Monsters and good people.

I had my first therapy session in a while. I haven’t been driving for health reasons and this session was via technology. Yay technology.

Most of the session centered around something having to do with my kids but it has to do with my identity in this community too. One of my children is struggling to deal with shame. Ah shame, my old nemesis.

My therapist told me that until I view myself as a good person who makes mistakes instead of as a monster who sometimes does the right thing… I can’t help my kid.

Given the stuff I’ve been reading on fetlife lately about redemption and making up for mistakes and when are you allowed back into the fold and to do which behaviors… this all feels connected in my head.

I’ve done wrong and I’ve hurt people in my life. I have done everything in my power to make amends. I’ve tried to help my victims and I’ve tried to help the victims of other people. I’ve tried to not hurt more people, with varying degrees of success. I haven’t had a big flagrant boundary violation in well over a decade, approaching two decades. I did learn from my mistakes.

But at what point do the mistakes of the past no longer define you? How many fuck ups are necessary to make you a monster forever?

What kind of fuck ups can be waved away as “just a mistake”?

I don’t know.

Occupy the mind

Not in the #Occupy sense, more in the keeping busy sense.

I’m trying to keep my mood up and level. Which is a challenge when I’m bored. Boredom = looking for trouble most of the time. Which is why I say that only boring people get bored because if I have any inkling of that feeling I go find something to do.

Which I’m trying to get healthier about as the years go by…

I can’t obsess about cleaning my house because my husband and children are so god damn helpful. The kids are not perfectly following all of their routines… instead they are chipping in to help with my chores way more than normal. I need to not be an asshole about this.

All of the stuff I will need to do for the house in terms of getting it ready to sell are… later and if I start fussing about it too soon I will drive myself crazy and end up starting to do the work myself because I won’t be able to handle waiting. I know myself. I can’t think about that project yet or I will damage my body trying to follow through on plans now when I really need to wait.

So I’m thinking about other things and making other plans because that seems healthier.

Stuff like planning for the next school year since we only have nine more weeks of this school year and the kids and I agreed to year round schooling for next year. We will only have a month off and I’d rather have my plans mostly in place by the end of the school year so I don’t have to spend vacation planning and getting ready. That would piss me off. I know it is the norm for teachers… but I have this time now and by then the fourth trimester will be over and I will not want to sit still to do more planning. I will want to be out in the garden.

That month of vacation will probably involve me spending all my normal academic/planning hours outside trying to get the garden to a better place for selling the house. The more established the plantings are when we list the house… the better. I’ve got some shit to do.

I am doing the shopping and preparation I need to do for summer/travel. I scheduled two trips. Because having stuff on the books helps keep me from feeling trapped. The first trip will be somewhat expensive: it’s an all inclusive in Mexico. The second is taking Sarah to Disneyland for her birthday. I bought into DVC for Sarah and her birthday trip so it seems like a good thing to revisit that again 8 years later. Sarah is my favorite person to go to Disneyland with. We have similar tolerances for crowds, distance, and time spent in the park. We like having a kitchen in our room because Sarah loves to cook to show us her love and I am ok with cleaning up after people who make me tasty food. She is so close with my kids. Even though she and I have had ups and downs… she has consistently shown up for my children. Almost 10 years into this parenting gig… Sarah is who she says she is. She is their Aunt and she takes that seriously.

I’m a huge nerd and I love that my second and third children will both be with their Auntie in Disneyland for her birthday before they turn one. She makes these trips magical and fun. Sarah just does Disneyland in a way that helps me feel safe. And once in a while she even brings her brother along and dude he’s fun in the parks. He runs off with the children to do silly things. I don’t think people are fun based on their willingness to do childcare for me. I follow along more slowly and do the silly things too… It’s about being willing to initiate.

