So this weekend was a mix of good and bad...
Friday night, Big D and I re-watched half of the Lost season finale. Then I went to bed. The Monster slept like crap. Since she’s been sick, we have her back in our room. She woke up screaming at 10:30, 3:30 and 5. For that last one, I was awake to pump anyway, so I got up with her for the morning. At 7, we woke up Big D. I mean, I can’t let him sleep too long, can I? He might get spoiled.
Saturday, is kinda a blur. The Monster took a great nap in the morning – probably because she was up all night – while I got some stuff done around the house. Our little neighborhood was having a block party at 5:00, so of course, she wouldn’t nap that afternoon until 4:59. We let her sleep for a little while, but about 5:30 woke her up, slathered on some sunscreen, then took her down the street. The party was awesome. They had a huge blow up water slide for the bigger kiddos along with several baby pools and slip and slides. Some guy was BBQ’ing and there were plenty of cookies and watermelon to go around.
We don’t know our neighbors as well as I think we should, because of the way we moved in – 7 months pregnant right as it was starting to get chilly outside. We spent our short evenings at home unpacking and trying to get settled. Then we had The Monster, daylight savings cut into the daylight hours, and it was too cold to take her outside. Even as spring arrived, we noticed that we would get home around 6:15-ish and our neighbors would be outside talking, but by the time we got settled, they’d be going in for dinner. So I don’t feel like we’ve gotten the chance to connect with them.
There’s also a women’s group that I tried to get involved in, but it consists mostly of bunko, which you have to host on rotation. I had just gone back to work at the time they were setting that up, and I was still barely able to get my face washed each day, so I didn’t think I could commit to doing bunko every other week and hosting on occasion. Hosting not only included having your house clean, but you also had to provide dinner and prizes. And you should see some of these houses – it looks like these women hire decorators. I can’t compete with that. And my idea of providing dinner would be calling Papa John’s. And prizes? Uh – I would have no idea what to do for that to compete with these domestic overachievers. I’m lucky to get through each day with the changes The Monster tosses out at us periodically.
But I digress – the point of that was to say that even though we were tired and The Monster wasn’t her usual smiling self, we hoofed it down the street to chit chat with our neighbors so we can know them better. They’re all very nice. Except one lady, whose name I don’t know. Maybe she really is nice. She always says “hi,” and she remembers my name as well as The Monster’s. But I don’t like her. And it’s all because of one little bitty thing she said to me once. While I was on maternity leave, I had to take The Monster to the pediatrician’s office for a check up. It was right around Thanksgiving, so I was still in “why did I have a child?” mode. The Monster was still having trouble breastfeeding. I had hired two different lactation consultants to come out and help, but things still weren’t going all that well. Breastfeeding is extremely important to me, and I was terrified that I’d lose my supply. Well, Big D had been down the street one day a few days before chit chatting with someone about their sprinkler system (or whatever it is that suburban men talk about), and this woman had come up to say “hi” and ask how we were doing. Big D was like, “Annie’s having trouble breastfeeding.” He went on about how we had hired an L.C. hoping she’ll get back on track. This woman immediately started in with her advice. In any event, fast forward to the day that I was returning home from the pediatrician’s office. The lady was walking by after picking up her kids at school right as I was trying to lug a car seat out of the back while trying to balance a diaper bag and my purse. “How’s The Monster?” “She’s fine, thanks.” I had no idea who this lady was, but whatever. “Are you still having trouble breastfeeding?” Uh, did you really ask me that? You’re a stranger, you know. I was polite, though, and said, “Yeah. It shouldn’t be this hard.” Then she said the statement that I will never forget. It even irritates me six months later. She could be the nicest lady on earth, but what she said was the epitome of snotty rudeness. “Well, I don’t mean to braggggg, buttttttt…” Which means you do… I thought. “…I never gave either of my kids a bottle. I breastfed them both exclusively until they were 18 months old. They were naturals.” Why did she tell me that? In front of her was a frazzled new mom who admitted to having problems. And she had to rub it in my face that “lucky me, my kids took to the tit like white on rice.” It’s not like she gets a freakin’ trophy for it! I already felt like a big failure. And it’s not like she disguised a piece of advice in her braggery. She just bragged. Bitch. I managed to say, “Well you guys are very lucky,” and then I excused myself and lugged my fat ass up the driveway. Bragging Lady was at the block party, and she was friendly. She probably knows I don’t like her. Maybe she’ll think before she speaks next time.
