Disjointed and Over Analyzed Thoughts

We all know, without a doubt, I talk too much.  When I do talk.  I also have the horrible problem of thinking too much.  Analyzing, myself, too much. 

I've spent the better part of five months trying to figure myself out.  Which is really hard to do, by the way, when you spend a solid five months crying, uncontrollably, for no good reason what-so-ever. 

I tried to analyze why I couldn't stop crying.  Why, unless we actually had somewhere to be, I couldn't climb out of bed.  Why I couldn't just love my baby the way she deserved to be loved.  Why I couldn't pull myself together when there are so, so many other woman who have been through, are going through, my same situation; newborn baby, deployed husband, no family, busy friends. 

My kids, essentially, raised themselves for a solid four months.  Kyra learned how to make breakfast and lunch, for the both of them, with little supervision on those days I couldn't get there fast enough.  When school work got done, it was because of her own desire, she'd come to me only when stuck.  Lydia has learned how to be self sufficient when she can and ask Kyra for help, first, when she can't.  My girls have been all stars.

For some reason, in the last week of January, I happily climbed from under the covers with a new light in my eyes.  I made the girls breakfast, straitened this' and that's, sat on the couch and watched the girls play. 

I had tried before to do these things, but they were forced actions.  This time, though, this time was natural.  Enjoyable. 

I don't know what it was to cause my funk.  Lack of sleep?  Crappy situation?  Hormones?

I know I haven't gained a whole lot more sleep than before.  Sure, Ruby's not waking like a newborn, anymore, but neither is she sleeping through the night. 

I've been a single parent before, with Kyra.  I've had a baby who refused to sleep before, with Lydia.  I've had no help before.  I've done this before, but not all at the same time. 

Hormones are a tricky thing.  Mine have always had a nice wack-a-do way about them.  They fuck with my cycle, they fuck with my mind, they fuck with my body.  I'd like to be rid of them, honestly.  They've caused me nothing but problems since puberty.  But like I've said before, I never wanted to off myself like I did after Kyra's birth.  Though, I couldn't bring myself to love and dote on my new baby, the way I did with Lydia.  So was this postpartum? 

That day in January, the one where I woke up with a renewed spring in my step, came again the next morning.  And then a third. 

On that third day, I got a text message from a local friend, checking up on me.  I remember replying back something along the lines of, "I've managed to pry my eyes open for three days now.  Today, though, I look around my house and wonder what the fuck happened here."

My house was beyond a mess.  Bathrooms, disgusting.  Cobwebbed corners.  Nary a place to sit or eat for nearly all available surface space had a pile of something waiting to be put away. 

I can't help but wonder why I never bothered to ask for help. 

I have a friend who, I swear, pays for nearly nothing in this world.  She goes through life gabbing on about things she's looking for or needs, casual conversation-like, and people just hand their things over to her.  I've fallen to her trap and handed her more than my fair share of, "Oh, I have one of those you can have," moments. 

I was listening, last night, to her tell me about something else she had received for free.  I couldn't tell you, now, what it was, but I quickly fired off, "You know.  You have no problem saying, 'Yes, please,' which amazes me because I have no problem saying, 'No, thank you.'" 

The look on her face, I could tell I totally just offended her.  And I can't blame her look, I absolutely spoke my thought as it entered my brain. There was no filter-effect. Nothing stopped the thought from pouring through my open pie-hole.

I continued on, trying to save some semblance that I'm not an ass hole.  "Someone offers you something and you have no problem saying, 'Yes, please.'  Whenever someone offers me something I don't have the ability to say 'Yes, please,' its always, 'No, thank you.'" 

And it's true.  I've had countless people tell me, if I needed anything, please let them know.  I can tell you, in all honesty, I've never asked for anything (that I can recall). 

My friend, who just had her third baby, has had three baby showers.  One for each kid. 

And I recently attended a baby shower for another friend who was having her sixth child. 

I have had three kids, so far, and never had a baby shower.  It never dawned on me, until recently, so it's not like it was ever a big deal in my mind. 

Both of these friends have also had other friends set up a meal plan thing where people bring them meals so they don't have to cook. 

Yet another thing I've never experienced but once, when a girl from church asked if there was anything she could do to help out after I had Ruby.  I told her, of course, "No.  But thank you for offering!" She retorted back with, "Let me know when you come home and I'll bring something over for supper one night."  I told her about Lydia and how hard it is for people to cook for her and not to worry about it, but this girl insisted.  She was making supper for the rest of us and we could supplement something for Lydia.  It turned out to be the one of the best meals I've ever had.  And she even brought both a green salad as well as a fruit salad hoping Lydia might get to enjoy some of the splendor. 

