invisible labels

April 23, 2012 By 35 Comments

I don’t embarrass very easily.

Or I should say, I bounce back from embarrassment quickly and without much bruise to my ego.

I mean, really. I do not have TIME to be embarrassed!

I am routinely too loud for a situation.  Just ask Cort. It has been said I don’t have an indoor voice.

I am famous for talking about things that make my mom and dad groan and mumble, “C’mon, Kate.  Sheesh.”

I ask questions that are probably dumb, but I am hoping other people have.  Sometimes this elicits nods of agreement and relief.  Other times I am answered with blank stares and crickets to which I say, “No?  Ok then.  Just me, I guess.”

Yeah, I might turn a little red, but I brush it all off.

It’s fleeting.

It can be laughed off.

But I do feel like there is a label on me that can’t be laughed off.

One that announces to the world that I am a mess of a mother.

It all started with me announcing that this time around, I was going to ask and accept help with my baby, my family, my healing after my c-section.  I was going to do what was best for the family to keep the stress to a minimum.

Everyone seemed to think this was great.  I was finally admitting I couldn’t take everything on all by myself.

But now, 5 weeks after Charlie’s birth, suddenly I am finding shame in those choices.

How is it going being at home with TWO kids instead of just one?

I feel like people ask this question with a smirk.  Because they see my label.

And I start needlessly explaining:

Well, Eddie is still in daycare.  I mean, they do like a curriculum and stuff.  So he will be there until school is out.  He likes it better that way. Not that he doesn’t like to be with me, but you know, it’s boring to be home with mom and a baby who can’t play when he could be with his friends playing and learning and stuff.  I mean, they do crafts and lessons about letters, numbers, colors, shapes…lots of stuff.  Oh and they sing!  Eddie loves to sing!  And they play outdoors more than I would be able to because of Charlie.  And they do Bible stories.  That is important.  Not that I couldn’t do those, I suppose, but you know…it’s a whole curriculum.

Why do I do that?

Because I am ashamed that I send my boy away every day.

I carry shame in my heart that I can’t handle two kids at once.

But I do handle them both by myself.  Frequently.  So why do I feel like this choice puts a label on me saying I can’t?

The other thing I feel shame in admitting is that we have someone clean our house every other week.

The hardest thing is finding time to clean, isn’t it?

Yes. It is. Our house gets picked up and messes get cleaned, but this is not the same as “cleaning the house.”

And when my house feels yuck, so do I.  And it consumes me.

So we hire someone to do the “all at once, all over” cleaning.

Twice a month I have my bathroom and kitchen and floors cleaned GOOD.  My house gets a much needed dusting and the vacuum gets run in EVERY room at the same time.

I am very organized and I love neatness, but I let my choice to hire a cleaning lady stick a label to me saying I am incapable of keeping house.

These labels laugh in my face.

“She can’t handle motherhood.  She is a mess.  Her poor husband and kids.”

And since I am labeled a mess, my husband and boys must be labeled as needing pity.

This weighs so heavily on me, in fact, that it was the subject of a long, difficult therapy session last week.

This idea that I let my paranoia about what people think of my choices label me and my family.

But I have learned that these are invisible labels that I have stuck on us.

They are not reality.

I am not a mess.

Yup, I'm THAT friend.

I am a great mom who does what is best for myself and in turn for my husband and children.

I am a teacher who loves this time home with my new son, but can’t wait to get back to the classroom in the fall for a new adventure with new students.

I am a writer who shares the good, the bad, and the super bad because it is who I am…and maybe it will help someone else accept who he/she is.

I am a friend who might be an awkward hugger, but who will always do anything to see you smile.

I am a daughter, sister, sister-in-law, aunt who would go out of my way for my family (not always without grumbles, but still).

I am a wife who still gets butterflies when I see her husband’s truck pull in because it means I get to see him soon.

I am enough.

Today I am linking up at Just. Be. Enough. about what we are beyond labels.
This post has been on my mind a lot and I got the push from Julie when she posted about shame.
I realized that I was keeping my shame inside and I needed to let it go.
Thank you, Julie.

