... the moment you've all been waiting for! The winners of the Summer Block Party!

First, the technical stuff. All the valid entries from all the participating blogs were put into a spreadsheet that assigned a unique number to each one. There were a total of 156 valid entries. Then Random.org was used to find the winners. And the winners are:

Winner of a year's subscription to AboutOne: Valerie Stayton @ My-2-Cents, who said "I am a Google RSS feed subscriber, Valerie Stayton, my_2_cents at hotmail dot com"

Winner of a year's subscription to AboutOne: Kim, who said " And because I really, really want to win a b-day onesie: Bonus Entry No. 2: Your birthday is June 2. Melissa is also part of the trio. I generally remember because mine is the 3rd :)"

Winner of a year's subscription to AboutOne: Lisa, who said "I like being able to track medical information on AboutOne."

Winner of a year's subscription to AboutOne: StacyT, who said "I have signed up for my free trial."

Winner of a year's subscription to AboutOne: Cassie, who said "You prefer to read!"

Winner of the Amazon Gift Card: Maria D., who said "I signed up for the Free trial!"

Winner of the Blog Bling Button: JJ, who said "I'm cooool and subscribe to your blog with Google Reader"

Winner of the Cookies: Seussgirl, who said "Hmm..favorite summer song...right now, I'm loving "Knee Deep" by the Zac Brown Band. I also love "Redneck Yaught Club". Apparently, I go country when it gets hot. :)"

Winner of the Birthday Shirt: Tasha, who said "I follow you through my Blogger feed."

Winner of the Necklace: Geek by Marriage, who said "Following as GeekByMarriage "

Congratulations, winners! If you won a prize, get in touch with Jen by using the contact form on her blog and she will either get you your prize or get you in touch with the person who will get you your prize. If we don't hear from you this week, we have a list of alternates who will get your prize!

Thanks to everyone who participated! Even if you didn't win, you can still test out AboutOne by signing up for a free trial.

Newness

2011-08-02T22:20:00.000-04:00

Oh, the new stuff going on around here. First, let's talk ads. You may have noticed the ad bar that appeared at the top of the screen a month or so ago. That was the first step, and as of today, I have my real ads up (over there --->) and I'm now an official BlogHer ad network member. I don't think it's going to mean too many changes around here, with the exception of the occasional book review or giveaway. Mostly, it's just some pretty ads that make me a (little, tiny) bit of passive money - which is my favorite kind!

Next, I made a Facebook page for my blog. But it's secret for right now. I'm trying to figure out how to not show up as the administrator. Mostly, it's because I don't want my full name attached to everything I blog. I have no illusions that I'm an "anonymous" blogger, but I feel slightly better without EMILY MAIDENNAME LASTNAME branded on everything. Right after saying that, I'm also going to say that my whole life/blog dichotomy is kind of weird. I know that people I know read it, but I don't necessarily want people I'm "friends" with to also know this information. I know it makes no sense...just go with me on this one. If I can ever anonymize the FB page to my satisfaction, I'll let you know. All three of you can come like me!

I also have a new (you probably can't even really call it a) job. It's a teaching job, but it's only as a back-up instruction. Essentially, it means that I might, maybe co-teach three or four lectures this semester. It's not much, but I'm really excited about it. I've been considering teaching for awhile (though I thought for sure it would be a reasearch and writing class), and I think this is going to be an excellent way to get my feet wet. It'll also give me a chance to tell if teaching is something I want to do without having to commit to a full class for a full semester. I'm nervous as hell about it, but I think this will be good.

And finally, what you all care about - new pictures!

R eats pasta! With sauce! This is something of a miracle in our house. I promise he only looks stoned because he was still getting over the puking/fever/pink-eye virus from Hades that ravaged our house for the past two weeks.

I love pictures that still make him look somewhat like a baby. This kid is just so cute!

This is getting to be a pretty common sight around these parts, especially since W figured out how to open jars. The kid will only eat peanut butter straight from the jar any more (he moved down from PB&Js to PBs to PB on graham crackers to shoving his face in the jar). I don't really try to stop him because it's something other than Nutrigrain bars, pancakes, and yogurt raisins, and at least it means he's getting some protein. *Sigh*

My babies from a couple of nights ago. R was on the tail end of the virus from Hades, and W was between bouts (the fever round started the next day for him), but they still look darn cute. They were hanging out on top of the kid-sized table together, which isn't behavior we usually condone, but it was too cute a shot to skip taking a pic. And how much does W look like a big boy in this pic?

Pottying, now with more pretty

2011-07-31T08:48:00.046-04:00

Much to my chagrin, W is not yet truly interested in potty training. He asks to go every once in a while, but it's mostly so he gets a chance to throw toilet paper in, flush, and ~~play in the water for extended periods of time~~ wash his hands. Very rarely does "going potty" actually result in him, well, going potty.

The other night was the exception, though. Not only did he climb up on the pot and pee all by himself (I was looking for the step stool at the time), but he also managed to not pee on himself or the floor! Progress!

That's not the real story here, though. When he was done, he pulled off his standard three yards of toilet paper, flushed, and slammed the toilet lid like normal. Then it got weird. He walked over to my make-up drawer, pulled out face powder, and INSISTED that he be allowed to put some on before he would wash his hands or leave the bathroom. Because ~~it amused me~~ I know which battles to pick with my older son, I handed him a make-up brush and let him powder his nose (or, more accurately, his forehead and his bangs).

I created a monster, though. It's now become a thing. He has to use my make-up after going to the bathroom and before washing his hands. I don't get it. At all.