I've had a different friend both offer, then flat out tell me she's going to watch a child or two here and there.  She would come over, in the beginning, to sit with me.  Give Ruby a bath.  Help out with supper dishes.  I was grateful for the help and enjoyed the company.  I know if I asked for more, she would say, "Yes," but I never do. 

Once again, I don't know what it is about me that I don't know how to ask for help.  Neither do I know what it is that (most) people think I'm some kind of amazing super woman.  I get lots of compliments about how they (the person) can't believe how I do what I do.  I'm not sure how I make it look so effortless when half the time I was dying inside. 

No one, who sees me in real life seem to know how badly I hurt.  That I truly was dying on the inside.  I must have an amazing, exterior cover.  And clearly they never read this blog because those five of you who do all sent me comments with virtual hugs, emails full of advice or phone numbers saying I can call whenever I need to talk.  I've said thank you for the hugs.  Back peddled with the emails because I was JUST FINE.  Picked up the phone to call, only to find a half-assed excuse why I'd do it later, which never comes.

I'm in a better place now.  I've been here for a month.  I'm trying to get Kyra caught up on both complimentary praises as well as school work, showering Lydia with I love you's and dote on Ruby the way she deserves. 

Still, I can't figure out why I was the way I was.  I feel this need to know, though.  Its as if, if I know the how's and why's, I can prevent it from happening again.  Make myself a better self, if not for me than for my kids.  They deserve a better Mom than what they had. 

I don't know if I'll ever be able to ask for help.  Clearly it's not one of my stronger character traits.  I do think that if I had more help, a meal, a sitter, company, conversation, it would have helped. 

Things You've Missed

- I have read three out of the four Twilight Series books. Jer gave the first one away, but in 7 days I've managed to COMPLETELY neglect my children and read books 2, 3 and 4. Books 2 and 3 were read in a single day each. Book 4 took some effort. It started out good, got really crappy for a really long time and then finally ended with a great big bang that left me on the couch, ignoring my children all over again, today.

This week I have managed to forget to write an email back to a friend who was trying to nail down a play date, forgot Kyra had ice skating, didn't realize it was my sister's birthday today until it was too late to call her (Happy Birthday, G!) and remembered just a few minutes ago, after Kyra came in my room complaining that her ear hurts, that we had a doctor's appointment we missed on the 4th to recheck her last infection.

Yes, yes, I know. I'm a stellar parent.

My thought was the books were laced with Crack, however, according to our resident ex college student druggie dropout, Jer said that Crack is a speed drug, if the book were laced with crack I would have actually got off the couch and done some of the house hold chores and not neglected them so much. I guess now I need to Google a drug that renderes one helpless to do anything more then the basic childcare necessities.

- Lydia has perfected her walking abilities. It was probably due to all that down time she had, what, with a mother who's head is stuck in a book all day, she had nothing better to do then to practice her walk. No, no... I still don't have any footage on camera.

This must be where the second child syndrome begins.

- Kyra has lost her damned mind.

No, really. She has.

In fact, just today she proved it while we were at the mall playground. She was being rude and ugly to a girl who just wanted to play with her, a girl she so happily played with for the 20 minutes before her melt down occurred.

She played happily, then she abruptly started giving the girl dirty, glaring looks- eyes creased, chin down, hands on hips, death rays shot from her pupils- because the girl didn't want to climb through the tunnel. I called her over, told her she needed to sit next to me until she found her happy place again. She cried. I told her we were leaving. She stood up and with a blood curdling, tantrum trowing voice, screamed NOOOOOOOO! and proceeded to sit down on the floor and kick her feet on the ground.

My jaw drops, gaped mouth, even now.

I bent down, told her to get up and get her boots on now. Went to retrieve Lydia and heard another scream of NOOOOO! I DON'T WANT TO GOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOO! WAAAAAAA!

I'm horrified. This is not my child.

I compose myself as I walk back to her and inform her that she had better get her boots on her feet before I leave her in the mall because Lydia and I are going home. She stands up, drops back down in the sitting positing and proceeds to kicking her feet again while she screams hysterically.

As I strap Lydia into the stroller, Kyra's hysterical cries make their way next do me. She screams through her tears that she doesn't know how to put her boots on. I resist the urge to strangle her. She must see that in my eyes because she suddenly puts her boots on all by herself, while still crying a pitifully fake, yet still quite loud, sob that seems to end just as quickly as it began.

We leave the mall in silence.

