![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
moonsquirrel's journalLog in Create a LiveJournal Account Learn more
| You are viewing moonsquirrel's journal Log in Create a LiveJournal Account Learn more | Explore LJ: Life Entertainment Music Culture News & Politics Technology |
|
|||||||
 |
|
|
|||||
|
moon squirrel's Journal  I feel like smashing my head against something really hard. But I probably won't. There is nowhere else for me to out-let, to let-out, to scream. Things were good for a long time, even keel at least, calm enough that I could see the end of the road and my life coming back a little bit, a tiny bit, but then things sped up, the speed on the road got faster and faster and faster so that it's all a blur. We got the baby to sleep through the night. Naps, too. Potty training the older boy. The usual annoyances but nothing huge. And then my folks went away, hub's folks arrived and it's been nonstop ever since. I haven't had nearly enough time to myself. Then hub got a cold. Then the baby got it. now the older boy has it. It's that NEED CRISIS thing again. Everyone needs me. I need to keep it together but I can't keep it together and I resent having to keep it together. A lot of that is my own perception as the person who keeps it together. It is entirely possible that if I lost my shit, everyone else would still be fine. But then I'd have lost my shit and everyone would know I don't have it together. And I can't release this to the usual places in the internet because my fucking family is everywhere and it's about them. I want to complain about my husband's inability to handle his anger and irritation with the kids and his inability to see past the next ten minutes. Which of course is not his issue, is not about him, but about me. *I* need to ignore him, be on my merry way, let him be in whatever mood he's in and not stress out about managing his behavior or his attitude. I CANNOT CHANGE HIM OR HOW HE DEALS WITH SHIT. I CAN ONLY CONTROL MYSELF. I get so mad at myself for being unable to JUST LET GO of other peoples' business. I want to complain about my in laws' general demeanor. None of that would bother me, though, past a fleeting thought, if I could just get a couple of hours. Just a couple. Like those 2 weeks where I had nap time, an hour and a half of it, to plan supper, write, clean the kitchen, put my feet up. Haven't had that. yesterday the in laws came over just after lunch, helped put the kids to bed and then STAYED through nap time. WTF? To visit with me? What? I guess I could have left. I guess when FIL said, are we keeping you from doing anything you usually do, I could have said, yes, you are keeping me from being alone, but it seemed like a rude thing to say. Sometimes people ask questions with an expectation of the answer, you know. I get along with them. I don't want to add any stress. 1. Being "On" all the time. 2. No time alone. 3. Sickness. 4. General irritation stuff. I have a sore tooth. My hair needs cutting. The older son makes an epic battle out of every trip to the sink to wash his hands. The baby is heading into a tantrum stage and he is still the loudest fucking thing going. 5. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. 6. Inability to write about anything because the only things on my mind interesting enough to write about are direclty related to people who read my blog. 7. Going. Fucking. Crazy. I was OK, yesterday, I was OK, yes, I am in maintenance mode and that's fine, eventually it will end and I will get back to my routine again or a new one or whatever and life will be boring and I will be mad at how boring it is, but then today just started so badly, so early (5 am) and so grumpy (husband...and then me...and then him...) and the older boy got up with a snotty nose and tomorrow is his birthday and I KNEW all that was going to happen but it still sucks but who to tell. No one. Anyone I tell will result in more questions and all I want is to just let it out. LET IT OUT. OUT THE FUCK OUT THE FUCK OUT THE FUCK OUT. I want time back. I want my life to sort out. I want time to run, to go exercise, to go out with friends, to get drunk, to have interesting conversations, to write, to blog, to blog, to write, to read things and have opinions and I feel like I have been saying this for a YEAR, more than, and by now it should be better, should be done. I just need to get through the next couple of weeks. The colds will pass. The moods will pass. There's gin in the freezer. My blog readership will wait patiently for quality writing. Lots of time to exercise. Lots and no time at all. HOpefully I will get some today. Right now I am writing this while I mostly ignore my son while he eats his breakfast. I gotta do what I gotta do. Sometimes when I walk with the kids in the