Let me preface by saying that I am super-grateful that I am healthy, that I enjoy exercise to some degree, and that Taryn has influenced me to take better care of myself, so that in return I can take better care of her.
But something that is beginning to irk the shit our of me, goes something like this:
Stranger: Your baby is so beautiful!
Me: Thank you.
Stranger: How old is it?
Me: She's five weeks
Stranger: Ohmygod, you look so good! You are so skinny!
Me: Thanks, I'm still a bit bigger than I was before, but I'm working on it.
Stranger: You should be grateful that you are that skinny already. When I had my child...... (the rest varies, but is the same old shit).
So look, yes, I am grateful that before I had my daughter, I was pretty slim, so obviously after she was born and the stomach disapeared, I am still pretty slim.
But here's the rub, I am not as skinny as I used to be. It may not be obvious to a lot of people, but I still can't wear a damn thing in my closet, and it irks me. I have 4 pairs of pants that have no elastic that I can wear now, and looking at everything else in my closet is frustrating because I can't wear any of them.
Not to mention shirts. I can't wear anything super-form-fitting because I still have a pouch, and since my pants don't fit right it 1) looks sloppy and 2) is uncomfortable. So that eliminates most of my wardrobe, and abotu 90% of the rest I can't wear becasue I'm nursing.
And maybe what amplifies it is my husband laughing at me that I don't fit into my clothes, laughing at me that I have a roll now when I sit down, then laughing at me that I get upset that he's laughing.
I know it's all for a good cause. I'd take a lot worse of a body (and probably will with the next kid) to ensure my baby is happy and healthy, but it's still hard to go from one place physically to a completely different place without this sort of hiccup of getting used to it.
And look, I'm not complaining about the physical changes per se, more like I hate people's reaction to it, whether it be laughing, or telling me I should be grateful. I appreciate when people tell me I look good, don't get me wrong, but don't jump down my throat if I don't agree with you.
I need some brownies now.
July 29, 2006
July 28, 2006
Cute Baby Trick #2
(The first cute trick, in case you missed it, was taryn blowing raspberries at the dogs. I'm not sure if she liked them licking her face or not....)
So, Taryn in just too adorable. I have to get the out of the way.
She learned to stick her tounge out, sort of on command. We were playing around after nursing on Wednesday evening, and I kept sticking my tounge out at her, because she made the cutest crinkly face when I was doing it. Pretty son, when I stuck mine out, she'd stick her dinky little tounge out, right back at me.
I'm so proud!
On a similar note, she also smiled at me, for real, for the first time yesterday. I didn't think I'd recognize the difference, but her eyes get all squinty when she smiles socially because her cheeks are so chunky. My baby girl.
And these milestones got me thinking, babies have the brains of dogs.
Because a dog thinks, but doesn't know he's thinking, and can't really think about thinking. And babies do the same. I'm sure Taryn thinks, like when she's hungry or smiles because she's happy, she's thinking "I'm hungry," but she doesn't know that she is thinking.
So if "I think, therefore I am" are you if you don't know you are?
So, Taryn in just too adorable. I have to get the out of the way.
She learned to stick her tounge out, sort of on command. We were playing around after nursing on Wednesday evening, and I kept sticking my tounge out at her, because she made the cutest crinkly face when I was doing it. Pretty son, when I stuck mine out, she'd stick her dinky little tounge out, right back at me.
I'm so proud!
On a similar note, she also smiled at me, for real, for the first time yesterday. I didn't think I'd recognize the difference, but her eyes get all squinty when she smiles socially because her cheeks are so chunky. My baby girl.
And these milestones got me thinking, babies have the brains of dogs.
Because a dog thinks, but doesn't know he's thinking, and can't really think about thinking. And babies do the same. I'm sure Taryn thinks, like when she's hungry or smiles because she's happy, she's thinking "I'm hungry," but she doesn't know that she is thinking.
So if "I think, therefore I am" are you if you don't know you are?
July 27, 2006
So Mediocre
I'm really am. So incredibly average.
I got my yearly review from work the other day. My supervisor had nothing bad to say. But then again, he didn't really have anything super-positive to say either, except that I had excellent attendance, and the same old, "It's been my pleasure working with you." Yeah, like everyone else in the world.
Not that I expect him to say I'm the best EW he's ever trained (that title, obviously, goes to the one and only SueBob), but I worked my ass off for the last year, and it'd be nice to get some recognition of that.
The story of my life.
I do my best at most things, especially at work. For my age, I'd say my work ethic is much stronger than most other folks under 30. I never call in sick, unless I am unconscious, or on my way there. I work hard to learn what I need to do, and I "encourage" those around me to do the same. And once I know what I need to do, and have the tools to do it, I take the initiative to get my shit done, and usually get other people's shit done too. So WTF?
Maybe I need to be more flamboyant. To let everyone know when I am going above and beyond, so I can get some recognition for it. Yeah, right. It's the same thing in personal relationships. I'm always there, always helping, always doing more than I'm asked, but rarely thanked for it. Shit.
