Mama gets a job

Pardon the posting hiatus; mama got a job! And just in time because Hannah's fun factor has plummeted significantly in the last few weeks.  The terrible twos just keep getting more and more terrible. Everything is a fight: getting dressed, brushing teeth, brushing hair, getting in the bath, getting out of the bath, putting on shoes, taking off shoes, singing in music class...you get it. It's insane. I lost it last Tuesday and just started screaming, not even saying anything, just screaming, "ahhh! ahhh!" like a deranged lunatic, like Hannah....

The morning after that, I didn't have the energy to fight.  I just wanted to get her dressed, and get in the car without it being a huge ordeal.  She, of course, didn't want to get dressed, so I put her clothes in my backpack and took her to the car completely naked.  I strapped her into her car seat in her birthday suit, climbed lethargically into the driver's seat, and headed for the highway.  I called Eric on my way downtown to the gym, looking for sympathy I suppose, but he just cracked up laughing. Hannah thought it was pretty funny too. She sat in the back saying, "nakee mommy! nakee in car!" I"ll admit that in hindsight it was a teeny bit funny, but I was way too burned out and beat up to find humor in anything that day...Anyway, by the time we got there she had stopped laughing at being "nakee" and said, "ready to get dressed mommy!" Yeah, I bet you are, I thought. I think it was a whopping 45 degrees out that morning.  I don't know how she made it that long.  So I parked, dressed Hannah, and then strolled her to the gym where I happily left her in the kids room while I jumped on the treadmill and tried to jog off my insanity before pilates, all the while thinking that maybe going back to work full time would be the easiest option because it would get me out of having to deal with the insanity of raising a very headstrong, spirited 2-year-old.

I could never do that though; I'm way too much of a control freak, and anyway, as hard as it sometimes is being a stay-at-home mom, I have no interest in crawling back into a cubicle and staring at a screen for 8-9 hours a day while I get fat and lethargic. Not to mention having to deal with commuting and getting dressed in something other than yoga pants on a daily basis. Yeah, no thank you.  Even on the worst days and when money is at its tightest, being a stay-at-home mom is way better than working, in my opinion.

So when the recruiter called a few weeks ago I told her I wasn't interested, that I'd only consider part-time, work-from-home options. I get lots of calls and emails from recruiters looking for a proposal writer, but I NEVER answer a call from a number I don't know, so why I answered that call that day is beyond me.  Said recruiter sighed and said my qualifications seemed like a perfect fit.  I thanked her and got back to my business.  She called back a few hours later and left a message saying that the VP said that part-time, work-from-home is ideal for this position and would I come in for an interview.  Since I never answer calls from unknown numbers and since I was particularly stressed about money after taking on a car payment, I agreed to an interview; I thought this might be fate and figured I better at least explore the option.

I shook the dust off of my suit and made the 45-minute commute to interview this company.   I liked the VP, I liked the company vibe, I liked that the majority of the employees work from home if not all of the time, then at least a great deal of the time, and I liked that they don't really have any other people who are just writers so although the position is for proposal writing, they'll be giving me tech writing, press releases, website updates, newsletters, and whatever else they need written.  I told him I had no interest in growing my career at this moment and didn't want to lead any efforts or be in charge or climb any career ladders. I just want to log on, edit/write, get paid, and then go about my day.  He offered me the job on the spot at the hourly rate I requested (which makes me think I should have asked for more or at least asked what range he had in mind, but oh well), and I accepted. 

I'm working 20 hours a week, and although I can work whatever hours I want from day-to-day, I am working from 1:00 to 5:00 most days.  That means I don't have to sacrifice my morning routine with Hannah; we can still go to the gym and to gymnastics and music class and keep up all of our activities.  What I'm sacrificing is my domestic time and my quiet time: the time of day where I clean and figure out what to make for dinner and then prep it and check emails and talk to my mom (and run up and down the stairs dealing with a child who refuses to nap)....On the days that I managed to finish dinner while Hannah napped, I would take her to the playground when she woke up, but on the days when I didn't, she'd end up watching TV while I finished dinner.  Now she has an awesome babysitter who arrives after Hannah's nap (or lakc thereof) and is solely devoted to playing with her. I think this works out way better for Hannah, and now I'm not stressed about her watching TV, which I hate.

Last week I managed to cram the cleaning and meal preps into other parts of the day (cleaned the bathroom after I brushed my teeth, before putting naked Hannah in the car last week), and Eric is helping out a lot more and seems happy to be doing so.

One thing that really helps is that Eric and I sat down last weekend and created a meal plan for the whole month.  Figuring out what to make for dinner day-by-day was a huge waste of time, but I just couldn't make myself plan ahead until I had too. I love having a meal plan--it's so much more efficient! My grocery trips are more efficient, and since I know what I'm making way in advance, I start prepping dinner the night before and at breakfast and lunch, that way I can throw it all together when I come upstairs at 5:00 each day.