*************

Another way I am enough is in how I delivered my sons into this world.
My stories of emergency C-section and then a planned repeat C-section are featured on The Mom Pledge Today.
I’d love if you would hop on over there.

Filed Under: anxiety, depression, Katie, mental health Tagged With: , , ,

Getting Schooled

April 20, 2012 By 20 Comments

So yesterday I got into a pretty intense discussion on the twitters about why people do NOT choose public school for their kids.

My initial tweet was simple:

It came about because it seemed like my twitter streams and facebook new feed were filled with moms trying to get their children into private and charter schools rather than going with the public school in their area.

As a public school teacher, this made my heart sad…and defeated.

The people I see doing this are educated, smart people with kids who I feel would probably thrive in any school they are put into.  So I started wondering…what factors make someone choose something other than the free option of public schools?

Is it a status/stigma thing?

Do people think the education is better…and is it?

I didn’t intend for it to be anything other than a statement.  Maybe get a couple replies.

I did not expect for it to become an hour long twitter conversation among many, MANY people.

It opened up a huge discussion about not just what we choose for our kids’ education, but what people think is wrong with America’s public schools.

So I decided I needed to do some more research.  Conduct a survey.  Do some interviews.

And put together a series.

I am going to do the series over at BNV since it belongs there rather than here on my personal blog.

I’ll probably do a post on why people choose each type of schooling choice and one that focuses on why Public Schools seem to be failing for so many.

I hope you’ll all come read.

And I hope you’ll help me out by taking the survey below.

Click HERE for the survey.

Filed Under: Katie Tagged With:

clash of personality

April 17, 2012 By 47 Comments

I love Eddie.

I have to start with that.

He is my heart and soul and we have a deep connection due in part to our rough beginning, but also because of how alike we are in every possible way.

We get each other.

That is why I posted about our sweet moments yesterday.  They do happen.

But.

There are also the other moments.

The ones that seem to take up so much space in this house and in this family lately.

Which is what has been on my heart lately.

This post is an honest plea for advice or reassurance or honest feedback.

My son is going through what I really hope is just a tough phase.

But sometimes the doubt creeps in.

I don’t even know how long it’s been going on.  It feels like forever.  I know it started before Charlie got here five weeks ago, but it’s worse now that he is here.

I try to tell myself it’s just Eddie’s adjustment period, but it’s rough.

It’s like he is walking around with a faulty anger switch.

One moment he is sweet as pie, and the next you better check to make sure your head is still attached.

Each day at 5pm, I watch as Cort pulls the truck in the garage.

I listen for whining or chatting.  I watch out the front window to see how/if Eddie bounds to the mailbox with daddy for the paper and the mail.

When the door opens, I wait.

I let him talk first.

Most days I get, “Hi, Mommy!” before he even sees me.

Some days he is already crying because of something daddy would not let him do.  Those days I am extra cautious.  One ridiculous question (how was your day?) will get my face barked off with an angry scream.

He will be playing ever-so-sweetly with his toys or watching a show nicely when BAM!  A toy will fly through the air or he will walk past the coffee table and with one swipe whip everything onto the floor.

Or he will send his sippy or empty snack bowl sailing through the living room.

When I tell him to pick it up and put it away, he yells, “NO!  I DON’T WANT TO!” and then grunts and possibly slaps a piece of nearby furniture.

At dinner he will be eating nicely and then he will randomly start dumping food onto the floor.

We will tell him to stop and he will look straight at us and do it again.

We have taken away dessert and snacks and treats and TV time.

We have taken away the toys he throws.

We have issued time outs

He seems stunned each time a consequence happens, but it doesn’t stop his angry behavior.

He just starts hitting things (luckily, he almost NEVER hits people) or screaming as loudly and long as he can.  Or grunting at us like an rabid animal.

Even time outs have become more of a struggle.  He used to go, sit, and cry.  Now he is getting more rebellious and trying to scoot out.

We send him to his room to do his tantrums there.