stroller I make up euphemisms. Epithets is what I mean to say. Sweet Chilliwack Corn. That sort of thing. This is meant to explain the title of this post. 2nd to last day of January. I am a little hurt that a friend I thought I was making on the Internet is not emailing me anymore. Her blog shows she is busy and is enjoying her life. She was my misery buddy and now I don't have one. I still have no friends. I made one but she has kids the same age as mine and her older son is crazy. We have had several play dates with them and we were going to have one today and then I mentioned it to my boy1 and he said, "how about we don't do that," so I said, "no? how come?" and he said, "I might be scared of somebody..." which I suspected because our last play date, last week, ended in tears, his, for no reason I could see other than that the other little boy is unfriendly, aggressive and has a tendency to shout and throw things. Gee. don't wanna play with him? What could I do, I told him we wouldn't go and I lied to my friend and told her we were too tired to get together. I will have to tell her the truth because I really like her and she and I get along pretty well but her son is just not a good match for mine. Their personalities are just different. Plus, yeah. I don't reallly want to be this person but I admit I am judging her parenting. I am judging the way she treats her kid and blaming his behavior on her. I don't think it's ALL her fault but I do think she could handle it differently. Of course she could; I think she could handle it better. At any rate, I have put my kid in a situation with a bully before and I felt really wretched about it. I don't want to do it again, but then I think, am I harming him by not exposing him to assholes early in life? Eventually he'll get to school and he won't know what to do with a bully. But on the other hand, he isn't even three years old yet. His life is not his own, it is still under my management and I don't especially want to expose him to an asshole if it makes him cry and be scared. I don't want to make my kid be scared. So we went for a long walk in our neighbourhood and home again. Fairly pointless but I couldn't think of anything to do. I just want a couple of friends that I could call up and say, hey, what are you doing today. I want a couple of friends like my mother. Maybe they're free - maybe not. But I feel comfortable enough to call. Thank you sweet Julius, it is Friday. A weekend is just what I need and on Sunday we go to my parents' house and boy1 stays over night and hopefully soon boy2 goes back to sleeping even the 6 or 8 hours he was doing in my last post. He went fairly batshit insane shortly after that post. He started taking longer and longer to go to sleep, like an hour of rocking, jiggling. Just totally awake, stimulated, ready to play. Annoying as fuck. Then he got flu so he was feverish and sick for 3 days, up every hour and a half all night all day. THen it took another week to recover from that; he was better but still waking up every 2 hours all night, for 4 days. The last three nights have been better; he's woken up an hour after going down, then 2 hours after that, then gets a good stretch of 4 or 5 hours. last night he went down at 630, woke up briefly at 730, then at 930, then at 2, then at 5. Up at 5 for the day. Good lord. If there was any doubt in my mind about having another kid (and there isn't) this kid's sleeping habits (and my lack thereof) would seal it. I guess to have another kid we'd have to have sex again. A topic for another day. xoms How the fuck is it 2009? When I was a kid I used to count up how old I would be in the year 2000 (obviously before basic math was on my side) and be amazed, boggled, I would be 26. Now I am almost 10 years past that. I am stealing moments between naps. Mine, hubs', toddlers, baby's. The baby slept for 2.5 hours yesterday afternoon but I suspect he will not do that again today. Becauase I am expecting it. That is why. The toddler is getting put down by his father and then his father will nap. We are all so very tired. We have run out of steam, gas, energy, coal, what have you. The baby still hasn't slept through the night, not the way boy1 used to at this age, he goes down at 6 pm and sleeps for 6 hours, actually last night it was 8 so I really shouldn't complain. But then up at 2, 4, 5:30. Christ. The night before he was up at midnight, 3:30, 5:30. The real folly was that we stayed up till 9:45 instead of our usual 9:15. Half an hour made an astounding difference. Later, I had a half hour nap and I felt like a new woman. 