mice and lice..twice!

Hi. Okay, I’ll just get right into it. Things are going good and bad.

I bought a house, which is cool, and I move in 2 weeks! I’m so excited, it’s brand new, I just had it painted, I have a big red wall, and the girls are super excited to have a finished basement. They are also excited to move in general, and I am just done with renting even though my landlord has been lovely and the experience hasn’t been bad, but just that feeling like I’m throwing money away is not a great one and I am happy to finally own something.

Moving out of my family house to rent has been very hard on me. Some people have said that Chris should “let me keep the house” but, financially, I just cannot afford it by myself. It was my grandparents, great grandparents, and great great grand-parents house, but we didn’t get it for free, or a discount. I have actually been surprised at the amount of people who thought my granny just gave me a $500,000 house, which would have been nice, but their house was part of their retirement “income” or whatever it is called, and I would never, ever, take that away from them after all they have done for me during my life. 

So, I cannot afford the mortgage and I just had to get over it, even though a lot people were upset. But it’s not Chris’s fault, and I just had to move on, although occasionally my heart breaks when I walk inside.  And one should not stay married for their house anyway, it is not a good reason to live unhappily.

We also have a mouse in hanging out in our rental. I know mice are around, I’ve had them before in my house that I owned, so I’m not saying there is a mouse because I’m renting. Anyway though, he’s there. Georgia named him Adam, and every time I try to set up a mouse trap, she and June freak the fuck out and start crying because they don’t want me to kill him. June thought Georgia named him “Madam” which I just realized a few days ago, so now we call him Madam instead of Adam, and the girls don’t bat an eyelash when he pops his head out. Meanwhile, I’m screaming my face off, throwing things at him, and I have to somehow kill him even though now I’m also sort of emotionally attached to the idea of “Madam”, and yes I know mice are disgusting and gross, but part of me also hopes that if I am a mouse in my next life I might have a name like “Madam” and nice neighbors like Georgia and June. So I can’t quite bring myself to set up a trap yet. Someone else can come over and do it for me though if you would like.

Speaking of disgusting hosts and neighbors, we also had lice. It was really fun! Just kidding. It was fucking nasty, and I’m pretty sure that if you are a murderer or bad person and you die, in your next life you come back as a lice, because being a lice probably really sucks and seems horrible and boring, and EVERYONE HATES YOU AND WANTS YOU TO DIE. Anyway, it was going around Georgia and June’s school so I was bracing myself. I was checking their heads, but not really knowing what to look for, and then all of a sudden WE WERE ALL ITCHY. And not like a normal head itch, it fucking feels like you scalp is on fire mostly behind your ears and in the back, and you just want to rake it with a dinglehopper.

So it’s after school and I just know we have it, so I get a flashlight and shine it in June’s head and I SEE SOMETHING MOVING. I can’t explain what it looks like though, it didn’t look like a bug. It just looked like her hair was moving, ughhhhghhggg. I start freaking out. This is one of those situations where I literally look for a grown up.

Can’t call my mom because, um, I am the mom, so I google “lice removal services that come to your house.” The first place I called could not come until the next day and I was literally like, “fuck you, thanks for nothing!” And I’m sure the girl on the phone was happy they were busy.

The second place I called was actually a woman who just took house calls. She said she was available, but didn’t feel like trying to look for parking in my neighborhood, and I was like, "LADY I AM UBERING YOU HERE!”

So, I get her the uber and Melissa comes in. She was a former nanny for rich people in CA and apparently, rich people get lice too. She said she got the idea for her business because all of the rich and famous wanted someone to come to the house and take care of it, instead of going to a treatment center or doing it themselves.

And you know what?? I don’t blame them. I am not dealing with lice either, even though I am not rich or famous, I need someone to do a house call!

She combs out the girls first. Georgia had it a little worse than June, but they both had actual bugs in their hair. I was next and apparently I am a bad host, because my bug died and I just had some eggs. YAY!  (Insert puke emoji). Melissa said it was probably because I blow dry my hair and they die from heat or something. I learned so much about lice that I never wanted to learn, and if you have any questions about it you can ask me. The next day, I had to take off of work and clean off all of my furniture, wash all of my shit, and throw away a bunch of things, but lice cannot live more than 24 hours off host so I think we are in the clear, and…a month later…the girls got it again!

June’s teacher called and told us she had it, which is SO EMBARRASSING, but whatever, when 

Melissa came back it wasn’t as bad on them as the first time. So now we are once again lice free. I bought a bunch of preventative shampoos, bath stuff, I comb their hair out with the lice comb every once in a while just to be safe, I spray their hair with spray before school, and I try to keep their hair up or back if they let me. I also had psychosomatic itching for like 3 months after which is awesome and I felt like I was going insane. 

It’s really swell to add “hair bugs” to the big pile of shit that I have to worry about, not to mention June likes to play bug lady, and she is Melissa and I am a kid with bugs in my hair and she has to comb it out. Combining the lice, with Madam, and oh did I mention there was a fire in my backyard…I can’t wait to GFTO!

Sometimes I write country songs

I still like to write songs even though I am not singing. I don't really like how my voice sounds, although it is MUCH better since my surgery. I just haven't gone to voice therapy because it's like $80 for voice and $150 for speech and I had to move and buy furniture and everything. Anway, I still write all the time. I was going to work on this with my old duo partner Chad. We should probably still do it, practice makes perfect-o! I'm no trying to say I'm a good poem/songwriter either. I just like doing it. It's not very deep or anything, just for fun.

I wanted some quiet, was looking for peace

You told me to write it, you told me to read

Well that all makes sense if you’re novel is fine

But my hearts given up , I can’t read between lines

So I poured out my heart to sound the of a drink

Because pouring your heart is the best way to think

You pour out your dreams watch them drown, watch them float

You watch dreams reveal your own story you wrote

And I’ll just think of you while I’m reading my wine

No pages to turn, and the words are all mine

The legs on the glass read like lines on your hand

And they say what I want and they say what I plan

It fills up the heart and it fills up the ache

But it doesn’t last long, doesn’t fill up the break

And it doesn’t replenish when I’m missing you

Just swirls with the emptiness that’s coming through

I’ll think of you while I’m reading my wine

No pages to turn, and the words are all mine

The legs on the glass read like lines on your hand

And they say what I want and they say what I plan

You spill over me, a replacement for love

Love that I don’t feel, and love you don’t want

But I panic inside when the loves almost up

And I jump the gun, run to fill up my cup

I’ll think of you while I’m reading my wine

No pages to turn, and the words are all mine

The legs on the glass read like lines on your hand

And they say what I want and they say what I plan

Go ahead and STARVE!

I haven't written in a really long time. Part of me thinks I should maybe start a separate, anonymous blog to write about all the crap that is going, on, but ..I cannot. I'm a very open person (probably to a fault) , and I go through real life things, and well, this is my real life as it is happening now.

Chris and I are getting divorced, and that is all I'm writing about it.  Except to say that people could tell something was up from my instagram and facebook...like, we are not in each others pictures, and I live in a different house. So, the cat is out of the bag, I wasn't trying to hide it but like, if I'm going to start blogging again I guess it will be very obvious that we are co-parenting and living apart.

Anway, after your kid turns 3 there really isn't anything interesting to write about. I just sort of got sick of talking about my kids, and after I had June it was very hard to work full time and have 2 kids.

2 kids is no joke..even at their age difference of 4 years. I felt like I was in this monotonous hole, and I just couldn't write about getting home from work, making dinner, bathtime and bed. Because that's all it was for a few years. I mean, as it should be, but it was just intense and hard. I stopped writing in my blog before she turned 1. I think because I was too tired! Also, I know by blog looks all dated now, I'll work on making it look nice later. When I care.

However, I've entered new(ish) territory of my kids totally sucking at eating. I mean, they eat some things now, but fruit and vegetables are basically bowls of barf to them, and part of the problem is that at 7, Georgia has become very picky, and June is following her lead. When Georgia was 3 she still ate very well, and I think June would if she didn't have an older sibling to copy. Georgia's  pickiness is age appropriate and everyone tells me they grow out of it, so fingers crossed!

The problem is that Chris and I have become short order cooks because we just want them to fucking eat. I absolutely loath dinner time, and it hasn't gotten any better. Before I go on, I want to say that besides dinner, Georgia and June are wonderful, well behaved, smart, funny girls. They are just bad at eating dinner. They probably are terrible at eating their lunches I pack (but what I don't know won't hurt!) and they eat breakfast because I let them eat Lucky Charms. June only eats the marshmallows and it doesn't bother me because I remember that eating  just the marshmallows was bomb when I was little in the 80's. Sometimes kids need a little bomb, and I'm okay with it being at breakfast.

Also FYI Chris and I have 50/50 custody and are parenting evenly and honestly working together better than when we were together.

We do have some differences, one of which is the television. I don't mind when the girls come home from camp or school and turn on a show, because again, I remember just needing to veg without my mom in my face asking me who I sat next to at lunch.

I do ask them that question, but a tv show after school or camp isn't a big deal to me. I know it's a big deal to some people. Like that guy at the block party who freaked the fuck out that my friend's door was open and Trolls was on, and there was popcorn on the table. Like, he was literally so worked up about his kid looking at a television he couldn't even talk. He was acting like there was a big orgy happening inside, and people were eating the dead hearts of nuns.