Maybe if I wasn't so damn gorgeous, people would forget me entirely? :)
At least I have that going for me. But to be honest, I'd probably be perpetually blushed if I got more attention. I kind of like being on the sidelines, knowing that I should be the one receiving kudos instead of so-and-so kiss-ass. Gives me a reason to resent the world.
But wait!
Kissing ass??
Nope, not my style. At all. For any reason.
Sorry.
I got my yearly review from work the other day. My supervisor had nothing bad to say. But then again, he didn't really have anything super-positive to say either, except that I had excellent attendance, and the same old, "It's been my pleasure working with you." Yeah, like everyone else in the world.
Not that I expect him to say I'm the best EW he's ever trained (that title, obviously, goes to the one and only SueBob), but I worked my ass off for the last year, and it'd be nice to get some recognition of that.
The story of my life.
I do my best at most things, especially at work. For my age, I'd say my work ethic is much stronger than most other folks under 30. I never call in sick, unless I am unconscious, or on my way there. I work hard to learn what I need to do, and I "encourage" those around me to do the same. And once I know what I need to do, and have the tools to do it, I take the initiative to get my shit done, and usually get other people's shit done too. So WTF?
Maybe I need to be more flamboyant. To let everyone know when I am going above and beyond, so I can get some recognition for it. Yeah, right. It's the same thing in personal relationships. I'm always there, always helping, always doing more than I'm asked, but rarely thanked for it. Shit.
Maybe if I wasn't so damn gorgeous, people would forget me entirely? :)
At least I have that going for me. But to be honest, I'd probably be perpetually blushed if I got more attention. I kind of like being on the sidelines, knowing that I should be the one receiving kudos instead of so-and-so kiss-ass. Gives me a reason to resent the world.
But wait!
Kissing ass??
Nope, not my style. At all. For any reason.
Sorry.
July 26, 2006
Aletta, with two T's
When I was 12 years old, I decided to try to spell my name differently. After 12 years of having everyone either spell or pronounce my name incorrectly, I was fed up, and I figured it was the right time to change it to "Aleta." One T.
See, the summer after 6th grade, I decided to move in with my father and his new family in Ohio. I had a lot of reasons to move, the most important being that I truly believed that if I lived with my father, he might learn to love me.
My dad has never really been a huge part of my life, and after he remarried, and started having more children, I felt even less important to him. I was his first-born, but I felt like the step-child. So I employed complete egocentric pre-teen logic and thought that if he were around me more he would see what an intelligent, beautiful, witty, kind person I was, and he would want a real relationship with me.
And of course, it didn't work. And I learned that it's easier to run away from a situation that to deal with it. So I came back to California to live with my mom, and went to three more middle schools that year. One I left because I didn't feel like I fit in there. The second I left because I was getting picked on by older girls who were upset that their "boyfriends" liked me. The same thing happened at the third school, but I rode out the rest of the year in fear that I would get jumped again and again by these older girls. I spent most of my seventh grade year fighting girls over bullshit. For me, it was about maintaining my pride; they thought it was about boys.
I guess I started thinking about this while looking at Taryn, and feeling so grateful that her father loves her so much, and treasures the time he spends with her. And no matter how rough our relationship is right now, the ups and downs, fighting and making up, I feel lucky to have found a man that wants a relationship with his daughter, and even though he has a lot of pressure to be "the man" he is able to be soft with her.
And I guess I was feeling a tough guilty for giving her a unique name, and hoping that it isn't so unusual that she will forever be correcting people's spelling and pronunciation of it.
I was thinking too about my last post on friends and enemies, and how I haven't really dealt with those people. I kind of just mentally shut down, and maybe that's why it's so hard to think of them without feeling sentimental. I keep the good times on the forefront of my mind, and ignore the negative stuff until it gets brought up again.
Anyway, needless to say, I kept forgetting to spell my name the new way, so when I moved back to California, I changed it back (to myself) to Aletta. With two T's.
See, the summer after 6th grade, I decided to move in with my father and his new family in Ohio. I had a lot of reasons to move, the most important being that I truly believed that if I lived with my father, he might learn to love me.
My dad has never really been a huge part of my life, and after he remarried, and started having more children, I felt even less important to him. I was his first-born, but I felt like the step-child. So I employed complete egocentric pre-teen logic and thought that if he were around me more he would see what an intelligent, beautiful, witty, kind person I was, and he would want a real relationship with me.
And of course, it didn't work. And I learned that it's easier to run away from a situation that to deal with it. So I came back to California to live with my mom, and went to three more middle schools that year. One I left because I didn't feel like I fit in there. The second I left because I was getting picked on by older girls who were upset that their "boyfriends" liked me. The same thing happened at the third school, but I rode out the rest of the year in fear that I would get jumped again and again by these older girls. I spent most of my seventh grade year fighting girls over bullshit. For me, it was about maintaining my pride; they thought it was about boys.
