I hate feeling like this. So anxious, I'm close to jumping out of my skin. These are feelings left over from a previous existence when I didn't know how to deal with life. The jittery notions of walking out, slamming the door and running anywhere. Too scared to leave, too tired to run and too broken to be strong. I need one day, one day, where my Dad isn't gone, Charlie sleeps through the night, Mumbles' isn't being bull headed, my boss isn't a jerk and I feel connected...
Normal...
Routine...
Quiet...
What to do? Say hell with it, quit my job, and start getting drunk at two in the afternoon? No, I don't have that luxury. Who would pick up the baby?
Take Mumbles to softball practice?
Wash diapers?
Ask Micha about his day?
Instead, I will bite back tears, keep my butt firmly planted in this chair until four o'clock and busy my hands to steady my nerves until night falls. Then, when it's just Micha and I, I'll let it go. Tomorrow will be better. Hold the line 'til then.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The F Word
Before the whirlwind of the previous week, Charlie had been sick for about 2 weeks and I'd been battling seasonal allergies. Charlie went with Dad to see our family doctor for a regular check up and my little guy, who'd been gaining weight so well, had lost nearly a pound. We were supposed to take him back in 1 week to have his weight checked but the day I planned to take him in, we were driving across South Dakota. I took him in when we returned and while he'd gained weight, it was not enough to make up for the significant loss. Our doctor told me it was time to supplement with formula. There is was, that word. Just days shy of my short-term goal for Charlie to be exclusively breastfed for at least 6 months.
My first thought was 'It isn't so bad'. He'd only be getting about 3 oz a day/ 5 days a week. I'd still breastfeed when we were together. Then I started to get mad. There had to be another way. I'd resolved not to give Charlie formula. I'd make another way. I'll break my 'No Facebook for Lent' pledge to get donor milk, if I have to. For now, I'm working on increasing my supply and stretching with rice cereal mixed with my milk. I know a lot of Mom's don't like to give rice cereal but in my case it's the lesser of two evils. At least with the cereal it's organic and I can pronounce all of the ingredients, of which there are only three. Besides, Charlie is starting to show signs of being ready to start solid foods. It's funny feeding him because everything distracts him. The dog, sister, a noise he hears outside but once he spots the bowl, his eyes stay locked. Then when the spoon comes into view he reaches out to grab my hand and 'help'. Hopefully, the additional calories will add up to additional ounces and not more problems than they are worth.
My first thought was 'It isn't so bad'. He'd only be getting about 3 oz a day/ 5 days a week. I'd still breastfeed when we were together. Then I started to get mad. There had to be another way. I'd resolved not to give Charlie formula. I'd make another way. I'll break my 'No Facebook for Lent' pledge to get donor milk, if I have to. For now, I'm working on increasing my supply and stretching with rice cereal mixed with my milk. I know a lot of Mom's don't like to give rice cereal but in my case it's the lesser of two evils. At least with the cereal it's organic and I can pronounce all of the ingredients, of which there are only three. Besides, Charlie is starting to show signs of being ready to start solid foods. It's funny feeding him because everything distracts him. The dog, sister, a noise he hears outside but once he spots the bowl, his eyes stay locked. Then when the spoon comes into view he reaches out to grab my hand and 'help'. Hopefully, the additional calories will add up to additional ounces and not more problems than they are worth.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Saying Good Bye
This has been the craziest week of my life. Seven days ago, I was feeding Charlie and got the phone call I have been dreading for years now. My father was in the hospital again but he would not be returning home this time. I called Micha who came home right away. We started packing and loading up the car. For several minutes, I walked around in circles asking aloud "Is this crazy? Should we wait?" We were about to embark on a 24 hour journey with a 6 month old at 9 o'clock at night. "This is insane." As we pulled out of the drive, I felt a strange mix of excitement and foreboding. Maybe it wasn't as bad as they said after all, Dad has been in the hospital before. Maybe we would get there and he'd be alright and it would turn out to be a nice Spring Break family vacation. Dad could finally meet Charlie and Micha and I could show them the state where Mumbles' and I were born and where half my heart has always been. Micha drove most of the next 24 hours and just before we reached Billings, I started getting phone calls. Today had not been a good day and we should go straight to the hospital before checking into our hotel. As we reached the Little Belt mountains and the wind farms, I began to cry. This was not a family vacation. We were going to be with my Dad as he lay dying. I tried to prepare myself for what we would see. Guilt crept in. I hadn't spent enough time with him. I'd been selfish when we spoke on the phone and his mood was foul. I'd held onto resentment too long. Fear crept in. Was he in pain? Was he afraid? Did he know that no matter what, I loved him? Had I told him enough?