50% of the time that works.  He will go down to his room, cool off, and come back.

But the tantrum is never fully over.

He will sweetly ask for the item (Mario Kart time, screen time on Cort’s tablet or my Nook, craisins before bed, or an episode of a show on Tivo) that he originally lost with his bad behavior.  When we tell him no, he loses it all over again.

Each time I sit and watch him.

I want to cave.

I know that is awful to admit, but it’s true.

I want to give in to his demands because I like to see him happy.

But I know in the long run that will create a horribly spoiled and demanding person.

So we stand our ground.

The other day he wouldn’t stop spitting at dinner.  Because I couldn’t set him in time out without taking five minutes to clean his hands and face of dinner, I snapped.  I grabbed his face and squeezed his cheeks together so he couldn’t spit.

“STOP SPITTING!  IT’S GROSS AND RUDE!” I said in a voice that I didn’t know I could use with my little buddy.

I held for one second longer before I let go, sat down in my chair, and stared at my plate.

After a pause, he started hysterically crying, “OWWWWW!!!!  Mommy HURT me!”

I wanted to crawl in a hole.

I wanted to pick him up out of his booster and hug him to my chest and apologize and shower him in kisses.

But I don’t want him to be the kid that spits.

I know he is also overdramatic.

My mom says it’s uncanny how much like me he is.

When I was that age, I used to stomp off to my room and moan, “WOE IS ME…NOBODY LOVES ME.”

He is like that.  Exactly.

I know I didn’t really hurt him.  I know I scared him because he has never seen me do that, but it didn’t hurt.

I would never hurt my children.

But I did scare myself.

I’ve always said I don’t believe in punishing with physical pain when my beliefs are that violence and pain do not solve problems.

But now I am questioning it.

My parents didn’t hit us (ok, an occasional butt swat, but it was never a first resort), but they did grab our face or under our upper arm when they needed something super annoying or out of line to STOP. THIS. INSTANT.

Do I feel good about it?

No.  And now I know they didn’t either.  It sucks to have to do that to what you love best in the world.

But what else do I do?

I can raise my voice now and give a look and Eddie cowers and quits what he is doing.

I sort of hate that.

And I try not to use that.

But he WILL. NOT. LISTEN lately.

Sigh.

I am frustrated.

I want more of the sweet moments back.  The ones we have at bedtime (when he is not fighting or stalling).  The ones when he and Charlie and I are all piled in my chair and watching Busytown Mysteries or Sesame Street.

I hate having to get angry, and I feel like I am getting angry most of the time.

Is this normal two-almost-three-year-old behavior?

Is my kid overly anger?  Does he have anger problems?

Am I doing the right thing?

Help. I feel like I am failing.

Filed Under: Eddie Tagged With: , , , , , ,

a new song

April 16, 2012 By 11 Comments

“Sing to me, mommy,” he whispers in the dark.

“Sing me a new song.”

The twin mattress makes him seem so small.

“Ok, Eddie.  This one was your Papa’s favorite.”

He nuzzles his head close to me and I smell his hair.

Gone is the sweet baby smell of lotion and Johnson & Johnson.

It has been replaced with the smell of shampoo and toddler.

Sweat and dirt and spaghetti O’s and sweetness.

I was once told when he was only weeks fresh that his smell would be with him forever.

That he would always smell like Eddie.

It’s true.

Under all those boy smells, I could still find that scent he was born with.

I smiled and I began to softly sing,

Cracklin’ Rosie, get on board
We’re gonna ride til there ain’t no more to go
takin’ it slow.

I paused.

I was thinking about the rest of the lyrics–and the man who loved them–when a small hand touched mine.

“Again, mommy.  Sing my Papa’s song again.”

Three lines were enough.

I sang them again.

This time I could hear him whisper some of the words into his memory.

“Again.”

A third time I sang the lines.

“Again, mommy.”

“You sing to me, Eddie.”

“My Papa’s song?”

“Yes.”

Caklin’ Wosie boad
wide aw night
slow.

“I like your singing, Eddie.”

“Thanks, you, mommy.  You lay by me for a little bit longer?”