I was like, "Dude, did you never watch tv when you were little? Didn't you have a favorite show? DID YOU NOT WATCH MTV???

I don't know what it is about my generation of parents and the freak out about a little tv on the weekends or after school, but this guy was not having it. Well, then don't come to the damn party if you don't want your kids to see other people doing different things. Keep them in the house in your bubble. The whole thing was insane.

Actually it was funny my kids were playing outside with the other kids, and the two kids who weren't  allowed to watch TV and eat popcorn suddenly became zombies dying to watch it and freaked out at their parents and started crying.

It just reaffirmed my idea that everything is good in moderation. They probably eat better than my kids though, so we are all good at different things...although I couldn't help but think that the dad (by the insane way he was acting) was MORE upset that his kid was actually like every other kid and wanted to watch the movie, vs actually caring about television damaging their little brains....that we were going to eat later. MUHAHAAHAA.

Anyway, dinner. First thing that happened was that I bought a PEPPERONI pizza. OMG stop the presses. WRONG FUCKING PIZZA.

"We don't liiiiiiike pepperoni"  WAHHH WAHHH BLAHHHH BLAAHHHHH. Ugh. Fine. Do you want eggs? Cool. I made Georgia 2 hard boiled eggs and June scrambled eggs. June had apples, Georgia had blueberries. There is nothing offensive about this meal, however June did say to me yesterday not to put blueberries in her lunch, so I thought apples were a safer bet. I ended up making a salad with blueberries and apples for myself, because I didn't feel like cooking a third freaking meal ...which usually happens because I'm not used to cooking for one adult.

Anyway, I set the table and ask the girls to turn off the tv and come eat with me. All hell fucking breaks loose. They start yelling at me, pushing plates at me, telling me they hate this, they hate that, milk was spilled, and I was at the end of my rope because I start to have dinner anxiety at about 4pm and it is always as bad as I think. I evn bought them cookbooks today to see if we cook together if that will help. The cookbooks were tossed aside, no interest whatsoever. I was tired of being nice and sweet and talking about why fruit is good for your brain. I became as bad as them.

"GO AHEAD AND STAAAARVE!!!!"

Haha, no I didn't say that. I actually didn't know what I yelled. I was just like,"BLLLAHSHFDKHHFKDFHKDHF" and grabbed their plates and threw them on the counter and yelled to go turn on the the TV and eat chips. I didn't care anymore!  I was tired of trying to have a nice dinner with them. Then I went upstairs and cried. Because I just want dinner to be nice, and it's always a thing. I mean always, before Chris and I separated.

I'm in my bed feeling like a failure, and of course I hear little footsteps coming near my room. "Mom?" Georgia and June come in and and get in bed with me, and hugged me and said they were sorry. Then I felt like a huge fucking asshole.

"Mom, come downstairs we have a surprise," Georgia said while rubbing my back and Junie was patting my head. Oh Jesus Christ.

I take their hands and go downstairs. The girls had reset the table, poured me a glass of milk (lol), Georgia even put out olives and cheese for me because it is my favorite snack.

They sat down at their seats and started eating, and I tried not to cry and sat down too, but now I couldn't eat because I felt so terrible. I made myself eat my dumb salad though, and we just all sat and had dinner like normal people...except for June asking me how she could become a vampire, and if she couldn't be a real one, could she just be one for Halloween....that was weird.

I told them that I wanted to feel like a family in our house and having some nice time together during dinner was the only thing I was asking them to work with me on. Georgia said they would not complain about food anymore, but who the heck knows? THEN when I was cleaning up they helped without me asking and then went off to play school.

I don't know how to feel about tonight's episode of my not so Full House. I think at least Georgia understood why I was upset. I'm thankful that they ate, I feel bad that it took me freaking out to make them do something nice for me, and to have dinner without a song and dance. Blah!

As you can see, I still don't know what I'm doing!

I'm responding to that article...

I was probably 29 or 30 years old the first time I heard one co-worker complain about another co-worker taking "maternity leave". Well, not specifically about the new mother taking time off, but complaining about the fact that she was never going to get to "take time off" because she and her husband had decided not to have children.

When I was in my twenties, early thirties, and basically right up until I gave birth, I was extremely uninterested in children. Like people would bring their new babies into the office and everyone else would gush and ooooh and ahhhhhh, and I  would be like, "Oh, it's cute" and continue on my merry way and forget their baby existed. So, ZERO interest. I didn't hate moms and kids or anything, but it was just not something I ever thought about. If kids sat next to me at restaurants I simply would move, and I refrained from going anywhere where I thought there might be children. I didn't want to be around them, but I didn't begrudge them for existing or anything. I just figured that since it was my problem I would be proactive and try not to go to things where a kid might be running around.

Sometimes they were where I was. I specifically remember one time I was at Rembrandt's Restaurant and Bar, and I was hungover from the night before, and I literally just wanted to drink 10 Bloody Marys and not speak to anyone, and these kids and their parents were sitting in the bar. The kids were running around, and acting like dipshits, and the parents were just DOING NOTHING. Instead of quietly drowning my hangover in vodka, I now had to anxiously sit there and pray that these kids did not run smack dab into the server and make her spill hot coffee all over them, the parents, other patrons, herself...ugh. I did not like those particular children or their parents, but other than that my interaction with children( with the exception of my nephews and my best friends daughters (who I love because, duh, you love your family and friends ) was purposefully child free. Not a big deal. I don't even know why I just told that story, other than to say it made me and excellent mom in restaurants because my kids are basically not allowed to move their eyeballs when we go out to eat
(must be so fun for them!)  but that has nothing to do with this. Soooo....yeah.

Anyway the co-worker. Her comment. It wasn't fair that new mothers got to take maternity leave, and she did not because she was not having kids.

I was pretty stunned. Like, the comment did not compute, and I was not pro-mom or pro-kid or anything like that. But I did know that babies needed their mothers for at least the first few months of their lives, and also I knew that recovery from pushing a person out of your vagina probably required longer than a few days at home.

My next reaction to the comment after blinking three times and not saying anything, was disappointment. I remember at that age, just generally being disappointed in adults. I realized that just because you grew up physically didn't necessarily mean you grew up mentally. And here was a perfect example of a grown up woman being jealous because another woman was on maternity leave and she "didn't get to take one." I eventually just chalked it into my basket of "stupid things adults say" and went on my merry way, because like I said, I was not in any way, shape, or form an advocate for mothers, or their rights or anything.I don't even think I knew what my own cervix was!  A few years later, I thought of that comment.

When I was pregnant with Georgia, I was shocked to find out my place of employment did not offer "maternity leave". You had to take FMLA. I was so confused, and also thought back to that conversation with the co-worker who "didn't get to take maternity leave" LOL. There was no maternity leave to take! She was getting bent out of shape over something that did not exist. I had to use my sick days, vacation days, and short term disability days and then could take the remainder of the 12 weeks "off" unpaid. So I think at that time of Georgia's birth I was paid for 6 weeks and then went 6 weeks without pay. Wow, that is so awesome and everyone should be jealous of that.

I'm not going to get into how hard it is to take care of a newborn. If you have to explain that to someone, it is probably pointless to even be in a conversation with them about it. On the other hand, I also don't think being a mother is the hardest job in the world, or even the most important one. I have always said sanitation workers and doctors have the most important jobs as far as I'm concerned, and a 9 year old working 70 hours a week in and Indonesian sweatshop making Elsa and Ana dresses has a much harder job than me, a new mom who scared and exhausted but ultimately has met the love of her life.

The pros of motherhood definitely outweigh the cons.  But it is still hard, exhausting, and confusing, and for an upper middle class, white woman who has experienced little to zero authentic hardships in life ( like most of mine were probably self inflicted or made up) I had a bit of a hard time adjusting to the lifestyle I chose. So for me, the first time I had to have a baby and take FMLA to recover from childbirth and learn to care for a new baby was the most physically difficult time in MY OWN personal life. But I want to recognize that it is certainly not the hardest thing anyone is going to ever do.

But like I said. It is no cakewalk. And that is why when Meghann Foye compared her ME-TERNITY leave to "maternity leave", I was left with a bad taste in my mouth. There is nothing "me" focused about taking FMLA when you have a baby. I especially liked when she said: :

"It seemed that parenthood was the only path that provided a modicum of flexibility. There’s something about saying “I need to go pick up my child” as a reason to leave the office on time that has far more gravitas than, say, “My best friend just got ghosted by her OkCupid date and needs a margarita” — but both sides are valid."


 Flexibility? Margaritas? What the F?

When I have to call out of work, or leave early because of my kids, I have a really unpleasant physical reaction to that called GUILT. One time I chose to pay a babysitter $15 an hour for 8 hours instead of calling out of work because we were really busy, and I actually felt sick over not being there. It isn't fun to leave work early to get a sick kid. Most parents would rather be at work! Do you know what it is like taking care of my sick children? It's like being Veruca Salt's freaking personal servant. Yes, I signed up for it, but that doesn't mean it isn't difficult at times.

Georgia one time caught a bug from someone at school. She was barfing all night on Wednesday from midnight until 7am. I had to call out of work on Thursday because I was exhausted and because she stayed home from school. It isn't fun to call out of work, even if you have a very understanding boss.

