Monday, March 02, 2015

They Have Their Moments

Tatoe to Sweetpea:  "Baby sistah, is you done milking?"

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

All The Things. Now.

The baby, it turns out, has a lip tie in addition to the tongue tie.  So I also have to deal with that (at the hospital complex 45 minutes away).  I mention this only to say, it still hurts to nurse, and dammit, couldn't I have had ONE child without some kind of horrible nursing problem?  (No.)

I had almost forgotten the intense frustration of having an infant around.  It's so hard to do anything!  Any sustained effort is probably fruitless!  I want an hour alone and not in Walmart!  I will get these things once the baby is weaned.  It will be a long damn time.

The department secretary for Psuedo-Military U emailed me last week, asking for my resume for their Whatever Colleges of the South accreditation review.  Since I might be teaching again in the fall.

Although I know it would have been insane to teach with a three-week-old around, let me tell you how much I miss having a three-hour break each day from my darling children.  For which I got paid, instead of having to pay other people for it.  (Well.  I did have to pay for childcare but I still net got paid.)  So it's something to hope for.  The glamorous life of an adjunct who is married to a faculty member!  They know I'm not leaving town any time soon.

My overwhelming desire to be Elsewhere, Immediately (as opposed to be here now) is... slowly fading, however.  Newborns, well, they're very demanding and not very interactive.  And I lost a great deal of strength while I was pregnant, what with feeling ill and in pain all the time.  And the whole postpartum anxiety/I can't sleep/RUN it's a bear/Startle reflexes: they're not just for infants! is getting better but I think it's time to consult a trained medical professional of the psychiatrist persuasion because... shouldn't it be all better by now?  It's been eight whole weeks!  Sometimes there's a whole one day a week when I'm not woken up six times a night!  Why on earth would my brain think it needs to startle awake all the time?  Why are these things not all better NOW?

Friday, February 20, 2015

Snow. Week.

Dear Readers, school has been closed all week.  If I wanted to be with my darling children all day, then a) I would be better set up for it than I am, which is not at all, and b) I would homeschool.

I have nothing else to say - nothing that isn't terribly whiny, that is.  But perhaps, while it ices/snows/rains all weekend, I will process my incoherent thoughts on: my friend/neighbor who's expecting her first, and about whom I'm a little worried (family all abroad, not enough support, etc; possibly echoes of me doing basically the same thing with my first and being miserable); the endless HITTING in which my sweet children engage; crazy people who think there's going to be the  Republican equivalent of a zombie apocalypse; crazy people, highly overlapping with above, who think that 'natural antibiotics' are actually a thing worth pursuing; crazy people, whom I otherwise like, who have contracted a completely scientifically inaccurate fear of GMOs (FFS, eating DNA doesn't hurt you); how much I miss having a job to go to every day for a few hours; all the housework that isn't getting done.

And now I hear the baby crying.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

If Only...

... I could fall asleep like a normal person at night, rather than staring at the insides of my eyelids, then I might occasionally feel human again.  She slept for six hours last night!  In a row!  I did NOT.  Alas, sleeping is the one thing where the harder one tries, the less success.

(Yes, I meditate and do yoga and breathing exercises and don't drink caffeine and have 'good sleep habits' and something is still all hormonally screwed up- usually I have trouble waking up, not falling asleep- and none if it makes any difference, including the drugs, sometimes.  Yes, I have tried not taking the drugs, all available combinations of the above and so on, and it doesn't work.  I'm just whining.)

In addition, Tatoe is not sleeping well (he has a cold) and is therefore several times as much THREE which involves a great deal of screaming, hitting, and arguing about trivialities ("I wanna go out!"  "Let's put your coat on." "No!"  "Okay, then no outside, it's cold." "NO!  NO NO NO! I CAN'T put it on!  I don't know how!" [N.B.: This is a lie.]  "Okay, don't."  "I wanna put my coat on!"  "I'm going to go have a stiff drink and lock you in your room and we can try again in five minutes.")

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

In Which I Am Upset At Great Length About Something From Six Weeks Ago

Last night, as I lay awake unable to sleep and caught in a spiral of anxiety (despite the drugs!) the hostile doctor was rather at the forefront.

I don't know if that horrible bitch was a representative sample. The way she talked about 'hospital policy' as if were the word of the Almighty certainly seems to indicate that the hospital does nothing to stop it.  (On the other hand, we were back there the next week for tongue-tie-clipping, the ENT was great and very kind, and we were in and out in an hour, which is some kind of record.)

But what terrifies me is the thought of someone so ignorant, and yet so convinced of their own omnipotence, trying to take my choices- my rational, scientific, SAFE choices!- about my child out of my hands.  It's unethical and inappropriate unless there is a clear indication that the parent's choices are a serious threat to the child's health.  It's doubly inappropriate when talking to a pair of biochemists who actually have sound, evidence-based, well-supported reasons for their choices (like NOT staying in a hospital full of sick people, with their healthy baby).  At best, this doctor honestly thinks she knows best and has the duty to take choices out of parents' hands.  At worst, she's on a power trip in an environment with no safeguards on her egomania.

We live in a rural area.  There are two real hospitals - each 45 minutes away.   I'm almost afraid to ever go back to that hospital.  The depth of bad in this one bad interaction has poisoned my judgment of the whole hospital's medical competence- which surely isn't fair - but fear is rarely rational.

Monday, February 09, 2015

It's Our Birthday

Happy birthday to us!  My spouse, my sister Prudence and I are a combined total of 96 today.  We are also all multiples-of-three-years apart in ages.

For my birthday, my children gave me gastroenteritis and my spouse forgot to pick Bug up at school.  I gave him two quiet, childless hours to take a nap (and a hearty dose of snark, for the school thing).

Monday, February 02, 2015

Veeeerrrry Boooooooring

Dear Readers, things are slowly improving.  (Though, as my mother has just left after spending 24 of the last 31 days here, we may descend into savagery.)  Now I'm only anxious about normal things, like paying medical bills!  The baby sleeps some, and I sleep some, and once a week if I kick everyone else out of the house I can take a nap!

(It turns out that the maximum dose of bupropion gives me an unfortunate electric-shock-ZING feeling in the brain, plus hyperalertness.  Yeah, that didn't help with the hormonally-insane-insomnia.  Choosing psychoactive drugs: like playing darts blind.)

I am a little resentful about the additional... discipline, I suppose... required by all this.  No caffeine.  No alcohol.  I must exercise every day, and also take a walk in the sun.  No screens before bed.  Go to bed at this time exactly.  Don't do this, don't do that, and maybe everything will stay in equilibrium. On top of all the ongoing food allergy thing (which has improved some - now many foods just make me slightly ill!) it makes me feel like a petulant three-year-old.

I console myself by saying that surely one of these years, I can go out and have an espresso and a martini.