So it's the eve of the second of four holiday weekends that we get to celebrate in our home and native land, and my daughter has come down with a bad fever. We were looking forward to just a simple family "play it by ear" weekend, going outside to play, going swimming, going to the park, and now we have a sick toddler on our hands.
She was up and down all last night, very very hot fever. We finally got her settled at about 11pm with some tylenol. She slept through till 6:30 am. She woke up hot. More advil and she finally perked up about 8am.
Her dad stayed home with her today and apparently she was crying inconsolably when she awoke from her nap this morning.
I am here at work, and worried sick. Why is it that we moms just aren't happy when our kids aren't? I've got an event tonight that could be a positive one with respect to networking (I'm looking for a new job) and I just don't want to go. I'm supposed to be doing some "networking" within my department on some other possible positions. But I dont want to call anyone up because I'm so preoccupied with my daughter's health. I don't want to be here. I really just want to be at home, holding and soothing my baby.
I wish we could put the weekend on hold until Abby got over her cold.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Friday, June 22, 2007
Happy.. and sad....
Today is my daughter's second birthday. I can hardly believe it. Two whole years we've survived being new parents, dealing with a lot of really amazing AND difficult milestones. First steps, first bumps on the head, first colds, first teeth, first fevers, first words, many tears, many giggles, many good times too.
I can't believe that things have turned around for me so much, considering everything I've been through since my pregnancy in 2004-05.
I had a very very difficult pregnancy. I gained a TON of weight, and she was a big baby to boot, so I had a very big problem with mobility. Basically everything in my body HURT. I had head cold after head cold at the end of my pregnancy, and I had broken my big toe when I was about 6 1/2 months pregnant. My back and sciatic nerve was chronically pinched, resulting in extreme pain down my back to my tailbone, excruciating groin pain, and itchy, burning feet. I had to go on sick leave for six weeks before her birth as I could no longer sit at a desk without being in extreme agony. The only thing I could do to feel better was to curl up on my side on the couch or in bed. I spent a lot of my pregnancy that way. I'm a pretty active and enthusiastic person, and to be that debilitated did a number on my psychological well being. I felt so trapped and so burdened, it was awful.
Although a day to be happy and celebrate my daughter, as the one who was pregnant and gave birth to her, I can't help thinking about what I was going through two years ago yesterday (Abby was born just after midnight so most of my labour with her was on June 21). It was a difficult, excruciating labour and delivery that left me with a bad case of post traumatic stress disorder and postpartum depression. I won't go into the gory details, but she was a big baby, and needed a lot of time, and a lot of effort for her to get out. It was an "assisted" birth (vacuum) which means her progress out into the world was slow and we needed help.
Because she was so big, she didn't rotate quite right inside me and came out half-sideways, which was extremely painful. I was stuck in the transition stage of labour, which is the most excruciating, for many, many hours, without any pain relief. I remember thinking that I just wanted to die, that I hoped a big nuclear bomb would drop out of the sky and end it for us all. For hours, I struggled with the pain, not knowing that it actually was hours that were passing. I remember struggling with the pain for 3 hours (this part of labour, the "experts" say, should last about 20-40 minutes.. for me, not so lucky - all total it was 7 hours) and then freaking out, and going into a pain-filled haze around 3pm, and finally getting an epidural, and looking up at the clock and it was 7pm. What happened during those those last 4 hours, I will never remember. I felt guilty for a LONG time about wishing that we would die at that time. I have been able to put some distance between that event and I can now understand and have compassion with myself for thinking that. I didnt really want us to die, I simply had long passed my pain capacity.
With the epidural in, relief came immediately. I got to relax for a bit before the marathon 4 hours of pushing started. Nobody in prenatal class ever warns you just how hard the pushing stage is. During that part of labour, I strained my right rotator cuff, which took about a year to heal. I may have also herniated a disc in my back - at some point either during pregnancy or labour I herniated one of my lowermost discs in my back and had painful/numb tailbone, legs and feet that I still suffer from today.