I tell B stories like this and he just shakes his head, ruing his son's masculinity. I personally find his "girly" tendencies (carrying a purse around, loving pink, getting dolled up after toileting, etc.) completely normal and really cute. They also give me great blog fodder, build up my arsenal of embarrassing stories for use in his teenage years, and make for great photo ops. I'm actually half tempted to hand W my blush or bronzer during one of his post-pee pretty sessions just for the picture that will result. Does that make me an evil mother?

Last chance

2011-07-30T20:48:00.000-04:00

Just a reminder that the Summer Block Party AboutOne giveaway ends tomorrow at 11:59 PM Eastern. Check it out and get your last-minute entries in!

Headdesk

2011-07-28T21:26:00.000-04:00

Does it seem to anyone else that my life is just one series of unfortunate events and circumstances after another? Yeah, it does to me, too. I swear to you that I keep trying to come up with fun, happy, or otherwise less-Eeyore-esque posts...and then I sit down to write and the whiny, blah crap is what comes out of my fingers.

To spare you all, I'm just going to quickly list the shit from today: W's OT left a voice mail saying she's "resigned" and that she'll be in the office tomorrow and Wednesday, and that's it; I'm super close to getting in trouble at work because of the time off I've needed lately (I believe I told B on the phone today that I'm a "ball hair - width, not length - away" from getting in trouble) (this is also for the boys' illnesses and appointments and my procedure last week, BTW, not random vacation time); a made a couple of mistakes during our trial today because it was so effing bored that my attention waned; I think my boss is just generally pissed at me right now; the trial went late so I had to miss a friend's benefit thing tonight; W missed half of his playgroup because I was stuck at work late and the adults were being assy tonight; we got some unfortunate financial news today; R is sick - STILL - with pink eye and a fever, which prevents him from going to daycare; B's boss isn't happy he stayed home with the sick baby today, so he has to work Saturday to catch up; I have to cancel my counseling appointment on Saturday because we don't have anyone to watch the boys and I refuse to take them with me to counseling (though maybe it would give her a better idea of why I'm crazy...); I have to cancel every single appointment that the boys and I have scheduled in August because they're all during working hours and I don't have any time off (I think there are six total...and most of them are with specialists who will take a month or better to schedule another appointment); my lack of time off means that I'm not going to be able to take W to one last appointment with his OT on Wednesday; I had to schedule a meeting that I'm dreading to the point of becoming physically ill; and I've spent all day either on the verge of tears or actually crying over absolutely nothing.

If you made it through that wall of text, here are my good things from today: I scheduled an exciting meeting for tomorrow; it's almost Friday; Project Runway starts back up tonight!; I didn't have to change any of R's antibiotic diapers today; I got to put R to bed tonight instead of W, which makes for a much easier bedtime; and we conned my mother-in-law into watching the boys tomorrow so when R wakes up with a fever for the fifth day in a row, B and I don't have to have a WWE-style smackdown in the living room to determine who has to stay home with them.

See, I'm not all gloom-and-doom around here all the time! Blogging is cutting into Project Runway time, though, so I'm cutting the rainbows and puppies off for tonight.

The pukey and the powerless

2011-07-24T22:12:00.000-04:00

I was so looking forward to this weekend. The only thing we had planned was a birthday party on Saturday and some slip-n-sliding at the neighbors' sometime. The weekend had other plans, though.

At 4:00 on Friday afternoon, our power went out due to a nasty storm that blew through. No biggie, right? Well, it wouldn't have been if my ~~dumbass~~ darling husband hadn't invited the powerless and propane-less neighbors over for an impromptu cookout. On top of feeling like poo, I had to get dressed, be hospitable, and entertain people. Awesome. To his credit, B realized almost immediately that inviting the neighbors over was a poor choice and he spent the bulk of the evening apologizing to me behind their backs.

Once the neighbors left (at nine o'-freaking-clock!) I got W to bed, took my various drugs, and passed out, as there was nothing else to do except sit in the dark. Sleeping was rather pointless because there were loud, obnoxious trucks driving up and down the street all.night.long. I happened to be woken up by one of them right around 2:30. At the same time, I got a text from Michelle telling me that the power was back on. It was not. Apparently her street (the next one over from ours) and the other side of my street were restored, but we were not. Awesome.

Fast forward to about 9:00 Saturday morning. W starts throwing up. I have never seen anything as pitiful as a two-year-old giving me puppy dog eyes while saying "I cick" (I sick), "tummy cick" (tummy sick), and "I cuke" (I puke). The boy was hot, sick, and miserable. The electric company was telling me that the estimated restoration time was 6:00 PM on Saturday. Rather than making my sick kid suffer in the 90 degree heat and 3,000% humidity, I packed up the boys and headed to my mom's. I found out when we got to Grandma's that both she and my sister had been puking as well.

Quick aside. B and I have decided that R is a plague rat. Every major illness that has gone through our family (immediate and extended) in the past 15 months seems to start with him. He caused the Christmas 2010 stomach-virus-of-death (which started with him and spread not only to all of the extended family we came in contact with over Christmas, but also to pretty much everyone at daycare), the lose-10-pounds-in-a-day diarrhea virus a few months ago, and now the 24-hour-puke-twice-then-feel-better virus (R started the barfing Thursday morning and has passed it all around. I haven't gotten this one yet...let's hope I don't...).

Anyway, W threw up in the car on the way to my mom's, so I spent the first hour there trying to clean the barf out of my car and the car seat. Car seats have soooooo many crevices. It was gross. He was feeling much better by this morning, though, so there was no more car barf to clean up. For my part, I was glad to have some assistance with keeping the boys from climbing on and headbutting my uterine region. Since W was sick and we were out of town, we had to skip the birthday party Saturday afternoon, which upset me a bit because I didn't get to see my good friend who was in town for it.