What I remember about my Dad from my childhood is that he was awesome at playing. He loved sports and played baseball, basketball and was even known to have a pretty good golf swing. He was big and strong because he usually did physically demanding work but he was a softie. I can remember him crying several times. He loved the outdoors and was an avid fisherman. He didn't often hunt but he taught my brother and I to shoot on an old bolt action .22. Our summers were filled with baseball games, bicycle rides and camping trips in the most beautiful state in the union. He also loved history and the old west. Every cowboy, every gun slinger and every hideout, he could recount them all, despite never having been a very good student. As an adult, I know my Dad followed politics closely and was well versed in American History. Most people would've considered him extremely introverted but he loved to tell stories, anecdotes from his childhood and above all he loved to make people laugh. Dad kept his sense of humor to end, making a goofy face at Charlie upon meeting him for the first time. He was a combination of bad decisions and terrible luck but his intentions were always good. Often the people that he called friends, lived in the fringe of society and he too was not what anyone would consider main stream. In a world of technilogical advances and keeping up with the Jones, to say he lived modestly would be an understatement.When asked if there was anything of his I wanted to keep, it was hard to recount any 'thing' that stuck out in my mind, only places and things we did. I took my family to a few of the places I remembered from my summers there. I showed them the house my grandfather built, the place where my father had grown up. I sorted through what little he had, selecting to keep those things that reminded me of him most; a guide to fly tying, old photographs, a rock tumbler. I watched my aunt and grandfather as they scattered his ashes into the Missouri at one of his favorite fishing holes. Everything happened so fast, several times I wanted everything to simply stop. I wanted time to hold still. I wanted my Dad to open his eyes and talk with me for a few moments before he ran out of air or strength or time. Dad was 53 when he passed. It's cliche to say the good die young but in his case, it is the truth.
We're home now and I've had a few moments to reflect on the whirlwind of the last week. I don't think it is a coincidence that the same river that Dad's ashes are in, the river he was so connected to, also runs through the place where I now live. I feel as though I can go there and be with him, something that was hard to do when he was alive. Thinking about his life has made me more resolute about living mine more simply and with more purpose.
What I remember about my Dad from my childhood is that he was awesome at playing. He loved sports and played baseball, basketball and was even known to have a pretty good golf swing. He was big and strong because he usually did physically demanding work but he was a softie. I can remember him crying several times. He loved the outdoors and was an avid fisherman. He didn't often hunt but he taught my brother and I to shoot on an old bolt action .22. Our summers were filled with baseball games, bicycle rides and camping trips in the most beautiful state in the union. He also loved history and the old west. Every cowboy, every gun slinger and every hideout, he could recount them all, despite never having been a very good student. As an adult, I know my Dad followed politics closely and was well versed in American History. Most people would've considered him extremely introverted but he loved to tell stories, anecdotes from his childhood and above all he loved to make people laugh. Dad kept his sense of humor to end, making a goofy face at Charlie upon meeting him for the first time. He was a combination of bad decisions and terrible luck but his intentions were always good. Often the people that he called friends, lived in the fringe of society and he too was not what anyone would consider main stream. In a world of technilogical advances and keeping up with the Jones, to say he lived modestly would be an understatement.When asked if there was anything of his I wanted to keep, it was hard to recount any 'thing' that stuck out in my mind, only places and things we did. I took my family to a few of the places I remembered from my summers there. I showed them the house my grandfather built, the place where my father had grown up. I sorted through what little he had, selecting to keep those things that reminded me of him most; a guide to fly tying, old photographs, a rock tumbler. I watched my aunt and grandfather as they scattered his ashes into the Missouri at one of his favorite fishing holes. Everything happened so fast, several times I wanted everything to simply stop. I wanted time to hold still. I wanted my Dad to open his eyes and talk with me for a few moments before he ran out of air or strength or time. Dad was 53 when he passed. It's cliche to say the good die young but in his case, it is the truth.
We're home now and I've had a few moments to reflect on the whirlwind of the last week. I don't think it is a coincidence that the same river that Dad's ashes are in, the river he was so connected to, also runs through the place where I now live. I feel as though I can go there and be with him, something that was hard to do when he was alive. Thinking about his life has made me more resolute about living mine more simply and with more purpose.
Friday, February 25, 2011
The Sweetest Gift- A barking dog?