On the drive home I calmly talk to her about the way she handled herself and how she should have handled herself. I also inform her that she is grounded today. For the entire afternoon until she went to sleep, she stayed in her room, allowed out only for bathroom breaks and meal time.

And, yes, I find that last sentence a bit humorous to say when talking about a 4 year old.

I told her it was so she could find out what it was like to have no one want to play with her because she was being ugly. I told her it was so she could see that in order to have friends, she needed to lean how to play nicely, use kind words and remember how it is she is to compose herself when playing with others.

She may not understand all that I was trying to convey to her today, but she didn't enjoy staying in her room alone. Sure, she had a small selection of her toys and books but she didn't have anyone to talk to. I didn't answer her How do ducks fly? question. I dismissed her request that I fix one of the flaps on her toys. And when she called out that there was a bug in her room, her voice showing no real concern, just a need for attention, I told her to deal with it, no one wants to be around someone when they're being ugly and rude.

Tonight I put her to bed, gave her hugs and kisses, told her that tomorrow we would start over. We reviewed the wrongs of today, she offered her versions of how she could be nicer and she promised to try harder next time.

Tomorrow we will try anew. We'll hit the mall again, though not the play area. (mostly because, have you seen the children who show up after school hours and on weekends? No thank you, Kyra clearly gets her devious and defiant influences without without their help) Tomorrow, I hope Kyra finds her mind again, because, seriously?, who was that kid today?

There, now that you're all caught up, doesn't that make you feel like I haven't skipped out on you all for an entire week, again?

No? Well, I'm sorry. I'll try harder next time.

What You've Missed

Writer's Block, still goin' strong!

Some of the things I could have posted about should I have found the right words:

-Saturday we took Krya to a water park. She was much braver then I was climbing to the tippy top of one of the rides all while bouncing around like a wild woman. 70 feet off the ground should really have more cover then an open stairwell with a railing 4 feet high facing the great wide open air. Even though I am super duper petrified of heights I braved two of these kinds of stairwells because 1) my kid has no fears and 2) these were the most adult kind of rides Jer would be able to shoot himself down on this particular visit to the water park. By the time we were waiting for our raft at the tippy top of the second (even taller then the first) tower I had to stoop down because I was 97% sure I was going to vomit from a combination of fear of heights and the fact that some people just don't know how to stand perfectly still so the tower will quit rocking back and forth. Now I want my Mother/Wife of the Year award!

-How many times should one tell their child she must wear panties to church before threatening to leave her at home with the dogs and then pretend to do so? Don't look at me like that, I only took the dogs out to do their business before we left. Can't leave your child at home with the dogs if you leash them up and take them with you. It's not my fault if a 2 year old doesn't comprehend that.

- Jeremy has a cold. Either he's on his death bed or the world is ending, I'm not certain exactly which one it is, yet.

- Kyra has started day 2 of eating strait watermelon. There's nothing wrong with that, is there? I mean, she, herself, has consumed half of a good sized watermelon all on her own. Impressive, no?

New Milestone (For Kyra and Myself)

Did ya'll know you're the greatest group of people that ever lived? Seriously.

There was not a single friend or family I told in person who actually stopped, listened, and asked me how they could help. Not. One. Person. I got a lot of Well, I've seen her do [whatever] before or I've never noticed and more then all the other comments, There's nothing wrong with her, your pediatrician is blowing smoke from her ass.

You guys were all Why the hell didn't you tell us? which, really, made me come to near tears with every one of your comments. So, thank you. You're words touched my heart. (God forbid) if there is ever a next time, I cross-my-heart promise I won't leave you out of the loop.

Wanna know why today was very awesome? Kyra played pretend with her BFF for hours today. Ow-Errs. Hours. She was pulled around in a wagon- played with their kitchen toys- read books- they put on their shoes, each grabbed a book and proceeded to talk about how they were going to church and then shopping. It was adorable. And a first for Kyra.

She has read books for an hour by herself before, she's played for 15, 20 minutes by herself while building with Lego's but never for hours with someone other then Jer or myself. It was amazing to watch.

And because she was so amazing I finished Kyra's dress today! I was going to take pictures of her and post about that tonight but Kyra decided to somehow climb up the side of the bathtub when I turned my back and get my razor. I was busy talking on the phone with my mom, pacing from the bathroom to the living room, around the coffee table and back to the bathroom. In that short period of time she snatched my razor, rubbed her thumb across the edge and confirmed that her circulation was great. She was tired, she "have a boo boo on my finn-ger", and nothing would stop the pain like a band aid and a good cuddle.