I guess I started thinking about this while looking at Taryn, and feeling so grateful that her father loves her so much, and treasures the time he spends with her. And no matter how rough our relationship is right now, the ups and downs, fighting and making up, I feel lucky to have found a man that wants a relationship with his daughter, and even though he has a lot of pressure to be "the man" he is able to be soft with her.
And I guess I was feeling a tough guilty for giving her a unique name, and hoping that it isn't so unusual that she will forever be correcting people's spelling and pronunciation of it.
I was thinking too about my last post on friends and enemies, and how I haven't really dealt with those people. I kind of just mentally shut down, and maybe that's why it's so hard to think of them without feeling sentimental. I keep the good times on the forefront of my mind, and ignore the negative stuff until it gets brought up again.
Anyway, needless to say, I kept forgetting to spell my name the new way, so when I moved back to California, I changed it back (to myself) to Aletta. With two T's.
July 23, 2006
Saving for College
Taryn received an adorable piggybank from her Uncle B and Tia Tere for her babyshower (or maybe my birthday, they were pretty close together). I decided that I'm going to try my damnest to put all of my silver change into it, and on her first birthday I'm going to deposit it into a savings account for her.
I was also thinking that I'm going to ask friends and family to make a donation to her savings account for her first birthday and first Christmas, instead of buying presents. I figure it'll be better now while she's young and doesn't expect presents yet, and will save a lot of space since she'll grow out of a lot of gifts pretty quickly.
My last thought on college savings was that when I go back to work, I can put my raise (yea! I got a raise! Ends up being about 12% after the COLA) into her savings account each paycheck, and by her birthday I'll have added about $1500 to her future education.
Of course, we'll have to see how it goes, and see if we need the extra 12% to pay for a sitter...
I was also thinking that I'm going to ask friends and family to make a donation to her savings account for her first birthday and first Christmas, instead of buying presents. I figure it'll be better now while she's young and doesn't expect presents yet, and will save a lot of space since she'll grow out of a lot of gifts pretty quickly.
My last thought on college savings was that when I go back to work, I can put my raise (yea! I got a raise! Ends up being about 12% after the COLA) into her savings account each paycheck, and by her birthday I'll have added about $1500 to her future education.
Of course, we'll have to see how it goes, and see if we need the extra 12% to pay for a sitter...
July 22, 2006
I wish someone had told me
(Ally, you may or may not want to read this....)
I was talking to TC last night, telling her some more details of my labor, and I realized there were a few things that happened that I wish someone had told me before I had Taryn. Of course, it might have freaked me out even more, or made me more paranoid/anxious/embarassed about the whole thing, but still would have been nice to know.
So here are my additions to the "Girlfriends Guide to Labor":
1. When you go into labor, your digestive system speeds up...a lot. I spent a lot of time on the crapper between when my water broke, and when Taryn was born.
2. On the flip side of that, vomiting is normal. Evidently. The nurses said it was a sign that my labor was progressing.
3. IV drugs may not help. They are supposed to "take the edge off" but they just made me sleepy, which helped me to relax more between contractions, but didn't do didly squat for the pain.
4. If you don't like IV's, drink a lot of water while you are in labor. Because nurses are no joke when it comes to your baby's health (as they shouldn't be), and even if you don't want to have an IV in your arm, they'll make you get it.
5. Walking hurts. They tell you that in the childbirth classes, but real contractions get much, much, much more painful when you walk, though it does help your labor along. If you can stand it, do it. Mine were topped out from the jump, so I pretty much stayed in bed the whole time.
6. Take a shower. Sounds odd, and I was totally skeptical that it would help, but an hour later, I felt so much better and was super-refreshed (as much as I could be) to start pushing.
7. Your body doesn't always wait until you are 10 centimeters to start pushing. I was only 8 and pushed through the last two (accidentally...you'll see) before I realized that I wasn't physically ready to have a baby yet. If the nurse says not to push, try your damnest not to, you may regret it later.
8. Hurricane Spray. It's a lifesaver if you have a vaginal delivery. Just ask for it, they'll give you one for free.
9. Don't let people guilt you into having visitors before you are ready. I felt like an aweful person after Taryn was born, because I didn't want to deal with anyone. I wanted time to get to know her better, to let her jaundice improve, figure out how to nurse, and let both of us rest, because childbirth is physically and emotionally exhausting. The only people that get mad at you for not letting them see the baby right away are people who are thinking of themselves, so if you need more time, a day, or a week, before the new baby meets the entire family, just remember that you are taking care of yourself.
10. Last but not least, don't let your partner leave your side. P-Dely was hungry, tired, and had to use the restroom for most of my labor, but refused to leave my side until Taryn was out and safe. he wouldn't even eat the food my mom brought since I couldn't eat anything either. He knows me better than anyone, and was the biggest help through my labor, feeding me ice chips, giving me massages, encouraging me to focus, getting nurses when I needed them, and staying with the baby in NICU so I didn't have to worry if she was okay.
That's it. For me, it hurt like hell, but learning what I needed, and needed to do wasn't difficult. And don't be afraid to make weird sounds or faces, the nurses have seen everything.