When the birth was over, after going to my hospital room (without my daughter - she had to spend the first night in the NICU on account of being extremely exhausted and running a high temperature) I started having my first "postpartum depression visions" - which were horrible, extremely intense visions of awful, painful injuries and deaths of infants. And in those visions, it was ME who was doing the maiming and killing. I would try and lay down and these visions would flood my mind. I'd be so shocked I'd wake up, sit right up in bed (despite being awake for about 72 hours straight and having just delivered a baby) and my heart would be racing. I'd try to lay down again and just as I was drifting off, BOOM I'd be hit with another vision. It got to the point where I was petrified to go to sleep, and to be alone with her. I pretty much dozed off and on in 20-40 minute increments.
Once I got home, the combination of the postpartum hormone mess, the fatigue and the intensification of the visions resulted in me becoming agoraphobic. I could not leave the house unattended. When I was alone, I could not go outside, I stayed inside all day long with the doors locked. I was petrified to put my daughter in her stroller, or her car seat and take her in the car, or to even hold her (I thought I'd drop her or hurt her). It was all I could do to get through the day.
My parents came up a lot during the summer, I didnt have to be alone too much. The PPD symptoms really were at bay when I was not alone. I actually felt that I just might be able to pull off this whole motherhood thing. But when September came, my mom had to go back to work, and I was really on my own. I remember one morning, literally hanging onto my husbands feet, crying and pleading with him NOT to leave the house, not to leave me alone with the baby, to stay home from work just one more day. He didnt understand my extremely bizarre behaviour, and had to get out, and left me laying on the floor, sobbing.
Fortunately my husband had a sympathetic boss who gave him 2 weeks of extra paid leave, and we had a vacation coming up, so he was able to stay with me the entire month of September. I dreaded the thought of him going back to work in October.
At that point I knew I'd really benefit from some decent sleep. I had a few extra sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet from years ago, At least at night, I could get some relief as the medication choked off the anxiety for several hours at a time to enable me to sleep. Unfortunately this prevented me from getting up with Abby at night to feed her. I hate to admit but my husband was more of a "mom" to Abby than I was. I still feel guilt and shame to this day that I could not function as a "real mom" would, being up at night to tend to her offspring. But I just physically and emotionally couldn't cope with any more sleep deprivation.
During that time, I also had fantasies of getting in my car, and driving as far away from Ottawa as I could. I figured I could be in Toronto by the end of the day, Northern Ontario by the next day, and Calgary by the end of the week. I wanted to just keep driving until I hit the Pacific Ocean. I believed that my family would have been much better off without me, that I had made a huge mistake, and that I was just not capable of being a wife and mother.
Little did I know at the time that these were all the classic symptoms of postpartum depression.
The desire to run away, the visions, the anxiety and and the complete collapse of confidence, some experts say, is a subconscious brain-stem reaction to a difficult birth. The visions are apparently the "fight" response from one's rudimentary brain trying to subconsciously strike-back at the object that it thinks caused the body pain - the baby. The desire to run away is the other side of the classic "flight or fight" reaction - the flight.
These reactions are subconcious - they are generated completely out of the conscious part of the brain. When they enter the realm of the conscious and rational part of the brain, they are extremely disturbing (to put it mildly).
PPD was a difficult experience indeed, but it was a piece of cake compared to what happened later on - the loss of my father, the excruciating episodes of gallstones, surgery.... on the work front, the transfer of my position to a new branch and massive change in my work life was not even on the horizon - I'm still dealing with the emotional aftermath of that one. I loved the job that I had when I left on mat leave, and I can't do it anymore. Those of us who were transferred were shunned by the rest of the group (probably under the illogical assumption of "If it can happen to them, it can happen to us, right?") as well, there's been a lot of ridiculous made-up horse-trading of responsibilities that have removed the more interesting work from our mandate, and replaced it with tedious and uninteresting administrative work.