Guess who got the bug on Thursday night? Me, Chris and June. We were all throwing up. All night. And Georgia kept waking up and then had a bloody nose and was freaking out. Chris was downstairs puking, I was upstairs puking among other things, and I am trying to hold June's head in a bucket while she had explosive diarrhea shooting out of her diaper, and I am sticking my head in a bucket, Georgia's nose is bleeding everywhere...I had to call out on Friday.

Is this enviable to anyone? Does this sound flexible, or awesome, or like I am going to sit around finding myself?   I physically could not go to work OR take care of my kids because I was a hot mess from throwing up all night. I tried to walk to CVS in the morning to get the kids pedialyte because I was afraid they would be dehydrated.  I had to sit down like 5 times during my walk, and I was practically crawling home in tears. I had to give June a teaspoonful of pedialyte every 5 minutes, then 10 minutes, then 30 minutes....until she stopped puking, while all I wanted to do was curl into a ball and die. But Meghan Foye thinks it's super awesome that I get to do that, and she wants a piece of the pie she isn't getting. Here's some pie Meghan, I hope it makes you barf and crap yourself all night.

Her sentiment that work life balance is OFF balance is probably correct for a lot of people. I can totally get down with that idea. But why did she have to bring new mothers into it? Why did she have trivialize motherhood? She too can take FMLA for a life altering event, unless she works for a company with under 50 people then she and people who need to take off for having a baby are out of luck.  It isn't apparently that hard to take FLMA, this crazy person that I worked with took it three times in one year! Or Meghan can use her vacation days and take a fucking vacation, or use PTO and leave early. Like us moms do. You don't get mom-flex hours when you are leaving to pick up your kid, you have to be accountable for the time you are costing your company and submit for the time off and accordingly. And usually do some work when your kid goes to sleep.

I have been mad at my mom over periods in my life, but one thing I will never, ever say is that she didn't work hard. She threw herself into motherhood at 18 years old, and I admire her for that, and I think it's weird that there is this whole generation of people who have turned parents into villains, (which is not what the ME-ternity article is about, but I'm just going to comment on it because it's on the interwebs.)  Yes, there are a lot of shitty parents, but there are a lot of shitty non parents too. And there are a lot of awesome parents, and a lot of awesome non parents. That is what makes the world go around.

So, yes. I chose to have a baby. So I "get to" use all of my PTO for FMLA so that I can take care of my baby for it's first three months of life and also wear diapers and icepacks on my crotch for a month after childbirth. And the childless do not.

People choose not to have children will not "get to" take FMLA to take care of a baby and recover from childbirth. But they can take FMLA to take care of a sick relative, or to attend to a serious health condition. If they are taking care of a sick relative, they can probably leave work early if need be. Or if they are sick and need to go to the doctor they can leave work early too, or take a sick day.  And if you work in an environment where taking care of yourself or your family is frowned upon, you should get a new job. That isn't the fault of mothers, it's the fault of your shitty boss.

I do agree with Meghann Foye on one thing, sort of. Being a mother has given me a new perspective on life that I did not really have, or if I did have it, I did not nurture it. And that perspective is that everyone works hard. Everyone is tired. Adulting is exhausting whether you have children or not. (I did not figure this out during FMLA though, as she imagines, because I was too busy trying to figure out how to keep my boobs from spraying on people)

With my realization that life should not be a pissing contest over who has it harder, or not harder, or who has more than me, also came this feeling called COMPASSION, and I have it for everyone. I have it for people who have a headache, I have it for people who have to euthanize their pets, I have it for people who work third shifts, I have it for someone who studied all night, I have it for someone who is inconsolable because their date did not call them back, and I also have it for a parent who has to leave early to pick up her child from school.

So next time your co worker "gets to" leave, maybe squeeze her hand as she walks by and say, "I got your back mama" or make her feel a little better by saying, "I hope little Johnny feels better." Or maybe don't say anything, but laugh to yourself ...because even though she or he is leaving an hour early, they are going to be up all night with a sick kid, compared to you who maybe has one extra hour of work to do, but can then go home, put your feet up, relax and call your friend and have a margarita. Don't look at it like she is getting something you are not. Just feel thankful that you are not in her shoes and move on to  a cause that is actually worth fighting for.

I don't give a.....

I'm really over pinterest and being pinteresty. Like, I just don't give a shiiiiiiiiit. (Imagine me saying this like Kenny Fisher from Can't Hardly Wait). I didn't really realize it until Wednesday night when Chris, Georgia, and I were carving pumpkins.

We were sitting on the living room floor with...pumpkins and a tool kit. No Halloween decorations in sight, no whimsical table cloth, no strategically arranged photo of my candy corn colored nails holding the carving knife ( my nails are not candy corn colored, but if I wanted a styled pumpkin carving shoot, they damn well would be!) No Halloween pajamas, no pumpkin spice anything anywhere. I looked around and thought, "Damn, this feels GREAT! I DON'T GIVE A FUCKING SHIT! THERE ISN'T EVEN NEWSPAPER ON THE FLOOR! WOO-HOO!"

I tried very hard when Georgia was a baby. I had an adorable first birthday party with lots of DEEEETAILS and a theme, second birthday same thing, my bathroom makeover was a pinterestpalooza of epic magnitudes, I tried to dress my kid like she was stepping out of a magazine every day and I tried to keep my house styled all Anthropologie like...you get the picture.

It was too exhausting for me. Especially after June was born. It IS too exhausting for me. I mean, my house is clean and I'm not sitting on my couch crapping in my sweatpants or anything, but we are going to be very poor this year because of paying for childcare for 2 children and I just can't care about buying the latest fashions for them, mostly because Georgia doesn't care what the hell she is wearing as long as it has pink in it, and June is a baby who shits and spits up all over everything so, yeah. No fancy clothes in this house. My neighbor gave me a HUGE bag of clothes for free that were Georgia's size so I'm like sorry kid, you are going to have to wear this used Barbie Rodeo sweatshirt.

Of course for holidays and such I will splurge, but you will probably never see them because I can't get up the energy to take a picture of anything these days except for June in a laundry basket playing with socks,because that is way more adorable than her sitting all uncomfortable in a dress with a big bow. I didn't take one picture at Chris's 40th surprise birthday party, I took one picture during my first trip to Los Angeles, it's too mentally exhausting to look like I am awesome all the time. Not that I really try to do that, but you know when you take a picture you want it to be good and I just don't feel like it. Dagnabbit.

So anyway, here is my pumpkin carving photo. Just kidding, I don't have one. Here is a picture of my kids wearing used clothes sitting in a laundry basket full of mismatched socks!

Waves Crashing

I'd like to think that I have come to terms with the fact that Mason has autism, but the truth is, I have not. I guess. I think.

Sometimes I really do think I have accepted it, but then something happens and I realize that I am actually not okay about it.  Or I don't handle it well...actually I am not sure what I feel. I wish there were support groups for family members of special needs children. I am not Mason's mom, but I am a person who struggles and worries maybe not as much, but very often.

I was up all night last night thinking about an interaction that happened down the shore this weekend. It wasn't a big deal, but my reaction to everything was internally painful and I had difficulty with controlling my feelings.

We went down the shore on Saturday. It was myself, Chris, Georgia, June, Jill, Mason and my mom. We decided to get some pizza before we hit the beach so we went into a little pizza place that Chris and I often go to when we are there.

It was quite, another family had just walked in. I was so happy to be down the shore, Mason and Georgia were really excited about the ocean, and I was also looking forward to our faaaaavorite pizza!

We are seated at a table. Kids sit down, everything is good. Georgia starts talking about princesses, and Mason starts saying hi to everyone at the table. At our table.

He goes down the line and in a funny little monotone says:

Hi Mommy. Hi TT ( that's me). Hi Uncle Chris. Hi Georgia. Hi Jojo (my mom). Hi Baby June.
Hi Mommy. Hi TT. Hi Uncle Chris. Hi Georgia. Hi Jojo.. Hi Baby June.
Hi Mommy. Hi TT. Hi Uncle Chris. Hi Georgia. Hi Jojo.. Hi Baby June."

We are all so used to at that we just carry on, each acknowledging Mason as he says hi to us. I know he does this because he wants to talk, but he never knows what to say, so he just repeats phrases he is comfortable with.

His voice is really loud, and I'm not going to lie, it sound strange. Not his voice, but the repetitive nature of what he is saying is...weird.  But, he is autistic. Autistic people are described as "quirky" which is a nice fancy,word for weird.

Jill says something like, "Mason, use inside voice" or something and then leaves to use the loo.

I see a waitress out of the corner of my eye STARING at him. Like she dropped everything she was doing to stare at Mason. She walks over and says, "Well! SOMEONE is all hopped up on sugar! NATHAN ( she thought his name was Nathan) does your mommy give you sugar?"

Mason did not want to talk to her, so he started doing something that I guess the other waitress thought was weird, because all of a sudden she runs over with a big tub of crackers and puts them in front of Mason. "This should keep him busy!" she says. I think she's trying to help, because I know when I was a server and i saw a kid about to lose it I would run over with crackers and crayons. But like, there was nothing wrong. Mason was being good. Exceptional.  I can feel my blood pressure rising.