I was talking to TC last night, telling her some more details of my labor, and I realized there were a few things that happened that I wish someone had told me before I had Taryn. Of course, it might have freaked me out even more, or made me more paranoid/anxious/embarassed about the whole thing, but still would have been nice to know.
So here are my additions to the "Girlfriends Guide to Labor":
1. When you go into labor, your digestive system speeds up...a lot. I spent a lot of time on the crapper between when my water broke, and when Taryn was born.
2. On the flip side of that, vomiting is normal. Evidently. The nurses said it was a sign that my labor was progressing.
3. IV drugs may not help. They are supposed to "take the edge off" but they just made me sleepy, which helped me to relax more between contractions, but didn't do didly squat for the pain.
4. If you don't like IV's, drink a lot of water while you are in labor. Because nurses are no joke when it comes to your baby's health (as they shouldn't be), and even if you don't want to have an IV in your arm, they'll make you get it.
5. Walking hurts. They tell you that in the childbirth classes, but real contractions get much, much, much more painful when you walk, though it does help your labor along. If you can stand it, do it. Mine were topped out from the jump, so I pretty much stayed in bed the whole time.
6. Take a shower. Sounds odd, and I was totally skeptical that it would help, but an hour later, I felt so much better and was super-refreshed (as much as I could be) to start pushing.
7. Your body doesn't always wait until you are 10 centimeters to start pushing. I was only 8 and pushed through the last two (accidentally...you'll see) before I realized that I wasn't physically ready to have a baby yet. If the nurse says not to push, try your damnest not to, you may regret it later.
8. Hurricane Spray. It's a lifesaver if you have a vaginal delivery. Just ask for it, they'll give you one for free.
9. Don't let people guilt you into having visitors before you are ready. I felt like an aweful person after Taryn was born, because I didn't want to deal with anyone. I wanted time to get to know her better, to let her jaundice improve, figure out how to nurse, and let both of us rest, because childbirth is physically and emotionally exhausting. The only people that get mad at you for not letting them see the baby right away are people who are thinking of themselves, so if you need more time, a day, or a week, before the new baby meets the entire family, just remember that you are taking care of yourself.
10. Last but not least, don't let your partner leave your side. P-Dely was hungry, tired, and had to use the restroom for most of my labor, but refused to leave my side until Taryn was out and safe. he wouldn't even eat the food my mom brought since I couldn't eat anything either. He knows me better than anyone, and was the biggest help through my labor, feeding me ice chips, giving me massages, encouraging me to focus, getting nurses when I needed them, and staying with the baby in NICU so I didn't have to worry if she was okay.
That's it. For me, it hurt like hell, but learning what I needed, and needed to do wasn't difficult. And don't be afraid to make weird sounds or faces, the nurses have seen everything.
July 20, 2006
Ducky! You are One Month old today!
My Sweet AngelBaby,
A year ago, I couldn't imagine letting the world revolve around anyone but myself. And now, I can't imagine how I ever lived so long without you in my life. I guess you've always sort of been here, in my hopes and dreams, and maybe it was your spirit that I promised to bring into this world, the same spirit that I lost seven years ago. Maybe at that time I wasn't ready to be a mother, maybe it took seven years for me to get to a place emotionally, financially, and spiritually, where I could give you everything that you deserve, and so that I could surround myself with people who love and care for me, and who will be there to care for you and support you in this crazy journey we call life.
Sweetpea, when I first saw you on the ultrasound last November, when you were only a few weeks old, I fell in love. You were my little LimaBean, and from then on I started dreaming if you. I knew you were a girl, even though I was hoping for a boy. I just wanted my daughters to have an older brother to protect them, but I realize now that one of the most important jobs I have is to teach you to love and protect yourself, so that you never have to rely on anyone else to do it for you. My first wish for you is to be a happy person who respects herself and is strong enough to stand up to the world for what she believes in.
In December, when I was sick with a horrible flu, I dreamt that you had a small red birthmark on your eyebrow, and you do, though up until now I thought it was a bruise from your grand entrance into the world. Your Papi dreamt of you too, and we spoke often about how wonderful it was going to be when you got here and we could just hold you, and cuddle, and whisper all the wonderful things that we planned to do with you. Your Papi can't wait until you are old enough to go fishing with him. And I'll be so proud the day you get your first library card. We look forward to the mundane tasks of daily life now, because we can share them with you.
My Love, you are too incredibly cute when you sleep. You are too small to smile at us, too small to even play with a toy. You pretty much sleep about 16 hours each day, you eat for about 5 hours a day, and you are awake and alert for the rest, although you don't do much but look around the room. But Love, when you sleep, you laugh, squeal, smile, frown, make a hundred and one expressions that your Papi and I, and anyone else who holds you could watch and be entertained for hours. People come to the house to watch you sleep, and you are so beautiful, my heart swells with pride that I had a part in your creation. And curious as all get out. When you hear a new noise, you turn your head to look, when I walk with you around the house your eyes scan the walls and ceiling. And when the puppies lick your face, you blow raspberries at them!