In the glow of his nightlight I look around his new room.

Everything is Big Boy sized now: the dresser, the chair, the toy box.

I even bought him his first package of toddler underwear this past week.

Then I look over at the little creature pressed into my side.

Hair standing up like chickens sleep in it.

A hint of chocolate by one of the corners of his mouth.

Scrapes and boo boos from tumbling off his bike or rolling down the grassy hill in our yard.

And the longest lashes I have ever seen framing two bottomless dark pools staring at me.

We look at each other for a long time in the quiet darkness.

Under this new Big Boy uniform he is growing into, I start to see hints of my baby.

Chubby cheeks.

Sleepy, long blinks.

And the soft squeaking sound as he sucks his pipey.

I see my baby wrapped in a Big Boy.

I whisper, “I love you Eddie.”

He smiles behind his pipey and rubs Lamby to his nose and sleepy eyes.

“I love you too, Mommy.”

*************

Filed Under: Eddie Tagged With: , , , , , ,

a one month letter

April 13, 2012 By 23 Comments

Dear Charlie,

You are one month old today.

Stop that.  Stop that getting older thing right this minute.

Sorry.  I got all cliche on you there for a second.  But really, I don’t think anyone can believe it’s been a whole dang month already since you were sliced out of my belly.

Yesterday we were at the doctor’s office and they weighed you.  10lbs, 4 oz.  Dude.  That is a pound and 2 ounces in like a week’s time.  You are a champ!  Must be because you are averaging about 20-24 ounces of formula a day.

You are such an agreeable baby, my son.

You put yourself on a three-hour schedule almost immediately after moving into our house.  Sometimes at night, you will go four, even five hours at a stretch, but during the day, you want food every three hours.

You sleep really well too.  We will get some awake time where you coo and “chat”, but mostly you eat, poop, and sleep.

Rarely do you get so crabby you can’t be consoled…you’re maybe an anger ball for about an hour once every other day.

Just like your brother, you’ve found the elephant on the wall next to the changing table.  When you’re not mad at me for having your booty cakes out in the breeze, you are happily staring, and sometimes cooing, at that dang elephant.

I’m sorry that I compare you to your brother so much.  It’s hard not to though.  I mean, he’s all I have to say what mothering an infant is like, and you…well you are quite a bit different than he was.

So just for funsies, instead of comparing you in personality and temperament, I’ve got some pictures of you both at this age.

a fresh Eddie

newborn Charlie

*************

Daddy and Eddie bonding

Daddy and Charlie cuddling

*************

Eddie at 6 days for his newborn photoshoot

Charlie at 7 days old for his photoshoot (also with mL photography)

************

upclose with Eddie

Charlie's close up

*************

And lastly…

Eddie at 4 weeks old

Charlie at 4 weeks

There is a LOT about you two that is alike upon first glance, but that is really where it ends.  Most of my pictures of your brother are of him wide awake and yelling.  The pics I have of you are all of you snoozing.

Eddie was rocking tummy time by four weeks.  You have zero interest in it.  In fact, it’s almost difficult to find time to put you on your tummy.  You’re either eating or sleeping all the time.

But you have one thing in common with Eddie.  You both love to snuggle.

I hope neither of you ever grow out of needing me.

I love you, sweet Charlie Bird.

You make me happy every day.

Love,
mommy

*************

Oh hey!  The lovely Courtney from GCS Design worked her magic yet again (you’ll remember that she designed my business card and this blog), and whipped up Charlie’s birth announcement.  I am excited to share it with you all!

Filed Under: Charlie Tagged With: , ,

A Booty Story

April 12, 2012 By 16 Comments

So yesterday I found something that bothered me in Charlie’s diaper.

No, not poop.  That doesn’t even bother me anymore.  I have grown desensitized to poop (yes, I had to ask the twitters because my brain is so mushy I couldn’t even think of that word).

Actually, it wasn’t in his diaper, it was on his booty.

My baby’s tiny perfect booty had a nodule near it’s booty hole.  It was like a big zit, but red and inflamed and raw.