He takes out his few toys and starts lining them up on the table, minding his own business,and this fucking stupid bitch walks over again and picks up one of his toys.

"NATHAN, do you like to share?" This is not going to end well.

"No share please! NO SHARE PLEASE!" Mason says to her and I can tell he is getting upset.

"NATHAN you are NOT a good sharer, Does your MOMMY not teach you how to share?"

OMG WHAT THE FUCK. I am like in disbelief over this stupid cunt, I start shaking, I can see my mom getting upset. Luckily, the other table called her over so she leaves for a minute.

I'm like gathering my bearings, or I really don't know what I am doing. I'm ready to start kicking ass and taking names and she fucking walks over AGAIN.

"Sooo....HOW old is he?"

My mom has had it.

"MASON is 4. He is autistic. He goes to a special school and he has 20 hours of intensive therapy a week." I can see she is choking back tears, and the whole thing is too painful for me.

I wait for it. The typical reaction from people who can't mind their own fucking business about him, or use their brains and see that he is a special needs child, ask rude questions that are not coming from a good place in their hearts, and then stammer like dingbats when they find out what is going on.

"OHHHH. OH, well NO!!  I wasn't saying ANYTHING LIKE THAT. of course not.. It's just well...I really like kids... and I...I was wondering about him.

First of all. If she really liked kids she would have noticed my adorable baby sitting in the stroller eating her feet. She would have asked about Georgia too. That wasn't what she was doing. She was trying to find out if we knew there was something "wrong" with Mason. It happens ALL. THE. TIME.

Like, people see him and stare at Jill to see if she knows whats up and then they always, always say "SOOO...HOW old is he?" It's the same every time. And then when we say he has autism they get all flustered and pretend they were not being judgmental dickheads.

And that is the thing. I am 100% sure that when these people read stories about atrocities committed against people with special needs, or hear about something being rude or mean to an autistic child, they clutch their pearls, think it is horrible, and say to themselves they would never act like that.

But people do. And I'm sure many of them are kind and nice. Not this lady, she was a stupid, simple asshole who probably had not left Atlantic City for 50 years but anyway...

Then she starts talking, well not even talking. She was stuttering about how smart 'artistic" (yes, she said artistic) people are, and by the time Jill got back from the bathroom she was yapping about a movie where Ben Affleck was "artistic' and saved the whole planet from destruction or something. I have no idea what move she means, but someone told me whatever movie it was his character was dyslexic.

So Jill comes back from the bathroom and hears the end of this stupid lady flapping her face, and is like "Uhhh..what did I miss?"

I'm having such a reaction to this woman I couldn't even tell her what happened, and then like all of a sudden the waitresses are coming over and being so nice, and asking about the baby.  Sweet Mason had no idea about any of it. Neither did Georgia really, they are so innocent.

When you see Mason, you can tell something is off. Most of the time. My sister will not mind me saying it, because it is true. When he is in a setting where he needs to "not act like a child" (like a restaurant) it is apparent that he is not where is peers are socially.

Outside is different. We had Mason and Georgia in the ocean and they were both screaming and running and yelling and being children. There was no difference at all in what they were doing. It made me cry right there. No one was looking at him, judging him. No one was staring at Jill to see if she knew something was up.

I was also crying because sometimes I judge my sister, or get annoyed when she talks about autism, or get annoyed when Mason comes over and dumps out all the toy bins. But here in big huge ocean, Mason and Georgia were just two children having a blast in the water. No one was looking and I just felt that Mason was allowed to be Mason. And it made me sad because everyday we are bombarded with images and sayings that tell us to just be ourselves, or that it is okay to be the person on the outside, the non mainstream...but...it isn't a lot of times actually.

.Much of my pain is for Mason. I'm scared he will have a difficult life. But a lot of my pain is also for my sister. Just because she is my sister. She works so hard with him. It is hard. It is scary. It is painful to be the mother of a special needs child. I don't want her to have a difficult life.

I know I don't want a difficult life. I Do not want to sit awake every night and wonder if my child is going to be able to function. Sometimes I worry about Georgia getting in a car crash when she is a teenager...how will I save her?

Mason and Jill were in the car crash and she's been trying to keep him from flying out of the car for 4 years.

Jill does not think her life is hard. She just thinks she is being a good mother to her child. Which she is. But she does not have a normal motherhood experience and I guess I still grieve a little bit about that.

I wish we could stay in the ocean forever.

If the devil doesn't like it, he can sit on a tack!

So...having two kids is hard! I know, yes here comes the collective DUH from everyone, and I knew it would be hard but damn, I am so freaking exhausted all the time. I was not this tired when Georgia was a baby.

It's crazy how these small little people who don't DO anything can turn your life upside down. I mean all she does is eat,sleep, and cry-why is that so damn hard to deal with?  I keep telling myself that  these are easy issues and the hard stuff comes later when she is a teenager and has to deal with peer pressure, bullies, and a whole world of online crap that I did not have to deal with when I was growing up. I am sure I am going to look at her and be like, "uh...remember when I was so tired and stressed out because you were HUNGRY?" 

So, I try to keep it all in perspective. She is being a normal baby, and that is great! She is also very cute too. I just love here to pieces, and there friends is the inexplicable, crazy, emotional  world of motherhood. I want the newborn/infant stage to end STAT, but then I look at her and start crying when I think of her as a 4 year old and I want her to be my baby forever. And then I'm in the shower with June in the bouncy chair in the bathroom screaming her face off while I'm frantically shampooing my hair thinking, "why the hell did I do this again?" And then I take her outside and she hears birds singing, she loses her mind with excitement and I'm like 'OMG THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!!"  

See the internal struggle?

And Georgia is doing great too! She is a wonderful big sister and a wonderful girl all around. The thing I love about her is that she notices EVERYTHING. She is so excited that the flowers have started blooming, and I am thankful everyday that she makes me stop and notice the pretty things in our world that sometimes I am too busy to notice. We were on a walk the other day and these tiny daffodils were starting to grow .She stopped and smelled them, and told me that they were growing because there was a lot of sunshine now, and she was happy there was sunshine because she would grow too...She's also become OBSESSED with Jesus. I have never really talked about him with her, I think last Christmas I told her it was his birthday but if you remember I'm just not sure what to do about religion. Well, it was Easter and some kids in her class must have been talking about it and she came home and was basically like, "Why the hell do I not know about Jesus?' 

So, being the good parent that I am, I found a cartoon on YouTube about Jesus' life and put it on while I was on Facebook, but then I was starting to get pissed because in the cartoon the men were all  being huge dicks about the fact that Mary was pregnant even though she was supposed to be a virgin and I'm thinking THIS IS A CARTOON FOR CHRIST SAKE, so I turned that one off and found another one where they just sing songs and there were no sexist assholes. 

My mom got her a rosary when she was little, so I busted it out and told her the story of Easter and she was wearing it around the house as a necklace which freaked my mom out because she said it was sacrilegious, but hey, if Madonna can wear a rosary so can my kid.

 I'm sort of thankful that this interest in Jesus happening is because our poor Buckley had cancer and had to be euthanized a month ago. Every time I sit and try to write about it, I re-live that day and I really just want to forget about it. He went in for a routine check up pretty much, and came out with a diagnosis of Hemangiosarcoma which is spleen and kidney cancer. He was bleeding into his abdomen, and my two choices were a $5000 surgery to remove his spleen and then chemotherapy which would only prolong his life for a few months, or euthanasia. Needless to say it was an absolutely gut wrechingly awful shock, and even worse was telling my kid that her best friend dog died.  I was seriously contemplating the surgery just so we could give her hope,couldn't stomach putting him through chemo. If he had been hit by a car or something and surgery would save him then yes, we would have done it, but cancer, chemo and a few months to live-it just seemed cruel to him and unfortunately not a good financial decision for us. I know many people put finances before their dog, but I now have two kids and will soon be paying like $800 a week in childcare and basically this was one of the many times when being a grown up sucks. 

Anyway, because of this, there is a lot of talk about death, and heaven/Jesus just seem like and easy explanation for now and she can figure it out later. She's really happy that Buckley is in heaven with him, and hopes that he will eat lots of healthy dog food with apples, so that next year he will come back to life with Jesus on Easter. I was like, "Jesus doesn't come back to life on Easter, that already  happened" but she is insistent that next year is THE year and Buckley is totally involved. I've also been telling her that kids in her class are Jewish, Muslim, and that everyone believes something different, and she can believe whatever she wants, so right now we are going with Catholicism. If she's into it I am not going to derail her interest just because it is not for me. 

So Buckley is basically the Messiah in this household . Every time we see someone walking a dog Georgia is like, "Hi. My dog is dead and is coming back to life next year with Jesus." 

The dog walkers look at me like "WTF kind of parent are you lady? MY dog is the fucking Messiah." and I just give them a crazy smile because I don't sleep and I live on cold coffee and potato chips. 

2 week update!

I am finally feeling well enough to ...do other things besides lay on the couch and snore like a rhinoceros. This c section recovery is no joke. I know the natural non epidural moms get all the street cred in the birthing world, but this has been so hard also. And it goes on for WEEKS.

I knew it would be painful and crappy, but I just could not imagine in what way, as I have never had surgery or anything.