So apparently, my little man was holding out on me. A few weeks ago I got him to 'laugh' a couple times by tickling his chin. By laugh I mean a Tyra Banksish smile with his eyes and faint 'ha ah'. Monday night however; we found out what his real laugh sounds like. We were sitting in the living room with a student who was visiting the university Micha works for. Her flight didn't leave for a few hours so we took her out to dinner. Before we left, we were hanging out and Lily the Destroyer was kind of bothering her. Micha, who had Charlie in his lap, got one of Lily's toys and she started barking. Charlie jumped at first and then, clear as day, laughed. Really laughed. It was the cutest thing! We were all so amazed that instead of telling Lily to shut up like we usually do, we encouraged her to bark away!
Friday, February 18, 2011
LIG
The Problem
Over the course of the last few weeks, I've been pretty, well, bitchy. I feel as though I am always either taking care of Charlie or doing housework. I'm certain that this is not an unusual feeling but I do have a partner and a twelve year old at home. I shouldn't have to do everything myself! I'd like a few minutes to do something for me! Needless to say there has been a lot of yelling, bickering and snapping going on at our house. And that's the problem. I'm yelling and getting mad, before I've asked for help. Now don't get me wrong, I think it is absurd that I would have to ask someone to take out the garbage or the recycling when it is obvious that it's full to the brim and overflowing, but if no one notices I should first say "Will someone please take that out?" instead of "Why the hell hasn't anyone taken that out? I know you know it's full. I just saw you smashing it down so you could stuff one more thing in there! Just take the trash out, geez!" But I'm tired and I tend to forgo all pleasantries when I'm tired and what should be a simple request turns into a shouted order and expression of my exasperation at the situation. So I'll admit it, part of the problem is me.
I'm sort of picky about how the house is kept. I hate to come home to a mess, so I feel like I have to have everything in order before I go to bed at night. This usually takes until 11 pm or midnight and since I have to get up with the baby at least once and then be up and starting my day around 4:30 am, I'm getting very little sleep during the week. And my pickiness extends through the whole house, even the garage. Ok, so maybe the other part of the problem is me too. I guess that means I have to be the solution.
The Solution
LIG; Let it go. I've resolved to just let a few things go. Mumbles room can be a little messy as long as it gets cleaned really well once a week, as with the basement. The garage, well as long as I can pull my car in, why should I care if it's a wreck? A couple of nights a week, I'll just let the dishes sit until the next day and if I don't do anything before I go to bed, LIG. It isn't as if the laundry or the dishes are going to go anywhere. And who's gonna judge me? Micha? Lily the Destroyer? I don't think so. Somethings, like washing diapers, I have to stay caught up on, but everything else can wait. In fact, I'm LIG of a little inventory project at work right now....
Another part of LIG, has to do with 'stuff'. I'm a bit of a shopaholic. I have a hard time passing up a good sale. So I end up buying a lot of things that I 'need' because I got a 'good deal'. I looked in my closet the other day and I didn't see clothes. I saw a hospital bill, our phone bill, a months worth of groceries and it bothered me. Micha said "I've never said anything to you. It makes you happy," but it doesn't. I had very little and I never shopped after I had Mumbles and I was happy. If I could live without all the 'stuff' back then, I could do it now. Money is tight and stressing us out so I'm giving up shopping, at least until we are back on track. I haven't laid out all the ground rules yet but it's happening, and it's tough. I took my ring to be sized at Zales the other day and walked by Banana Republic and they were having a clearance sale. I thought to myself "I'll just look..." but I never 'just look' so I kept walking.It's kind of liberating in a way; to know that I can restrain myself and that if everything were gone tomorrow, it would be ok. I've got the people and the memories to hang on to, rather than the crap that's filling my house. So, be sure and keep your eye out for our garage sale the first weekend in May ;)
Over the course of the last few weeks, I've been pretty, well, bitchy. I feel as though I am always either taking care of Charlie or doing housework. I'm certain that this is not an unusual feeling but I do have a partner and a twelve year old at home. I shouldn't have to do everything myself! I'd like a few minutes to do something for me! Needless to say there has been a lot of yelling, bickering and snapping going on at our house. And that's the problem. I'm yelling and getting mad, before I've asked for help. Now don't get me wrong, I think it is absurd that I would have to ask someone to take out the garbage or the recycling when it is obvious that it's full to the brim and overflowing, but if no one notices I should first say "Will someone please take that out?" instead of "Why the hell hasn't anyone taken that out? I know you know it's full. I just saw you smashing it down so you could stuff one more thing in there! Just take the trash out, geez!" But I'm tired and I tend to forgo all pleasantries when I'm tired and what should be a simple request turns into a shouted order and expression of my exasperation at the situation. So I'll admit it, part of the problem is me.