I know, I know I should be thinking about my daughter today, and how great she is. And she is. She's amazing. She's the best thing that ever happened to me. This morning we woke up and we sang Happy Birthday to you and she danced around the kitchen. And asked for us to sing "AGAIN!!" and "AGAIN!!" while grinning like a fool. I think she's the funniest kid on the planet and I'm so happy that she came into my life. I wish her entry into this world had been a bit easier, but you take what you get.
Today I have so many mixed feelings. Gratefulness, appreciation, relief, happiness, but I still can't shake the wiggly wobblies I'm feeling about how hard things were last year at this time. And how much worse things were to come. I'm glad I don't have the ability to see the future. Had I seen that whole storm coming, I don't know what I'd have done.
One thing I've learned from this experience is that the saying "at least you have your health" is really true. There's little worse in the world then being incapacitated, sick (mentally or otherwise). I'm so happy to be re-finding myself after years of illness and grief. What's been prseented to me (my family and my life) is so amazing, I seem to be learning day by day to appreciate the moments, and not take anything for granted. Losing my father four months after Abby's birth really hit home how short our lives are, and to appreciate, it, for someday, for ALL of us, our souls will have to leave the planet. Our childhoods, young adulthoods, middle age, and old age (if we are lucky enough to get to all of those stages) are full of amazing experiences that we should all be open enough to experience and enjoy. Life is linear - you don't get a chance to do those things that you have the opportunity to do NOW.
Happy second birthday baby. Mommy's here. And despite it all, I'm happier than ever!
And.. it will soon be CAKE TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHOOOOPEEEEEEEE! Happy to you CAAAAKE!!
I can't believe that things have turned around for me so much, considering everything I've been through since my pregnancy in 2004-05.
I had a very very difficult pregnancy. I gained a TON of weight, and she was a big baby to boot, so I had a very big problem with mobility. Basically everything in my body HURT. I had head cold after head cold at the end of my pregnancy, and I had broken my big toe when I was about 6 1/2 months pregnant. My back and sciatic nerve was chronically pinched, resulting in extreme pain down my back to my tailbone, excruciating groin pain, and itchy, burning feet. I had to go on sick leave for six weeks before her birth as I could no longer sit at a desk without being in extreme agony. The only thing I could do to feel better was to curl up on my side on the couch or in bed. I spent a lot of my pregnancy that way. I'm a pretty active and enthusiastic person, and to be that debilitated did a number on my psychological well being. I felt so trapped and so burdened, it was awful.
Although a day to be happy and celebrate my daughter, as the one who was pregnant and gave birth to her, I can't help thinking about what I was going through two years ago yesterday (Abby was born just after midnight so most of my labour with her was on June 21). It was a difficult, excruciating labour and delivery that left me with a bad case of post traumatic stress disorder and postpartum depression. I won't go into the gory details, but she was a big baby, and needed a lot of time, and a lot of effort for her to get out. It was an "assisted" birth (vacuum) which means her progress out into the world was slow and we needed help.
Because she was so big, she didn't rotate quite right inside me and came out half-sideways, which was extremely painful. I was stuck in the transition stage of labour, which is the most excruciating, for many, many hours, without any pain relief. I remember thinking that I just wanted to die, that I hoped a big nuclear bomb would drop out of the sky and end it for us all. For hours, I struggled with the pain, not knowing that it actually was hours that were passing. I remember struggling with the pain for 3 hours (this part of labour, the "experts" say, should last about 20-40 minutes.. for me, not so lucky - all total it was 7 hours) and then freaking out, and going into a pain-filled haze around 3pm, and finally getting an epidural, and looking up at the clock and it was 7pm. What happened during those those last 4 hours, I will never remember. I felt guilty for a LONG time about wishing that we would die at that time. I have been able to put some distance between that event and I can now understand and have compassion with myself for thinking that. I didnt really want us to die, I simply had long passed my pain capacity.