I’m excited that I get to spend about 7 months showing Sarah menus and saying “Hm, should we add this to our itinerary?” This time I’m getting bold and looking further afield in the Anaheim area. What things could we potentially go get or have a nicer meal out…

I feel like I do owe my family the quiet, no other people, sitting and doing nothing experience they want. I keep them on a hamster wheel and they are all fucking exhausted. But I’m glad no one will begrudge me wanting to plan the trip with Sarah too.

And because of DVC and the kitchen… this week long trip won’t be that much money. The all inclusive isn’t cheap but it isn’t that expensive. And we don’t drink alcohol so we won’t be adding to our bill that way.

We will spend somewhere in the $7,000-$9,000 range for both trips. Mexico alone will be $6,000ish.

A bunch of that money will be for things like shoes appropriate to the conditions, hats that fold up + have a strap (kids outgrow theirs and my hats… are not in good shape any more), bathing suits that fit… So it is an extravagant amount of money but it will also help us in general this summer. I just…. might not get as much or as soon if not for the trip coming up.

I’m also thrilled about things like: putting a Disneyland trip on our calendar causes my children to take a deep breathe and say, “Ugh. We need to start training for the walking.” They know that we walk 6-8 miles a day when we are at Disneyland. I asked them, “Would that feel good right now?” They both adamantly stated that it would hurt so they are interested in planning out the exercise regime necessary to make it fun.

This may not be the best way to motivate fitness… but it is pretty effective for us. We are planning our year around this. (Eldest Child is about to graduate out of swimming class. She’s at the end of what they teach and that’s feeling really fun for her. Middle Child asked if they can drop gymnastics while we work on the walking great distances project. That means the kids will be doing three days a week of martial arts, plus MC would have half an hour a week of a swim class on top of walking a lot every day. I think it is both fair to drop gymnastics and it’ll save me $120/month. Sure.)

My kids have 0 interest in fitness for competition. Fitness so they can accomplish something, sure that makes sense.

I love my kids. I would have a hard time with a super competitive child. I’m grateful for the personalities my children happen to have. It isn’t that being competitive is always bad–it isn’t. But I would struggle to parent someone who was very competitive. That’s an evaluation of my own abilities and not a commentary on how awesome someone else might be.

What other things am I planning… I think that might be what I’m cycling between. School (the awesome part of home schooling is I get to plan something different every year), Mexico trip, Disneyland, and exercise for the year. 2018 is going to be a pretty ridiculously good year. And then the house goes on the market next year.

The kids are already suggesting stuff we really don’t want to pack and maybe we should just get rid of it now. So cleaning the house is going to be almost as much about thinning out our possessions as it will be cleaning this year.

Also: anyone want to come over to dinner and take away a few bottles of alcohol? We can’t drink it anymore…

might long term have a bottle of whiskey that I can drink in the house but I doubt it. I can go out and buy a drink 3-8 times in a year and be as satisfied with alcohol as I need to be. Maybe we’ll still keep some wine around for cooking… but not much.

I didn’t expect to grow up and be quite this… weird. Tee totaler pot head. Sure, why not. Only I take pills so I don’t even smell like it much. Are you still a pot head if you don’t get the cloud of smoke making you smell like it?

Questions for the ages.

Unrepentant vanity

For reasons passing my understanding, every time I walk past a mirrored surface I stop and have this moment of “God damn I look good.” My hair is weirdly cooperative. My skin looks lovely. I appreciate my current figure very much.

I date girls who look like this. Or I did. My ex and I looked a lot a like only I thought she was prettier than me.

I’m not sure I’ve ever had such a streak of vanity immediately post-birth before. It’s weird.

I’m finding out that I don’t remember shit very well. Sarah is rereading my archive (for what, the fifth? sixth time?) and she is amused as she corrects my recollections of how I felt in the past.

I feel so very known. Thank you for pointing out how my memory drifts. She says I was a lot more ok with two and done after Middle Child.

I can’t remember that. I can only remember the years of crying as I bled every month. This is why I write shit down. No one is actually dependent on my shoddy memory. I wrote down whatever I was feeling in the moment. And when I misremember and someone says, “Actually what you wrote was…” I don’t argue and I feel melty inside.