We saw someone else I’ve met before with a daughter about The Monster’s age. We’ve talked before, so I went up to her to see her cute daughter “A” dressed in maroon gingham. We got to talking, and she asked me what I did for a living. I told her I was a lawyer and she said that she knew a lawyer too, whose name was M, who worked part-time and took her kid to the downtown daycare. I was like, “Is it M.R.?” “Yes!” How random is that? I went to law school with M.R. She and my neighbor have known each other a few years now and do playdates and stuff. Must be nice. So we talked a little while longer until A fell asleep, and The Monster started rubbing her eyes. So we went home, fed her some cereal, then put her to bed. She slept better that night. Big D got up with her at 5:30, and I slept in to 7.
Despite the extra sleep I got, I was so exhausted yesterday. I felt like I had been hit by a truck. I could not get the energy to even hold The Monster and sing/read/play with her. She just cried and cried when I had her, but then Big D would come around the corner and she’d light up. I felt like the worst mom in the world. I’ve been known to become anemic on occasion, so Big D wonders if I am again. He also thinks I haven’t been eating enough (he obviously does not see me on weekdays when Margaret and I troll the nearby restaurants for good eats) – and what I have been eating hasn’t been nutritionally-balanced. So I took a nap, made red beans and rice using turkey sausage and whole grain brown rice for dinner, and took an iron supplement. I felt better within a couple of hours. And I feel even better today. We’re moving The Monster back up to her nursery tonight, so maybe the elliptical and I can have a date. One thing I know for sure is I’ve got to take better care of myself. I hated that I didn’t have the energy to play with The Monster. I’d like to avoid days like that in the future if I can.
Also yesterday around lunch time, we gave The Monster her first vegetable – butternut squash. She appeared to like it. She kept reaching her little hand into the bowl. I’m curious to see what this will do to her diapers. I’ve heard the horror stories. People tell me that I’m lucky she’s a breastfed baby. I’m like, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” I gag sometimes. AND IT’S GONNA GET WORSE????????????? Oh no…
We gave her cereal around supper time, which she took well. She’s getting the hang of it. More and more goes down her gullet while less and less ends up in the bib and onto the Bumbo chair. She’s a little short for the high chair right now. She’s so cute in it, though – it’s got toys that attach to it, that she can barely reach. She looks like a midget trying to launch the space shuttle. That sounds strange, I know, so I gotta get a picture of that so you’ll know what I’m talking about. On the agenda next weekend is acorn squash. Then I’m torn between introducing her to vodka tonics or margaritas. What do you think?
Friday night, Big D and I re-watched half of the Lost season finale. Then I went to bed. The Monster slept like crap. Since she’s been sick, we have her back in our room. She woke up screaming at 10:30, 3:30 and 5. For that last one, I was awake to pump anyway, so I got up with her for the morning. At 7, we woke up Big D. I mean, I can’t let him sleep too long, can I? He might get spoiled.
Saturday, is kinda a blur. The Monster took a great nap in the morning – probably because she was up all night – while I got some stuff done around the house. Our little neighborhood was having a block party at 5:00, so of course, she wouldn’t nap that afternoon until 4:59. We let her sleep for a little while, but about 5:30 woke her up, slathered on some sunscreen, then took her down the street. The party was awesome. They had a huge blow up water slide for the bigger kiddos along with several baby pools and slip and slides. Some guy was BBQ’ing and there were plenty of cookies and watermelon to go around.
We don’t know our neighbors as well as I think we should, because of the way we moved in – 7 months pregnant right as it was starting to get chilly outside. We spent our short evenings at home unpacking and trying to get settled. Then we had The Monster, daylight savings cut into the daylight hours, and it was too cold to take her outside. Even as spring arrived, we noticed that we would get home around 6:15-ish and our neighbors would be outside talking, but by the time we got settled, they’d be going in for dinner. So I don’t feel like we’ve gotten the chance to connect with them.
There’s also a women’s group that I tried to get involved in, but it consists mostly of bunko, which you have to host on rotation. I had just gone back to work at the time they were setting that up, and I was still barely able to get my face washed each day, so I didn’t think I could commit to doing bunko every other week and hosting on occasion. Hosting not only included having your house clean, but you also had to provide dinner and prizes. And you should see some of these houses – it looks like these women hire decorators. I can’t compete with that. And my idea of providing dinner would be calling Papa John’s. And prizes? Uh – I would have no idea what to do for that to compete with these domestic overachievers. I’m lucky to get through each day with the changes The Monster tosses out at us periodically.