You may be wondering why I haven't mentioned the power yet. It's because the electricity didn't come back on until 9:00 PM on Saturday. So we stayed overnight at Mom's. I thought today would be better, but it's been rough. R woke up with pink-eye. I came home to a sick husband. I also came home to a house that smelled like puke. I spent a good portion of my evening re-cleaning all the carpet and upholstery I cleaned Saturday morning. I have also been abusing Febreeze this evening. I'm so excited that we're getting my mother-in-law's carpet cleaner on Tuesday so I can deep clean everything. It needs it. Badly.

In sum, my nice, quiet weekend turned into a pukey, powerless weekend. I'm playing cleaning catch-up tonight, when all I really want to do is drug up and go to bed. Here's hoping I don't catch the nastiness everyone else had. And I hope your weekend was more peaceful than mine.

Reminder

2011-07-23T14:48:00.001-04:00

Just a quick reminder that the Summer Block Party giveaway is still going on. Jen has fielded a few questions about why the giveaway is only open to US residents, and she discovered that it's a shipping issue. I'm going to follow her lead and suggest that any international readers who know someone with a US shipping address go ahead and enter. AboutOne can be used by people residing outside of the US, so why not try to win a year's subscription? I'm also willing to ship the necklace I've donated outside of the US.

I also wanted to remind everyone that, even though you can only get entries for your comment about AboutOne and signing up for the free trial on one blog, you can do the bonus entries on each of the six participating blogs. So don't be afraid to leave comments here just because you've entered elsewhere!

What have you got to lose? Enter now!

Ooooh, my innards

2011-07-22T14:48:00.000-04:00

I had a minor medical procedure done this morning. Having nothing to do all day except be in charge of the couch and remote (as my prep nurse told me this morning) has given me plenty of time to contemplate the state of my innards. Verdict? They're sore. This is an effect I wasn't really expecting.

I can't say that I really hurt...I'm just achy. It feels like someone with very large feet gave me a Chuck-Norris-style kick to the babymaker. And the Tylenol 3 (in all of its codeine-filled glory) isn't doing much for me, likely because I just took my first dose an hour ago. Meh.

The codeine is apparently making me rambly and nearly incoherent, though, so I've got that going for me, I guess. I'm dreading the boys returning home because I know they're going to want to climb on me. That is going to be unpleasant.

Other than whining about my ouchy innards, I've spent the day napping off and on while watching a Gangland marathon (yes, the little white girl from Ohio kinda loves watching documentaries about gang bangers). I suppose there are worse ways to spend a Friday.

How has your weekend started out?

Social (media) ineptitude

2011-07-20T21:09:00.000-04:00

Despite being a member of the under-30 set (for a bit longer at least), I just don't get social media. I used to have a MySpace account, but then that got lame and I never used it, so deleted it. Facebook I'm cool with. That doesn't mean I use it often, but I have an account, I know how it works, and I enjoy using it (which only started once I figured out how to get rid of all the effing Farmville and Mafia Wars crap).

My interest in and use of social media sites pretty much ends there.

Being the internet sheep that I am, however, I keep joining these sites people suggest to me. I have a Pinterest account and a Google+ account that are pretty much sitting idle (although I actually pinned my first picture the other day! Woohoo?). I refuse to join Twitter. I don't really get the appeal, and I'm not interesting enough for people to care about what I do every minute of the day. I haven't bothered to make a Facebook page for the blog (I apologize to the three of you upset by that). I don't even know what the hell Klout is (I just heard about it for the first time two days ago, and still can't quite figure out why I should care). StumbleUpon is another one I have no idea what to do with or how to work. I'm sure there are a whole bunch of other social sites I haven't mentioned because I don't even know exist.

A big part of my lack of social media-izing is a general lack of time in my life. When do people find the time to twitter (tweet? twit? See, I don't even know the lingo) all the stuff they do/find in a day? Or the time to look at the millions and millions of pretty things that they pin? Or share so much on Facebook? Honestly, keeping up with the ol' blog and reading the blogs in my reader is about all I can manage most days. I'm also a bit afraid of the time-suck potential these sites hold. I'm a master procrastinator, and having so many other procrastination options at my fingertips would be disastrous for me.

I don't know. I feel like I'm supposed to be all into social media stuff and liking it and caring about it. But I just don't. I can't be the only one, right?

Le sigh

2011-07-16T23:10:00.000-04:00

It's been a rough week in my world. Lots of bad days, lots of realizations, lots of frustrations, lots of feeling utterly impotent. It's one of those weeks that makes me long to curl up on a friend's couch, split a bottle of wine, and spill my guts while crying my eyes out.

The further I get from my medically-forced vacation, the fewer good days I seem to have. I think it stems from feeling helpless to change a lot of my circumstances and feeling stuck - there's so much stuff I want to do, but I just can't do any of it right now.

Sorry for yet another pointless, whiny post. It's just kinda how I've been feeling lately - pointless, whiny, and empty. I owe you guys a baby update, and I'll get to it as soon as I get around to uploading some new pics.

Rockin' the block

2011-07-15T08:00:00.015-04:00

It's summertime in the blogosphere and most of us are running around enjoying the extra daylight and (hopefully) a vacation or two. This can be a pretty quiet time on the interwebs so we decided to let you guys know that we are blogging this summer by throwing a summer block party. Since parties are always more fun with gifts, we decided to have a giveaway with lots of prizes and lots of chances to enter. Six bloggers teamed up with each other and AboutOne (you can read my review about their service here) to bring you:

So pull up a lounge chair and join our block party!

THE PRIZES:

5 winners: One-year subscription to AboutOne.

1 winner: $25 Gift Card to Amazon.com compliments of AboutOne.

1 winner: Awesome custom blog bling button from Plaid House Designs.

1 winner: One dozen delicious cookies from Frank's Big Ones Bakery.

1 winner: Adorable custom-embroidered birthday shirt from Little Star Shop.