And I did what any mom would do.

I went to the facebook and the twitters.

Turns out, no.  Babies are not really apt to get hemorrhoids.

So then I thought it was perhaps athlete’s foot of the booty hole since it didn’t look like the yeast infections Eddie would get in his fat rolls when he was that little (yes, we have monistat in the house.  for my son).

But Cort, being the super dad he is, picked up a new tube of monistat and a tube of lotrim.  But when he got home, and I made him look at this son’s bootocks, he thought it looked more like an abscess or sore.  So I decided to call the doctor.

The nurse said that yes, absolutely, he should come in and to call again at 7am the next morning for a same-day appointment.

(side note:  While I really love our doctor and the office, I hate this policy.  At least when I am calling at almost 4pm.  That is almost the end of the day, why can’t you just give me an appointment for tomorrow when you KNOW I need to be there?  Annoying.)

Of course after I called, Charlie decided  he was pissed the world.  He cried and cried and cried for about an hour straight.

My mind decided it was because of his booty owie (even though the darn thing didn’t seem to bug him all day up to that point) and I started searching his body for other indications that he was sick.

This was a dumb choice.

By the time Cort and Eddie came home at 5pm, I had decided that my baby had something that was sure to be fatal.  I had found bumps everywhere (um, baby acne, anyone?), red spots (scratches from his razors talons finger nails that needed clipping), and I thought sure he had a rash on his eye (because the intense bawling didn’t have any effect on his eyes, right?).

A booty bump + bawling baby + sleep-deprived mother running on 42 contiguous minutes of sleep, 2 cookies and 2 cups of coffee total for the day, and no real shower = ridiculous anxiety driven conclusions.  Just picture me completely busted-looking standing on that Jump To Conclusions mat from the movie Office Space, but the mat has only cancer and death written for every conclusions.  Yeah. That was me yesterday.

So.

Anyway.

This morning, after Charlie’s 6am feeding, I watched Sports Center sat and stared at nothing in particular until the clock said 7am and Cort and Ed had left the building.  I called, made a 10:30am appointment, and Charlie and I curled up on the couch and sacked back out.

By 10am, though, we were up, dressed, and ready to roll.

We were to see the Nurse Practitioner today since Charlie’s regular doc wasn’t in, which was fine because the NP is awesome.

But first we had to get through the nurse who takes all the vitals like head circumference (um, the issue is his BOOTY).  Then the questions started about his (our) health history.

The last question she asked me before leaving Charlie and me to wait for the NP? “And what kind of cancer did his grandpa have?”

O_O

That whole freaking out thing?  It started to happen in my head again.

Seriously?  Is that really something they needed to ask?  It’s all there in the computer under “health history.”  I know.  I had to fill it out for Eddie AND Charlie AND myself when we all came to this office.

So the NP comes in, listens to his heart, checks his booty.  Agrees that even though it looks better today, it’s good I came in.  Checks the rest of his body for rash (there is none, regardless of my panic attack the day before).

She announces she’s pretty sure it’s just a normal little thing that should go away on it’s own and to keep some Neosporin on it, but because of his age she wants to culture it just to be sure it’s not bacterial.

So she covers up his bits with the diaper and says she’ll be right back.

To me, “right back” means she has to grab the culture Q-tip thingy from a room possibly right next door.  “Right back” means, don’t bother putting his diaper all the way back on, I will be back in before the door completely closes.

This was not what “right back” meant.

So Charlie peed all over the exam table.

ALL OVER.  Like dripping down the sides, swimming in a pool of his own urine, all over.

Um.

I stood there a minute.

Um.

I grabbed his burp cloth from my diaper bag and laid it under him, and just then Mrs. Right Back was indeed back.

“Sorry, I had to go down the hall to…”

“He peed.  I”m so sorry.”

At least she laughed.  And then wrapped him in one of those sheet things that you spread over your lap when you’re about to get your lady bits looked at.

Eventually his booty was swabbed, a clean diaper and clothes put on, our co-pay paid, and we were on our way.