Darling, I could write forever on the beauty of watching you explore your small world. You had a pretty rough entrance into this world, but you have recovered fully and I am so grateful that God blessed me with you. I promise to do the best that I possibly can, to be a "good-enough" parent so that when the time comes, you will have the courage, and confidence, and tools necessary to be a successful and happy person.
I love you with all of my heart and soul. Happy one month birthday Beautiful!
Your Mommy.
A year ago, I couldn't imagine letting the world revolve around anyone but myself. And now, I can't imagine how I ever lived so long without you in my life. I guess you've always sort of been here, in my hopes and dreams, and maybe it was your spirit that I promised to bring into this world, the same spirit that I lost seven years ago. Maybe at that time I wasn't ready to be a mother, maybe it took seven years for me to get to a place emotionally, financially, and spiritually, where I could give you everything that you deserve, and so that I could surround myself with people who love and care for me, and who will be there to care for you and support you in this crazy journey we call life.
Sweetpea, when I first saw you on the ultrasound last November, when you were only a few weeks old, I fell in love. You were my little LimaBean, and from then on I started dreaming if you. I knew you were a girl, even though I was hoping for a boy. I just wanted my daughters to have an older brother to protect them, but I realize now that one of the most important jobs I have is to teach you to love and protect yourself, so that you never have to rely on anyone else to do it for you. My first wish for you is to be a happy person who respects herself and is strong enough to stand up to the world for what she believes in.
In December, when I was sick with a horrible flu, I dreamt that you had a small red birthmark on your eyebrow, and you do, though up until now I thought it was a bruise from your grand entrance into the world. Your Papi dreamt of you too, and we spoke often about how wonderful it was going to be when you got here and we could just hold you, and cuddle, and whisper all the wonderful things that we planned to do with you. Your Papi can't wait until you are old enough to go fishing with him. And I'll be so proud the day you get your first library card. We look forward to the mundane tasks of daily life now, because we can share them with you.
My Love, you are too incredibly cute when you sleep. You are too small to smile at us, too small to even play with a toy. You pretty much sleep about 16 hours each day, you eat for about 5 hours a day, and you are awake and alert for the rest, although you don't do much but look around the room. But Love, when you sleep, you laugh, squeal, smile, frown, make a hundred and one expressions that your Papi and I, and anyone else who holds you could watch and be entertained for hours. People come to the house to watch you sleep, and you are so beautiful, my heart swells with pride that I had a part in your creation. And curious as all get out. When you hear a new noise, you turn your head to look, when I walk with you around the house your eyes scan the walls and ceiling. And when the puppies lick your face, you blow raspberries at them!
Darling, I could write forever on the beauty of watching you explore your small world. You had a pretty rough entrance into this world, but you have recovered fully and I am so grateful that God blessed me with you. I promise to do the best that I possibly can, to be a "good-enough" parent so that when the time comes, you will have the courage, and confidence, and tools necessary to be a successful and happy person.
I love you with all of my heart and soul. Happy one month birthday Beautiful!
Your Mommy.
I miss my mornings
Last night I actually had 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep!
Taryn has finally decided that she will take a bottle, and last night was P-Dely's night to feed her. Of course, I woke up every time she started to cry, but to not have to get out of bed, to not have to feed her, to not even have to wake up all the way because P-Dely was taking care of everything was wonderful.
When he brought her to me at 6:30 this morning (we only have enough expressed milk for 2 feedings) I was so refreshed and energized, I've been up for 3 hours cleaning, doing laundry, and of course, expressing more milk so I can go to a babyshower this afternoon.
And I'm even more stoked because now I know we can go to the Pink Martini concert next week, and leave her with my mom. Yay!
Someone made a comment (jokingly, of course) that I was a heartless mother since my daughter is only 1 month old, and I've already left the house without her a couple of times. My serious response to that: My sanity is more important than any expectations other people have of me being a mother. I am happy for those women who can and do stay with their children 24/7, like my mom who didn't leave my brother with anyone until he was 8 months old, but I'm just not one of those people. I miss Taryn when I go out without her, and I love her more than anything, but it's important to me that I have time by myself so that I can be there 100% for her when I am with her. I have redefined my life to put motherhood first, but that doesn't mean that I have to neglect myself and my needs outside of that role, in order to fulfill my duties as a mother.
Anyhow, if she's asleep and I'm gone, no biggie. She has no idea that I'm not there, and if I was at home I'd be cleaning or sleeping anyway. Might as well get out for a bit, right?
Taryn has finally decided that she will take a bottle, and last night was P-Dely's night to feed her. Of course, I woke up every time she started to cry, but to not have to get out of bed, to not have to feed her, to not even have to wake up all the way because P-Dely was taking care of everything was wonderful.
When he brought her to me at 6:30 this morning (we only have enough expressed milk for 2 feedings) I was so refreshed and energized, I've been up for 3 hours cleaning, doing laundry, and of course, expressing more milk so I can go to a babyshower this afternoon.