Yep, I'm still in competition for the coveted Mother of the Year Award.

Tomorrow I'll bring you pictures of the finished product. Stay tuned. You'll be impressed.

I'll Take That As A Hint

Remember when you first looked at your mother and decided they had no idea what they were doing when it came to dancing? Do you also remember when they attempted to dance in public and you were absolutely mortified?

Kyra had that moment last night.

I- a fairly good dancer, or so I've been told- was doing my moves through the Wal-Mart isles trying to entertain Kyra and make her laugh. Dancing used to work every time.

So I'm dancing. Kyra start crying and tells me "No dancing Mommy. Not nice! Stop it!" After I ignored her and continue to dance she starts in with the "Look at me, I said no ma'am!" Which in turn only makes Jeremy and I start to die of laughter because those last commands are word for what I say to her when she ignores me.

I think I'll take this as a hint to dance in public whenever I can. For no other reason then to embarrass her because that's my job as a mother.

At least that seemed to be my own mother's main job in my life...

(Love You Mom!)

Mo-tel Slumming

Jeremy, Kyra and I are leaving on a 3 day researching expedition down below the Mason Dixon Line tomorrow. We normally take the Babies with us where ever we go. The few times we've had to board them we've put them up in a Puppy Resort and Spa kinda place.

It's our way of telling them "We're sorry we have to leave you behind. We feel guilty so we're trying to spoil you rotten and maybe you won't hate us when we return."

Believe me, we pay dearly for it.

This trip is one of those where we have to leave them behind. No problem, I think, they dig the Resort Away From Home.

Except, well, the resort is booked. Turns out this is a holiday weekend. I might have know that had the boat not been on a 30 day stand down and the hubby only has to work a 24 hour day every 4 days.

I call every doggy resort and spa in the area, they're all full. I finally break down and call the kennel down the road from us who offers a military discount. The Babies are booked for a 4 day stay with a bath and nail trim while they are there.

This place, no joke, cost us $20 less per day.

Granted, there isn't any kind of heated floor. There's no indoor/outdoor bedrooms, no pool to splash around in, and no Eukanuba dog food to spoil them with. Instead it's indoor, cold floors to sleep on, smaller outdoor runs and Purina Dog Chow for meals.

Our Babies have moved from the Hotel to the Motel.

The poor things will be slumming it for a few days. I hope they won't have any residual feelings towards us when we pick them up Wednesday morning.

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Questioning My Parenting Ability- Reason #182

I think Kyra self medicated herself for her nap today. She slept 4 hours. She normally sleeps 2, when she sleeps at all lately.

After hour 4 I woke her up. She was reluctant to open her eyes, instead choosing to roll over, tuck her hand under her cheek and close her eyes again. It took some persuasion but she finally got out of bed.

Strait from bed we paid a visit to the potty where I found this:

"What is that?" you ask? Why it's Infant Tylenol cold medicine. I know I had 2 small bottles of it here in the house, neither of which I can currently find.

My only thought is that maybe she tossed the bottles in the toilet before I got her ready for a nap, as she was playing in the bathroom with her bath toys (or so I thought). I didn't bother to check when I put her on the potty before her nap. She did her business, flushed, washed her hands and off to bed where she fell asleep rather quickly.

This is yet another example where I wonder if having an offspring was one of my smartest moves. Ya, I'm feeling pretty lousy today. This is defiantly one step back at my strive for the coveted Mother of the Year award.

The positive of this 4 hour nap? Kyra didn't have an accident in her bed. Go Kyra, Go Kyra!

Anorexic Eating = Jiggy Thighs

Surprisingly, I truly enjoy going to the gym. Kyra, on the other hand, hates it. Today was day 5. Kyra started screaming and crying as we drove into the parking lot! I am not kidding you. The scream fit lasted 15 more minutes after I ran (no joke) out of the nursery with her running after me screaming "MUUM-MEEE!" as she stands trapped behind a baby gate.

I know, I am so going to win that mother of the year award this time around.

Today I saw my "personal trainer". Wanna know what she does? She fills a form out to calculate my average daily calorie intake. According to her I take in an average of 1500-2000 calories a day while I'm supposed to take in 2000-2500 per day. (all right! I'm anorexic in her book!) What am I supposed to eat? More protein, less carbs. Um, hello? I am not all that fond of protein carrying foods and the boiled eggs she told me to eat, ya, not allowed to smother them in salt. Those carbs I was told to avoid, that cuts out half my diet. Somehow I think this is only going to dig my anorexic hole even deeper.