So my first week went pretty well once I made it through all the technical glitches of getting logged onto my computer (which turned out to be a huge ordeal that required me to ship my computer to the tech support department in Fredericksburg, Virginia so it could be reset).  So far I like what I'm doing and I like who I'm working with, and I like how it's fitting into our lives even though it means I'm juggling toilet brushes with tooth brushes and doing all kinds of other crazy multi-tasking. Mostly I like that we are going to keep living on Eric's salary and use my income to pay off the student loan and the car loan which means that if no other emergencies come up, we should be out of debt this time next year.  Then we can start saving for a house with a front yard which is something I have ALWAYS wanted since I was really, really little.

I was definitely incredibly exhausted this weekend, but it's manageable. I have always functioned better with a busy schedule anyway. When I get a little free time, I lose a lot of productivity.

And now, some pics from a random photo shoot this week:

Baby Pee = Fine; Ant Invasion = Not Fine

Today I realized that I haven't been doing much writing on the blog recently which is my sign that I am much happier these days.  I tend to write more when I'm stressed and depressed.  Me not writing means that life is a lot more boring (in a good way) and that I am a lot more sane after two weeks as a stay-at-home mom than I was as a SAHM working at a toxic job during every nap time.  Of course, this also means that I need to start finding ways to self-motivate my writing muscles.

My other sign of happiness is that I'm more patient with Hannah.  Her diaper changing acrobatics were getting really frustrating there for a while, and then one day I realized that I cannot control her and that if I was going to keep trying, I was only going to make life miserable for both of us.  I could spend the rest of motherhood constantly butting my stubborn head up against hers, but a better use of my energy would be spent trying to keep up with her. Of course, there have to be some boundaries and it will be a challenge figuring out which boundaries I want to impose, and which I'm okay with blurring.  Sleep is one I impose, but trying to pin her down while I change her diaper the way Steve Irwin (RIP) used to pin down crocodiles is one I'm good with blurring.  Of course it helps that I'm not constantly worrying about how I'm going to get my 20 hours of work in for the week. Yesterday she was more squirmy than usual so I gave up trying and brought her downstairs buck naked to nurse her.  Of course she peed all over me soon after nursing, but whatever, it dried.  (Don't judge, it's just baby pee which is not even really pee in my head--is this a byproduct of motherhood or does everyone agree??)  After that I figured we had some time before the next pee and were safe to hang out but Eric had had enough so he grabbed the diaper and clothes I brought down and wriggled her into them.

Surprisingly, I am the laid back one when it comes to Hannah messes.  (Where I'm uptight is when it comes to  what she eats and when she sleeps.) Take feeding for instance: in the beginning, Eric was very careful not to make a mess when feeding her, but me, I always let her play in her food and get as messy as she can.  (He does that now too.)  Those of you who know me and my very anal retentive habits may find this shocking; heck, I'm shocked myself.  You know what else? We don't use bibs anymore.  She gets so messy, that she would need a full body bib to protect her.  We pretty much plan on having to change her outfit after each meal and just don't bother.  That and she learned how to pull the bibs off and does so within seconds of having one on.  We run out of clothes a lot these days and the floor is constantly covered in a variety of food products, most recently, polenta--she's quite the fan of polenta!

On the food-on-the-floor note, have I mentioned how frustrating it is to hear women with grown children tell you that their best advice is to let the house go because all of them wish they'd worried less about a clean house and more about having fun with their kids? I guess this is the Donna Reed generation who felt obliged to do things like iron their husband's "slacks." (Hey, I put together a healthy breakfast and lunch for my hubby to take to work with him because eating healthy is a priority, but he can iron his own dang pants).  I'm pretty sure I've vented about this before so I apologize for the repeat vent, but I just need to revisit it.   One woman told me that I have the rest of my life to clean house if that's what I want to do but I should enjoy the my little bitty while she's a little bitty.  It's great advice really, not just for moms but for everyone trying to suck the life out of life, and I totally agree, AND my house SHOWS my agreement, but the problem with this advice is twofold: 1) I have a crawler on my hands now.  She wants to crawl all over my floor that hasn't been cleaned since before Christmas (and needs to be swept after every meal but maybe gets swept twice a week).  2) We have an ant invasion.  They mostly stay around the kitchen counters but I see them on the floor sometimes too crawling in and out of the gaping cracks between the heart of pine planks that have run from the front door to the back for over 100 years.  These cracks catch everything (including cat puke) and are impossible to clean.  This place is ant heaven.

We also had a huge outbreak in the bathroom last week. I finally discovered that they were after the jellybeans inside the plastic Easter egg that was sitting on the counter because Hannah had been playing with it in the bath.  (I taped the egg shut to create a fun shaker toy for Hannah not thinking that some creature would be small enough to crawl in there and enjoy the feast.)  I pitched the jelly beans and the egg, laid down traps, and got rid of the bathroom ants, but no matter how clean I keep the kitchen counters, there are always a few snooping around for a stray crumb (and keeping the crumbs cleaned up now that we're making a loaf of bread EVERY DAY to keep up with Hannah's bread eating habits is IMPOSSIBLE).  Furthermore, Hannah has found the ant traps on two occasions and had them halfway to her mouth before I could run interception.  For all of you would-be advice givers, it's important to remember that the problem with hindsight is that it's so often cloaked in butterflies and jelly beans rather than ant attacks.