Thank you for insisting on consistency. It’s part of how I know you love me. You want me to tell the same story. You don’t want me reinventing the past. The story is what it is.

Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for wanting to. Thank you for being my friend.

I think a lot about friendship and what it means. I’m feeling a little worried/guilty about T&t, friends who are a big deal in my life. T in particular is having big feelings about us wanting to move. It’s going to be a major loss in his life. We are very good friends and he spends more time with me getting emotional support than he does with anyone else. When I leave it is going to create a giant cavernous hole in his life and he’s feeling anxious. We’ve been hanging out a lot for about 12 years. It will hurt to lose that contact.

But I need to go. My family wants to go.

It’s not because there is no one in the bay we love. We love a lot of people and we have been carried by your beautiful friendship for so many years.

My neighborhood is changing and the new people have no interest in the structure I helped create in the past ten years. The people we built relationships with are moving or dying. My friends are flung all over the bay area and the driving to maintain relationships hurts my body. I can’t keep up with a bay area lifestyle. I can’t drive to San Jose and Oakland and Palo Alto every week for socializing. It hurts. Being isolated in this little town while our friends are always 20-90 minutes away… that’s hard on us.

We’d like to move somewhere smaller. Somewhere less spread out. We won’t have as many friends. We won’t have the history.

I am eager to find out what it is like to walk into a room and not run into people I’ve known for decades. The expectations people have of me, for good or for ill, are hard to carry. I was a professional new kid for so long that being as established as I am is hard.

The kids and I are already talking about the stuff we don’t want to pack and we just want to pass it on. It is kind of weird to me how much the kids want to go. They both seem to feel like they don’t really want to go through puberty and their teenager years here. I’m not sure I understand their motivation, but they want to move. Noah is happy about the idea of getting out of a metropolis but otherwise he isn’t as motivated to leave. He’s a lot more content with hiding in his house full time to deal with his unhappiness with the area changing.

And that’s all the typing I can do in this horrible position.

Why don’t you take some vitamins?

As a person with chronic health complaints I get stupid comments from people about what I should do to fix my body. Trying vitamins is always high on the list. Well, today I finally got the bill for allllll of my treatment last year with the pain management doctor. I paid well over $4,000 fucking dollars for fucking vitamins last year.

Shut. The. Fuck. Up. With. Your. Stupid. Advice.

I paid more than that for the doctor visits. But that’s a low ball estimate for the shots plus all the god damn pills I take. I supplement all the things.

I will say that I noticed a difference from the magnesium when I was pregnant. Holy tomato that made a difference. Otherwise… I’m not sure I can feel it. But I’m bouncing back incredibly quickly.

Ugh. I’ve still not been given my blood results from November. Crank. Whine. Fuss.

Blame the mother

A baby is sleeping on my chest, supported by one arm. The time between typing and hitting “post” changes with a newborn.

I was reading something on the parenting board I’ve been codependently hanging out on. (I want to feel like I can “help” someone and I’m physically incapacitated. I know! I’ll go give advice to internet strangers!) One of the ‘known names’ (i.e. people who post so much that everyone knows their story and references them between threads) made a comment about her mother rugsweeping her father’s physical abuse and my response was that I wish I could slap the shit out of her mother.

I didn’t have the reaction that I wanted to hurt her father.

That’s a thing. That’s a whole societal thing.

(Break for poopy diaper and outfit change and now we are nursing.)

Whether the mother is the main instrument of abuse or the enabler… we blame her first, most, and often only her. Mothers are responsible for protecting their children. A child being hurt is the fault of the mother. No matter who does it.

I think about this a lot. Do I blame my mother most? This dynamic is on the gigantic list of reasons I homeschool.

It’s not really about whether I physically, mentally, sexually, emotionally, or spiritually abuse my kids… It’s about whether I can keep it from happening at all.