With the epidural in, relief came immediately. I got to relax for a bit before the marathon 4 hours of pushing started. Nobody in prenatal class ever warns you just how hard the pushing stage is. During that part of labour, I strained my right rotator cuff, which took about a year to heal. I may have also herniated a disc in my back - at some point either during pregnancy or labour I herniated one of my lowermost discs in my back and had painful/numb tailbone, legs and feet that I still suffer from today.
When the birth was over, after going to my hospital room (without my daughter - she had to spend the first night in the NICU on account of being extremely exhausted and running a high temperature) I started having my first "postpartum depression visions" - which were horrible, extremely intense visions of awful, painful injuries and deaths of infants. And in those visions, it was ME who was doing the maiming and killing. I would try and lay down and these visions would flood my mind. I'd be so shocked I'd wake up, sit right up in bed (despite being awake for about 72 hours straight and having just delivered a baby) and my heart would be racing. I'd try to lay down again and just as I was drifting off, BOOM I'd be hit with another vision. It got to the point where I was petrified to go to sleep, and to be alone with her. I pretty much dozed off and on in 20-40 minute increments.
Once I got home, the combination of the postpartum hormone mess, the fatigue and the intensification of the visions resulted in me becoming agoraphobic. I could not leave the house unattended. When I was alone, I could not go outside, I stayed inside all day long with the doors locked. I was petrified to put my daughter in her stroller, or her car seat and take her in the car, or to even hold her (I thought I'd drop her or hurt her). It was all I could do to get through the day.
My parents came up a lot during the summer, I didnt have to be alone too much. The PPD symptoms really were at bay when I was not alone. I actually felt that I just might be able to pull off this whole motherhood thing. But when September came, my mom had to go back to work, and I was really on my own. I remember one morning, literally hanging onto my husbands feet, crying and pleading with him NOT to leave the house, not to leave me alone with the baby, to stay home from work just one more day. He didnt understand my extremely bizarre behaviour, and had to get out, and left me laying on the floor, sobbing.
Fortunately my husband had a sympathetic boss who gave him 2 weeks of extra paid leave, and we had a vacation coming up, so he was able to stay with me the entire month of September. I dreaded the thought of him going back to work in October.
At that point I knew I'd really benefit from some decent sleep. I had a few extra sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet from years ago, At least at night, I could get some relief as the medication choked off the anxiety for several hours at a time to enable me to sleep. Unfortunately this prevented me from getting up with Abby at night to feed her. I hate to admit but my husband was more of a "mom" to Abby than I was. I still feel guilt and shame to this day that I could not function as a "real mom" would, being up at night to tend to her offspring. But I just physically and emotionally couldn't cope with any more sleep deprivation.
During that time, I also had fantasies of getting in my car, and driving as far away from Ottawa as I could. I figured I could be in Toronto by the end of the day, Northern Ontario by the next day, and Calgary by the end of the week. I wanted to just keep driving until I hit the Pacific Ocean. I believed that my family would have been much better off without me, that I had made a huge mistake, and that I was just not capable of being a wife and mother.
Little did I know at the time that these were all the classic symptoms of postpartum depression.
The desire to run away, the visions, the anxiety and and the complete collapse of confidence, some experts say, is a subconscious brain-stem reaction to a difficult birth. The visions are apparently the "fight" response from one's rudimentary brain trying to subconsciously strike-back at the object that it thinks caused the body pain - the baby. The desire to run away is the other side of the classic "flight or fight" reaction - the flight.
These reactions are subconcious - they are generated completely out of the conscious part of the brain. When they enter the realm of the conscious and rational part of the brain, they are extremely disturbing (to put it mildly).
