Sunday, December 19, 2010
I would really just like to sit and cry for about 20 minutes. I'm being slowly pecked to death by ducks; killed by a 1000 paper cuts; herding marauding turtles. Every time I think I am about to get it back together, the stomach flu hits, my husband leaves on a business trip, school is delayed for weather, Noah needs yet another well-baby check up or my dog needs me to place a warm compress on her anus for 10-15 minutes nightly (don't ask).
I have been at a baby weight plateau for a good 3 months now (baby is 4.5 months). While I know that I know the extra donut is helping no one, it doesn't seem possible that I can wake every morning famished yet somehow see the scale fluctuate between the same 3 numbers. Surely, by now, it should be coming off. I keep reminding myself that it came off with the other 2 with no obsessing on my part and I actually don't think it's coming off any more slowly this time. I suspect it's due to the fact that I gained so much less this time that there was just less that my body felt comfortable with shedding easily. I still keep having a nagging in my head that I am 33 this time and perhaps my metabolism just isn't what it was.
The dishes are a source of endless bafflement as well. If I skip running the dishwasher one night because there is so little in there we somehow make a bumper crop of dishes the next day and it takes me another 2-3 days before I'm properly caught up.
I keep having to remind myself that I am a grown up now regarding my social life. I keep telling myself that not everyone has to like me just like I don't actually like everyone else. But I still find myself wondering why that woman doesn't like me or that group doesn't invite me to their get togethers. I have my own friends, my own groups, my own groove but part of me is still that 14 year old who has no sense of self.
I am pretty sure my mom is going senile at a gradually increasing rate. On a purely selfish level, it puts me in a mild panic because I had counted on being able to turn to her for help with the children when my husband has to travel, etc, but she's starting to be at a point where that just isn't the best plan. She's not a danger to anyone but the stress she invokes in me is almost equal to the stress she takes off of me at this point.
I can't get my laundry put away in less than 3 days. This drives me nuts.
Noah has this massive scream-fest/fussithon every evening as well as being a bit on the touchy side all day. I think the main issue is that he's ready to go to sleep for the night around 6. However, he only sleeps while being held and only really hits the night time sort of sleep, laying next to me. So, in Noah's world, I should be going to be at 6 as well. Since that's less than practical, he cries while being rocked in a variety of venues. But, I'm still winding up trying to be in bed by 8:30 because that's still about 3 hours of screaming and it's about all we can take anyway. This has a lot to do with things like why I can't get the laundry done.
Noah is also still getting up every 1.5-3 hours to nurse. I'm sure it has to do with sleeping with me but as the alternative seems to be listening to hours of crying every night, it seems to be a wash. I'm sure the lack of consistent sleep isn't helping my mood or my weight.
Insanely, even with all this, I'm still mourning that this will be my last baby. I'm such a mess.
Posted by Becky at 7:58 PM