I'm sort of picky about how the house is kept. I hate to come home to a mess, so I feel like I have to have everything in order before I go to bed at night. This usually takes until 11 pm or midnight and since I have to get up with the baby at least once and then be up and starting my day around 4:30 am, I'm getting very little sleep during the week. And my pickiness extends through the whole house, even the garage. Ok, so maybe the other part of the problem is me too. I guess that means I have to be the solution.
The Solution
LIG; Let it go. I've resolved to just let a few things go. Mumbles room can be a little messy as long as it gets cleaned really well once a week, as with the basement. The garage, well as long as I can pull my car in, why should I care if it's a wreck? A couple of nights a week, I'll just let the dishes sit until the next day and if I don't do anything before I go to bed, LIG. It isn't as if the laundry or the dishes are going to go anywhere. And who's gonna judge me? Micha? Lily the Destroyer? I don't think so. Somethings, like washing diapers, I have to stay caught up on, but everything else can wait. In fact, I'm LIG of a little inventory project at work right now....
Another part of LIG, has to do with 'stuff'. I'm a bit of a shopaholic. I have a hard time passing up a good sale. So I end up buying a lot of things that I 'need' because I got a 'good deal'. I looked in my closet the other day and I didn't see clothes. I saw a hospital bill, our phone bill, a months worth of groceries and it bothered me. Micha said "I've never said anything to you. It makes you happy," but it doesn't. I had very little and I never shopped after I had Mumbles and I was happy. If I could live without all the 'stuff' back then, I could do it now. Money is tight and stressing us out so I'm giving up shopping, at least until we are back on track. I haven't laid out all the ground rules yet but it's happening, and it's tough. I took my ring to be sized at Zales the other day and walked by Banana Republic and they were having a clearance sale. I thought to myself "I'll just look..." but I never 'just look' so I kept walking.It's kind of liberating in a way; to know that I can restrain myself and that if everything were gone tomorrow, it would be ok. I've got the people and the memories to hang on to, rather than the crap that's filling my house. So, be sure and keep your eye out for our garage sale the first weekend in May ;)
Laughable
The sweetest sound I've ever heard, I heard Wednesday, February 9th. Charlie laughed. I was changing his diaper and blowing raspberries on his neck and clear as day he laughed, twice. No one else was around, it was just the two of us. It is one of those memories that will stick with me forever. I have them of Mumbles too, but they are just a little fuzzy now. What I wouldn't give to have had the video camera going right then!
Snownami 2011
I hate snow! Seriously, I'm so over winter. I'm desperately looking forward to throwing open all the windows, giving the house a good scrub down and getting rid of a lot of junk. Unfortunately, Old Man Winter has different ideas. We got somewhere around 9" of snow Tuesday evening. So for two whole days we were home bound. Being stuck at home taught me a couple of things (besides that I hate snow, which I already knew) 1) I hate my job and 2) a little elbow grease brings Mumbles and I together.
Point number one, when I was on maternity leave, I couldn't wait to get back to work. Now that I'm back at work, I'd really like to go back on maternity leave. The grass is always greener, right? I really liked being at home just doing the things that make a household run, hell I even helped prepare a meal or two. It's definitely more interesting than what I'm doing at work right now (nothing).
Point number two, even when Mumbles and I are seemingly at odds with one another (an occurrence more frequent now that she is a 'tween and therefore knows everything) a little hard work never fails to bring us together. Truth be told the work doesn't even have to be that hard although shoveling 6 ft of snow out of our driveway definitely was hard (ok that might be a slight exaggeration but seriously it was, like, waist deep).
At any rate, whenever she and I work together on anything; cleaning the house, a project at school, we seem to get along beautifully.
Point number one, when I was on maternity leave, I couldn't wait to get back to work. Now that I'm back at work, I'd really like to go back on maternity leave. The grass is always greener, right? I really liked being at home just doing the things that make a household run, hell I even helped prepare a meal or two. It's definitely more interesting than what I'm doing at work right now (nothing).
Point number two, even when Mumbles and I are seemingly at odds with one another (an occurrence more frequent now that she is a 'tween and therefore knows everything) a little hard work never fails to bring us together. Truth be told the work doesn't even have to be that hard although shoveling 6 ft of snow out of our driveway definitely was hard (ok that might be a slight exaggeration but seriously it was, like, waist deep).
At any rate, whenever she and I work together on anything; cleaning the house, a project at school, we seem to get along beautifully.
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