1 winner: Beautiful custom necklace from ME!

The giveaway runs from now until July 31. It is open to US residents only and you must provide a valid e-mail address in your comment. Each winner will have 72 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. If you win the cookies you must mail them to me (just kidding…kinda…).

HOW TO ENTER:

MANDATORY ENTRY

• Check out AboutOne's site and leave a comment telling me what feature looks the most interesting to you.

1 BONUS ENTRY

• Subscribe to my feed (over there on the right) and leave a comment letting me know you did.

1 BONUS ENTRY

• Leave a comment with the link to your absolute favorite blog.

2 BONUS ENTRIES

• Sign up for AboutOne's totally free trial and leave two comments (so both of your entries get counted) letting me know you did.

Now let's get this party started!!

There are TEN more ways to enter! Go to one of the other Summer Block Party Neighbor Blogs and find out how!

Disclosure: AboutOne compensated me with a free one-year membership for doing my review last week, but I received nothing else for my participation in the Summer Block Party. All opinions are completely my own.

Entertaining myself

2011-07-11T21:28:00.000-04:00

I don't do boredom well. I'm the kind of girl who needs to do something - anything - that at least minimally engages my brain bit nearly all the time. For example, I can't just sit and watch TV; I need to read a book/talk on the phone/do back flips while I'm watching TV. I really can't concentrate if I'm just trying to watch a show.

Due to my boss' medically-induced absence, the volume of my work assignments has been a bit...lacking, to say the least. This makes for a long, long eight-hour day. But this is the second time I've gone through a serious downtime at this job, so I was prepared for this one before it started. Rather than sitting at my desk staring into space or picking my nose or what have you, I came up with a list of (mostly) work-friendly diversions. Some of them even work in real life, so I thought I'd share.

Books - Books are almost always my first line of boredom defense. It's a bit difficult to look like you're doing legitimate work when you have a paperback sitting open on your desk, though, which is where...

Kindle - ...The Kindle app comes in. I downloaded the Kindle app to my work computer so it looks like I'm doing real work on my computer while I read whatever crappy Christian romance novel I unwittingly downloaded because it was free and the book description didn't really clue me in on what it was really about.

Tanga - I just recently discovered Tanga, and I'm loving the puzzles they have. I'm a major crossword fan, but these puzzles have expanded my puzzling range. They're slightly more challenging than your average crossword, that's for sure. I have noticed that I'm getting better at solving them, though, so maybe they just take practice (reading the comments helps, too).

iGoogle - If you haven't set up an iGoogle page, you should. I have my Gmail account, my Google reader, CNN and New York Times headlines, the weather, and several assorted games all on one page that shows up as "Google." I'm probably not outsmarting the IT people with that one, but it makes me feel like I am.

Online shopping - This is one that can anger the IT gods, so you should use it sparingly. But sometimes I read a blog post about a deal that sounds too good to pass up, so I check it out. And then get sucked in to some major window shopping by whatever website I'm on. I try to do this right before lunch or the end of the day when I think it's natural for employees to be screwing around.

AboutOne - I told you the other day that I'm having a love affair with AboutOne, but that it's a bit time-consuming. When I have some time that needs to be consumed, I'll spend a few minutes adding some contacts or updating a family member's information.

Facebook - Oh, Facebook. The mother of all time-sucks. This is another one that has some potential to get you in trouble. Luckily (I guess), I can (kinda sorta) legitimately use Facebook in the course of doing some parts of my job. That's my ~~excuse~~ justification for being on there, and I'm sticking to it.

Wandering the halls - This technique is a classic that dates back to my high school days. When all else fails, get up and wander around until you find someone you can ~~bother~~ chat with for a bit. If you take a couple flights of stairs, it totally counts as exercise, too.

So there you have it. My non-expert, non-exhaustive list of stuff to do when you're bored and need to look like you're being productive. Did I miss anything?

Vampirical

2011-07-07T09:25:00.000-04:00

For this story to make any sense, I have to give a bit of background. My standard line at work for explaining my week-long absence that occurred a few weeks ago is that I was hospitalized because of a bad reaction to some medicine - which isn't entirely untrue. (And, to the person(s) who works at my organization and reads my blog from work, it would be super awesome if that stayed my standard line, ifyouknowwhatImean).

There is one security guard at work who is super friendly and has been concerned about my health since I came back to work. On the way to my office this morning, this guard stopped me and made a comment about me finally getting some color back. I was confused. She continued talking, and I realized she was referring to me looking better since I'd gotten over my "reaction." It took everything in me not to laugh because I'm always the shade of pale that she thought was my sick look. The only coloring I've gotten recently is the mild sunburn I managed to pick up during all of our outdoor activities over the holiday weekend.

Apparently, my naturally pasty coloring looks unhealthy and I need to work on keeping a year-round sunburn. Vampires are trendy right now, though, aren't they? Maybe I can just call myself a vampire. Then at least people will think I'm cool instead of sickly, won't they?

AboutOne review

2011-07-06T06:00:00.003-04:00

In the first of several upcoming changes around here, I'm doing something new today: an actual, sponsored review.

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I have discovered that my family has vast amounts of stuff - appointment reminders, addresses, W's artwork, the title to B's newly-paid-off truck, insurance policies, and on and on and on - that I need to keep track of. Though I don't need most of this stuff on a daily basis, when I do need it, finding it ~~on my office floor~~ in my sophisticated filing system gets to be a pain. Enter AboutOne.

From the company:

Founded in December 2008, AboutOne is a secure online family management system that makes it easier for families to manage daily life by providing a centralized location in which to quickly and easily store and manage beloved family memories and vital household information. Family members can access this information anytime—at home or away, from any web-enabled device.

I started using the AboutOne site a couple of months ago, and I've been in love with it since I started. The site has made it super simple for me to organize and track all of our family stuff.

