Demented Delusions

EVIE'S FIRST DATE, TERRORIZING CORPORATE DRONES, AND STROLLERS FOR GIANTS

Evie had her first date today with a  younger man. He's 8 weeks. She's 7 months. Not only is he younger, he counts his age in different units. What a craddle robber my girl is. (Not to mention she's two-timing Harry with the big blue eyes from Story Time, but hey, neither of them can talk so he'll never know.)

The date didn't go so hot though. It was a lunch date at a decently posh restaurant (I know, I know, us mommas were brave). He slept through it and only stirred to ask for boobie (typical man) while she screamed like a banshee and was quite high maintenance (typical girl). All the business people around us in their dry-clean-only clothes cringed and pretended they didn't even have reproductive bits.

Yee-haw. I may not be working, but I can still terrorize Corporate America. Awesome.

Evie had a good day today and a decent day yesterday. This despite few naps. I'm trying to guess when the meltdown will be? Tomorrow in the midst of lunch with a former coworker? Will she scream bloody curry at the Indian restaurant? Anyone want to place bets?

Today, we went to Babies R Us and looked at car seats (we're going with the Britax Boulevard) and then lightweight strollers. I'm tired of hauling the behemoth stroller I asked for (and sadly got) out of the trunk. It's heavy. It's awkward. It's an extra step in every outing and I'm lazy. I want a stroller that I can stick in the front seat right next to me and grab as I get out of the car.

The cheapie umbrella strollers are out because they are made for parents who happen to also be midgets. Seriously, did they hire munchkins from the Wizard of Oz to determine the handle height? I could walk on my knees and still be taller than the cheapie umbrella strollers.

Everyone raves about Maclaren strollers and tall people swear by them, but eh, I'm not so impressed. First, the Maclaren Quest may say it reclines, but not very far. The basket underneath is hard to get to and even the hubs has a hard time figuring out how to collapse it. Plus, it's expensive.

I decided to go with a Maxi-Cosi Perle Stroller which is about $50 cheaper and has an infinite recline, which means Evie can lay flat and sleep (I can dream, can't I?). She looked pretty comfy as we tooled around the store with her. I just hope her growth slows down a bit or else she's going to hit the 50 lb weight limit pretty fast after which, I'm not sure what I'll do.

Speaking of my little giantess, we also looked at soft baby carriers (like Baby Bjorn) as the one we have requires two people to get her into it and two people plus the jaws of life to get her out. However we like the concept of carrying her when we go places, but, as we surveyed our options, we realized  Evie was too big and close to exceeding the weight limits on the carriers. That was sort of a downer. Oh well, if I ever get pregnant again,we'll do it for the next baby.

Okay, big deep breath here (amazing how much I can say without breathing), and last but not least, Evie had three bottles of formula today. Sometimes she'll nurse, but mostly she wants nothing to do with my boobs. I'm trying to find my stiff upper lip, it seems to be hiding.

CAPTION: TEETHING HURTS THIS MUCH. ALSO I ENGAGE IN SOME PUBLIC THERAPY

Ack. Poor little bean. Her upper teeth are coming in, but not until they've caused the maximum amount of pain. She's currently napping and meowlking (again, the hubs' word) in her sleep. She's so miserable she can't even escape in sleep.

She's not nursing either. She knows not to bite me now but still struggles with impulse control. I can tell she wants to bite me so badly,but fights it. I think she just avoids the boob at times so she doesn't have to worry about biting me. Hindsight being 20/20, I completely mismanaged the biting and nursing strike and managed to create problems instead of solving them.

My screw up doesn't matter that much though. I only have 40 days left of one of the boobie herbs and need to make a trip out today for more of another kind. I have a third kind coming in the mail and have no idea if it will work--there's little clinical evidence it will.There was a medication I was taking, but it turned out I was sensitive to it and I can't take it (Of course! Doh. What was I thinking? This is me we're talking about. Of course a super safe med with almost no history of problems would be the pill that could possibly kill me.)

The upshot is we will be weaning within the next month. I have no idea how to handle it logistically. I'm in the odd position of working like crazy right now to increase my faltering supply knowing I'm only going to turn around and start cutting back.That's weird, no?

I should probably just wean now, but I'm butting up against a subconscious fantasy of nursing until she's a year old. I say subconscious because this wasn't a choice I was aware I'd made and after asking myself over and over again why I was so upset to be weaning, I realized I'd harbored secret ideals with regards to nursing. Yet I knew early on that a year wasn't going to happen. Even so, the practical realities and the subconscious desires are locked in a fight to the death. I'm quite annoyed at my subconscious for causing all this trouble for no good reason. It's just causing needless angst that I could do without.