I should probably stop blogging and go clean, but I don't really feel like it. I would feel a bigger sense of satisfaction if I continued on with my paperwork so paperwork it is!!  Ooooo. WRONG. Nap time is over, back to the baby.

No "I" in Team

Ugh. I'm freakin exhausted.  It's either because of the rain or because I was awake from 2:20 to 4:00 last night....It's possible that pushing her bedtime back by an entire hour was a little extreme.  Fortunately, instead of napping from 1:00ish to 2:30ish yesterday afternoon (the scheduled naptime), she walked around her crib until 2:30 and then slept until 4:00 so if ever we were going to move her bedtime back like that, doing so on a day when she napped late was a fortunate coicidence.  Regardless of sleeping late, she was exhausted before she made it to the bath and screamed the screamiest screams during her super quick scrub down.  That wasn't fun, but it was over and she was quietly nursing within a few minutes.  (He decided that completely turning the routine on its head was a bad idea and that first we should move back her bedtime and then maybe think about moving the nursing.  I agree.) So I had to be very diligent about keeping her awake while nursing which was not easy.  After about 15 minutes on the second side, I pulled her off (which ticked her off but by then she was too tired to scream too much) and handed her to Eric who put her down Eric style.  It was a short ritual given her exhaustion and the fact that she was nearly asleep while nursing so no hour of insanity last night.  Bathtime started at 7:30 and she was asleep by 8:30. Really what that means is that she is back on her pre-Daylight Savings Time schedule.  I don't know how that beditme is going to work though on the days when she only naps until 2:00 in the afternoon.  That seems like a long time for her to be awake.  Either way, I think that keeping her from snoozing while nursing had a huge positive impact. 

To make up for bedtime's easiness, Hannah woke up screaming at 2:20 a.m.....I looked at her in the monitor to see if she'd put herself back to sleep but considering she was halfway to standing and the screams were pretty loud, my guess was no. I went in and picked her up. Once calm I laid her down, and the screaming immediately resumed.  I tried to soothe her Eric style by patting her butt and leaning over the crib but the position hurt my back and made my arm fall asleep so after a few minutes, I gave up and went back to bed.  Eric was awake so I told him that although I could not draw any correlation between his bedtime ritual and the fact that she was awake in the middle of the night (a.k.a: I'm not blaming him for her waking up), I could blame him for the fact that in order to get to sleep, she requires someone being hunched over the crib.  That's not a comfortable sleep crutch and not one I intend to provide. So he went in with her for a while and after 20 minutes or so, he gave up and came back to bed, and we just laid there and listened to her scream and argued until everyone fell asleep.

The thing is, although my way wasn't working, I was at least working toward a worthy goal: for her to be able to put herself to sleep on her own without crying when we lay her down.  Tons of babies I've read about do that.  I was attempting to coach her into being an independent sleeper using a number of methods I had researched, but mostly the Sleep Lady's in the hopes that our future is less stressful than our present.  I'm willing to make sacrifices now to ensure that the problem is remedied sooner than later.  I think Eric's goal is more just to get through the day.  I'm not saying his way is wrong; alcoholics everywhere are taking it one day at a time and that works for them. What I'm saying is that we need to come to come to some compromise and raise her AS A TEAM because nobody benefits from us operating like we're living on an island, least of all Hannah.

Dear Pregnant Readers: My number one recommendation is that you read at least one baby how-to type book prior to giving birth (I recommend the Baby Whisperer since it's pretty comprehensive, but I've heard good things about The Happiest Baby on the Block too) and get your hubby to read it too and then TALK ABOUT IT and come up with a game plan for raising your children as a TEAM.  I wish we'd done that....We're 7 1/2 months in and working less and less like a team (when it comes to parenting) every day.  Once we finally find a way to compromise and get on the same side, how long will it take from there to instill good habits in Hannah??  We have a LONG uphill road before anyone is getting any respite from the screaming.....

Precious Insecurity

First the fun stuff: Hannah blew her first bubbles at swim class today! We were floating around in the 2-foot section and she was sorta standing, sorta bobbing/treading water which meant her mouth kept going under, and on one bob, she blew a bunch of bubbles.  Even more fun than that: NO LOCKER ROOM BREAKDOWN!  Craziness...I'm wondering if it had anything to do with the fact that the locker room was totally empty today.  Who knows. I don't have time to analyze the awesomeness--hands are full trying to figure out the non-awesomeness....sleep.  Same ole' story. Cue the non-fun stuff.........