PPD was a difficult experience indeed, but it was a piece of cake compared to what happened later on - the loss of my father, the excruciating episodes of gallstones, surgery.... on the work front, the transfer of my position to a new branch and massive change in my work life was not even on the horizon - I'm still dealing with the emotional aftermath of that one. I loved the job that I had when I left on mat leave, and I can't do it anymore. Those of us who were transferred were shunned by the rest of the group (probably under the illogical assumption of "If it can happen to them, it can happen to us, right?") as well, there's been a lot of ridiculous made-up horse-trading of responsibilities that have removed the more interesting work from our mandate, and replaced it with tedious and uninteresting administrative work.
I know, I know I should be thinking about my daughter today, and how great she is. And she is. She's amazing. She's the best thing that ever happened to me. This morning we woke up and we sang Happy Birthday to you and she danced around the kitchen. And asked for us to sing "AGAIN!!" and "AGAIN!!" while grinning like a fool. I think she's the funniest kid on the planet and I'm so happy that she came into my life. I wish her entry into this world had been a bit easier, but you take what you get.
Today I have so many mixed feelings. Gratefulness, appreciation, relief, happiness, but I still can't shake the wiggly wobblies I'm feeling about how hard things were last year at this time. And how much worse things were to come. I'm glad I don't have the ability to see the future. Had I seen that whole storm coming, I don't know what I'd have done.
One thing I've learned from this experience is that the saying "at least you have your health" is really true. There's little worse in the world then being incapacitated, sick (mentally or otherwise). I'm so happy to be re-finding myself after years of illness and grief. What's been prseented to me (my family and my life) is so amazing, I seem to be learning day by day to appreciate the moments, and not take anything for granted. Losing my father four months after Abby's birth really hit home how short our lives are, and to appreciate, it, for someday, for ALL of us, our souls will have to leave the planet. Our childhoods, young adulthoods, middle age, and old age (if we are lucky enough to get to all of those stages) are full of amazing experiences that we should all be open enough to experience and enjoy. Life is linear - you don't get a chance to do those things that you have the opportunity to do NOW.
Happy second birthday baby. Mommy's here. And despite it all, I'm happier than ever!
And.. it will soon be CAKE TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHOOOOPEEEEEEEE! Happy to you CAAAAKE!!
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Jinx :(
I was awake from 1am till 5am.... am supremely tired again.
Blast it all. I should not have focussed any attention on it.
Grr.
Blast it all. I should not have focussed any attention on it.
Grr.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Psst! don't tell anyone!
I've slept 7 to 8 hours STRAIGHT THROUGH the past two nights!!
Don't tell anyone.. you might jinx it!
Don't tell anyone.. you might jinx it!
Monday, June 18, 2007
Happy Father's day... wherever you are...
Yesterday was Father's Day. The second Father's Day I've experienced since my dad died in 2005. I had a hard time with it. Not quite as bad as last year's Father's Day, but it was pretty hard nonetheless.
Sunday started out wonderfully, I was at my in-laws, there were 3 fathers in the room, and the happiness and warmth of the family atmosphere was great. Of course I thought a lot about my own father, because my in-laws live just down the street from the house that my family owned during most of the 1970's. That neighbourhood and that street hold a lot of memories. The deck and shed that my dad built is still in the backyard of our old house. I have a hard time being on that street, in that neighbourhood without breaking down.
Just after my dad died, I managed to peek in our old backyard, and walk the old routes in the neighbourhood. I am glad I walked it alone as I broke down at one point and sobbed and sobbed on my old front lawn one night during a huge rainstorm. the next day, I went to the mall where my dad owned two stores, and sat in front of what was our old store (Living Lighting) and shook and cried.
Back to yesterday. On the way back home from Belleville, we had to stop several times to change my daughter. She had a really upset stomach and had to "poopy" several times. During one of the change stops, I sat in the car while my husband changed my daughter's poopy diaper on a picnic table. I flicked on the radio to hear the end of the song "Dust in the Wind" on the radio. Of course that song reminds everyone of major life changes, loss, and that our life on this planet is only so long. Following that song, was "Wild Eyes" by the Stampeders. That one REALLY threw me for a loop. Most 70's songs, but especially Stampeders songs REALLY bring back my childhood. A time when my brother and I would roam freely around the backseat of our 1970's Dodge Dart while my dad blasted down the 401, wind flying in the window, cigarette ashes blowing everywhere (who knew about health and safety issues for kids then??).