The dashboard is straightforward and easy to navigate.Each input screen clearly shows you what information you should know about each area of your personal/home/property life.

There are areas to input your address book, information and maintenance records for your house, property records for insurance purposes, and each family member's personal information.

The family information system is great. Each family member gets their own info page complete with picture, birth date, easy access to memories and paperwork, and fun facts like birthstone, astrological sign, and birth flower.

One of the nice features of AboutOne is that everything you enter for each family member can instantly be integrated into various reports.

I personally like the babysitter report; everything you need to give to a sitter, whether it's the teenager who's watching the kids for a night or for a full-time caregiver. It pulls the kid's height, weight, blood type, emergency contact information, and any medical conditions or allergies and combines them into a single-page printout. It lets you put in any other notes that are important for a caregiver to know, too.

Even better are the bulletin board and newsletter features. The bulletin board gives you a visual representation of recent memories you've entered, and the newsletter turns your memories into a written record. I am the world's worst scrapbooker, so any program that does it for me in the course of my other dealings is amazing. I'm thinking this might actually motivate me to do a Christmas letter this year, too, since I'll have to put next to no effort into it.

The site does so much more and has a lot of other fun tools and reports, too, but if I went through everything individually, we'd be here all day. Instead, I'll give you a video with a more concise overview of the site.

I've found two downsides to the program. First, it takes a loooooong time to put everything in. Not because it's difficult to do, but because there is so, so much family/home/property information that I need to keep track of. Obviously, I control the amount of information I put into the system and when/how much time I devote to it, so that's an easy fix. The other is the lack of a fully-functioning calendar. You can input and get reminders for medical appointments, but nothing else. Personally, I have several different calendars already and I'm not interested in adding another to my menagerie, so I don't really use this feature. The site tells me that a full calendar is in the works, though, which I think would be a great improvement.

Other than that, AboutOne gets a big thumbs up from this girl.

Ready to check it out for yourself? You can sign up for a 17-day free trial here (you only use up your days when you log on to the site - sign up now and try it out when it's convenient for you). When your trial expires, you can use code NOTTHATPREG714 for 25% off your membership (expires August 31, 2011). And if you really need another reason to check the site out, just look at its logo. Is that squirrel not the cutest thing ever?

Don't forget to connect with AboutOne on Facebook and Twitter, too.

Disclosure: AboutOne compensated me with a free one-year membership for doing this review, but the opinions are all my own.

Journeying through PPD, Part VI: I'm finally shutting up!

2011-07-05T22:20:00.005-04:00

This is the sixth - and final - post in my series about PPD. The first five parts can be found here, here, here, here, and here.

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Saturday morning, I spilled my guts to my counselor. After she picked her jaw up off her desk, she told me she thought this was a reaction to the Cymbalta. She said the fact that I was looking for a clean knife gave it away. Immediately after reassuring me that I was only medicine-crazy, not crazy-crazy, she told me I needed to be hospitalized. That was my greatest fear. I did NOT want to end up in the psych ward. I was hard enough on myself for having psychiatric problems that needed medicine; needing some time in the hospital was unthinkable. But I went. If I hadn’t, I’m pretty sure I would have given into my compulsions; I needed that time to get the Cymbalta out of my system and stay safe until it was gone.

I spent four days at the hospital being closely watched, meeting with a psychiatrist, and getting on a new medication regimen. Being in the psych ward was not fun, and there is obviously more to my time there, but I'm not ready to get into it.

The difference in my mental state is night and day. I feel so much better now that it’s hard to believe that I was very seriously contemplating suicide just a couple of weeks ago. My mom said that I have joy in my voice again, which she hasn't seen in a long time. I’m nowhere near done fighting this battle – I still have good days and bad – but I feel like I’m finally on the right path.

So there’s my whole story, finally laid bare for all to see. You’ll notice that a theme running through all of this was that I never let anyone know just how badly I felt. They all knew I had some depression, but no one knew I had DEPRESSION. I put on a good front. So good, in fact, that a day or so before I went into the hospital, I was able to convince several concerned friends that I was fine, and the morning I was sent to the psych ward, my counselor commented on how good I looked and how well I seemed to be doing (this was obviously before I spilled my story). This is why I really stress the importance of talking to someone, ANYONE, about how you’re feeling. There’s no reason you should have to navigate PPD alone. There IS a shore on the other side of this stormy sea and you can reach it. Drowning is not the only way out. You owe it to yourself, your children, your family, and your friends to grab on to any lifeline you can. It might take you awhile to realize it, but remember: you are strong, you are beautiful, and you can do this.

Thanks for joining me on my journey.

Journeying through PPD, Part V: My story, the climax

2011-07-03T22:20:00.005-04:00

This is the fifth post in my series about PPD. The first four parts can be found here, here, here, and here.

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Thus began Crazypalooza ’11. It was the day I wrote this post (and the day after this one). It was also the day I went home and almost killed myself. I sent B to pick up the boys from daycare. As soon as he left, I went to the kitchen in search of a knife. None of our good knives were clean. All I could find was a crappy old paring knife. This may be the one and only time I’m glad that B never does the dishes; his slovenly ways may have saved my life. Even though I knew the paring knife would be worthless, I tried to cut myself with it that afternoon. And every day after that, numerous times a day. I never managed to do more than make a thin bruise on my wrist.

I spent the rest of that week fighting a horribly strong compulsion to cut myself. One day, I stood in the razor aisle at the grocery store mentally fighting with myself about buying a pack of razorblades. Some part of my brain was still capable of rational thought, luckily, because I realized that if I bought the blades, I would go back to work and used them on myself while sitting at my desk. It was a major struggle, but I put the pack back on its hanger. The urge to cut myself is something I never experienced before this and hope to never experience again. It was scary.