The funny (to me) part is I have agreements with Noah around him intervening in *my* behavior. I am monitored. He has told me things I needed to change. That’s good. If I go off the rails I have to leave for the good of the kids and we’ve skirted that before. He warned me I was heading that way.

I got the fuck back on the rails.

I’m not sure I’m actually temperamentally suited to the job I chose. But I’m going to force myself into that mode if it kills me. But instead of killing me it is healing me.

I woke up overwhelmingly cranky and with a long list of complaints. Noah suggested a walk. I’m less bitchy now. Over a mile this time! And it didn’t hurt! We’ve been doing just under a mile and it’s been real slow and hard. This felt better.

Noah doesn’t get mad at me for my moodiness. I don’t know what I did right to get him. I know that saying yes was important. (Technically I didn’t say yes I said “Yeah, I could do that.”) But what did I do to make him want me so bad?

Just stay

I had forgotten what it feels like to have a baby who can sleep through any disruption as long as my skin is 1″ from her face. If I move away from her, she wakes up within minutes. I do not know how other people get their babies to sleep alone. I suspect those folks have a higher tolerance for screaming than I have.

I do not let my babies scream for a minute longer than I am doing other work with my hands. Then I snatch them back up again. Most tasks I simply do one handed in this stage.

I do not speak of this because I am trying to play Mommy Wars. There are many ways to raise children and many reasons to make the choices a person makes. I make the choices I make because I am trying to reset *my* internal clock and I am trying to change the patterns that have been set in my family for generations. This is not about what someone else should or shouldn’t do. This is about learning to set aside my hypervigilance. This is about learning to calm down the panic I have lived with for decades.

Hearing my baby scream is one of the most activating sounds of my life. When I respond to it easily, naturally, instantly my body feels better. My body feels the full effects of, “You are safe now and it’s ok to take care of problems. You don’t have to ignore something. You don’t have to pretend the scary/overwhelming/bad thing isn’t happening. It’s ok to react and soothe. Nothing bad will happen.”

I don’t do all of this because it is “best for my baby” (although I do think it is good for her) I do it because I am selfish and I want this satiation and safety in my body.

It is hard dealing with how mentally bored I am. I hit the end of pregnancy and my brain was all, “OK! Disability period is over! Move around! What the fuck! Why are you sitting, motherfucker!??!?!” But I want to give this period of time to my baby so bad that I will learn to deal with almost any amount of frustration.

I just said it wasn’t for baby it was for me. Then I said I will give it to baby. I’m inconsistent. It’s complicated.

I want to have given this to baby so that I have given it to myself. I want to have had this period in our development. I want our relationship to have had this period of being instantly taken care of because I want her to have the same internal sense of “My needs matter” that my older children have.

My big kids really do have this basic safety and happiness that comes from knowing that even as they don’t get all of their wants they have never had a need go unmet. It has not happened.

I want that for my new daughter, too.

Do you know why my children are so convinced that their needs are of utmost importance? Because from the day of their births I have set myself aside to look at them. Is this the most psychologically healthy way to raise children? Oh I assume not. But it’s what I’m doing. Because it is healthier than what I experienced and giving “better than I got” is what most parents can do. We can’t be perfect. We can’t hit the ideal. But if we can give better than we got… that’s kind of shooting the moon, isn’t it?

Know your place

For nine more weeks my primary job is nursing and snuggling. For ten more weeks my secondary job is homeschooling the children and following the charter school guidelines.

I can get through most anything for a set period of time.

We are going to have a month of summer vacation then get started on a year round cycle for next academic year. We agreed that we want to try three months on, one month off for next year because three months of summer vacation is too much.

But first to get through the fourth trimester without exploding from boredom.

An evil kind of magic.

I don’t know what it is… but this child likes to empty the pipes in big volleys. We hear a big poop (she’s so loud) and we wait 1-5 minutes before getting up to go to the bathroom because there is always more. Sometimes we stand at the changing table and get her undressed in slow motion because more is coming.