And I'm even more stoked because now I know we can go to the Pink Martini concert next week, and leave her with my mom. Yay!
Someone made a comment (jokingly, of course) that I was a heartless mother since my daughter is only 1 month old, and I've already left the house without her a couple of times. My serious response to that: My sanity is more important than any expectations other people have of me being a mother. I am happy for those women who can and do stay with their children 24/7, like my mom who didn't leave my brother with anyone until he was 8 months old, but I'm just not one of those people. I miss Taryn when I go out without her, and I love her more than anything, but it's important to me that I have time by myself so that I can be there 100% for her when I am with her. I have redefined my life to put motherhood first, but that doesn't mean that I have to neglect myself and my needs outside of that role, in order to fulfill my duties as a mother.
Anyhow, if she's asleep and I'm gone, no biggie. She has no idea that I'm not there, and if I was at home I'd be cleaning or sleeping anyway. Might as well get out for a bit, right?
July 19, 2006
Baby Blues
I was watching a show this afternoon called "Surviving Motherhood" on which they were discussing post-partum depression, and I started tripping off that fact that I haven't gotten it (yet).
I dealt with depression a lot when I was in high school, so I kind of assumed that I would get it, and mentally prepared myself to deal with it. Sure, there have been a couple timed in the past few weeks when I have been frustrated with Taryn when she won't stop crying, or when I have wanted to be alone and not have company, or cried at something inane. But I attribute those temporary mood swings to sleep deprivation and normal hormone level fluctuation after childbirth.
I can't imagine how it must feel for women who have severe depression, who don't want to care for their newborns, and sometimes actually hurt them. I spoke to a lot of people like that when I was working at MHN, an it astounds me how powerful the human mind is to override the joy of childbirth.
Anyhow, I know I can ask for help if I ever get there, but God willing, I won't.
I dealt with depression a lot when I was in high school, so I kind of assumed that I would get it, and mentally prepared myself to deal with it. Sure, there have been a couple timed in the past few weeks when I have been frustrated with Taryn when she won't stop crying, or when I have wanted to be alone and not have company, or cried at something inane. But I attribute those temporary mood swings to sleep deprivation and normal hormone level fluctuation after childbirth.
I can't imagine how it must feel for women who have severe depression, who don't want to care for their newborns, and sometimes actually hurt them. I spoke to a lot of people like that when I was working at MHN, an it astounds me how powerful the human mind is to override the joy of childbirth.
Anyhow, I know I can ask for help if I ever get there, but God willing, I won't.
July 17, 2006
Pray for my kitty...
Tygir had to go in for surgery this morning.
She evidently got in a fight with another kitty, and that evil Devil-spawn bit her on the neck and infected her with some sort of nastiness. And even though I am usually a very vigilant mommy, the sleep deprivation made me miss the fact that her bite was getting infected.
Because here's the thing: Tygir doesn't go to the vet. She hasn't had a vaccine in years, partly because I'm lazy, but mostly because I kept forgetting to take her and by the time I got around to it, it had been so long, and she was still healthy, I figured, what the hell? Cats have been around for thousands of years without shots, what's the point now?
And I'll say it first. I should have kept her indoors. She is declawed, so she can't effectively defend herself, but she's always been an indoor/outdoor cat. She even used to go on hikes with my mom and I, just trotting along beside us on trails all over Marin, without a leash. I wanted her to have her freedom, and she'd never gotten seriously hurt from a fight before, so I figured she would be okay. But she is getting old now, she'll be 13 this year....
So her bite got infected, and formed an abcsess which I didn't notice because she's covered in fur. But then the abcsess ruptured, and I freaked out last night when I saw it because it was a huge hole in her neck, and there was blood and puss dripping out, and evidently she scratched it so much it opened up, so there was also no fur around it.
So I made Pedro take her to the animal ER at midnight.
And they gave her some antibiotics and said she needs surgery asap to remove the infected skin and close up the wound. And they offered to do it for $450.
WTF?
I always make fun of people who spend massive amounts of money on their pets, paying thousands of dollars for clothes, or surgery or whatever. But I can honestly say that last night, I would have shelled out that, plus what it cost for the antibiotics, to save my baby.
Luckily though, the puppies' vet had an appointment available today to do the surgery, and charges a lot less than the other hospital. *phew*
So I have to call tomorrow at 9am to check on her, and hopefully pick her up and bring her home and shower her with love.
And she's now, officially, and indoor cat.
She evidently got in a fight with another kitty, and that evil Devil-spawn bit her on the neck and infected her with some sort of nastiness. And even though I am usually a very vigilant mommy, the sleep deprivation made me miss the fact that her bite was getting infected.
Because here's the thing: Tygir doesn't go to the vet. She hasn't had a vaccine in years, partly because I'm lazy, but mostly because I kept forgetting to take her and by the time I got around to it, it had been so long, and she was still healthy, I figured, what the hell? Cats have been around for thousands of years without shots, what's the point now?
