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Archive for the ‘Parental’ Category

More proof that I am a dork

Posted by ThePsychobabble on August 17, 2009

I got my textbooks today.
I squealed.
Yes, I SQUEALED over TEXTBOOKS. For the love of pocket protectors, could I BE any more of a DORK?

Capitalization fully justified, thank you very much.

But I am excited for the start of the semester. I mean, adult conversation, the learning, talking to adults, interesting subjects, stretching my brain and MY GAWD! People who don’t need their noses wiped! Yippee!

Since I’m on the wait list for my program, this semester I’m taking a lot of fluffier classes, that I’m really interested in. Which will be a good thing, I think.
I’m also taking Anatomy. And I am not looking forward to that. But, it has to be done.

But seriously, adult conversation, y’all!


Posted in Mental, Parental | Leave a Comment »


Posted by ThePsychobabble on August 14, 2009

I am the ultimate #housewifeFAIL

There. I said it. I suck at housewife-yness. I don’t have the mad skills that some people do. I’m not organized, I don’t feel the need to clean the grout, and most of the time, I can live with the “lick and a promise” method of cleaning.

The Man is driven nuts by this.

I’m sorry, but I have a very hard time being motivated to clean and/or cook when 1)it goes completely unappreciated, 2)it’s not going to meet “standard” anyway, 3)I’m not going to get (hardly) any help and 4) it’s all going to be undone the minute I turn my back.

But to insinuate that I am a bad mother because my floor needs sweeping or I’ve forgotten to bag the recycling, or that my child is sick (with chicken pox, mind you) because of my #housekeepingFAIL is just a tad over-dramatic.

And don’t even get me started on, “But what do you DO?”

It’s not that I have some aversion to living in a picture perfect house, it’s just that I realize that’s not going to happen. And I’m not going to expend sweat, blood and tears trying to make the impossible come true, all on my own.

Could the house be cleaner? Absolutely.
Would that be a bad thing? No, sure wouldn’t.
But it’s not going to happen if the work is left to fall solely on my shoulders.

Posted in Mental, Parental | 1 Comment »

Riddle Me This…

Posted by ThePsychobabble on August 11, 2009

Why is it that I am able to get help with childcare, if I work part-time at a min. wage job, but I can’t get help to attend school full time? (Unless I also work a min wage job)

With the min. wage job, I would almost have to rely on state/federal aid.
If I go to school, I can get a job where I DO NOT have to rely on said aid.

So why is it that there is so little help available for those trying to better themselves? Do we really want to create a society that discourages people from doing what they can to get off of aid?

Posted in Parental, Seriousness | Leave a Comment »

Postpartum survivor

Posted by ThePsychobabble on August 9, 2009

Warning, this post deals with depression, it’s long and not at all amusing

When my daughter, Question, was born it was the best day of my life. We sailed through labor and delivery, she was completely healthy, she was beautiful. Breastfeeding was going great. All was well with the world. For about a week.
The days that followed were very, very dark.

I had heard a little bit about postpartum depression while I was pregnant. I had heard about the Andrea Yates tragedy. I knew that it happened to some women, but in the midst of the hormonal high I was on those last month or two of pregnancy, I thought “Not I!”

In retrospect, I had a lot of the risk factors. I had no social support, because we were half a country away from our family. It was a surprise pregnancy. We had issues in our marriage. And I have a strong family, and personal, history of depression.

But at the time, I didn’t know that. At the time, all I knew was that I wanted to crawl into bed, and not wake up.

The Man was in the Corps at the time, and he had 24hr shifts. One on, one off. He was working a horribly stressful job of his own. On the days that he was gone, I didn’t leave the bedroom, much less the apartment.

I felt like the walking dead. I was on auto-pilot. My daughter was the only thing that could rouse me from lying on my side, staring at the wall.

Trash piled up. Dishes were not done. Hell, if it couldn’t be made in the microwave, I wasn’t up to making it. I subsisted off of cold cereal and ramen noodles, because that was all the effort I could stand to put into cooking.

Laundry never got done until we were about to be running naked. Not that it mattered much to me. I spent most of my time in pajamas. The same pajamas for days.

But I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Why wasn’t I a better mother and wife? Why didn’t I even care?

The Man has said that he was worried, but that 1)he didn’t know how bad it was on the inside, and 2)he wasn’t sure if it was normal newborn baby overload, or something more.

We were both completely unprepared for my mental shutdown.
I have to be honest. I still don’t know what pulled me through. I never did get help. I didn’t even recognize it as postpartum depression until a few years ago, when I struggled with it again after the birth of our son.

I know that about six months after Question’s birth, I was finally coherent enough to go job searching. And I know that having that job forced me to be out of the house. It forced me to interact with people, and shower and such. After that, things started to look up.

But the only thing that forced me to face each day during that hellish period, was Question. She was dependent on me to function at least that much. There were days where the only thing keeping me from slitting my wrists, was the fact that I didn’t want to leave the baby alone until The Man got home.

I regret not realizing that I needed help. I regret those wasted months where I barely existed. I regret that I was not as good of a mother as I could have been. But I am so thankful that we managed to survive that time.

And I hope that if someone is sitting there, and recognizes themselves or someone they love in this post, that you will make an effort to get help. Please. Call the PostPartum Depression Hotline (1.800.944.4PPD) if you even suspect that you or a loved one is suffering. They will help you find resources in your area, to get you through this.