I kirked out again last night.  I've been keeping track of my angry outbursts on my calendar and they happen every other week and are accompanied with extreme fatigue and followed closely by--EARMUFFS BOYS--my period.  Yes, it's coming every 2 weeks as well.  Isn't life grand??  I specifically chose the ParaGard IUD because I didn't want hormones, but I'm thinking now that that was a huge mistake and that hormones are probably my only chance at sanity.  The pill is the only thing that fixed me the first time around, when I was 15 and had been dealing with 2 periods a month accompanied by exhaustion, insanity, and severe cramps for the 2 years prior.

Although I don't think there is ever a good excuse for losing your temper, if there were one, I'm pretty sure I am in possession of that excuse and also its runner-ups.  Trying to get Hannah to sleep at night has become the bane of my existence.  By that time of the day, I'm tired. I want to punch my time card, find a comfy spot on the couch, and veg out to another episode of America's Best Dance Crew (don't judge--I gain coordination just by WATCHING).

Hannah's extended screaming makes me feel completely inadequate as a mom, and then when I get impatient and frustrated, it makes me feel like a complete a**hole.  I mean, she's a BABY! Hello!! Why can't I generate unending sympathy????  I try to remind myself that sometimes it's really hard to fall asleep, and that life is miserable when you're super exhausted but can't fall asleep and probably even more so when you're a BABY and have no clue what's going other than how you feel which is beyond exhausted, so I should be like, "oh, my poor little schmoopy baby sweetie it's okay sugar bunkin lovey..."  I guess I'd be more sympathetic if she would at least LAY DOWN AND TRY TO GO TO SLEEP.  I don't know anyone else who stands upright and screams for all their worth as a way of winding down and getting to sleep.

I had resumed the Sleep Lady shuffle last Saturday but was seeing NO results a week later (yeah, yeah, she says to give it 2 weeks, but COME ON!!) and my sanity was thinning so I decided to try the dreaded Ferber approach.  At various points throughout the weekend I attempted to engage Eric in a discussion about various sleep plans, asking for his input, suggestions, and buy in and trying to come up with a new plan that we could BOTH  stick to (since he refuses to follow my lead).   His only comment was a question of why we couldn't pick her up.  I pointed to Pavlov's dogs (not literally of course). Her crying is like when the dogs push the button, and us picking her up is like when the food comes out as a result of the dogs pushing the button.  If she continues to associate crying with getting picked up, SHE WILL KEEP PUSHING THE STUPID BUTTON. Yes that may be a crude analogy for explaining training by association, but I'm pretty sure the Sleep Lady uses the same one...The point is, this is for her own good because we are not picking her up with any consistency anyway (he picks her up, I usually don't) so she's just constantly confused trying to figure out how to work the stupid button, cry louder? Harder?  Throw in some shrieks??  Beat on chest, swing from vines, and launch into song "George, George, George of the Jungle..."??  I keep stressing that our only way of communicating with her right now is through consistency so that she can anticipate first this, then this. If there's no consistency, she's confused, and if she's confused, she screams, and if she screams, I scream.

Back to Ferber: I suggested that after nursing her, I tuck her in, leave, then go up in 7 minutes, and then add 3-5 minutes each time after that, so 7, then 10 minutes later, then 15ish minutes later until she's asleep....I didn't get any feedback from him so I started the plan last night. I laid her down around 7:45 then returned 7 minutes later, laid her back down, covered her up, patted her rump, and then came downstairs to make some food.  5 minutes later, Eric went up....As he was going I politely (ha!) reminded him of the plan and asked him to wait another 5 minutes, but he ignored me.  He immediately PICKED HER UP (though she was not even crying that hard) and then after laying her back down, hovered over the side of the crib patting her butt and cooing at her for about 5 minutes before coming downstairs.  The second he left her room she was screaming louder and harder than before, and I was seething.  So I kirked out and yelled "WE HAVE GOT TO GET ON THE SAME PAGE" among other less nice things.  It's a small house so I'm pretty sure my yelling didn't help Hannah's stress level at all.  More jerk points for me.  As soon as I stopped yelling, I went upstairs, picked Hannah up, walked her downstairs, and handed her to Eric, then walked back to the kitchen to finish chopping veggies for my salad. I suppose that was my way of throwing in the towel.  He'd mentioned something about thinking her bedtime was too early: here ya go! Put her to bed whenever you want.

That thought seemed like a good idea so I kept going with it. I told him he was in charge now.  At first I was still a little angry and trying to punish him because I feel like his refusal to get on a parenting page with me is punishing me.  But the more I talked, the better the idea sounded, not just as a punishment but like, hey, maybe this'll actually work. If nothing else, it at least gets me out of the dreaded bedtime duty.