But I digress – the point of that was to say that even though we were tired and The Monster wasn’t her usual smiling self, we hoofed it down the street to chit chat with our neighbors so we can know them better. They’re all very nice. Except one lady, whose name I don’t know. Maybe she really is nice. She always says “hi,” and she remembers my name as well as The Monster’s. But I don’t like her. And it’s all because of one little bitty thing she said to me once. While I was on maternity leave, I had to take The Monster to the pediatrician’s office for a check up. It was right around Thanksgiving, so I was still in “why did I have a child?” mode. The Monster was still having trouble breastfeeding. I had hired two different lactation consultants to come out and help, but things still weren’t going all that well. Breastfeeding is extremely important to me, and I was terrified that I’d lose my supply. Well, Big D had been down the street one day a few days before chit chatting with someone about their sprinkler system (or whatever it is that suburban men talk about), and this woman had come up to say “hi” and ask how we were doing. Big D was like, “Annie’s having trouble breastfeeding.” He went on about how we had hired an L.C. hoping she’ll get back on track. This woman immediately started in with her advice. In any event, fast forward to the day that I was returning home from the pediatrician’s office. The lady was walking by after picking up her kids at school right as I was trying to lug a car seat out of the back while trying to balance a diaper bag and my purse. “How’s The Monster?” “She’s fine, thanks.” I had no idea who this lady was, but whatever. “Are you still having trouble breastfeeding?” Uh, did you really ask me that? You’re a stranger, you know. I was polite, though, and said, “Yeah. It shouldn’t be this hard.” Then she said the statement that I will never forget. It even irritates me six months later. She could be the nicest lady on earth, but what she said was the epitome of snotty rudeness. “Well, I don’t mean to braggggg, buttttttt…” Which means you do… I thought. “…I never gave either of my kids a bottle. I breastfed them both exclusively until they were 18 months old. They were naturals.” Why did she tell me that? In front of her was a frazzled new mom who admitted to having problems. And she had to rub it in my face that “lucky me, my kids took to the tit like white on rice.” It’s not like she gets a freakin’ trophy for it! I already felt like a big failure. And it’s not like she disguised a piece of advice in her braggery. She just bragged. Bitch. I managed to say, “Well you guys are very lucky,” and then I excused myself and lugged my fat ass up the driveway. Bragging Lady was at the block party, and she was friendly. She probably knows I don’t like her. Maybe she’ll think before she speaks next time.
We saw someone else I’ve met before with a daughter about The Monster’s age. We’ve talked before, so I went up to her to see her cute daughter “A” dressed in maroon gingham. We got to talking, and she asked me what I did for a living. I told her I was a lawyer and she said that she knew a lawyer too, whose name was M, who worked part-time and took her kid to the downtown daycare. I was like, “Is it M.R.?” “Yes!” How random is that? I went to law school with M.R. She and my neighbor have known each other a few years now and do playdates and stuff. Must be nice. So we talked a little while longer until A fell asleep, and The Monster started rubbing her eyes. So we went home, fed her some cereal, then put her to bed. She slept better that night. Big D got up with her at 5:30, and I slept in to 7.
Despite the extra sleep I got, I was so exhausted yesterday. I felt like I had been hit by a truck. I could not get the energy to even hold The Monster and sing/read/play with her. She just cried and cried when I had her, but then Big D would come around the corner and she’d light up. I felt like the worst mom in the world. I’ve been known to become anemic on occasion, so Big D wonders if I am again. He also thinks I haven’t been eating enough (he obviously does not see me on weekdays when Margaret and I troll the nearby restaurants for good eats) – and what I have been eating hasn’t been nutritionally-balanced. So I took a nap, made red beans and rice using turkey sausage and whole grain brown rice for dinner, and took an iron supplement. I felt better within a couple of hours. And I feel even better today. We’re moving The Monster back up to her nursery tonight, so maybe the elliptical and I can have a date. One thing I know for sure is I’ve got to take better care of myself. I hated that I didn’t have the energy to play with The Monster. I’d like to avoid days like that in the future if I can.
Also yesterday around lunch time, we gave The Monster her first vegetable – butternut squash. She appeared to like it. She kept reaching her little hand into the bowl. I’m curious to see what this will do to her diapers. I’ve heard the horror stories. People tell me that I’m lucky she’s a breastfed baby. I’m like, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” I gag sometimes. AND IT’S GONNA GET WORSE????????????? Oh no…
We gave her cereal around supper time, which she took well. She’s getting the hang of it. More and more goes down her gullet while less and less ends up in the bib and onto the Bumbo chair. She’s a little short for the high chair right now. She’s so cute in it, though – it’s got toys that attach to it, that she can barely reach. She looks like a midget trying to launch the space shuttle. That sounds strange, I know, so I gotta get a picture of that so you’ll know what I’m talking about. On the agenda next weekend is acorn squash. Then I’m torn between introducing her to vodka tonics or margaritas. What do you think?
3 comments:
So here's how my attempt at better eating went: Margaret and I ended up at a Subway. Not bad, right? But then we had to go get candy bars and then Starbucks. I have yet to eat the candy bar, but it's calling my name as we speak.
What is it with people? When I mentioned having trouble producing enough milk, the most common response was, "Oh I have so much in the freezer I don't know what to do with it all." Uggh...
Corrie - yes that is definitely something to be kept to one's self. People just don't think.
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