Even stranger, I don't actually like nursing. I don't hate it either. I tolerate it. It's annoying. My boobs run my life and they are quite high maintenance. If we were dating, I would've dumped them a long time ago. But I do believe in the health benefits of nursing and that's what kept me going and that's where I'm feeling like I'm failing Evie.

Any way, I'm all whigged out about the whole boobie thing and I need to make peace with it fast. Wish me luck.

Changing the subject now...

I had a fairly productive weekend. Worked on Evie's baby book. Got a novel submission out the door. Put in an application for online content writing. Attempted to use coupons and CVS' extra care bucks program to save money (not sure if I succeeded. I spent $90 and earned $18 back--what do you think? If I bought these items at the grocery store, I would've just spent $90, so I figure any $$$$ back is progress even if I'm not quite to the coveted free toothpaste level.)

Mother's Day was okay. It managed not to completely collapse under the high expectations placed upon it, but it was still more anti-climatic than I would've liked.  The hubs lost the Mother's Day card, but I saved him as he didn't hide it very well and I'd been cleaning around it for a week. He lost it again after I handed it to him and I had to remind him to fill it out, but bear him no ill will as he traced Evie's hand in the card and wrote a very sweet message. However, if I had an eye roll smilie, I would've used it liberally in this paragraph.

We bought new dishes (pictured below) and called it my Mother's Day gift.

I finally wised up and bought some Corelle. I figured my Dad has Corelle plates that are older than me and we could use that kind of quality in my kitchen.

So, basically, when I die, Evie will inherit these dishes.

Okay, 'me' time is over. Gotta run and tend to Miss Fussypants.

MY FUTURE AS A WRITER (Now with the formating fixed)

I've been wasting time over at Postcards from Yo Momma and laughing until I almost pee myself.

Here's my fave momma daughter exchange thus far:

me: Ma, wanted to pass along birthday wishes to our darling puppy. You could never tell she was 56. What's her secret?

mom:I conveyed your greetings to my daughter, the bitch, and she seems pleased.

Here are some of her secrets

Just 2 cups of little pellets of  food at 5 pm daily. No snacks or eating after dinner.     

Fresh water at all times

Natural living such as outdoor bathrooming.

Oh yes, and  an uninhibited libido, such as sniffing and licking other dogs' genitalia

Please feel free to emulate any of her habits.

Mambo

May I be as eloquent and entertaining when my daughter is an adult.

OFF THE CHARTS SCARY

Evie is off the charts for height and in the 97th percentile for weight. She's as big as a one year old according to the ped.

Which we've noticed.

Lots of people have a hard time figuring out her age. We've even had people who think she's 2 based on her size. So reactions from the general public sort of clued us in.

Not to mention she looks like a giant sitting in miniature furniture with some of her bouncy seats/swings.

Right now she's 29" and 20 lbs. I think we've exceeded our car seat and I'm not quite sure what to do since she needs to be rear facing for another five months.

The ped says she won't really slow down on the growth until she's a year old. Is this true? Because I have these anxious visions of a 40" tall one year old. I'm not really prepared to raise the Jolly Green Giant (as I was called in HS due to my height and the pea green coat I wore for winter).

As for the biting, we are screwed. There's nothing wrong  with her ears (as I'd secretly hoped as that's an easy fix), the biting is all teething related and per the ped, Evie is a slow teether.

And she bit the ped.

Otherwise, we're on track with giving her fruits and veggies several times a day and it was suggested that maybe she just doesn't want to eat as much now hence the biting instead of nursing. Who knows? I've about thrown up my hands and given up. If we wean, we wean. If we don't, we don't. Whatever. I'm over it.

It's just annoying/sad to have to lower my expectations again with regards to nursing. Like, I can't even get the bare minimum, I have to settle for less than that. What boobie goddesses have I pissed off? I would like to know.

Lastly, we had our first scary heart-stopping moment at the ped's. Evie took a nose dive off the exam table. I was right there, but had turned as the doctor came into the room and she lunged at an angle, going around me. I caught her before her head hit the floor but it was close.

Everyone was in shock. The hubs was ready to divorce me I think. I was a bit calmer because a)I caught her, didn't I? and b) shit happens and I'm trying not to flip out about it. My one brother pulled an iron down on my other brother's head when he was an infant and he's fine. The iron pulling brother fell open-mouthed onto the spikes in the dishwasher and grabbed a very hot radiator with both hands. He's fine too. I try to be vigilant, but I'm not going to freak out about stuff that ends well.

Bumps and bruises are inevitable, yes? Besides,she's my daughter and my mother spent my childhood patching the knees of my pants. I fell so much, both knees are one big scar.

SLEEP! GLORIOUS SLEEP! AND COME EAT MY WITCH FINGERS

I'm currently pumping, eating breakfast, and drinking both diet coke and water. Oh and blogging. So bear with me because there's multitasking and there's trying to do too much at once, we'll see where we end up.