I said, from now on, aside from her last nursing of the day, you are completely in charge of the bedtime routine and can do whatever you see fit, and I won't argue or question your decisions as long as I don't have to suffer the consequences. He thinks her bedtime should be later, like 8:30 since she screams until then anyway. I reminded him that we tried moving her bedtime back when she was about 4 months old; we pushed it back to like 10:00 (at that time she was screaming until 10:00), and then she started screaming till like 12:00 which totally sucked. I'd rather she scream from 7:30-8:30 then from 8:30-9:30, but as long as I'm not the one who has to sit with her while she screams, he could put her to bed at midnight for all I care (that's not true, I do care but I'm trying REALLY hard not to).  My non-emergency mothering hours are between 6:00 a.m. and 9:00 p.m.  I am not a night owl and refuse to become one.  If he wants a night owl for a baby, fine, but don't include me in those owl-ing activities.  He seemed okay with that.

So I ate my salad and watched ABDC and Eric and Hannah sat next to me on the catch and just hung out, and then at 8:45, he took Hannah up to her room, and I went to brush my teeth and get ready for bed.  She screamed till about 9:20, and then he came to bed.  I felt guilty then so I apologized and snuggled him for a bit while he finished reading his homework.

There is a teeny, tiny, insecure part rooted deep in my mothering self-esteem that does not want him to succeed, but the bigger, better part of me hopes that he does have the answer because I sure as hell don't, and I can't spend another week doing this, let alone another couple years.  I did make what I think is a pretty good suggestion while snuggling last night:  She has taken to snoozing/suckling for about 30 minutes on whichever boob I give her first after her bath, then she wakes up, eats for about 4 minutes on the other boob and is ready to play. I'm thinking this catnap is the problem for our recent issues (though it hasn't always been a factor and therefore hasn't always been the problem).  I'd have gotten into the habit of waking her up sooner but I always have my fingers crossed that she'll stay asleep when I lay her down (totally against the Sleep Lady's rules but SO MUCH EASIER), and every once in a while (on a day when naps were disastrous) she does.  So I suggested that we just turn the whole routine on its head and nurse her before her bath so that she can go right from bath to story time and then bed.  That gives her chance to play a little more after relaxing on the boob and also a chance to digest her food first which will probably make her more comfortable.  He liked my suggestion, which means that if  having Eric put her down works, I don't have to feel like a total failure since I thought of part of the solution. Oh precious insecurity!! How you plague me...

We'll start tonight.....

The Yin and Yang of Swim Class

As Grannah pointed out in a comment on a previous post, I haven't mentioned swim class since the first one so an update is in order.  Swimming is hands down my favorite Hannah activity in the universe.  She very obviously loves the water and has taken to frog kicking around while on her belly.  She doesn't love floating on her back as much and will only do so for a couple of seconds before wiggling herself back to her belly and resuming her happy little frog kick. While the other kids hang on to their moms (and one grandmother) with their legs on either side of the hips (like the normal way you'd hold a kid out of the water), Hannah refuses the cuddle hold preferring instead to be floating and kicking around on her stomach.  When the instructor has us blow bubbles, she licks the water.  When he has us do 1, 2, 3 blast off! which ends with an underwater dunk, she comes up looking slightly confused and then quickly resumes her happy frog kick.  When he has the kids sit on the side and kick, she watches the other kids intently (her feet don't reach the water), and when he has them jump in, she happily falls into my arms back into the water. If there's a ball  nearby, she'll push it all over the pool. If there's another kid smiling and splashing, she smiles and splashes back.  Today, I forget what the instructor was having her do, but he said to her, "You're fearless! You're going to be dangerous in the water!"  And for some reason, I took great pride in that.  I think he's right. We're going to have to make sure she's a good swimmer and that we watch her like a hawk.  This is reminding me of this little boy in the preschool swim classes I helped to teach during my summers as a lifeguard in high school.  This kid was super cute with a head of hair the color of Strawberry Shortcake's and a round little face full of freckles.  He never talked, but he was always smiling really big.  This kid had NO fear whatsoever.  He would just run and jump into the water and go down like a brick if you weren't watching.  Fortunately, we figured him out early on and we were always watching so even when he made it into the water, somebody dove in right after him to bring him up.  And it never scared him to go plummeting below the water like that. I'm not exaggerating when I say he sunk like a brick--he had one of those bodies  that just doesn't float.  He even went off the diving board with just as much enthusiasm.  I feel like that's how Hannah will be (minus the part about not talking--she is, after all, a child of mine and will therefore probably have the gift of gab).

Since Hannah is super freakin cute and also the youngest in the class, she gets a lot of attention from the older ladies doing their water aerobics nearby.  Today one of them asked me, "Does she ever cry?"  I thought she meant in the water so I said, "Yeah, she cried during the first class."  And she said, "No, I mean ever. Does she ever cry?"  I was like, "Ummm, YEAH. A LOT." I told her that swim class was our safe little happy place.  Later, in the locker room, Hannah screamed like she'd been abandoned in the middle of a buzzing L.A. freeway. It was so loud that I'm pretty sure the whole gym heard, and probably even the customers at the Target a mile down the road so that probably answered that lady's question.