And yes, I did treat myself to a latte from Starbucks after all that.

Filed Under: Charlie Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,

“like”

April 10, 2012 By 17 Comments

It’s funny what opening up your soul and letting your feelings vomit all over your blog will do for your mental well-being.  After writing through this lonely feeling I have been having, I have purged the yuck and replaced it with hope and joy and fun.

If these things were listed on facebook?  I would click the thumbs up and “like” them all…

the smell of Charlie’s head right after a bath

all the extra hugs and cuddles Eddie gives me lately.  It’s like he can’t get close enough.

newborn grunts…even when they are producing poo.

taking Charlie out on almost-daily adventures.

the way Cort can fit his arms all the way around me now that I am not pregnant.

the first taste of coffee in the morning.

baseball season.

watching Eddie bound for the mailbox with his daddy each day they come home.

the way Charlie prefers to sleep with a buddy, and that he prefers that buddy to be me.

listening to music all day instead of having the idiot box TV on in the background.

the way Eddie’s curls stand up all over the morning after bath night.

the absence of depression and anxiety.

Charlie’s awake times when we lay on the floor together and coo.

the occasional Starbucks run during the week.

being present in the moment.

the little noises Charlie makes when he is getting ready to wake up.

Eddie’s voice each day saying, “Hi mommy!” when he first walks through the door after being away from me all day.

Charlie’s man-toots.

the way Eddie rushes to see “Baby Cha-wee” immediately after greeting me each afternoon.

Target runs.

reading blogs each morning…even if I can’t comment because my arms are full of baby.

the way Charlie turns in towards me when he is trying to fall asleep.

catching Cort checking me out.

smelling baby on me when I am not home with the baby.

the way Eddie can’t get his face close enough to Charlie.

5-hour stretches in between night feedings.

that moment when Charlie’s breath and mine meet and we both surrender to sleep.

Cort reaching for me and rubbing my back as I fall back in bed at 5am.

making time for a hot shower each day.

writing.

how attractive fatherhood looks on my husband.

naps.

giving myself permission to just hold a baby and drift in and out of sleep with the ball game on TV.

being productive.

accomplishing nothing.

this:

oh and this:

click photo for credit

(hat by CUTEure Creations, which you CAN “like” on facebook)

Life is so beautiful.

Thank you all for reminding me and bearing with me while I worked to find the beauty again.

Filed Under: Katie, mental health, Sluiters Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

sweaters and smiles

April 9, 2012 By 8 Comments

Of course after admitting to the world that I have nothing to blog about, I have jotted down a thousand things.

But they all feel a bit weighty or mooshy for a Monday.

So instead, you get a glimpse at our Easter.

The day was beautiful.  Sunny skies and mid-50′s when we left the house for church at 9:30am.

I even got all of my boys to wear sweaters and smiles.  Plus we were able to take Eddie’s crazy curls with a load of tangle spray and some heavy brushing.

After an absolutely lovely service, we packed up and headed to my parents’ house for Easter baskets for the boys.

Eddie dived right into his asking, “mommy, you open this for me?” about everything…mostly about all the candy (thanks, mom)…chocolate in particular.  Seeing as we hadn’t had lunch yet, I only let him open his brother’s m&m’s (let’s face it, Charlie won’t miss them).  But that little stinker found a loophole in my system.  Grandma had chocolate eggs in a bowl.  No need to open his candy when he can shove Grandma’s chocolate in his mouth.

Oh well, it’s Easter.

And he wore a tie and sweater for me.

And stood nice for this family picture:

Eat up, bud.  In fact, here’s some more m&ms.

After my parents’ we went over to Cort’s mom and stepdad’s house for dinner, and egg hunt, and more Easter baskets.

My mother-in-law’s Easter dinner might be one of my favorite holiday meals all year.  I am not even a ham fan, but hers always has this yummy crust on it.  Plus she has all the things I deny myself otherwise:  green bean casserole, rolls, and cheesy potatoes with potato chips on top.  Don’t worry, I ate a strawberry too.  You know, to be healthy.  Or something.