Last night went much better. No visits from the police although one of my blogging buddies dropped by (more on that in a sec). The hubs was able to get her to go to sleep for him so I didn't have to do bedtime. Evie napped okay but she was SO tired from the lack of sleep that she was very clingy all afternoon.

I actually went to bed at 9 but then realized I forgot the dreamfeed and hadn't nursed in 4 or 5 hours and was full. So I tried to nurse Evie, she wasn't interested. I had to get up and pump and didn't get back to bed until 10.

But we all slept well. One 2 am nursing session after which Evie slept very well (this is the real issue with our sleep--she nurses and then doesn't sleep well at all for the rest of the night which keeps me up). The hubs took a vacation day as promised so he let me sleep in a bit. Not as much as I'd like but we have a ped appointment this morning. I hope to get a nap later. Although I feel pretty good right now, but I think I need to be strict with the nap because I am so sleep deprived I need all the sleep I can get.

Any way, we had a fun evening with my blogging buddy Dwight who stopped by for dinner. I destroyed some green beans in his honor and we grilled kielbasa and had pierogies (some stuffed with prunes, which was interesting in a nursing home cuisine sort of way) followed by Ukrainian honey torte. The green beans were baaaaad. I incinerated them in the oven until they looked like wizened witch fingers. Soooo bad. I don't think they were very fresh to begin with though.

But Dwight was cool and acted like he ate witch fingers every day.

Okay, gotta go. I've got 20 minutes to shower and get us out the door.

Peace.

DANCING ON THE EDGE

Last night was going pretty well until the police showed up.

First, Evie didn't dreamfeed and woke around 1, but I held her off until 3 when I nursed her. She's recently been rolling over and now wants to do it in her sleep so I have to kind of hold down her legs in order for her to fall asleep. The whole thing, feed, hold legs, shush and rock to sleep took 20 minutes.

Of course in the middle of nursing her I realized I had forgotten about the pork roast in the slow cooker--it had now been cooking for over 16 hours. I could smell it, and concerned about a fire or burning it, I woke the hubs and asked him to go turn off the slow cooker.

The hubs is not one to wake up really fast. So his body was moving, but his brain was still asleep. His groggy brain decided I wanted him to change Evie's diaper. We had an interesting conversation at that point that I don't really remember, but eventually he got the message and turned off the slow cooker.

So baby fed and rocked to sleep and house fire prevented, we all settled back down to sleep only to be woken by a knock at our door. I immediately panicked and grab the phone to dial 911 in case it was a serial killer.

Actually, it was the police concerned about the siphon hanging from our gas tank. No, not thieves, the hubs. He had been siphoning gas into the tank from a gas can and forgotten about it. Same as I forgot about the pork roast.

(A side note: I don't know about your area, but the grocery store here has gas stations and you earn discounts on gas based on your grocery shopping, but the discount can only be used once for a maximum of 30 gallons. So whatever doesn't fit into our tanks goes into cans to maximize our savings, hence the siphoning. Just FYI.)

The police visit was the end of it for Evie. She was UP and PISSED. She screamed for several hours and just when she and I had finally drifted off to sleep, the hubs woke me up to say goodbye before he left for work. Why? I don't know as he never does this.

I was too tired to get up and kill him.

Any way, I'm shot. Do you know my eyes have been pink and bloodshot for the last three months? Ever since the stomach flu in January that burst blood vessels all over my face.I look like I have pink eye and I never get enough sleep any more for it to go away.

I'm exhausted. If something doesn't improve soon, I'm going to be in trouble. I've had a fatigue cold off and on for several weeks now. I'm not breathing well. My milk supply is crap (and the last three weeks of biting instead of nursing hasn't helped).

Evie and I could be (and should be) having so much fun, but instead I'm miserable from lack of sleep and she's teething.

I feel like I'm going to crack.

Tomorrow the hubs is staying home to help me get some more sleep. After this, I may have to just suck it up and hire a sitter to come in a couple times a week so I can take a nap.

That and I think we're going to wean. Basically, Evie's weaning already, I've just been chasing her with the boob trying to keep my supply up. I've also had some side effects from some of the pills and have discontinued them. Between the lack of nursing and the lack of pills, I doubt we'll nurse for more than another month. I'm quite sad about this as I had really hoped to sort of limp along until she was 10 months, but things just aren't working out and, at this point, we need sleep more than we need to nurse. Yep, it's a full blown code red over here.

Okay, gotta go. Time for someone to bite me repeatedly and then take a nap.

THE THINGS WE SAY UNDER TORTURE

I understand sleep deprivation is a form of torture. One possibly used in Guantanamo.

However, after my husband told me to "get my dirty head out of my mind" this morning, I have to think whatever confessions are derived from this type of torture are suspect.