Swim class: love.  Locker room: hate.  I put my suit on before we go but I don't change her till we get there.  I thought about changing her at home, but I don't want her swim diaper to be full before we even arrive.  So I find us a nice little spot in the locker room, lay her on a towel on the floor, change her as quickly as possible, and then slip out of my slide-on Merrill's and yoga pants lickety split.  But no matter how fast I am, she screams. Loudly. The post-swim class change, is way worse.  I have to get both of us out of our wet suits and into dry clothes AND since we just got out of a nice warm pool (it's heated to bathtub temperatures), the air outside the water feels cold.  I put it in super speedracer gear, wrap Hannah in her towel and lay her on top of another towel on the floor and then put my towel over her as more warmth before getting her from wet to dry but she's screaming the whole time like I'm pinching her while I'm doing it or something (I'm not, I promise).  Then, when she's nice and warm, I sit her up on the floor beside me, hand her my keys or some other toy, take back my towel, and strip from wet suit to dry clothes as fast as anyone is able to peel a soaking wet suit from themselves.  The whole time I'm doing this she's screaming and screaming and screaming at the very tip top of her lungs and women are glancing over as if to see what I could possibly be doing to her to make her scream like that and they're probably also wondering what kind of a nut job brings a baby swimming, but she's screaming so loud that when it's happening, I don't care about them, I just keep saying "I'm hurrying Hannah, I promise. It's okay. Everything's okay. I promise."  I dunno why I feel the need to continuously promise her this, but I do.

When this 6 week course is over, I'm not going to sign her up again, at least not right away.  The locker room fiasco is too much to do alone. If we were going to do it again, I'd have to do it at a time when Eric could be there to help.  By help, I mean hold her while I'm getting dressed because for some reason, she refuses to not be held in a number of situations.  Here's another one: while I'm making dinner.  Breakfast, yes. Lunch, sometimes. Dinner, never.  Today I was starving and she'd done well at lunch so I decided to give it a try but she refused to sit in her Jeep, her highchair, or on a blanket I had laid on the floor and piled high with toys as a last ditch effort. She screamed the whole time. I was thinking that it's kind of like what she does at night, and since I sit close by at night while she does this (I've started the Sleep Lady Shuffle again) and attempt to soothe her with my voice, that maybe I should treat other points in the day similarly where instead of always giving in and just picking her up, I stay close and talk reassuringly until she calms down. Please note, this takes me an hour at bedtime so if I were to start doing this throughout the day, that would be 4+ hours of standing by patiently while my daughter kirks out at top decibels.  I'm not saint or anything close so I'm pretty sure this would send me over the top and straight into the padded room. Regardless, I tried it anyway because I really wanted to just get dinner prepped, but I couldn't deal. I don't know why, but the screaming grated my nerves even more than usual and I must confess that I yelled at her at one point screaming "what do you want from me??? I'm HUNGRY and I want to make dinner and I need you to stop YELLING at me!!"  As you might have guessed, that did not help the situation.....So I picked her up and resumed one-handed cooking (difficult to do when attempting to stir up potatoes that are roasting in the oven and toss raw hamburger meat into a very heavy cast iron skillet).  You know how the cliche post-partum thing to say is "I just wanted to throw the baby out the window"? Well, I can honestly say that I have never had any of those feelings toward Hannah, even in a "but I wouldn't really do it" way, but I have had them for myself.  When super stressed like that, I want to throw MYSELF out of a window.  But in a "I wouldn't really do that way," so don't go getting all worried on me. I'm not suicidal--just dramatic.

But the main reason that I will probably not sign her up again is that we do basically the same stuff each week and it's all stuff that we can just do with her on our own. No need to pay to participate in a class. We'll just set a weekly time and have our own private swim class.

To ease your poor, tired eyes from this text heavy post, here's a pic of Hannah eating the cute little tye-dye socks that Jess gave her for Christmas.  And YES, they're clean.  (Sort of.)

Bananas for Banana

Terrill and I took Hannah to the used book store last week to browse around. After all the snow I've been looking for reasons to leave the house, and ideally the neighborhood, and since I had a $35 credit at the store (I sold him some books a few months ago), I figured this was a better outing than say....Target where I would inevitably find a use for a super cool cheese slicer and then kick my butt later when that cheese slicer showed up on the credit card statement and I struggled with where in the budget I could justify a $3 cheese slicer that slices too thick to be useful.  See, I think I know why stay-at-home moms shop: there is nothing else to do. That sounds bad...I assure you I am not spending the rest of my time watching General Hospital in my housecoat while popping bonbons.  No, I take Hannah's development seriously and only turn the TV on when I need to cut her fingernails.  I read books on baby development and I try very hard to make sure her playtimes are varied.  But I also consider outings a playtime of sorts.  I think it's good to get her out of the house and looking at stuff other than what hangs on the four walls that constantly surround us.  So Target it is.  