I've also been nursing which is like a 24/7 job and it's totally for the birds, but I feel so guilty that I had June removed from me at 37 weeks that I will just continue probably until she does not want to nurse anymore (same with Georgia which was around 6 months). So between the pain medication, the actual pain, the nursing (first week complete with cracked bleeding nipples and painful engorgement), and post partum bleeding, you can believe me when I say these past two weeks have been just a big bucket of fucking fun.

The good thing is that June is sleeping and eating and gaining weight, Georgia has had a really easy transition to big sister, and I am only 7lbs away from pre pregnancy weight so yay glass half full.

I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I was cut open. I don't know if other people have a hard time with this. Like, if I actually sit and think about it I start to have panic attack symptoms. It's annoying, and I wish I could just forget about it, but it just bothers me a lot. You can't see the incision at all so it isn't a physical thing. Blah. Need to move on.

So the hospital stay after the surgery was really weird because I was so looped on pain meds. My fist day there, like I said I didn't know which way was up, and thank goodness Kelly and Jill were there to make me laugh and just for moral support. But actually by the way, laughing after a c-section is a really bad idea, so maybe don't invite them to your c-section recovery! OMG, laughing, coughing, sitting up...PAINFUL. So so painful. The first few days sucked while my body started responding to the pain management schedule.

So anyway, here is how the recovery went down. It was a long long time before I could feel my legs. Like a really long time. Everything I read about c sections said to get up and start walking as soon as possible so I was so anxious to get the hell up, I was getting mad that it was taking so long to feel anything. My first adventure out of bed was to go to the bathroom after they removed the catheter like 17 hours later or something. Or 14 hours. I really don't know. It was like 1AM when I decided to use the loo and I called the nurse to please help.

My night nurse Helen was a SAINT. A godsend. OMG. She helped me to the bathroom, helped me sit down..there was so much blood..I mean sorry if this is graphic,but this is what happens after you have a baby. You don't just waltz to the bathroom without a care in the world. The first trip to the bathroom is SCARY. I was scared. Quivering in my booties. Every time I looked towards the can I heard a low, loud MUHAHAHAAAAAA directed my way and I just did not want to go!! But, in the end nature wins over so yes, my first trip to the bathroom happened, and Helen the night nurse was there to help me and clean me and if you ever plan on giving birth just throw all of your dignity out of the window the minute you find out you are pregnant, and don't plan on getting it back until the baby is like 6 months old. People poke you, insert things in you, look up you, cut you open, see you poop, wipe you after you pee, clean your blood, change your pads, and milk you in front of your friends and husband. Then you get home and you spray milk all over everything and your hair falls out.

So anyway after my trip to the loo I was feeling brave so I rang Helen at about 2:30AM and asked her ...for tea. Just kidding. I wrote that sentence in an English accent. No, I asked her if she could please help me walk down the hallway. She held my one arm and pushed June in her little bassinet with her other arm ( babies are not allowed to be in the rooms by themselves obviously!) and oh my god the walk was the most painful 30 steps of my life. My whole body felt like it was on fire. I kept saying to myself "keep going, keep going" I thought my knees were going to give out or I was going to have a heart attack or something. But, I did it. And then walked again a few hours later, and it did keep getting easier and easier. By the next night I could walk up and down the hall alone, and use the bathroom by myself, so I took some more percocetes to celebrate and gave myself a big pat on the back!

The other thing that was hard was that I could not lift June in and out of her bassinet. Like, I just physically could not. Chris did not stay over the first night because we had Georgia at home and did not want her to feel like we neglected her, so I said I would be fine, but actually I could have used someone there to help me get June in and out while I was feeding her and then putting her back to sleep. I felt bad calling the nurses for this and did not anticipate how immobile I would really be after a c section. After a vaginal delivery you know you don't use your vagina to lift anything (hopefully) but you do use your  abdomen for everything so ...every little movement was a million times harder.

So, more of the same. I was there for 4 days and went home on Thursday early evening and made myself a little home on the couch. The pain meds just kept me so out of it, I actually can't remember too much..I just slept and fed June and watched other people clean my house and bring me things when I asked. my incision hurt less and less each day. Georgia's transition to big sister has been extremely non eventful. She is very proud of her new role and has asked to help with chores, and basically has been excellent. When the pediatrician came to the house to do June's first well check up, she told us how to "handle" Georgia, that there was going to be hitting and defiance, and I was like, "no..I don't think so." and she kind of dismissed me and said, "well yes she is  going to start hitting." I was sort of offended, but then just said to myself that she does not know Georgia at all. My god lady, don't you know my kid speaks French and does double digit addition??! We are way past hitting. Actually, we never really got into hitting. A few times here and there when she was younger, but anyway, the point is that she is doing great! She is a natural big sister!

So now I am just down to taking one motrin during the day if I need it. I walked 4 blocks to CVS yesterday which was a big deal, and I think today I am going to do my hair and put on some make up. Please contain your excitement.

So that is the 2 week post c section update. I have no updates on the baby. She just eats, and sleeps, and poops..doesn't cry a lot and is totally adorable. I'll let you know if anything changes!

June Birth Story

So, to get right to the point, I have given birth vaginally  and I have had a c-section, and I can say without a doubt that c-section was way scarier and the recovery is much harder.

After having Georgia, I took her for a walk in her stroller like the second I returned home from the hospital. Chris and I went out to brunch with her, I was serving champagne and mimosas to any guests who came to visit, my hair and make up were somewhat done, I was in my jeans a week later. Yes, I was uncomfortable because OW pushing a person out of your crotch hurts and whatnot, but  I was not as immobile as I am 6 days after c section birth.

I can't do anything because I'm on a bunch of pain medication, and it just knocks me out. I'm not really that tired from the baby. The second baby is not as overwhelming. There is no culture shock involved. She's nursing fine, sleeping a lot. I tried yesterday to take a smaller dose of percocet and it was a disaster. I was in SO MUCH PAIN..but not really from the incision. My incision actually looks and feels really good. It's from the damn catheter. My urethra is a god damn mess I tell you! I'm going to call my doc tomorrow to make sure this is normal, but I'm pretty sure it is. The thing was up there for like 17 hours or something. More on that later! I'm sure you are excited!

So anyway, while I was awaiting my due date, I tried to read everything I could about scheduled c-sections. I tortured my friends who had them, asking them to tell me EVERYTHING.I needed to be mentally prepared. Almost like getting ready for a performance or something. I needed to imagine it happening before it actually happened. I needed a few mental run throughs, and I am so glad that I asked so many questions and was as prepared as I could possibly be, because it was really freaking scary.

I was scheduled to be in labor and delivery at 7AM on Monday, 2/2. So of course I couldn't really sleep that well the night before. Georgia was at my mom's house, Chris and I were up around 5AM, got there on time...pretty non eventful. We were the first surgery scheduled for the day, so that was helpful as far as wait times and everything.

We were called into the prep room and I met with the surgeon and anesthesia. Everyone was SO NICE. I can't even begin to say enough kind things about the O.R. team that did the surgery. I was trying really hard not to cry,but I did a few times out of nowhere during our meeting time and they were just very understanding, or pretended to be very understanding or whatever they did, it made me feel like I was in the best place possible, under the circumstances.

The next hour was pretty boring. I was just asked standard surgery questions and everything.Finally I was told I would go back to the surgery room to get ready, and then Chris would come in once surgery was about to start.

Um...okay..so the first weird things was that I walked into the operating room. I guess I thought I would be wheeled in or something. It would have been nice-I was shaking so bad I thought my knees were going to give in. I think the nurse was holding my hand. They had me sit on the bed and started explaining what they were doing (which was the spinal). There were two anesthesiologists, and the same really nice nurse. I had tears streaming down my face at this point because I was so scared and she just rubbed my legs, patted my hand and told me I would be okay. The harder I tried not to cry the more I ended up crying, and I was seriously just like FUCK STOP CRYING YOU DUMB BABY but I couldn't help it.

They laid me flat on the bed, strapped my arms down and kept checking to see how the spinal was working. It felt so weird. I could not feel anything underneath my boobs...it kind of felt like someone was sitting on my chest. I just kept taking deep breaths although I could not really feel them. They put a sheet up and I could not see anything from below my neck...nor did I want to. It was fucking freezing in there and I know they put heated blankets on me in the beginning which was nice and cozy, but once I couldn't feel anything I'm sure I was strapped down with everything out for the world to see.

Shake shake shake. I could not stop shaking. I felt dizzy with fright..Chris finally came in and he said they told him not to look until he got past the sheet (LOL) so seriously I'm sure whatever position you are in for a c section is pretty bad.

I felt much better once he got there. He was nervous but held my hand and I don't event think I knew the surgery started until..it started.

It's weird to be awake during surgery. The doctors were talking about football, the superbowl, Chris was chiming in, I just closed my eyes and pretended I was getting a massage that I could not feel and literally like 5 minutes later the surgeon said, " I see baby hair!!"

What the hell? She's almost out??!! It was such a confusing feeling, I have to say. It was so fast... I wasn't even ready. I heard a baby cry, Chris jumped out of his seat and yelled something like OMG SHE IS HERE and just started laughing and crying and he looked so relieved, happy, scared..you name it, it was on his face.