30 minutes. that's all it takes to push me over the edge or back again. I have itchy face. Itchy itchy face. Like pimples or bites but neither I don't think. I supsect the weather, the dry, nasty winter we're having. Buttloads of snow, then slush, then ice, then snow. So exhausted lately because: - no sleep - no exercise - no walks with children I usually take 2 walks a day with the children. It keeps us all sane. In the rain, in the wind, in the whatever. But in the 2 feet of snow, not so much. So I feel trapped in the house and the children do too and we are all at each others' throats these days. Extra so because of the no sleep. And then I got my period. On the bright side, it appears to be a regular period. I got it about 30 days ago and then got it again the other day and I recognized the PMS a few days before it came that made me feel like life was hopeless and not worth the paper it was printed on. Not suicidal, just hopeless. I don't want to be a parent anymore. I can't do this. I want a year off. That sort of useless thinking that just makes you feel worse when you realize that there is no way out. Time passes quickly enough but it still feels loooooooong. Super much so when H goes back to work on Monday for a full five days. Last week he was at work 2 days, the week before too. Actually one, because one was a snow day. 5 in a row will kill me, I fear. And then my parents are going away for 2 weeks. Good lord I am afraid, but glad that I have a couple of friends to hang with. One in our part of town and one across. And the community centre programs will open again and maybe we'll go swimming and god I don't know. Put the baby in daycare, put them both in daycare, I don't know. It would be so much more tolerable if I was rested. But I am not. So I am making do. Right now I should nap while the napping is good. Till next time. xoMS The little baby is in bed and the bigger baby is having a bath, bathed by his father, his wonderful father who took one look at me this morning at 5:55 and said, I am staying home today. You need some help. I refused twice and then acknowledged that a mental health day might do me good and I haven't taken a real sick day, from either job, in quite some time. years, damn this work ethic. November approaches and I am unsure - should I participate in the nablopomo or should I give myself a break. I fear that I will sink to new levels of mediocrity but I also fear not writing anything, I fear hiding, I fear my own fear. So I think I will do it, organize my time better, be more honest, be more devil may care. Like this journal. I enjoy reading over it. It has been many years and I think a lot of it is non-sucky, even though it is a journal in the truest sense of the word. No poetry, nothing is forced, I shouldn't say no poetry because sometimes it seeps in but in my other journal I try too hard. I dig for interesting subject matter, then I beat it to death with the editingi stick. Then I mourn the lack of thoughtful commentary, of accolades. When I just sit and type and let myself go, I get great comments. I get attention for being me instead of for being the me I think everyone wants me to be. Yet, it is so hard. Because of my readership; my parents, my parents' friends, my inlaws, god knows who else. My regular crew of commenters are a mix of old and new friends, but I have to stop being so scared all the time. I have to trust that I have something to say and a gift for saying it. I have to not worry so much, after all, it's free and I like to do it. Blog, that is. I don't love everything every writer I love has written. There is always an area of disconnect. You can't please all the people all the time. & more truisms! I was thinking just now as I nursed the baby to sleep, thinking about my childhood, could I do 30 posts (one for each day in november) about my childhood? Without hurting anyone's feelings or shocking anyone. And then, again, like I read somewhere recently, a woman who stopped blogging because she was tired of being so safe, being so scared of hurting or shocking anyone. Anyone is a big number of people when you're talking about the Internet. Anyone is thousands, millions of people. How ridiculous to worry about thousands or millions of people - yet you worry about 10. On the other hand, if those 10 are all the readership you have, why not worry they might go elsewhere, de-list you. I think I will do it. A month of posts, again, to keep my arm steady and my mind nimble. And at least I'll have it to look back at in my archive unlike every other month with 10, 15 posts, November, once again, will ahve at least 30. It is 7:32 am, PST, and I am enjoying a fleeting moment of quiet and alone. Got up, put the baby to bed (that took an hour plus) and before the other baby gets up, not to mention my partner, I am having coffee and sitting on the couch and oh I remember this. I remember how this used to be. Not a care in the world. And still, there's not a lot of care, as in, I know the world