Before I continue, I want to remind you that in general, I hate shopping.  I mean, I like grocery shopping, and I'm not gonna lie, I can get pretty sucked in to the magnificence that is Target, but for the most part, shopping is annoying to me, so much so, that Christmas is my least favorite holiday because it comes with heavy consumer strings attached.  For me, shopping with a purpose is just stressful and boring unless I'm with someone who knows how to make it fun (or if I'm putzing around the mall with my mom as a way to spend QT not because we're actually looking for stuff--pre-Hannah that was how we spent our QT). But when I'm looking for something, I get stressed trying to find what I need for a price I think is fair. I'm not the kind of person who is willing to root through a sale rack looking for a great deal and I'm not the kind of person who is willing to pay the sticker price on the majority of things I pick up.  That leaves me as the kind of person who buys nothing in favor of wearing the same ol' holey sweatpants day in and day out.  I'm so bad that Eric actually congratulates me when I buy something for myself. It's pretty funny really.  I bought a pair of Birkenstocks over the summer because walking around on flip flops and ballet flats with 30 extra pounds attached to my navel was killing my feet.  Of course, I didn't buy them until the last month so they didn't save me any soreness, but it took me that long to realize they were necessary. So yeah, they showed up at the house, and Eric patted me on the back.  And of course they ended up being too big and looking silly and I wore them anyway so I can't return them now so I'm kicking myself in the butt for spending all that money on a pair of shoes that are of a quality where I should be able to wear them for eons but since I got the wrong size....I have no idea where I was going with that rant, but the point is that being a stay-at-home mom can get kind of boring so I find myself trying to find outings and since it's cold out, I need indoor outings and I don't know what to do that is indoors (but if anyone has any ideas that do not include walking around Target, please share). 


Oh yeah, the book store. I love used book stores. I'm bummed that this one moved from Hampden because I can't just stroll down there randomly anymore like I used to, but at least now it's an excuse for an actual outing and that's fun.  I went straight for the parenting section and found a couple of mommy memoir type books that I greedily scooped up--this is my new favorite genre.  Creative nonfiction/memoirs have been my favorite genre since reading Go Ask Alice in middle school (though I didn't realize it was an actual genre until I took a class on it).  I started one of the books the other night.  It's called Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son's First Year by Anne Lammott and I LOVE it!  Lammott is totally real with the kind of self-deprecating humor that I never get tired of.  I love reading her and thinking, "oh, yep, been there" or "I know how you feel...." It's nice to find writers who have found the words for feelings I've been struggling to put down on paper.  And it's nice to know that as mommies go, I'm pretty normal.  Lammott even trimmed her son's skin once while clipping his nails.  I was trying to find one passage I really liked about how when her son, who was super colicky, would cry for hours, she'd be fine up to a certain point and would then feel herself falling over the precipice of sanity and need to leave the room to breathe and unclench her fists.  That's how I used to feel--like I was totally fine and nurturing for X amount of hours and then a switch flipped and I had to walk away to keep from having a mental breakdown myself.  It's nice to know that mothers everywhere have been feeling that way for a while.  So I can't find that specific part of the book, but I did find the another passage that I really like:


"...one of the worst things about being a parent, for me, is the self-discovery, the being face to face with one's secret insanity and brokenness and rage.  Someone without children, who thinks of me as deeply spiritual, said the other day that motherhood gave me the opportunity to dance with my feelings of inadequacy and anger, and my automatic response was think, Oh, go f*** yourself, you New-Age Cosmica Rama dingdong head--go dance with that one."


This book is written journal style and the above entry is from when her son was only a couple weeks old.  With 6 months behind me, I'm less manic these days and moving back toward my old positive self so I read that passage last night and recalled a conversation I'd had with Laura a while back (and one I also had with Jess over breakfast on Saturday) about how one of my favorite aspects of motherhood was the constant challenge to grow and evolve into a better person. I don't know if everyone births a baby that just intuitively knows its mama's weakness and then plays on it like a cat torturing a baby mole, or if it's just that all babies require exorbitant amounts of patience so those of us who run low on that are bound to improve or die trying, but either way, in my case, I feel like motherhood has plucked me from my comfort zone and tossed me into a UFC cage with my least favorite traits (lack of patience being the only one I'm willing to admit to publicly....) and those traits are on steroids and they're angry and they're determined to win the belt...I have two choices: either put "lack of patience" in a scissor hold until it screams "uncle" and agrees to never again make me curse the moron driver who slows down for green lights and tries to turn left from the right lane without a blinker, or I yell uncle and agree to a lifetime of high blood pressure, a foul mouth, and a sore jaw from constant clenching.  While the latter is tempting, I thrive under a good challenge and have enjoyed my journey toward being a better me, thereby becoming a better mother in the process. I had visions of myself being the most kickass mama around and I don't intend to let those visions be merely visions. When I say I'm gonna do something, I do it to the fullest extent.  Just as Eric. My M.O. is totally "anything worth doing is worth doing kickass."   