Anyway, I was too busy stuffing my face and making Eddie eat try at least a bite of everything on his plate to take pics of the food.

Cort and I learned that our older son is quite cut-throat when it comes to Easter Egg hunting.  He knew his 11 month old cousins could not get around to find the eggs, so he ran and grabbed almost all of them, despite our yelling for him to “share with the babies, Eddie!”

Why yes, Eddie did outrun his aunt Kenzie because he knew she was weighted down with his cousin.  And yes, he DID ask her to hand over the eggs she had collected for Kingston.  The boy meant business.  I think he is going to be disappointed next year when those tanks cousins of his can team up and push him off the eggs.

Thirteen eggs collected probably equaled about $2 in change, but it was the fun of getting them in his basket.  And of course “feeding his pig” (piggy bank) when he got home.

Granny sort of out does the whole world when it comes to Easter baskets.  So many fun goodies, but the annual ones are swimsuits for the boys.  Charlie got a shark suit with  matching water shoes this year.  Yes, I may have swooned.

And how did she know sticker books are Eddie’s favorite?  He even showed Great Granny how they work.  I think she was impressed.

After all that fun, it was finally time to go home for naps. For everyone.

Because remembering our loved ones who have passed on and praising God for giving them (and us) eternal life through Jesus is exhausting.

Or we were in food comas from Granny’s cooking.

One of those.

Filed Under: Sluiters Tagged With: , , , , ,

no, i am not sick of my baby

April 6, 2012 By 20 Comments

You know that thing where you write up a post that you think is a nice light humorous way to show that you miss civilization, but then a few people read your words and infer that you are tired of your baby and you want him to grow up fast and get out of this stage, so then you obsess at every night feeding over the fact that now you are pretty sure the entire interwebs thinks you’re a terrible mom who wants to run away from your baby, and you know that is not true, but the interwebs thinks it, so you can’t sleep even when you do get the baby down and now it’s 4:30 in the morning and you have been up for over four hours and the baby won’t sleep and you are crying because you’re so tired and you committed to going to the critter barn with your other son’s daycare while also taking your nephew in the afternoon, and you are going to be a mess because you haven’t slept?

Yeah.

That happened to me.

Yesterday my words here failed to convey what I was trying to say.

I wrote that I am in a rut and that I am bored.

What some people read was that I am sick of my baby.

But what I realized I meant was that I miss social interaction.

I love this time with Charlie.  I soak in each second with him because I missed so much with Eddie.

When Charlie is awake I am staring at him.

When he eats, I stare into his eyes and slip my pinky into his little fist.

I kiss his droopy cheeks relentlessly.

I drift off to sleep with my nose stuck to his head trying to smell his baby-ness in my dreams.

When he is wide awake after a bottle, I put him on a blanket and lie next to him to listen to his coos and snorts.

I tell him stories of his Great Grandparents and Papa who are in Heaven.  I sing him songs.  I trace the lines of his little face with my finger.

But when he is napping, well, he is napping.

It could be for 30 minutes or maybe 2 hours.

It’s in that time…after the shower has been taken and the bottles washed and the dishes done and the house picked up…that I look around and miss something.

I guess it’s not that I am bored.  It’s different than that.

I am used to getting up and going to work every day.  I’m used to 100+ students asking me 100000000+ questions.  I’m used to adult interaction about things other than my household or my children. I’m used to staff meetings and curriculum discussions and parent meetings and piles of grading and lesson planning.

I’m not used to being idle in the middle of the day.

In the mornings I sip my coffee, watch the Today Show, and check the twitters and the blogs until he needs some cuddles.  Then we nap together on the couch.

But in the afternoons…when I don’t need a nap, but he does…well…I am left wandering.

There were a few moms who said it best yesterday:  I am lonely.

Yesterday, while people were misreading my words, I packed Charlie up and headed to my brother’s house to watch the Detroit Tigers’ home opener with both brothers and my parents.

It was lovely to be amongst adults out of my house and talk about things like baseball, iphones vs non-iphones, the time my brother got lost in his sleeping bag, and other non-baby things.