won't crumble if things don't go just SO but things are definitely easier if they go the way I think they ought to and they often don't like I would say about 75% of the time. what time people get up in the morning affects the whole day, right down to bedtime. here comes partner now. at least he got some extra time. hopefully in the near future I will too and will be back here. It still hasn't gotten better. Become better. Improved. None of that. This is the first morning since the last morning that I've had the timie to do this and it's so rare. So very rare and I feel like I am just keeping my head above water, barely, not even swimming just floundering. Does everyone with two kids feel like this? I have had so much help - a month of live-in help, then 2 weeks of not help, exactly, but around it all has been sickness. Three colds and sinus involvement for me. Two or three colds for the big kid, two for the little one plus a round of antibiotics for his groin infection and a yeasty crotch after that. In 10.5 weeks we have been sicker than we were all year. That makes it hard to find your feet beneath your body, even if it was super easy to do. Now there's the little one trying to crawl already at 2.5 months old and the big one trying out his new two-year-old muscles and me just leaning up against a wall in the backgound, trying not to weep, rubbing at my aching back. I am going to the dentist today. Leaving both children with my mother. First I have to get them there. I have the baby monitor set up but I'm not convinced it's working. I don't hear anything. The older child is sleeeping an uncharacteristically long time. My right shoulder blade tingles like it's being electrocuted. Has done for years, but it's gettingi worse with all the kid-lugging I'm doing. I have coffee. This is good. And today is rainy and cool, where it has been sticky hot for the past week. So that's good too. I don't enjoy sweating while I sleep. Not that I slept very much (last night was a short night with three wakeups in it) but at least my boobs are working. I really hope this gets better. I really hope I settle into a groove and become accustomed to this life and start to get some more sleep but I remember with boy1 that it got worse at 3/4 months, a lot worse, before getting better at 5. I felt so betrayed that people told me it would "get better" at 12 weeks/3 months and to me it was worse than ever, compounded by the fact that I thought it was "supposed" to be better and what the hell was wrong with me and my kid. OK #1. Nothing is wrong with us. We are just soldiering on, doing our best. #2. Stay cool, stay respectful. #3. Don't regret your choices and try not to let your kids see that you are questioning yourself. #4. Go get the baby. He's awake. #5. Today might be fucked. But tomorrow might not be. Starshine? Sunshine? Well it's cloudy today, anyway. The 18th of June. Cannot fucking believe that. Baby 2 is 8 weeks + 3 days old. Baby 1 is 2 weeks away from turning 2. I am 34. Right? Let me think a second. Yes. 34. Finally at home, full time, with two children, this week. Hub was home for the first 4 weeks. Then his parents were here for 2 weeks. They left last wednesday around this time. And We have Been Sick Forever. MIL brought evil hacking illness with her. Gave it to me, to her husband. Then Baby 1 got it. Then he immediately got something else as well, something from the playground, I suspect. Then he gave that to me and Baby 2 and the Hub is down for the count today. It's been 3 weeks now for me blowing my nose. Baby 1 is getting better, though. He is almost all better. Baby 2 seems to be kicking it pretty quick because he's breastfeeding, I guess. Hub will likely recover within 5 days or so. Sure would like all things to be equal so that I could say, All things being equal, I suck at this job and I hate it. The SAHM gig is fucking rough. But you know what, even having had 35 minutes to drink coffee and surf the 'net in peace and quiet makes me feel more likely to be able to tackle the day. Baby 2 is in a phase right now where he sleeps really well at night, night includes up till about 8 am, but needs attention all day for naps. Baby 1 seems to sleep until 7;30 - 7:45 if nothing wakes him (ie: the shower at 6:45 or the Hub clumping down the stairs at 7 on his way to work). I tried getting up early one day last week, to think and write and stuff and it just made the kids get up earlier too. But what also helps is that this journal is the place where I was dreadfully, horribly honest, with little of the "count my blessings" disclaimers. So coming here just now and reading back just the few entries where I was brutally honest about Baby 1 and how my days felt, I do feel like the world will right itself eventually. Back there a few entries I was all "I want a bedtime routine!" and that came, it just took till he was about a year old and could really participate in it. But now, yes, we do a bath, we do some stories, he gets into his bed himself (not a crib anymore) and takes a few (sometimes 20) books with him and that's the last we hear of him for 12 hours. 