Thursday of that week, I went to a mini baby shower for my friend Michelle. I put on my happy face and acted like everything was fine. I don’t think my friends knew what was going on in my head. On the drive home, I let some of my crazy slip, and Michelle made me promise to tell my counselor at my regularly-scheduled appointment on Saturday morning. I did, even though I knew what would happen. I think I subconsciously knew I would end up there one way or another and figured it was better to go voluntarily.

Coming up - Part VI: I'm finally shutting up!

Blanket - 256, Emily - 0

2011-07-02T00:19:00.002-04:00

A while back, I told you that I was going to make W a weighted blanket. I started out great and was even composing a lovely, illustrated tutorial to share. But then life happened and I stopped working on it. Until a new reader commented on my post and reminded me that I still needed to finish the damn thing. So I set out to do that tonight.

It did not go well. The blanket had started defeating me when I initially worked on it because I'm apparently not capable of sewing long, straight lines on large pieces of fabric. My "six-inch-wide" channels were more like "kinda-six-but-some-more-like-five-or-eight-inch-wide" channels. I torn one line out three times before I got it close enough to "straight" for me to leave it alone. I learned that investing in a seam ripper would probably not be a bad idea, even though I still haven't purchased one.

I thought dumping the pellets in and sewing it up would be simple. Now, three hours and two broken needles later, I take that back. Just a hint, in case you're dumb enough to try making one of these, too - grow a third arm before you start. It gets awfully hard to keep the blanket lined up close to straight, move it through the machine, and prevent each pound-and-a-half-heavier row from pulling the whole thing (machine included) off the table all at the same time.

By the time I sewed through my millionth plastic pellet and broken my second (and final) needle, I was done. I really, really wanted to finish it just so I didn't have to deal with it any more, but that would have required me to put on a bra and go to Wal-Mart at 11:30 at night. So I rolled it up, vacuumed up the pellets that were all over the living room floor, and came here to bitch instead.

I'm just about half done with the filling and sewing. And it is ugly. I keep telling myself it doesn't matter because the stupid thing will hold the pellets in (oh, how I pray it will hold the pellets in!) and W will love it because it has Buzz (Lightyear, from the Toy Story series, for those who don't get to watch one of those movies on an almost-daily basis). I'll come back when I'm done to let you know which one of us comes out on top. Hint: it's probably going to be the blanket.

Journeying through PPD, Part IV: My story, the downward spiral

2011-07-01T22:20:00.004-04:00

This is the fourth post in my series about PPD. The first three parts can be found here, here, and here.

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Unfortunately for my mental health, B managed to slip one past the goalie (pro tip: condoms are apparently bad birth control), and I ended up pregnant for a second time when W was nine months old. The PPD that had never completely gone away reared its ugly head swiftly and viciously during my second pregnancy. I was a mess pretty much right from the start. I was terrified of having a second kid because the first one has started life so traumatically; I expected number two to be and act the same as number one, which was not a comforting though.

The low point of my pregnancy came the day I found out I was having another boy. I was so upset that I started crying when the tech said she saw a penis and didn’t stop until long after I got home. At my check-up after the ultrasound, I mentioned to my OB that I hadn’t been doing well, but I didn’t go into how badly. She referred me to a counselor but didn’t go any further. I'm guessing she didn't probe any more because she attributed my mood at my appointment to my disappointment in finding out I was baking another male.

When I got home that afternoon, I sat down at my computer and googled ways of inducing a late-term miscarriage. I also looked up the law in my state to make sure I couldn’t get into legal trouble if I did something to the baby. I stewed about and plotted ways to not have kids any more. These ranged from running away to putting W up for adoption to late-term abortion. I obviously never acted on my thoughts, but they were my constant companion. After that, I spent weeks feeling supremely guilty because I wanted nothing more than to be rid of my pregnancy when I had friends who would have given their left arms to be in my position. I had a friend who miscarried around this time, and I cried myself to sleep that night wishing it had been me. I had another friend who had tried for months and months to get pregnant, only to keep running into brick walls. I spent many, many hours wishing I could exchange uteruses with her. I hated myself for thinking this way and hated my baby for existing. To this day, I carry a TON of guilt about my hyper-fertile/non-kid-wanting self when some of my closest friends struggle just to ovulate, and want babies so, so badly.

My second son, R, was born and was the complete opposite of W. He was a wonderful baby. But that didn’t do anything to stop the depression from worsening. I got another dosage increase, which managed to get me to plateau for quite awhile. But then it quit working. In an effort to get me feeling better, my family doctor added Wellbutrin. This got me from feeling depressed to feeling absolutely nothing. In hindsight, this would have been the perfect time to start seeing a psychiatrist for medication management. Instead, I stuck with my family doctor, who eventually switched me from Zoloft to Cymbalta.

I knew within five days that Cymbalta was not a good choice for me. I was more depressed than I ever had been before, but I kept taking the medicine for the full two-week trial period. Looking back now, I'm not sure why it never occurred to me to call the doctor and tell him I needed to quit the Cymbalta before our next appointment. I think it has to do with the fact that I didn't care about anyone or anything at that point. The day I went back for my check-up, my doctor said something about my "refractory mood disorder" and “treatment resistant depression,” which caused me to snap.

Coming up - Part V: My story, the climax

Yay, decisions!

2011-06-30T22:31:00.000-04:00

Today, I finally (if you can call getting to do something after waiting for like a week and a half "finally") got to take a step toward finalizing a huge decision I made a few weeks ago. And before you ask, no, I don't think I could make that any more cryptic or convoluted.

This probably isn't anything anyone else will care about, so try not to lose any sleep over it. But I'm excited. I'll share more when I can.