Today I packed up Charlie again and we headed over to go along on a field trip with Eddie’s daycare to The Critter Barn.  They have baby goats and lambs, you know.

It’s the “getting ready and seeing and interacting with adults” that I miss from my life.

It has nothing to do with how much I love being quiet and alone with Charlie.

I am in LOVE with that in a way I never was with Eddie.

But the days are long and lonely at the same time.

I think the key is planning something that gets us “ready” and “out” each day.

I don’t want the time to go faster.  No, no, NO!  I want to keep my boys just how they are.

But I do need to not go crazy from the lack of interaction with the “real world” too.

Does this make sense?

What do you do to keep your sanity?  What “trips” do you take to keep yourself involved in civilization?

Eddie and his BFF, Brooke, at the Critter Barn. Cue melting mommy heart.

Filed Under: Charlie, Katie, mental health Tagged With: , , , , ,

baby rut

April 5, 2012 By 64 Comments

When Cort came home for lunch yesterday I admitted that I hit my stay at home wall…

Less than three weeks into this gig.

I am bored.

Ok, not really bored.

It’s not like there aren’t things to do.

And it’s not like there aren’t other things I would like to be doing.

But either the things I can do are boring and take two minutes and I do them every day and oh-mah-gawd how many times can I wash bottles in one day? or the the things I want to do, I can’t because I am not allowed to exercise or do “excessive lifting” or whatever just yet.

Currently I am living life in three hour increments which go kind of like this:

baby wakes up and cries.
change baby.
feed baby.
baby is awake and happy.  the world stops and I stare and talk to baby.
baby gets fussy since he is not wrapped up and held.
wrap baby up and snuggle.
and snuggle.
baby falls asleep.
put baby down.
baby wakes up because he knows the swing/bouncey/crib/bassinet/couch is not snuggling him.
snuggle baby.
baby falls asleep for the long haul (which means for whatever is left of this three hours).
repeat.

So I guess you could say I’m not bored because clearly I have something happening constantly.

I am in a rut.

My “free time” each day…aka “when the baby is sleeping”…is anywhere from 2 hour blocks to 30 minute blocks.

I use that time to shower, wash bottles, and empty and refill the dishwasher.

Those are my three goals each day other than “keep the baby alive”.

If I have extra time, I try to nap, but I can’t always make that happen, even when I am dog-ass tired.  For some reason napping, which I could do pretty much anytime, anywhere while pregnant, is eluding me now.

In those “free” minutes where I am not holding or staring at this sweet new life I have, I play Words With Friends (by the way, you all are a bunch of cheaters.  I am convinced of this), watch crappy daytime television, read a book, or screw around on the computer.

I try to write, but I have nothing to say.  At least not here. (I guess I could just post pictures of Charlie every day…but I already over-saturate twitter and facebook with my instagrams of him).

Because I am in a rut.

I miss civilization.

I am actually looking forward to Easter Sunday because I will get to get up, shower and do my hair, and wear nice clothes.  In public.  With my family.

I need a purpose for each day other than feeding a tiny human.

I want to reorganize the basement, exercise, paint the bathroom, clean Eddie’s room, purge the closets, ship stuff off to Goodwill, start a baby book for Charlie, work on Eddie’s little boy book, oh this list goes on and on.

Many of these things have to wait until Charlie is napping more regularly and/or I can push up my sleeves and do some sweaty manual labor.

So for now, when I’ve played all my opponents in WWF and I just can’t focus on my book or another episode of Friends, and when the words aren’t coming for this blog…I guess I will just keep staring out the front window…wishing I could wear pants with a zipper.

And then I will go back to staring and snapping pictures of this:

 I’m taking suggestions on what to do with my “quiet time” for the next couple weeks.  Anyone?

 Also, I am aware that now that I just posted this, Charlie will do everything in his power to keep me busy and away from anything else except the TV from this point on.  Yup, I just did that to myself.

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Filed Under: Charlie, Katie Tagged With: , , , , , ,
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