'twas not always thus and it will take months again with #2 to get to that place, plus it will be an evolution because we'll probably want to consolidate their bedtime routines at some point so that we're not doing everything twice in a 2 hour period when that's all the time we have together and alone. My public blog is not exactly all sunshine and roses but it is edited for clarity and content and attitude sometimes. Going back there into the archives and looking up what I was thinking at 8 weeks with B1 doesn't help me..I wrote something clever, eked it out of myself so that the world would be impressed with how clever I was despite having an 8 week old as company all day. But even then. It is a sad sorry fact that you can't go back. When I had B1 around I regretted not appreciating the alone time I had when I was pregnant. People tell you to appreciate it. You don't. You spend all your time thinking about labour, thinking about babies, thinking about the future. You should be appreciating the moment. With the end of my pregnancy this time, I had one lovely friend with 2 kids tell me to stop fixating on my labour and my upcoming birth, to appreciate this time with B1 as an only child, to truly drink him in and boy was that advice spot on. We did as much and had as much fun as we could in that month together. And even though I was looking forward to not being pregnant anymore, I also knew the road ahead would be very hard. Not how hard though. I had no idea how hard, how non-stop, how draining it would be. Something is always touching me. Someone is always awake. It's 2 to 1 most days and the 2 are not sentient. To carve out even 35 minutes of time alone, not including bathroom breaks, is beyond challenging, well into mensa-level difficult. Start running again? Write more? HAR! I'm told it gets easier. And since everything else I've been told has come true, I am going to believe this, move towards it like a moth to a possibly huge flame that might engulf me but I am going to trust that it is only a lightbulb. My friends wouldn't lie to me. And so I must take it slow, one minute, one precious hour at a time, building weeks and months and loving what I can of it and being honest about the rest. Happy wednesday. XO MS. At a loss this morning for what to do to occupy my time. My public blog is sort of on hold, I don't feel inclined to make the 'art' that I like to post there. My paper journal is way upstairs which is very far, very far indeed now that I am in week 39 of pregnancy, that's Almost Done for those of you keeping track. I want to be done so that I can get on with my life. But I don't want to be done because getting on with my life is a little scary. At home with two children under 2 years old? Alone? Jesus! Every once in a while the reality of this hits me like a cement truck and I am glad to be still pregnant and decrepit and unable to walk further than a few feet without wincing in pain. But then. The things I will do after I am pregnant, when my body is (mostly, but for nursing infant and dangling monkey toddler and desperately horny husband) mine again: - run, run, run. Start that running program again and go twice or three times a week. Hopefully. - core exercises to get my muscle tone healthy so that I don't injure myself lifting a can of beans - eventually, when it's safe and comfortable to do so, have regular sex again. Good sex, even. Could it be possible? I am so uninterested right now. Well, a little, but I know what will happen if I do it; I will suffer for days afterwards and possibly go into labour so. also, brain (though I have no illusions that I will be back at full capacity for at least a few months, possibly a year): - oh my god write - some blogging - some other creative outlet - the other url perhaps? - just. stuff. also, socially: - friends to visit - as in, make some - and some for the kids too - and hopefully develop a circle around me that is warm and honest and funny and yes. I am ready for friends. Female friends, even. I have made one and that is good. She is far across town. - and it would be nice to get better at the quick social interaction too; the playground encounters and the shopping centre pass-throughs. and finally: - what am I going to do with my life? - how am I going to do it? - where is me in all this suburban horseshit I mean housewife I mean mum-ness. I did not choose this because I love my job but I love my children more. I chose this because I hate my job and I need a