And I'll say it first. I should have kept her indoors. She is declawed, so she can't effectively defend herself, but she's always been an indoor/outdoor cat. She even used to go on hikes with my mom and I, just trotting along beside us on trails all over Marin, without a leash. I wanted her to have her freedom, and she'd never gotten seriously hurt from a fight before, so I figured she would be okay. But she is getting old now, she'll be 13 this year....
So her bite got infected, and formed an abcsess which I didn't notice because she's covered in fur. But then the abcsess ruptured, and I freaked out last night when I saw it because it was a huge hole in her neck, and there was blood and puss dripping out, and evidently she scratched it so much it opened up, so there was also no fur around it.
So I made Pedro take her to the animal ER at midnight.
And they gave her some antibiotics and said she needs surgery asap to remove the infected skin and close up the wound. And they offered to do it for $450.
WTF?
I always make fun of people who spend massive amounts of money on their pets, paying thousands of dollars for clothes, or surgery or whatever. But I can honestly say that last night, I would have shelled out that, plus what it cost for the antibiotics, to save my baby.
Luckily though, the puppies' vet had an appointment available today to do the surgery, and charges a lot less than the other hospital. *phew*
So I have to call tomorrow at 9am to check on her, and hopefully pick her up and bring her home and shower her with love.
And she's now, officially, and indoor cat.
July 16, 2006
Ummmmm, yeah.
If you come to my house to "help out" by watching the baby, please ask me first:
1. When is the last time you took a shower?
2. Have you had a BM in the last 24 hours?
3. Do you need to run any quick errands?
4. Can I make you somthing to eat?
5. Do the dogs need to go outside?
Because really, the only reason I'd need help watching the baby is to do things that I can't do with her. Like shower.
I'm not going to do dishes or scrub the floor while you sit there having fun with the baby. It's just not going to happen.
And I don't think I could sleep either, but thanks for the offer.
See you soon!
1. When is the last time you took a shower?
2. Have you had a BM in the last 24 hours?
3. Do you need to run any quick errands?
4. Can I make you somthing to eat?
5. Do the dogs need to go outside?
Because really, the only reason I'd need help watching the baby is to do things that I can't do with her. Like shower.
I'm not going to do dishes or scrub the floor while you sit there having fun with the baby. It's just not going to happen.
And I don't think I could sleep either, but thanks for the offer.
See you soon!
July 15, 2006
Baby Gates
I'm having issues (big surprise) about how I am going to install baby gates in my house. The problem really is the dogs. They are too dinky to jump over the gates, and I know that if I put them up and they aren't able to run around the house like they are used to, they are going to make my life a living hell.
The biggest problem is that their potty-spot is upstairs in the guest bathroom (sorry guys), so the gates on the stairs are going to seriously interfere with them going to the bathroom. And if we leave them upstairs, they will cry and whine until we let them down again.
I did find these baby gates that have a little door in the bottom that the dogs and the cat would fit through, but I can't put it at the top of the stairs because they are pressure mounted. Maybe I can just drill them into the walls anyway? I knew we should have bought a one story house. Crap.
The biggest problem is that their potty-spot is upstairs in the guest bathroom (sorry guys), so the gates on the stairs are going to seriously interfere with them going to the bathroom. And if we leave them upstairs, they will cry and whine until we let them down again.
I did find these baby gates that have a little door in the bottom that the dogs and the cat would fit through, but I can't put it at the top of the stairs because they are pressure mounted. Maybe I can just drill them into the walls anyway? I knew we should have bought a one story house. Crap.
July 14, 2006
Stretch marks are Sexxy
When I was a kid, I was one of those rough and tumble, tomboy types. Instead of sitting inside playing with Barbies or an Easy Bake Oven, I was usually outside playing tackle football or capture the flag, or climbing (and falling out of) trees. Don't get me wrong, I had my fair share of Barbies and board games, but I preferred my Legos on a rainy day to dress-up.
So when I was falling out of trees and cutting myself up, I discovered I was a picker. You know the type, I was the kid who smeared Elmer's glue on my arm and let it dry so that I could peel it off, and the one who after getting a sunburn (yep, colored folks burn too) would peel the skin off. Sounds disgusting, but I couldn't help it. I would peel tape off of desks, and paint off of walls, and anything else I could get a grip on. And when it was my own scabs, people always told me I was going to cover myself in scars.
My response?
"Scars give me character"
And I know that the last blog I wrote on stretch marks implied that I only had one. And at the time I wrote it, I did only have one, but since then, specifically the last month I was pregnant and gained 14lbs, (I only gained 34lbs total, but yep, I went from "cute" to "about to explode" in one month) I also gained quite a few stretch marks too.
But here's the thing: I look at these stretch marks the same as I do my scars. They give me character.
For the rest of my life, anyone who sees my body will know that I am a mother. Even after my baby pouch is gone, and I fit in my old clothes again, my body will still have these marks. And I'm damn proud of these marks. They remind me of how amazing the female body is, that it can grow and nourish another person for at least 9 months. And I think anything that gives you confidence, in your own talents or abilities or intelligence or just in your worth as a person, is damn sexy.