My dad was definitely a free spirit. He was a great looking guy with a lot of charisma and energy. In the 1970's I only looked at him with stars in my eyes, he was the coolest dad on the planet, and I was so proud to have been his little "Boomer". The cracks in his personality and mental health had not quite opened up into the years of painful addiction, anxiety and depression that were to come. In my world, in the mid 1970's, all was well. All was perfect.
Happy Father's Day Doots.. wherever you are.
Sunday started out wonderfully, I was at my in-laws, there were 3 fathers in the room, and the happiness and warmth of the family atmosphere was great. Of course I thought a lot about my own father, because my in-laws live just down the street from the house that my family owned during most of the 1970's. That neighbourhood and that street hold a lot of memories. The deck and shed that my dad built is still in the backyard of our old house. I have a hard time being on that street, in that neighbourhood without breaking down.
Just after my dad died, I managed to peek in our old backyard, and walk the old routes in the neighbourhood. I am glad I walked it alone as I broke down at one point and sobbed and sobbed on my old front lawn one night during a huge rainstorm. the next day, I went to the mall where my dad owned two stores, and sat in front of what was our old store (Living Lighting) and shook and cried.
Back to yesterday. On the way back home from Belleville, we had to stop several times to change my daughter. She had a really upset stomach and had to "poopy" several times. During one of the change stops, I sat in the car while my husband changed my daughter's poopy diaper on a picnic table. I flicked on the radio to hear the end of the song "Dust in the Wind" on the radio. Of course that song reminds everyone of major life changes, loss, and that our life on this planet is only so long. Following that song, was "Wild Eyes" by the Stampeders. That one REALLY threw me for a loop. Most 70's songs, but especially Stampeders songs REALLY bring back my childhood. A time when my brother and I would roam freely around the backseat of our 1970's Dodge Dart while my dad blasted down the 401, wind flying in the window, cigarette ashes blowing everywhere (who knew about health and safety issues for kids then??).
My dad was definitely a free spirit. He was a great looking guy with a lot of charisma and energy. In the 1970's I only looked at him with stars in my eyes, he was the coolest dad on the planet, and I was so proud to have been his little "Boomer". The cracks in his personality and mental health had not quite opened up into the years of painful addiction, anxiety and depression that were to come. In my world, in the mid 1970's, all was well. All was perfect.
Happy Father's Day Doots.. wherever you are.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
I'm still a strange sleeper
I've recently taken to falling asleep upstairs in the master suite and then going downstairs to sleep later on. I feel really anxious when I fall asleep upstairs, I dont fall asleep deeply or for long. I still live in fear of being woken up, by either my husband (mister restless sleeper and snorer extrordinaire) or by my child.
When Abby was first born, I had a hard time getting used to dealing with a crying baby. I will totally admit that. It always seemed that I was just settling down to sleep when BOOM she'd be up, crying for food. I was so tired it was torture. I'm still getting over that. Despite the fact that I really want another baby, that whole lack of sleep thing is the number one thing that's scaring us from trying for baby number two.
The thought of Abby waking me up in the middle of the night still fills me with horror. I'm such a light sleeper, once I've been woken up, I'm up. Even if it's 3am. That's it, thats all. I'm done for the night. Ok well maybe I'm done until 7am, when its time to get up. Since I"m now back at work, so an afternoon nap is out of the question, unless I can find a way to build myself a bed under my desk a la George Costanza.
I have phoned in sick on many an occasion to just stay home and sleep. But that generally messes up my circadian rhythym even more, and I sleep even crappier the next night.