Journeying through PPD, Part III: My story, the beginning

2011-06-29T22:20:00.003-04:00

This is the third post in my series about PPD. The first two parts can be found here and here.

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Then what? You’ve been diagnosed, you’re getting treatment, and you…live happily ever after? I honestly can’t tell you because I’m not there yet. I’m still working through my treatment, but the light gets brighter by the day. I will fill in the blanks of my story for you, though, so you can see that maybe the depression you’re living with right now can get worse and you do something about it before it gets there. Or you can see that even if you’re going through some very serious PPD, you can come out on the other side ok. You might want to brace yourself for the full truth. It’s brutal.

My PPD, which, in my case also stands for prenatal depression, started early in my pregnancy with W, my older son. I was still in my first trimester when I started experiencing the depressed mood, lack of enjoyment, sleeping too much (though, really, who doesn’t sleep too much in her first trimester?), agitation, and feelings of worthlessness. I tried to ignore the symptoms and carry on with my life, but everything kept getting worse and worse. By the time I mentioned it to my OB at 16 weeks, I hated my life, I hated my baby, and wanted nothing more than to go back to that night four months earlier and make my husband, B, wear a condom. Luckily for me, my OB took my concerns seriously. She explained that I was going through something normal and prescribed me an antidepressant. I filled the prescription, but never took a single pill. Why? Because one of the potential effects on the baby was uncontrollable crying. I was so far down in a pit of despair about my ability to deal with having a kid that I just knew I could deal with uncontrollable crying. So I didn’t take the medicine. And I continued to get more and more depressed.

W was born and I think I actually got a brief reprieve; being a mom was ok for a very brief time. But W was an awful baby. He had terrible reflux and was constantly puking (he threw up in my mouth once. It was as disgusting as it sounds); he was terrible at nursing, so he was always hungry and screaming (which we and his doctors figured was colic for a long time. All the while, he was literally starving even though he nursed all the time); he didn’t sleep for more than two or three hours at a time until he was almost nine months old. On top of that, I was working full-time an hour away from home, B was laid off, and money was really tight. Combined with the hormonal madness that is the post-partum period and my body’s inability to tolerate even minor hormonal shifts, I had a recipe for disaster.

My depression continued to get worse, but I did nothing. I said nothing. I was too paralyzed by my feelings of worthlessness and inadequacy to think I was entitled to feel better, or – dare I say it? – happy. When W was around five or so months old, I started taking the Zoloft my OB had prescribed when I was pregnant. The low dose actually helped me feel better, and I was fine for several months.

Coming up - Part IV: My story, the downward spiral

Switching mid-stream

2011-06-28T18:59:00.002-04:00

Remember that my word for the year is "peace"? Well, after a good conversation with my counselor today that really resonated with me, I've decided to refocus my year by changing my word to "healing." The only way I'm ever going to find my peace is through healing my mind, body, heart, and soul, so healing seems like a more appropriate place to aim my self-improvement efforts.

I think this also means I need to get a new ring...I'm leaning toward this one (with this thrown in for good measure).

Journeying through PPD, Part II: Getting help

2011-06-27T22:20:00.000-04:00

This is the second post in my series about PPD. The first part can be found here.

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You think you might have PPD. What do you do about it? One of my husband’s favorite sayings to whip out when I’ve screwed up and am apologizing to him is, “Don’t apologize. Fix it.” That’s exactly the mentality you need when it comes to “fixing” your PPD. Don’t just sit there; do something about it.

Your plan should, first and foremost, include TELLING SOMEONE. This is where I tell you to do as I say, not as I did. I was embarrassed of the feelings I was having. I thought it meant that I didn’t love my son(s). I thought it meant that I was a horrible mother. I though it meant that my kid(s) would be better off without me around. So I just kept everything inside. Sure, there were times when people could tell something was going on, but no one – and I mean NO ONE – knew the full extent of my depression. I didn’t tell my friends, I didn’t tell my husband, I didn't tell my mom, I didn’t tell my doctor, and, when I eventually began seeing one, I didn’t tell my counselor. As the too-sweet-for-words Ree says, don’t be like me.

Step two is getting treatment. This can include talk therapy and medications. As the situational aspects of having a newborn can exacerbate depression symptoms, I think seeing a counselor is a wonderful idea. You need to be able to work through the feelings that don’t seem to fit with the societal representation of the blissful new mommy. My counselor has been, and continues to be, a wonderful support and resource for me. Appointments with her also provide a lovely, child-free hour filled with adult conversation once a week. It doesn’t get much better than that.

If you’re worried about taking medicine while pregnant and/or nursing, don’t be. There is a whole host of antidepressants that are safe for your baby. This is particularly true for nursing moms. Your body does a fantastic job of filtering most of the junk in your body out of your milk before it is expressed. The amounts of medication that remain in breast milk are miniscule, and the half-lives of the antidepressants used for nursing moms are so short that there isn’t much concern about the medication building up in the baby’s system to unsafe levels. Of course, as with every medicine out there, there are some potential side effects, and you need to discuss the risks and benefits with your doctor before making a decision. I personally am getting to the point where I believe that a healthy, happy mom is critical for a healthy, happy baby. If it takes a (legal, medically prescribed) drug to get you there, so be it. Your kid will turn out just fine.

The issue of what doctor to see for treatment is a big one. Generally, PPD treatment starts with your OB. This is fine. I’m sure he or she has seen enough cases of PPD to be competent and confident enough to prescribe a low-dose, fetus- and/or nursling-safe antidepressant and refer you to therapy. The same is likely true of most family doctors. When you get to the point of needing multiple dosage increases or need to switch medications, however, I suggest finding a psychiatrist. I stuck with my OB through two dosage increases, then went to my family doctor for a third dosage increase (because I was too far post-partum for my OB to do it). Then, my family doc started making medication changes. He added one. Then increased my dosage on one. Then took me off one and put me on another. Then took me off another and put me on a third. Then took me off of a third and put me on a fourth. Then I had a medication-induced bout of crazy.