They showed me the baby, but I was basically dumbfounded. I think I cried. They took her to the infant station and I couldn't see shit, but I really didn't care because I was so shocked I couldn't even, like, think anything. I felt like I could have been shown any random baby.

That is my baby? How is that my baby? How the fuck did this happen? I'm still supposed to be pregnant.  Ugh. It was too much for me.

"Tying your tubes!" the doctor said. I think I just ignored her, but not on purpose. I just couldn't think of anything to say. What would be appropriate?  "Super! Thanks!"  I mean, I had requested it and everything but again, there was just blank space in my head.

Someone brought June over to me and I kissed her. A lot. To make up for what I was not feeling.

Please Please Please let this weird, empty feeling go away I pleaded to...someone. God? Myself? I have no idea. I just felt empty. I was empty.

Surgery was finished. The surgeon said she hated me because I was skinny again. I wanted June to go back inside. I couldn't laugh or if I did it was a fake laugh.

I was wheeled into recovery. I just stared at her. I was shaking again, probably from the morphine drip or spinal starting to wear off..who knows?

My sister Jill and best friend Kelly thankfully had been waiting and joined us in the room. They held June, took selfies with her, kissed her, snuggled her. I was so thankful they were there. I was too tired to hold her so everyone took turns. I think I slept for a while.

Finally I was set up in my room for the next few days. I was starting to feel my legs. I was starting to feel like a person. The nurses were a little worried about June because her breathing sounded weird so they wanted to take her to the NICU to be monitored.

I wasn't that upset. Being born at 37 weeks via c-section, I knew she might have some lung trouble. When the babies do not pass through the birth canal, they do not naturally expel the amniotic fluid in their lungs, and sometimes need assistance.  I had actually already told Chris that this may happen so we were both ready for it.

Chris and I kissed her again, and away she went. I felt sad that I was not sadder. Does that even make sense?

A lactation consultant came in and asked if I could pump some colostrum for her in the NICU.

Colostrum is what comes out before  breastmilk, and basically it's like liquid gold for newborns.  It has carbohydrates, fats, minerals, vitamins, and antibodies that fight bacteria and viruses. I'm not like a breastfeeding asshole or anything, but I would recommend to every new mom to try to get your baby to even have a few ounces of colostrum if possible. It's good shit.

Anyway, apparently I'm like a breastfeeding rockstar, because she hand expressed  2 oz of colostrum from each boob in like 10 minutes. June was set for the next few hours in the NICU.

So that was cool. My sister, my husband, and my best friend all got to watch me be milked for a few minutes. MOOOOO Bitches.

A few hours later, June was back. She was fine. The nurse who brought her back could not believe how much colostrum I made. It was like the theme of the night.  She helped me for like two minutes to get June to latch and away we went with breastfeeding.

For both Georgia and June, I started out with "football hold" to get them to latch. It's somewhat aggressive, but I really think it works better than the classic cradle hold, and it was good for me not to put her on my abdomen since I had just had a c section.

I felt her little cheek against me as I nursed her, and WHOOOOOOSH! There it was. I loved her. I felt like my fucking heart was going to explode. My sick,empty feeling was gone. I didn't care how she came into the world, she was my daughter and I was her mother. I felt euphoric almost.

It was weird. It was probably the pain medication. But whatever. I held little June and told her I loved her, and that her sister loved her, her dad loved her and I kissed her like twenty billion times and then felt like a big shithead for how dramatic I was about the whole thing.

Next: THE RECOVERY

32 week update brought to you from my couch

I went to the doctor on Monday to check out my placenta, and unfortunately it has not moved enough for them to advise a vaginal delivery. The nurse was ready to set a date for my c-section, and I basically begged her for one more ultrasound before scheduling. She was so nice, and said she did not see why we could not do another ultrasound 36 weeks.  She spoke to the doctor and he said that would be fine, but if it was still in the same place I will have a c-section at 37 weeks.

I am just...so...annoyed at all of this. I'm trying not to be a big baby about it, and if it happens then I will go into it with the best attitude I can muster up, but it just all sounds horrible. Like, if it were just a c-section with no placenta previa I would feel a lot better, but the risk of hemorrhaging, blood transfusions etc..  because of my fucked up placenta is like too much for me to deal with. I don't want to have a c-section and more importantly, I don't want to have one with a medical complication.

I've reached out to a bunch of friends who have had sections, and they have given me great advice. I now have a list of questions for my doctor next week when I see her. I didn't even know what I should ask so now I feel a bit more informed

I guess I'm sort of doing a birth plan. I don't want to be totally out of it during surgery. I  would like to try to nurse immediately after (baring no medical/placenta complications) and some friends told me this was possible and that they did it, so I feel a bit better knowing this is at least somewhat of an option for me. I was told to get a tummy band, ask for glue and not stitches, walk around as soon as I can, what type of tea to drink for gas bubbles ( or something-I'm still confused about the potential gas thing) , and different ways to keep the incision site comfortable and pain free.

I've also gotten really stupid advice like, "You will not love your baby any less if you have a c-section" and things of that nature. F you. I'm not an asshole. I just don't want my stomach cut open for major abdominal surgery and to be bedridden any longer than I need to be. It has nothing to do with loving my daughter. AGGHHHH. That actually gets me fired up, so I will stop thinking about it.

As placenta previa is an extremely seriously medical complication during vaginal birth, I am very thankful that there is another option. I really am. I'm just super scared and disappointed. My birth with G was easy I think as far as birth goes. I pushed for 21 minutes and was walking around, showering, shaving my legs within an hour or two. I just want that to happen again. Wah.

So anyway, in other news, life is getting difficult. I'm basically a pretty useless person these days. Being home for the holiday break is actually much harder than going to work. At work I sit at my desk and occasionally get up to go to the bathroom or something. At home I'm trying to clean, vacuum, chase dust bunnies, laundry, keep up with my child...it's exhausting. It usually takes me about 2 hours to clean my entire house and Monday it took me ALL DAY to just straighten up and vacuum downstairs because I kept laying on the couch and falling asleep every 20 minutes.

My insides are so squished that I don't even feel like eating, but I'm forcing food down my throat because I feel so bad for baby June...like I'm starving her or something. Reflux is terrible, I can't breath, ligaments feel like they are being ripped apart, and at the ultrasound the nurse confirmed that the baby is all over my bladder which is super annoying and painful, no to mention that (like her big sister) June is an extremely active baby and kicking the crap out of me even though she is only 4 lbs. Braxton Hicks contractions are in full swing, and this month I can't wait for my face and legs to get all swollen and gross looking because of all the extra fluid in my body.

Yippy Yay! Now the fun really begins!

complain complain complain complain...read at your own risk!

I am 30 weeks this week and so freaking miserable I can't even stand to listen to my own inner monologue. Wanna know why? Because it is this all day.

OW.

OMG OW

WFT OW.

WTF I CANT WALK

I CAN'T BREATH.

WHY DOES MY CROTCH FEEL LIKE IT IS GOING TO FALL OUT?

FREDDY KRUGER IS RIPPING MY BACK IN HALF WITH HIS CLAW.

MY LEGS FEEL LIKE THEY ARE BEING SNAPPED IN HALF AND SET ON FIRE LIKE LITTLE TWIGS.

GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING CAKE BITCH.

See? This is how I feel all day. I want to just sleep and forget that all of this is happening inside my body. My stomach feels like it is in my throat, my enormous boobs feel like they are being cut open with knives, headaches, reflux, gas.

I can feel feet, elbows, head down, kick, kick, kick...I just feel like it is way too early for all of this. I still have 10 weeks to go, 10 lbs to gain! The stupid thing is that I have only gained 20 lbs...so I am 120 lbs. That is not heavy. So why do I feel like a giant whale when I try to walk up the steps, or down, the steps, or anything?!

Today Chris and I were making breakfast and I was just bumping into everything. My equilibrium is all of, I don't know how to balance myself. I was bumping into my husband, the refrigerator, chairs, oven, dog, counter. I wanted to scream. I had a major meltdown around 2PM today because I just could not get the sheets on my bed and I just started crying.

I hear my 3 year old Georgia say to Chris, " Dad, just leave her alone. Sometimes girls need to cry." And that made me cry harder because I feel like I have been totally neglecting her because I am so exhausted. I just pass the F out on the weekends, and stay in bed if I can because life is just too hard to live. I hate going places, I hate talking to people, I hate zippering my coat, I hate putting my shoes on, I hate maternity clothes. I hate all of it. BLAH.

And the worst part is,  I know it isn't over when the baby gets here. I have to deal with all of that postpartum bleeding, leaking, spraying, hair falling out bullshit that no one ever talks about. I'm scared I'm going to have post postpartum anxiety again, I don't want to be covered in vomit for a month. The sleep part I don't care about because I basically stopped sleeping 4 years ago when we had Georgia. I'm like always listening for her, even when she is in our bed, and I have had major insomnia for the last 12 weeks, so being up at 3AM with a baby just doesn't seem that bad to me. At least I will be useful to someone.

I think that is the other issue here. I feel so useless. I feel like a bad mom and wife. I just feel like crap.