Next she took my measurement in inches. I have no idea what they were. I saw them, but numbers don't mean a whole lot to me when I didn't have anything to compare them to.

Finally she started pinching my fat with some kind of torture device to tell me just what a lard ass I am. Turns out I'm not all that bad. My "goal" is to be 25% body fat. I'm currently sitting at 30%.

Hey hey hey... I'm not such a Fatty MaGee after all!

What I don't understand is if I'm not eating enough (according to "the expert") how in the world did I get a layer of blubber surrounding my smoking hot body? My theory is moving from the hotter then haties south to the frozen tundra of the north. It was obviously my body's way of protecting itself.

Of course it couldn't have had anything to do with me sitting around eating Swiss Rolls and drinking sweet tea, Kool Aide or soda.

The absolutly fabulous news she gave me though... I have a tiny frame and will probably be this thin the rest of my life. Hell, ya. I love my ancestors for giving me such fabulous genes!

Where's My Mother of the Year Award?

I Swear I Didn't Beat Her!

I was downloading pictures of this. Its a turtle my uncle and aunt gave to Kyra for Christmas. It has become her new favorite stuffed animal. Kyra has been carrying this poor turtle around the house all day. Playing with her other toys while never letting go of this one. She would also use it as a phone, as she's doing in the picture below. Putting its head up to her ear and just chatting away at it. I'm not sure who she was talking to, or how the turtle was transmitting so well, but it seemed to be working for her.

Roughly 10 minutes after that picture was taken, I took this next one. She was playing in her room with the Babies. They were tugging on one of their toys and Kyra thinks it is hilarious to chase them around and try to get in on the action. The Babies humor her, let her grab their toy once in a while then throw her to the ground, where she laughs hysterically, gets back up, and goes back for more. I suspect that is how the hematoma on her head occurred. (hematoma- also known as a goose egg. I'm trying to be all smart and use my medical terms!) I found her, on the floor next to her dresser, screaming in pain. I picked her up and she promptly buried her head in my shoulder. Snotting, bawling, and gasping for air from crying so hard. She didn't want me to look at her, refused to pull her head up from out of my neck. After patting her back, sh-shing her, and rocking her for quite some time she finally calmed down and got my first look at the damage. Poor baby. She wouldn't let me put any ice to her head or anything. All she wanted to feel better with was her sippy cup of water and some Cheerios.

She was obviously feeling much better when I dropped her off at Joelle's 30 minutes later. She seems as happy as can be playing with Rachel and Anton.

When I was pregnant, I begged God for a girl. I think He compromised and gave me a tom boy. If Child Services ever comes to my house, I'm sure they're going to think I beat her. Really though, she's just a girl who lacks grace.

*on another note, this is also after keeping Jer and I up all night screaming and crying because she was overly tired but couldn't get a good night's sleep due to a snotty nose that wouldn't let her breathe. On top of that, in the morning her little body decided it wanted to run a temperature of 101.9 all day. None of this, however, stopped her from playing happily. (when she wasn't fussing because she was so tired, that is)

Kyra's Tumble Down the Stairs

Yes, you heard that right. Kyra took a tumble down the stairs. It was six steps, but for and itty bitty toddler, six steps is a lot. Especially when your stupid, piece of junk baby gate doesn't even stop her fall! NO, she barreled right through it. It snapped right off from the mounting hinge. Did you get that? MY 20 POUND DAUGHTER MANAGED TO SNAP A GATE OFF AT THE POINT THAT IT SCREWS INTO THE WALL!!!

I have since removed the gate, damned it to hell for all eternity, and returned it to the store where I hope some machine smashes it into a million little pieces. I have also upgraded to another brand, with better looking mounting brackets, and a more expensive price... For $59.99 this new gate better come with a maid service.

I know, I hear you. Where was I during the falling episode? I was at the bottom of the stairs watching her (and Rachel, the other 1 year old I babysit) intently climbing up the stairs. Holding the free end of the gate in one hand (as I was about to follow them up the stairs), I turned for one second to tell the babies (my dogs) to stay . BAM, it happened that fast.

Kyra's good. She's fine. She has a small bruise on her forehead to show for the whole incident. Otherwise, I don't think she even remembers what happened. Me on the other hand... I believe I had a mini heart attack, and I'm suffering from Post Traumatic Shock. Not only that, but now I'm pretty sure that I'm the worst mother in the world.

Who does that? Who lets their daughter fall down the stairs and not catch her?

From now on I am going to be within arms reach of her at all times... "Just out of arms reach" isn't good enough for me anymore. No Ma'am. From here on out, I'm stepping up my mommy game.