You know, we're the problem. If we would just go to bed at 6pm like Evie does, we'd get 8 hours of sleep. Because she does pretty reliably (right now) sleep from 6 or 7 pm until 3 or 4 am. The problem we have now is that she is up for the day at 4am and we are only in our 4th or 5th hour of sleep.

Tonight I will go to bed early. If I can. It's almost 9pm and she's still meow-lking (my husband's word) so if she's not good and asleep yet, how can I go to bed?

I don't think we can win. At least not tonight.

In other news, I'm typing this on my new laptop. I am once again portable. So I can sit in bed and write whilst supervising the progress of Evie's descent into the Land of Nod. Very cool.

And this time, I shall allow no food or drink near my laptop. On a desktop, at worse, you fry a keyboard, which is completely replaceable. On a laptop, the results are more dire.

Lesson learned.

Now I'm off to not sleep tonight.

P.S. She's still biting and sometimes refusing to nurse and oh.my.gawd. please let this work itself out soon.

SOLD AND SUBBED AND I LIKE POOP

Another submission out the door today.

I received confirmation that I sold a short creative non-fiction piece to a momzine. It should be up next week.

And I posted the conclusion of my first manuscript request over here. Things didn't end up as I'd hoped, but it certainly was an experience.

Other than that, I got six hours of sleep last night. But it took almost two hours to get the little bean to sleep and she only napped a total of an hour yesterday. I have to say this sleep thing is my least favorite parenting thing. Such a struggle. Sigh.

And the biting. Oy. The biting. As I said to my friend yesterday, it's like shoving your nipple in a guillotine and hoping it's dull.  Okay, breastfeeding is also one of my least favorite things about parenting.

So, to sum it up, I don't like the sleeping and eating, but the pooping part is okay.

BLEW. MY. MIND.

Here's my horoscope from Free Will Astrology:

"Many a man fails to become a thinker for the sole reason that his memory is too good," wrote Friedrich Nietzsche. I suggest you contemplate that riddle, Cancerian. Is your ability to stir up new perspectives sometimes hindered by the deep feelings you have about your history? Is it possible that past experiences you've grown to treasure tend to diminish your motivation to reinvent yourself periodically? If so, it's a perfect time to break free of the old days and old ways. Induce a little forgetfulness so that you're more available for the future."

Very thought provoking.

As is the hubs':

"On the San Francisco State University campus, the lampposts shine blue lights. It's not just a decorative touch. Of all the colors, blue best pierces through fog, which is a regular feature in that part of the world. In this spirit, I suggest you install a blue light bulb in a prominent place in your environment for the next two weeks. It will be a symbolic reminder that there may be more mental murk and emotional haze for you to navigate through than usual. With the proper illumination, you won't be deluded or slowed down a bit."

But the website completely fails when it comes to Evie as it predicts lots of hot steamy sex for Libras and ummm not really relevant for a 6.5 month old. 

Link via Shannon Stacey.

UPDATE

Sleep is going better. Dream feeds seem to help her sleep through until about 5am. Of course, we only have a few dream feeds under our belt, so it's still anyone's game.

I'm starting to think she's stuck in her newborn sleeping pattern, that she never got a chance to evolve out of it due to the disruption of me going back to work. According to some of the 'experts' we're screwed because sleep habits are set by 6 months (but I've been working on a sleep schedule since she was 4.5 months, doesn't that count for something? Anything?). Maybe, the 'experts' counsel me, at the 9 month mark we might be able to influence some change. We'll see.

Naps remain a challenge. Sometimes because I just do not have the energy to rock and shush her for a half hour. But she is sleeping slightly longer, around 40 minutes instead of 30.

Anyhoo, while sleep is better, the biting has gotten worse. Way worse. She'd rather bite than nurse and isn't eating like she should. My always rocky supply is dwindling and, if we don't get past this phase soon, I'm not sure we'll be able to recover. I'm not even sure it's teething related as she's not chewing  on anything else anymore, just me.

So far, all the tips and tricks to stop biting have not worked. She thinks they're funny.

This is day two of staying home for me. I'm trying to stay organized and not descend into sloth and laziness (which is my true nature). I make little to-do lists for myself so that the sleep deprivation and breastfeeding hormones don't give me a ready excuse.

Today, for example, I'm supposed to make a pot roast, wash the bed sheets, work on Evie's baby book, write, call my dentist and straighten out insurance and x-rays for my upcoming oral surgery. As of 8am, I have unloaded and loaded the dishwasher (falls under the pot roast goal), put the sheets in the washer, and am currently loading pics into Evie's baby book.

We'll see how the rest of the day goes (and when exactly I get a shower in). If there's one thing I've learned about motherhood, it's don't have any expectations. One good moment does not a great day promise. Nor does one horrible moment guarantee a day of misery.