Oh,I had a re-check on Tuesday from my hospital stay the week before.  I woke up last week to blood all over the place, and was admitted to the hospital for two days. Good times. I was fine, the docs are worried about my placenta previa. I go on 12/29 to determine if I am going to need a c-section or not, so that is like freaking me out too.

I do not want a c-section. I do not want my abdomen cut open. That just sounds so horrible to me, AND not to mention I watched a c-section on youtube and wanted to die while watching it. I know millions of people have them, but I would just rather push a person out of my vagina, thanks. Neither option is appealing, but out the vag is the lesser of two evils in my book. So anyway, I am mentally preparing for the c-section which is stressful AND if I do get one it will be at 37 weeks which is all the more upsetting but I understand medically why it has to happen. Yes, I understand medically why it has to happen. Research has been done by me. There is no way to move the placenta yourself, and the risks of the c-section are way less than the risks of me hemorrhaging and bleeding out and dying if I try for a vaginal birth with a placenta covering most of my cervix.

So anyway, I go to my recheck and I saw a new doctor who I have never spoken to. He was nice, got me an appointment afterwards to get my flu shot and Tdap vaccine, said the baby sounded good and whatever. Then at the end of the appointment he goes, "Okay you're all set kiddo!"

Kiddo? What the what? I was so stunned I couldn't say anything.  I'm sorry, it's really stupid to call a 37 year old pregnant lady "kiddo" I was so mad for some reason.  (Uh..probably because everything is making me mad?)

 Anyway, then I go the nurse for my vaccines and she lifts up my sleeve to do the shot and says, "Oh you are so cute, I should use the little baby needles for your arm" and she's talking to me the entire time like I'm a kid. She asked how many kids I was planning on having and I was all like, I'm getting a tubal after this one lady, and she got genuinely concerned for me and started talking about making that type of decision...  Finally I'm like, "I'm 37 years old and I don't want to be pregnant when I'm 40" and she laughs in my face and said she thought I was 22.

First of all, is anyone looking at my freaking chart?  I AM OF ADVANCED MATERNAL AGE! You people couldn't shut the fuck up about it at the beginning of my pregnancy. But now that the baby is almost here, no one is looking at anything, and people think I'm like on my way to try out for 16 and pregnant. This is not the first time this has happened during my pregnancy, and for most of my life in general people have always thought that I am 10 years younger than I actually am, which is super dandy at my age, but doctors and nurses should not call pregnant ladies kiddo, or say they need a baby needle...no matter how old they are.  I am growing a person, there is  nothing babyish about it.

So. This is where I am mentally. I suck at being pregnant.

Short update

I have been hit with every third trimester symptom known to woman, except for birth itself.

Contractions? check!

Unbearable pelvic pressure? check!

Lower back pain? check!

Acid reflux that feels like fiery thorns coming up my throat? check!

Bleeding? Yep!

Shortness of breath, leaky boobs, insomnia,  major fatigue, cramps...all here and accounted for! Yippee!

I've been in touch with my doctor about everything, and spent two nights in the hospital to monitor the bleeding and my placenta previa. I received steroid shots in case June Lenore decideds to come early. They will help her lungs, as the lungs are the last organ to develop on the baby.

I don't think I can do this for two more months.

I mean, actually I CAN and I will, I just don't want to. Or not event that I don't want to, I need baby to stay in here as long as possible...it just seems..the next 10 weeks are going to suck I guess.  Blah.

No crib for a bed...

So with Christmas right around the corner, I've been thinking a lot about how I choose to celebrate the holiday with my daughter and how I feel about religion, and basically what is my responsibility as a parent regarding spirituality, religion, church and all of that stuff that I really don't feel like thinking about.

We don't go to church. I grew up Catholic, went to church every Sunday, went to CCD every week, but I don't practice now. I like some stories in the bible and I think many of them have good lessons that can be applied to my life, but I don't take them literally or think they actually happened.

The last time I did go to church (maybe it was a catholic wedding mass?) I did not take communion because I felt like it would be fake for me to do so.  I formed this opinion on my own without any outside influence, and basically I have been very happy with the idea that spirituality, goodness and grace can be found throughout the universe and not necessarily though God or Jesus. (I don't think they created the universe either, in case you are inclined to ask WHO DO YOU THINK GAVE YOU THIS UNIVERSE TO PUT ENERGY INTO. So. No.  This is not a debate on religion. I'm no debating it.)

Anyway, I work hard on putting positive energy back into the universe too, so that anyone who is looking for it or needs it may one day come across some of mine. I think that when I die I will be reborn as myself with a better understanding of how to balance my karma and learn from my mistakes, and finally when I reach a state of nirvana I will turn into a purple puff of energy that will positively surround my loved ones existing on earth. POOF BITCHES.

So anyway, Christmas.

Georgia is SOOO excited about Christmas. She says it is her favorite holiday, she loves the trees, the songs, the lights, presents of course. Of course we do the whole Santa Clause thing and she loves Santa and he's going to eat milk and cookies...blah blah blah. Actually it's pretty fun, but I DO feel very guilty about lying to her about this guy, and even guiltier when I say things like, 'Let me brush your hair or I'm calling Santa!"  And she looks at me with eyes full of terror, and then obediently stands in from of me so that I can brush her hair. Seriously, it breaks my heart, but damn our mornings are so much more productive now that the big guy is "watching".

So I was thinking about all of this this morning while trying to find a pair of pants that will fit my pregnant ass and then, all of a sudden I was like, "Why do I have absolutely no problem telling her about a fake man breaking into our house and eating our food, but I have a really big problem with telling her the story of baby Jesus and how Christmas came about?  And I'm just talking about #basicbitchchristmas too. Like, I know Jesus was actually born in April or something, and the story isn't the "real" story  and all of that. But that isn't what I mean.

I'm just talking about the story about the manger, wise men, donkeys,virgins, and a peppermint latte. It's sort of a really nice story  (except not really because who the hell wants to give birth in a barn in December, and why is that innkeeper such a dick?) . But the point is, I loved it when I was little. Although now that I am older the virgin part pisses me off, because WTF a woman who has sex or is sexual is not worthy of birthing the son of God? What fucking dipshit man made that up? Fuck you.

Anyway, and then I realized I am giving her absolutely no choice in the matter of religion or spirituality. I'm not even giving her a starting point. She can't choose whether or not to follow religion because there is no choice to make. We just don't talk about it. And a lot of people love religion and I am totally cool with that, and if Georgia one day wants to decide that religion is important in her life, who am I  to deny her of that?  So, I will be buying a book about Christmas day, away in a manger, some candy in wooden shoes,  and teach Georgia about Linus's very important Christmas message while I decide what to do about all of this.

Anyone else in this boat?

I don't know what the hell I am talking about here...

One thing I am not concerned with this pregnancy is what EVERYONE ELSE is doing with their pregnancies. When I was pregnant with Georgia I got sucked into breastfeeding vs bottle, non medicated vs medicated birth, who is co-sleeping,  babywearing groups were full of drama and hilarious to read, I was not going to be one of "those" parents. I swore Georgia would never watch Disney movies or wear "character" shirts, and I tried very hard to fit Georgia into my life instead of adjusting my life to her. I wanted to fill her world with my 34 year old adult tastes, which is really stupid. I didn't even want to buy a jumperoo because it did not match my decor.

After Georgia was born, Chris and I still went out to dinner a lot. Brought sleeping infant with us, had some wine....or I would still go to brunch with my friends and tote her along. I wondered why people thought it was so hard to keep up an adult lifestyle  with a child. This is easy! She sleeps all the time...I must rule or something!

How STUPID is that?  Your sleeping infant  grows into a crazy 18 month old who grabs, throws, cries, spills, ..the restaurant days are over (at least for a while).

Yes, I know. Before you become a parent you will NEVER ALLOW YOUR CHILD TO ACT LIKE THAT IN PUBLIC. Yes, yes. It is so easy, and we are all dipshits except for you who has everything figured out before your fetus is is a glimmer in your eye. I know before I had kids I wasn't really too excited to be around them, but I never had this weird hatred of "parents" that seems to be in fashion these days. Kids are not allowed to be kids in public...but that is another blog for another day.

We had to stop going out to eat for a while until Georgia was older because 18 month olds are not tiny adults and taking them out with you sucks. She is almost 4 now and she is really good if we go out, but we did have to take a break for a while. I don't know why I am mentioning this at all, but it seemed worth mentioning!

Date night was also big on my list of things to do after baby. Find a babysitter, go out with Chris or have girls night with my friends. Chris and I took turns "taking a break" and hitting the town. This was important to me, to keep up some semblance of my adult lifestyle as I entered motherhood. The responsibility was overwhelming and sometimes unwanted. I was used to adults, not children and I did not want to do child centered things in the beginning. I didn't really realize I did not want to do them, but looking back, I really did not. I mean, we signed her up for music classes and everything, I'm not saying I ran out 7 days a week for karaoke or anything, but ME time was important to ME. The transition from childless 34 year old to 34 year old mother was ...not hard..but it was not easy. It took a while for me to feel comfortable being "mom".

Now. Now that I am pregnant with my second child. Now that I have had almost four years of carrying the enormous responsibility of being a mother. Now that the exhausting lifestyle of being a parent has settled all nice and cozy into my soul, I can tell you with 100% certainty that none of this shit is important to me. Friday night: popcorn, Beauty and the Beast,playing games like "bakery" and "who stole the treasure"  and pass out at 9PM. Saturday: cleaning, grocery shopping, meal planning, organizing for the week, Sunday-lay around and watch football.