I should be proud of myself that at least I'm sleeping now, medication free. But I've still got to tackle that last step, moving upstairs permanently. I stil have such sleep-performance-anxiety, its awful. I put so much pressure on myself to sleep, it's bizarre. I wish I could figure out how to stop doing that to myself.
This insomnia routine is like a big heavy weight on my shoulders, holding me down. I've struggled with insomnia and parasomnia for two decades now. Its the bane of my existence. This level of ongoing, crushing fatigue saps my creativity, crushes my mood, and destroys my sense of initiative.
I'm so exhausted most days, I swear I could fall asleep in front of any TV show, music blaring, but put me in a quiet, dark bedroom, and ZZZZZTT!! my head is spinning, anxiety ruling the day.
I've been to so many doctors, clinics, tried this diet and that, avoided caffeine, sugar, wheat, carbs, tried this and that medication, and nothing really seems to work for long.
Strange sleep indeed.
When Abby was first born, I had a hard time getting used to dealing with a crying baby. I will totally admit that. It always seemed that I was just settling down to sleep when BOOM she'd be up, crying for food. I was so tired it was torture. I'm still getting over that. Despite the fact that I really want another baby, that whole lack of sleep thing is the number one thing that's scaring us from trying for baby number two.
The thought of Abby waking me up in the middle of the night still fills me with horror. I'm such a light sleeper, once I've been woken up, I'm up. Even if it's 3am. That's it, thats all. I'm done for the night. Ok well maybe I'm done until 7am, when its time to get up. Since I"m now back at work, so an afternoon nap is out of the question, unless I can find a way to build myself a bed under my desk a la George Costanza.
I have phoned in sick on many an occasion to just stay home and sleep. But that generally messes up my circadian rhythym even more, and I sleep even crappier the next night.
I should be proud of myself that at least I'm sleeping now, medication free. But I've still got to tackle that last step, moving upstairs permanently. I stil have such sleep-performance-anxiety, its awful. I put so much pressure on myself to sleep, it's bizarre. I wish I could figure out how to stop doing that to myself.
This insomnia routine is like a big heavy weight on my shoulders, holding me down. I've struggled with insomnia and parasomnia for two decades now. Its the bane of my existence. This level of ongoing, crushing fatigue saps my creativity, crushes my mood, and destroys my sense of initiative.
I'm so exhausted most days, I swear I could fall asleep in front of any TV show, music blaring, but put me in a quiet, dark bedroom, and ZZZZZTT!! my head is spinning, anxiety ruling the day.
I've been to so many doctors, clinics, tried this diet and that, avoided caffeine, sugar, wheat, carbs, tried this and that medication, and nothing really seems to work for long.
Strange sleep indeed.
Giant moth and other things to poke at
This morning a giant enormous moth was on our front step. This sucker was the size of the back of my hand. It was black and white and mottly, and was the shape of a Vulcan Bomber aircraft (really cool aircraft from my childhood). If anyone knows the species, let me know. I've been looking off and on all morning and can't find a good identification.
We let Abby out to see the moth and she was excited to see it, then proceeded to poke it REALLY hard. Its wings went from a delta shape to more of a wide triangle. It was obviously annoyed. I figured she'd probably want to crush it so I moved it onto a shrub for its own safety. When we left for work/daycare half an hour later it was gone.
Abby's really into smashing and crushing things lately. Yesterday at the grocery store I bought some tomatoes - she said "oooh! Tomatoes!! SMUSH THEM!!"
Nice......
So much for sugar and spice! My daughter is anything but a little lady (most of the time). She cracks me up.
We let Abby out to see the moth and she was excited to see it, then proceeded to poke it REALLY hard. Its wings went from a delta shape to more of a wide triangle. It was obviously annoyed. I figured she'd probably want to crush it so I moved it onto a shrub for its own safety. When we left for work/daycare half an hour later it was gone.
Abby's really into smashing and crushing things lately. Yesterday at the grocery store I bought some tomatoes - she said "oooh! Tomatoes!! SMUSH THEM!!"