I want to be clear that I don’t blame my family doctor for anything that happened. His reasons for switching stuff up made sense to me (and to everyone I’ve talked to about it), but I had gotten out of his zone of familiarity, I think, and probably should have gone to a psychiatrist before Crazypalooza ’11 ever happened. My completely unprofessional opinion is that an OB or family doctor is fine for one medication and one or two dosage increases. For anything beyond that, go see someone who specializes in dealing with mental disorders and medications.

Coming up - Part III: Post-diagnosis

Journeying through PPD, Part I: What is post-partum depression?

2011-06-24T21:56:00.020-04:00

If you've read my blog for any length of time, you know that I've struggled with post-partum depression for the past three years. I'm finally in a place where I can tell my story - the whole, unadulterated story. I've given my readers fragments of the tale throughout my blogging history, the real truth is probably different from what you might expect. And I'm not just telling my story. I'm also providing information with the hope that I might be able to reach another mother who feels lost and hopeless.

I've struggled with the thought of writing this post for a long time. My first draft was started one year ago today, actually. So much has changed in that year. I think the reason I wasn't able to make any progress before now was because I wasn't ready to face the potential implications of my words. I also now know that my story was nowhere near its climax a year ago.

When I finally got it all on (virtual) paper, it was L-O-N-G. In the interest of your attention spans, I've broken this up into six parts that I'll be posting over the next couple of weeks. My only request is that you try to be gentle with me. My soul is still a little tender.

Also, because it hurts my researcher’s heart to write something that isn’t fully annotated and footnoted, I want to let you know that I’ve linked to every internet source I referenced while writing this. If you want some more information on my sources or methodology, or just need a sympathetic ear, shoot me an e-mail at notthatpregnant at gmail dot com, and we can talk.

Here goes nothing...

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Post-partum depression. I don’t claim to be an expert on the subject and I’m sure as hell not a medical professional whose advice you should follow, but I’ve lived it. I figure that gives me just enough credibility to blog about it, yes?

Let’s start with some background. Post-partum depression (PPD) is a disorder of depressive symptoms that affects new mothers, and is thought to be caused by the rapid, crazy hormonal changes a woman goes through immediately following birth. PPD can range from the “baby blues” (a brief period of mood swings and crying spells) to full-on psychosis (experiencing delusions and/or hallucinations). It is thought to occur in approximately 10 percent of new mothers, but is likely more prevalent, due to under-reporting of symptoms by moms and under-diagnosis by healthcare providers.

The symptoms of PPD are the same as those of major depressive disorder. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourth Addition, Text Revision (DSM) – the reference manual used by mental health professionals to identify and diagnose mental disorders – requires a showing of at least five of the following symptoms lasting for a minimum of two weeks to diagnose a person as “depressed”:

Depressed mood (feelings of sadness or emptiness)

Reduced interest in enjoyable activities

Sleeping too much or not enough

Loss of energy

Difficulty concentrating

Increased or decreased appetite or weight loss or gain

Restlessness, agitation, or noticeable slowing of movement/activity

Feelings of excessive guilt or worthlessness

Thoughts of suicide

Did you just feel a lurch in your stomach or start crying as you read the list of symptoms? That could be a sign you’re one of the lucky PPD sufferers out there.

And guess what? If you are suffering from PPD, it’s not the end of the world. You are not a bad mother. You are not weak. You are not a failure. I want you to go back and reread the last four sentences. Now I want you to believe them. I know from experience just how difficult it is to believe those things about yourself when you’re in the midst of the PPD quagmire, but I want you to try anyway. It’s important that you stop hating on yourself or you’ll never really feel better.

Coming up - Part II: Getting help

Target soothes my soul

2011-06-22T22:08:00.003-04:00

I was cranky tonight and needed to get out of the house. Rather than feed (no pun intended) my currently-linebacker-esque appetite by getting ice cream for the second time this week, I decided to go wander around Target for awhile. It was a good choice. I don't know what it is about that store, but being there makes me happy.

Tonight's trip - shockingly - only cost me $40. I anticipated a lot more. For my small investment, I got:

A new shirt for work - $4;

A raincoat - $15...I was hesitant on this one because I didn't intend to spend this much money on myself, but I've wanted a raincoat forever, and it's cute;

A set of toy nuts and bolts for W to use to improve fine motor skills and one of those giant bubble wands - $1 each;

A can of hairspray - $2-something, but really free. This is what prompted me to head to Target in the first place. I had a coupon for a free styling product that expired today, so I had to use it;

Two sets of six kid-sized tumblers (one for me, one for my mom) and two sets of two ballpark-beer-sized tumblers (both for me) - $.58 each;

A set of snack-sized bowls - $.98;

A bag of marshmallow - $no idea. I didn't pay attention. I was just craving marshmallows. Oooh, have you seen the new stackable marshmallows? I was so tempted to buy them, even though I have no s'mores plans any time soon;

A new sun tea jar - $6. My old one had an unfortunate run-in with B and the dishwasher early last summer and I've wanted to replace it; and

Mini spin pins - $6. I have a set of regular spin pins that I like, but I don't really have enough hair for them. The pins always end up sticking out of the top and bottom of my bun. The mini ones (which apparently don't exist on Goody's website) are half the size, and my test run indicates that they are going to be perfect for me. The half-up look on the back of the package actually looked cute on my head, too, which was a pleasant surprise.

That comes out to right about $40, doesn't it? It's too late at night for me to be doing math.

Did I really need anything I came home with? No. But sometimes it's nice to pick up some wants. Ahhh, Target retail therapy. It's good for what ails ya.