This is not to say that I do not dream of going to happy hour or a concert or something that does not involve kids. I do. My sister and I have big plans to go out to a BYOB crepe restaurant after the baby is born ( "big plans' is sarcastic) and I am very excited to be out in the city, to not wear maternity clothes, and to drink a bottle of wine. But...I think I've settled into being a mom. I know for some women the change is immediate. And I feel badly that for me it was not, but it is what it is.  I still hate going to birthday parties and playgrounds..um...so hopefully I will come around.

I'm not in any way shape or form "super mom". I'm pretty sure Georgia's 4th birthday will be a few friends over and pizza. I don't bake, sew, or make shit. I never remember to take a holiday card picture or to get matching holiday pajamas or to buy play elf on the shelf.

However, my daughter thinks I am hilarious and tells me all the time that I am the best mom ever. SHE thinks my crappy crafts are funny and tries to "fix" them. She teaches me french, we snuggle and cuddle and make up stories and kiss and hug and laugh, and yes sometimes argue. Sometimes she hits me and I make her apologize -just mentioning this so that everyone knows I'm not trying to make it all about rainbow clouds.

She told me the other day she was trying to make her hair look like mine because I was beautiful, and I almost died. It was the greatest compliment I have ever received because I know she believes I am a beautiful person, not in a physical way.She had no agenda, no negative motives, it was just exactly what she was feeling at the time.  I know this because it is exactly how I feel about my mom and grandmom. When I look at them I see beautiful women who make me feel safe and loved and I am beside myself that Georgia feels that way about me too, even with all of my faults. I know she will never love me in the horribly beautiful way that I love her, but we are building our bond and learning our roles, and as she is my first child, I'm letting her teach me as much as I teach her.

I'm sure when she is 16, I am going to be the lamest person she ever met, but it is important now to lay the foundation of a strong relationship, because teenagers turn into adults and they come around if the foundation is there.

So, I don't even know what the hell I'm talking about.  I guess I'm just saying...I'm growing up still even at 37 years old. Still learning and changing, but happy that I might be able to apply some of my "wisdom" to my second child. Wisdom as in, all kids are different, don't have a plan, let your kids teach you, be in their lives, mind your own business, and that happiness is a choice and a goal to work towards on a daily basis.

Be Our Guest, Be our guest!

So the baby's name is June Lenore Smith. In case you were wondering. I mean, I am 99% sure that this is her name. We have been calling her June, so I can't imagine changing it unless I get hit over the head by some name fairy telling me that there is a better name out there, but  basically this is the one we agreed on.

My first choice was actually Margot June, or Margot Pearl but Chris HATES the name Margot (sorry if your name is Margot). Like, he seriously looked ill when I talked about it, so June was our second choice. I got dibs on the middle name because he picked Georgia's middle name, Grace.

I was thinking of June Catherine, June Louise, June Pearl, but then my god-mother actually suggested Lenore as a nod to Leona, my great grandmother. That was it! I love how it flows, and I think Georgia and June are cute sister names. Done and done!

I hate when people act all smug and secretive about their baby names. Like, the reality is, no one really cares what the hell you name your kid except for the parents. I do not ever ask anyone what they are naming the baby, because people are usually so freaking weird about it. I'm just not interested in playing that game. We all have names, and your special snowflake is going to barf and shit all over you like the rest of the babies out there....even if you name it Pemberely Hatch Apple.

 Anyway, I just spent way too much time talking about names.  Glad it's over and done with!

So anyway, we were in Disney World last week. Our first time with Georgia, our first time as a family. Chris and I have gone to Universal Studios a few times, but we were  not married, no kids, so Mickey, Minnie, and princesses were in no way involved in our travels.

Georgia LOVES Mickey and Minnie. I loved Mickey and Minnie when I was little too, so...this seems normal to me, even though before I had kids I used to think Disney World was totally lame and "basic"  (BTY- I am obsessed with all things "basic" and "ironically basic". I think it is the most hilarious concept ever and I applaud whoever came up with it.) But anyway, you know my kid loves Disney, she loves princesses, who the hell am I to say she can't like what she likes because I don't think it's "cool". Like, yeah, I get all the eye rolling regarding all of the girls dresses up as Ana and Elsa, but that is what our kids wanted to dress up as. She has plenty of time in her life to have some kind of weird, ironic-yet-clever Halloween costume. I'm not pushing originality on a three year old, that is too much pressure and she'll just end up hating me and thinking I am weird.

"Mom, can I be Ana for Halloween"

"Yes."

That was  basically it. I'm not crafty or DIY, bought the dress at Disney Store, braided her hair and gave her some freckles. Good to go.

So...um...humm...what was I talking about? OH. Disney. Right. So, before I go on you have to know I injured my pelvis/back right before we left. I mean, it was not an "out of left field" injury. My back has been bothering me ever since I had Georgia and I blamed it on the epidural. The extra weight has just made the pain a lot worse, and I think just lifting Georgia on the can, helping her in and out of bathtubs, sometimes carrying her around in the morning, just made it too much to handle and last Thursday at work I just stood up, and my knees buckled from the pain and I started crying.

I had a rather traumatic/sad experience in the neonatal ER which I am not ready to write about, but MY outcome was pelvic injury, crutches and the need for physical therapy. BLAH. So off to Disney we go!

Georgia was super excited for the plane ride....for everything basically. The first day we got there we did a few rides in the Magic Kingdom. When we got there I immediately started crying because I wished Jill and my grandparents were there.I was just feeling so nostalgic and hormonal, and I have always gone to Disney with Jill and my grandparents...so...idk...I just busted out with some tears and Chris just did the slow walk away/side eye until I composed myself.

The days at the parks were tough for me. I had to sit down a lot and I had (braxton hicks) contractions almost every night around 7PM. We only went for 4 days which was seriously enough for me. There were some families that were staying for two weeks!! I have no idea how. The parks are $100  a day per person! Not not to mention breakfast, lunch, dinner, and you have to get souvenirs of course! We brought our own snacks to munch on through out the day-string cheese, clementines, waters, crackers...so saved $$ there and our resort had a cafeteria so we ate breakfast and dinner there most nights.

We did do one lunch at the "Be Our Guest" restaurant, and it was so freaking stupid and lame I highly recommend NOT EVER GOING THERE. It was too crowded for what it was, which was a glorified expensive cafeteria. The Tusker House lunch at Animal Kingdom was yummy and Georgia loved meeting all of the characters, and Chris and  I really liked Epcot so there was something for everyone. I wished I was not so tired/injured for the trip, but of course when we planned it I did not know I was going to be pregnant, so I just tried to suck it up and have a good time. Even though I am fat, injured, and I can't drink.

"I'm having fun. I'm having fun. I'm having fun."

Have I mentioned that it is really hard to be married? I got depressed a few times during our trip because Chris and I bickered a lot over stupid things like, "who forgot the water bottles" Or if we were not arguing, our conversations consisted of, "These BLT waffle fries are really good." I made a huge effort to be friendly towards the end, and so did he. I know marriage is not always roses and chocolates, and at this point we are so caught up in being good parents, I am caught up in my pregnancy... I feel like we forget that WE are also important.  So note to self, need to work on that.

When we left Disney we went to Chris's parents house in Jacksonville FL. We got in about 9PM and I was feeling SOOO BAD. Like, horrible. My back felt like it was on fire,and I was having serious GI issues as in...major pregnant diarrhea. It was bad.  I would have a contraction and then BOOM. It was so horrible I also felt like I was going to puke all over myself, the contractions were on top of each other, I was sweating and crying, sitting on the can. Finally it was sort of over, and I could get off the toilet but I could only lay on the floor. I called to Chris that I thought I should go to a doctor, my poor mother in law was laying on the floor with me...good times. I'm getting an epidural when the baby comes. Who the hell am I kidding with unmedicated birth? I could barely stand 30 minutes of fake contractions.

We went to the doctor and basically they were like, you should not have gone to Disney World, you should not have gotten on an airplane, you should not do this, not do that...the placenta previa played a big part in why they were so annoyed with me, and the doctor put "bed-rest" on my discharge instructions, but I think she just maybe meant for the rest of the weekend.

After that episode, I have decided that it is pointless to try to be glamorous during pregnancy. I think I just don't care. I wake up every morning feeling like I got run over by a bus, the extra weight is killing me so much...so much more than my first pregnancy and I am not much bigger. I mean, really I have only gained about 15lbs. So I am 115lbs. I don't understand why I feel so huge and horrible, That isn't even big! Blah. So anyway, no more heels. My mom bought me a pair of "sensible flats" and I guess I can wear my riding boots or UGGS, and that will be that!

Tomorrow I will call the physical therapist and see about starting sessions. There is definitely a back injury. I keep hoping it will go away. Sometimes it feels normal, but ultimately the pain always comes back and takes my breath away. I can't believe I have three more months of this shit left. It is a good thing baby June Lenore is so awesome. I would do it for 12 more months if I had to. I love her so much.She is a crazy baby who has a party in my belly 24-7 and I can't wait to kiss her!