Nice......
So much for sugar and spice! My daughter is anything but a little lady (most of the time). She cracks me up.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
My kid is hilarious
My almost two year old daughter is simply.. hilarious.
She has a totally unique and wacky view of life.. and is not afraid or shy to let you know.
She is big enough now to be able to see out the car window as we are driving. She loves seeing things and making editorial comment on just about everything we drive by.
Like many other little kids, construction sites and heavy equipment are totally thrilling. And dirt is definitely her element of choice.
We were driving by a construction site, with a front end loader (she calls them "diggers") and a pile of dirt. She yells out:
"Digger!! Dirt pile!! OOOOO!! CHOCOLATE dirt pile! Bye digger! Bye Chocolate dirt pile!"
My husband and I were laughing so hard, he could barely drive.
And the other day, while driving home we also heard this little one:
"Daddy is... Claccy... Mummy is... Patty"
How did she know our names?? Not only is my kid hilarious, she's so smart. She seems to retain just about everything that she hears. Its fun, but also insanely scary. The way I have to watch everything I do now is pretty intense sometimes. I've never been that out of control, but sometimes I had a propensity to curse like a sailor. So far, no slips. Wheew. I'm sure that will change someday, but so far, we're doing well.
So much to think about. When Abby was first born, I simply could not handle it. I was too physically and mentally exhausted from my difficult pregnancy, and the strains my life was under at the time. I was also insanely sick from gall bladder disease (surgery several months later). When my dad died four months later, I could barely cope. I had no idea how i would manage.
Now I am so excited to see my daughter, to play with her, to hear her witty commentary on everything. I was so afraid of the "terrible twos" - but other than an extremely strong willed streak that can still be managed by "diversion", and some exceptional crustiness around dinner time (hungry and tired = not a good situation for toddlers) she's pretty good. She has redeemed my faith in toddlerdom.
And she's about to wake up. She's the cutest little pod when she gets up. All curly hair, bleary eyes.
Woot. She's up.
"ByeSeeyasoon!" (another Abby-ism)
She has a totally unique and wacky view of life.. and is not afraid or shy to let you know.
She is big enough now to be able to see out the car window as we are driving. She loves seeing things and making editorial comment on just about everything we drive by.
Like many other little kids, construction sites and heavy equipment are totally thrilling. And dirt is definitely her element of choice.
We were driving by a construction site, with a front end loader (she calls them "diggers") and a pile of dirt. She yells out:
"Digger!! Dirt pile!! OOOOO!! CHOCOLATE dirt pile! Bye digger! Bye Chocolate dirt pile!"
My husband and I were laughing so hard, he could barely drive.
And the other day, while driving home we also heard this little one:
"Daddy is... Claccy... Mummy is... Patty"
How did she know our names?? Not only is my kid hilarious, she's so smart. She seems to retain just about everything that she hears. Its fun, but also insanely scary. The way I have to watch everything I do now is pretty intense sometimes. I've never been that out of control, but sometimes I had a propensity to curse like a sailor. So far, no slips. Wheew. I'm sure that will change someday, but so far, we're doing well.
So much to think about. When Abby was first born, I simply could not handle it. I was too physically and mentally exhausted from my difficult pregnancy, and the strains my life was under at the time. I was also insanely sick from gall bladder disease (surgery several months later). When my dad died four months later, I could barely cope. I had no idea how i would manage.
Now I am so excited to see my daughter, to play with her, to hear her witty commentary on everything. I was so afraid of the "terrible twos" - but other than an extremely strong willed streak that can still be managed by "diversion", and some exceptional crustiness around dinner time (hungry and tired = not a good situation for toddlers) she's pretty good. She has redeemed my faith in toddlerdom.
And she's about to wake up. She's the cutest little pod when she gets up. All curly hair, bleary eyes.
Woot. She's up.
"ByeSeeyasoon!" (another Abby-ism)
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