So sorry Teresa and Brandon and anyone else that used to see me run around in my bikini or my short-shorts... it's still going to happen. But in the future, you'll be blessed to get to see more of my "character."
So when I was falling out of trees and cutting myself up, I discovered I was a picker. You know the type, I was the kid who smeared Elmer's glue on my arm and let it dry so that I could peel it off, and the one who after getting a sunburn (yep, colored folks burn too) would peel the skin off. Sounds disgusting, but I couldn't help it. I would peel tape off of desks, and paint off of walls, and anything else I could get a grip on. And when it was my own scabs, people always told me I was going to cover myself in scars.
My response?
"Scars give me character"
And I know that the last blog I wrote on stretch marks implied that I only had one. And at the time I wrote it, I did only have one, but since then, specifically the last month I was pregnant and gained 14lbs, (I only gained 34lbs total, but yep, I went from "cute" to "about to explode" in one month) I also gained quite a few stretch marks too.
But here's the thing: I look at these stretch marks the same as I do my scars. They give me character.
For the rest of my life, anyone who sees my body will know that I am a mother. Even after my baby pouch is gone, and I fit in my old clothes again, my body will still have these marks. And I'm damn proud of these marks. They remind me of how amazing the female body is, that it can grow and nourish another person for at least 9 months. And I think anything that gives you confidence, in your own talents or abilities or intelligence or just in your worth as a person, is damn sexy.
So sorry Teresa and Brandon and anyone else that used to see me run around in my bikini or my short-shorts... it's still going to happen. But in the future, you'll be blessed to get to see more of my "character."
July 12, 2006
Presenting .... Taryn Isabella Caballero
Just a few pictures of the first couple weeks of Taryn's life. For those who don't know her birth stats, here ya go: Born June 20, 2006 at 6:41pm. She was 7lbs, 7ozs, 19.5 inches. If you want to knwo more about the labor/delivery, just ask. (I don't want too many details on here!)
Taryn sleeping in her Nonna's arms
Taryn and her Popo
Sleeping
With her Papi
Actually awake!
Naptime with Mommy
Your wish is my command
Taryn sleeping in her Nonna's arms
Taryn and her Popo
Sleeping
With her Papi
Actually awake!
Naptime with Mommy
Your wish is my command
So alike, yet so incredibly different
Yesterday, going with Nonna to look at a changing table, we were ranting about how much we are annoyed by people that change lanes at the last minute to take an exit off the freeway, or who don't plan ahead in life in general, and how we are always the super-conscience people who are trying to make things easier for others, and I suddenly realized (though I knew this on some level, but maybe just didn't really see it) that my mother and I are so alike in many of our thoughts, beliefs and values, but personality-wise we are very, very different.
I guess it struck me yesterday, because I was thinking about my own daughter, and imagining how we would get along when she is older, being that both of us are Geminis. And I started thinking about the conflicts that my mother and I had, and still have, and I started to realize that we don't normally disagree on the heart of an issue, but we approach it in such radically different ways that we necessarily clash. She is more of an emotional, in-your-face type of person, while I am much more reserved and logical (usually).
I think that the reason that we are able to always work out our differences is that in the end we both are trying to resolve the issue with as little hurt as possible, and at the same time we try to figure out solutions so that the same issue does not present itself again. While some people battle about the same problem over and over again, I feel like we are always able to find new things to fight about. :)
I guess it struck me yesterday, because I was thinking about my own daughter, and imagining how we would get along when she is older, being that both of us are Geminis. And I started thinking about the conflicts that my mother and I had, and still have, and I started to realize that we don't normally disagree on the heart of an issue, but we approach it in such radically different ways that we necessarily clash. She is more of an emotional, in-your-face type of person, while I am much more reserved and logical (usually).
I think that the reason that we are able to always work out our differences is that in the end we both are trying to resolve the issue with as little hurt as possible, and at the same time we try to figure out solutions so that the same issue does not present itself again. While some people battle about the same problem over and over again, I feel like we are always able to find new things to fight about. :)
July 11, 2006
Mmmmmmmm....Formula!
I see I haven't posted anything on here for almost an entire year. I think it got rough when I got the new job and (in the beginning) didn't have time or space at work to post anything, but now that I'm on maternity leave for the next few months, I figure I can use this to post my blogs, especially since myspace really isn't working for me right now.
That being said, I made mashed potatoes with dinner last night. Everything was going fine until I remembered that I had used that last of my milk for coffee that morning. Oops. Good thing I had a can of formula in the cabinet, works great when there's no real milk available. And I tried it straight, tastes like sweet skim milk.
That being said, I made mashed potatoes with dinner last night. Everything was going fine until I remembered that I had used that last of my milk for coffee that morning. Oops. Good thing I had a can of formula in the cabinet, works great when there's no real milk available. And I tried it straight, tastes like sweet skim milk.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