Posted in Mental, Parental, Seriousness | 3 Comments »

Dear So-and-So

Posted by ThePsychobabble on August 7, 2009

***Okay, I don’t know WHY WordPress is refusing to let me do images…again. Asshats Anyway, click on the link above to be taken to the originating blog for “Dear So-and-So” and read more like this! Or join in!*****

Dear WordPress,
I see that it is working now. Asshats.
Love, Growing more and more certain I need my own domain

Dear Truck,
I know you are sick. I know you are miserable. I really do hope you feel better soon. But if you could please decide whether you would prefer to be held, or to be left alone to lay on the couch, it would be nice. Because this changing your mind every two seconds? Get’s a little frustrating.
Love, Mom

Dear Grandpa,
Please don’t call before 8am. I am not coherent. I realize that you have probably been up for 3hours already, but I? Have not.
Love, Me

Dear Miss Question,
I know your brother is getting a lot of attention right now. It’s because he has sores. In his mouth. That make him miserable.
Whinging and general misbehaving, are not going to get you the snuggles you are after.
I promise that you will get all sorts of attention, too. As soon as he’s asleep long enough to detach myself from him.
Love, Mom

Posted in Parental | 6 Comments »

That’s A Mouthful

Posted by ThePsychobabble on August 7, 2009

Tonight I’ve left my living room. The day is winding down, and I’m out on the porch, keeping an eye on my oldest. That hot pink shirt she chose this morning helps.

Today was very dull, yet tiring.

I took Truck into the doctor. He’s been letting us know that his mouth hurt. We figured it was just teething. Maybe those back molars coming in. But it went on too many days, without any sign of an actual tooth.
So, in we went.

He has a virus. It’s similar to chickenpox, the doctor tells me. And it’s inside his mouth. It occurred to me after our appointment that those “bug bites” on his knees, and that diaper rash that looked a little different than normal, are probably also the work of this virus.

No wonder the poor kid didn’t want to eat.
So he’s on a strict PABIC (pudding, apple sauce, bananas, and ice cream….the guilty mother’s version of the traditional BRAT diet) diet until his mouth heals. Nothing we can do, but try to make him feel better, and let it run it’s course.

Poor little Truck. A mouthful of sores.

Posted in Parental, Physical | 2 Comments »

Slacking off

Posted by ThePsychobabble on August 6, 2009

Look, I am the Queen of slack. I am so good at it, I’ve made it into an art form. I specialize in lowering the bar for women everywhere. In no particular order, let me list for you the ways I would fail, if I had bothered to have higher standards.

1) We haven’t used the love seat in over 2 months. B/c there is constantly unfolded(but clean) laundry on it.

2)Speaking of laundry, there are a lot of days where I have to run a load, because if I didn’t? We’d all have to go naked.

3) In the last month, my kids have worn swimsuits all day 2x. I claimed it was because it was hot, and they could play outside in the water. Really? It was because they each only had one outfit left, and I didn’t feel like doing laundry.

4) Have been known to stop off and pick up a meal because heating leftovers? Way too much work.

5)Have opened the drawer to find I am completely out of silverware, and proceeded to wash only what I needed

6)Have bought plasticware, for much the same reason.

7) And paper plates.

8) and once, cups.

9) I’ve done homework the night before.

10) I’ve done homework WHILE SITTING IN CLASS, in front of the teacher, mind you.

The list could go on and on, but I think we can all agree. I? Rawk at the slacking.

Posted in Extra curicular, Parental | Leave a Comment »

Give me Strength

Posted by ThePsychobabble on July 27, 2009

The Man will be gone for the next week.
The children have been terrors for the last TWO weeks (easily. possibly longer)
AND the tv is broken, so there will be zero sanity-saving cartoon breaks this week. Suckysucky.
I am concerned. Ha. Well. Somewhat.

On the other hand, there are bunch of things I can get done when the children are in bed, and I have no tv or husband to distract me.

I can:
1)Scale Mt. Laundry

2)Decontaminate my kitchen

3)Throw out any food which has expired in the last three years

4)Finish that dress that i have about 20 minutes of work left on. That has been sitting for the last 3 weeks.

5)Write posts ahead of time for this place.

6)Contemplate how far I want to go with this blogging thing. Obviously it will always be a part of my life, but how big of a part am I looking at here?

Posted in Mental, Parental | Leave a Comment »

Heart Breaker

Posted by ThePsychobabble on July 23, 2009

My son was terrified the other night. He woke up screaming. I want upstairs. I brought him down before he woke up his sister.

NOTHING could comfort this child. Nothing. He was sobbing so hard that he could barely breathe. The Man took him while I fixed him a sippy cup, thinking that would calm him down. I sat down on the couch next to him, and still sobbing and screaming he crawled over to me. He wedged himself between me and the couch. He clutched his blanket, his bear and his cup, and then sobbed himself to sleep.

There was just nothing I could do to comfort him. Nothing worked. It was the most awful experience. Knowing that he was scared of something, but not being able to do anything about it. I don’t want to relive that any time soon.

Posted in Parental | 3 Comments »

Truck gets banged up

Posted by ThePsychobabble on July 20, 2009

My son bashed his head today. Worst. Moment. Lately.

He had just gotten up from his nap, and I had just changed his diaper. So my half naked almost-but-not-quite-two year old son climbs up on the couch. And decides to practice his gymnastics routine.

And all the mothers in the audience know where this is going, am I right?

Yeah. Head? Meet Coffee Table. The corner literally gouged my baby’s scalp.

Know what’s worse? I didn’t notice.
I picked him up. I gave his hug and a snuggle, and sent him on his way. I glance at him as he tears ass through the house, past me, headed for who knows where. And I think to myself, “How did Truck get jelly in his hair?….wait, I didn’t give him anything red….oh. shit.”

So, I bribed my child with chocolate milk to get him to sit still long enough to get the bleeding to stop.

It stopped eventually. No concussion. Just tremendous amounts of guilt.
He’s quite proud of his owie though. He keeps patting his head, saying “Ow!” and grinning.
Such a strange little child. But I guess that’s how I know he’s mine.

Posted in Parental | 2 Comments »