drastic break so that I may be true to myself again. This stay-at-home-mum-ness is a palate cleanser - or is intended as one. Although I do think I need to excel at it, I do not think I need to excel at it at the exclusion of my own psyche. What I want to learn: - balance. - patience. - creativity. - how to nurture without over-coddling - how to guide without pushing - once and for all, where do I want to go / be? So. I may be back here to hash all that out, as my public space, as discussed, is a little too public. A little too. Well, it's funny because I swear there, talk about blood, am quite honest in a lot of ways but I do hold my writing up to a standard. And I also like to sometimes just type and type and type like I do here and not worry about the standard. A true journal. You see. I have no friends, no fans, no readers, no traffic. That's cool. That way I can share that I need to poop and eat some toast now before my son gets up for good. And there are no long-time readers to offend. Hoorah. Till next time, xo MS as you can tell by the dates. here it is almost february and I am drinking my coffee in preparation for another day at work and I am listening to my son grunt and holler his way to consciousness in his crib upstairs. It is 5:45 and thus too damn early for him to get up, especially as he was awake until at least 8 pm, hollering at us. We have houseguests you see, his grandparents from out of town, and it is super exciting and super neat and who could sleep with all this yippee going on. Yippee! Well, I could have but the alarm went off so I got up. Two more days of work and then I have a week off - very yippee indeed. I have quite a few things to accomplish these two days before I go so I am hopeful I don't forget anything. Someone will be covering off my desk for once, which is a nice change. We are going away, the hub and me, for two blessed days of vacationy luxury. Very excited. Will be the final vacation until who knows when. Oh yes, because we are expecting another baby. My baby factory is working well and hardly puts any smoke into the air at all. Hoorah. Baby #2 is due in April. Then, as baby #1 puts it, TOOOOOOO! And I say, yes, mama will have TWO babies. He is still hollering. I think I was supposed to get more than 15 minutes to myself but it is not working out that way. At least I remembered this journal's password so I can post here again if I want to. Till next time. xo MS 25 minutes of crying down. How much to go? WHY the fuck can he not get that daytime sleep in the crib is just like nighttime sleep in the crib except during the day? It is not so hard. He can get that blocks go in and out of the container. He can get that a duck is a duck is a duck. But he will keep yelling and crying in his crib until I go in and get him out. Simply because it is daytime. This day sucks ass. First, instead of sleeping till 7 or 7:30 as he's been doing lately, he woke up at 5:15. Wouldn't go back to sleep. Had his first nap, by necessity, at 7:15. Till 8. Not long enough, not NEARLY long enough. Dragged out the morning and now his second nap is not yet started because he refuses to fucking stop crying. Which means that shortly I will have to go up there again and try to calm him down except that doesn't work and then after that I will have to walk for an hour plus to get him to nap and goddamn it I am SICK TO FUCK(ING DEATH OF WALKING AROUND THIS GODDAMN NEIGHBOURHOOD I have seen everything, I want the exercise but I want the exercise on my own. I want to do strengthening exercise, weight training, swimming, anything but push the fucking stroller around and around and around. He is asleep now. It is SO HARD to listen to. It makes me cry. It makes me hate myself. It makes me mad at him - why? Why do I think an 11-month old knows what I know? He doesn't. He doesn't know anything but what I tell him. He doesn't know anything but me. I feel so damn bad. And I know, based on the nighttime sleep, that he is not suffering. He is not hurt. He is upset and angry but not hurt. I can't manage his reaction but I can manage my own. Put in earplugs, leave the room, talk on the phone like I just did. Talking to my mother for 15 minutes just made me feel like I was going to cry some more. I hate myself today. I hate everything about myself. I hate how I look I hate how I act I hate my life I hate my future. I hate it all. I am completely fucking useless and it's never going to be better than this. THIS is my life now. Fat, lazy, miserable, boring, friendless, alone. This is it. All I've got is my husband and my kid and when my husband gets hold of my actual brain, he will hate me and when my kid is old enough to make up his mind, he will hate me too and then I will be completely alone.\ Fuck it, fuck all of it. |
|||||||
|
|
|
|||||