I have no idea what I've been rambling about for the past hour because in between sentences I was gmail chatting with both Terrill and my mom. All I really wanted to write is that I'm reading a great new book and that I have a new video to post of Hannah feeding herself for the first time ever. Watching her maneuver her hands to pick up the banana I gave her is pretty cool. Human development is amazing. Every day is like a science experiment...Hope the rant isn't too outlandish or full of grammatical errors because I am way to tired now to proof it before posting....

Oh, and that's the Latin channel playing in the background.  I wanted something Hannah and I could dance to so I turned that music channel on and attempted to salsa her around the house and then forgot to turn it off.  

Why I'm crazy

Lest you all think I've thrown myself from a nonexistent nearby cliff, I'm writing to reassure you that my sanity is still partially intact and also to thank all of you for your kind words and support.  There are a number of issues at play here and although the big trigger is when my dearest is exercising her lungs and vocal cords, my inability to deal with that lately stems from a lot of other stuff.  Here is a list of some of said stuff:

1.) I'm tired.  She's taken to waking up multiple times per night as opposed to the just once that I was getting used to. The past few nights she's woken up just 45 minutes after I've gone to sleep which really hurts. Last night she was up at 11ish, 1ish, 2ish, and then 5ish.  Now, I've learned to function just fine on interrupted sleep, but patience is shortened as is my emotional tether. 

2.) I miss my hubby.  He's been pretty unavailable for the past 2 weeks, some of which is understandable (time with the brothers is a must), and some of which is less understandable (no examples since I have a feeling he wouldn't appreciate me airing dirty laundry).  An unstable relationship was contributing greatly to my stress.  Since he was off today, we've spent the day talking and resolving issues.  (Who knew that having kids could change your relationship THIS much!)

3.)  I'm not into the whole work thing. Yes, I know how spoiled that sounds, but hear me out.  On a super rare and amazing day, Hannah's naps MIGHT total 4 hours.  As a part-time employee, I need 20 hours per week.  That comes out to 4 hours per day.  That might seem like nothing to all you full-timers but for someone who is attempting to also be a full-time stay-at-home mom and work during naps, it's stressful. I have virtually NO down time, especially on those nights when Hannah decides to scream for 2 hours rather than going to sleep. In addition to not having down time, I have no time to clean my house which is incredibly slovenly at the moment (Eric and I have taken to double-teaming it on weekends so I guess it'll get cleaned this weekend) and little time to eat (yesterday I had a smoothie for breakfast and some leftover Christmas ham with mustard for lunch...it's no wonder I was 3/4 of the way to crazy town by mid-afternoon).  Futhermore, I have not had any actual work to do at work since November which means I am struggling to find ways to "professionally develop" myself and am getting bored and feeling useless doing it.  Back when there was work, working was a bit more fun because it provided that feeling of success that you just don't get when mothering a baby who is incapable of giving you a gold star for a job well done.  So yeah, I know there are those of you who are like, "is she crazy?? She's complaining about being paid to do nothing??"  YES I am because there are lots of other things I could be doing with my time not the least of which would be NAPPING to prepare for the potential insanities that each day brings.

4.) When I am winding down each night, you know what I wind down with? Baby books.  Last night I spent about a half an hour analyzing this log I'm now keeping of Hannah's activities and doing the math of how many naps she took, how much time elapsed between her last nap of the day and bedtime, how many fits she had, etc. in an effort to draw some correlation as to WHY.  When I'm not doing that, I'm trying to get through this Sleep Lady book.  This means that I am ALL BABY ALL THE TIME.

5.) Did I mention that my house is a mess?? It is and it's driving me insane!

6.) Did I mention I was tired? I did?  Welllllll....clearly this list is over. Now that I've thoroughly explained myself (as opposed to the psychotic ramblings of the most recent posts--sorry for any worry I've caused. I should probably have a "no blogging when crazy rule"), how about some GOOD NEWS.  Although Hannah has reverted to cat naps (30-45 minutes) these past 2 days and despite her new habit of waking up repeatedly throughout the night, her bedtime has been smoooooooth!  Last night she was down and out by 8:30, tonight by 8:15.  Can I get a woot woot!!!  So I'm blogging and wishing I could put in this cheesy chick flick that has been sitting in it's Netflix envelope for a week now but knowing that I need to take my tired a** to bed ASAP.  But before I do, here are a couple of cute pics I took earlier this evening. I was getting in the shower and Eric was kindly folding/stuffing the diapers and watching Hannah and he decided to bring both into the bathroom so he could hang with me while doing so.  He ended up putting Hannah in the laundry basket (something I constantly want to do but never do). 

The lighting isn't great because I still don't know to work my camera....But you get the idea.  Alright, off to bed with the Sleep Lady!!

....Or not.  While re-reading this prior to posting, the little banana started screaming...I sent Eric up for now since I know her screams aren't hunger related.  So I'm off to help soothe a screaming baby which ideally won't take a terribly long time...Wish me luck!  Actually, wish me patience and sanity instead....