We wait for the second big volley. It arrives. Ok. We’ll try changing you.

We get the diaper off.

I swear to cheese at least once a day she pees on our hands as we are putting the new diaper up to her. It always lands on the new diaper. Ok, so there’s two diapers and a full change of the changing table so far.

We get her cleaned up (a task) then get a fresh diaper on her then set her on the floor. Proceed to change the cover and everything on the changing table. Get everything ready to go again. Poor Noah usually has this festivity rain down on him (ewwww) while he is changing the baby. I get it too though…

Pick her up and put her back on the changing table and start the process of getting dressed again. Finish. Pick up the baby.

She poops again.

This. Is. Daily. (or almost daily. It’s freakin constant feeling.)

I do not remember my first children being prolific in this manner but it is hilarious as it frustrates me.

Every. Single. Day we have a diaper change that involves a minimum of three diapers. Sometimes she gets to a fourth diaper in a half an hour period without me leaving the bathroom.

Given that when she was born we had some concerns about kidney function I will choose to just be grateful that all the plumbing works so well.

Oh, and every single time she gets put on the changing table she instantly spits up and soaks the entire front of her clothes and creates a puddle around her head.

Cheers.

Naw, no shame

I’m going to write this up. Because it seems important.

CPS came to our house yesterday. They were checking up on that incident I’m being cagey about from last summer. First: the fact that it took them 8+ months to follow up is a sign that the system does not have time for low hanging fruit.

The caseworker was a really nice dude. He had a soft spoken voice; he was incredibly non threatening and warm. He is clearly someone who works for CPS because he wants to be able to help kids who are in trouble.

He asked us a lot of questions and he liked our answers. He closed the case and agreed with the person I spoke to on the phone way back when I self reported this incident to CPS last summer: “Sometimes kids do things we wish they wouldn’t and then we have to educate them as to why they can’t ever do that again.”

My kids were scared to talk to him then confused and relaxed after they did because “I don’t understand why he cares if I like X grade…”

The questions weren’t scary or intense but the questions for us as adults were thorough. I feel he asked questions that should be asked for the protection of children and I don’t feel upset at all for being monitored in this way. I’m glad there are folks to check up on kids how he did.

It was kind of funny how he relaxed a little after we explained about our non-binary kid.

I want to relate more details about the questioning because I feel like it was well done, but that would be skirting the privacy of my kids and that’s the barrier I’m trying to stick to.

But I’ll say that as a parent, CPS was absolutely lovely. They were checking up on the safety of my kids and they were not threatening in any way. I do actually feel glad that there are people in this world who will just show up to make sure my kids are ok. Given my background that seems so wonderful.

It’s not a bad thing to be monitored. I’m not ashamed of how I’m handling issues. I feel very proud that when I’m asked about discipline I can talk with great detail about how I handle issues and I feel confident that I’m doing the best that is available to me. We talk. We do time ins more than time outs. Outside voices go outside.

It’s not that we never fuck up. It’s that when we do… we do intensive education about why it needs to change next time.

This is the best we can do. And it’s not terrible in the scheme of things. The fact that I self reported the issue and put both of my kids in therapy (we actually had the appointments scheduled before the incident! It wasn’t a reactionary choice! It was proactive but it happened at exactly the time when we needed it to) and family therapy and worked more on education stuff…

What the hell else can you do?

Hilarity

Yesterday I was gazing in adoration at the baby, like I do, and I was talking to her about how much I am looking forward to getting to know her. She had one of those frowny moments (oh she has a good scowl in the making… the lines between her eyebrows are already etched) and I said, “And with a frown like that I hope you are going to be judgy as shit! I could use some company.”

She opened her eyes from a dead sleep to side eye me, glare for a few seconds, then she relaxed back into sleep.

Oh I can’t wait until you can talk. This will be so much fun.

smks: hug edition

I haven’t used Shit My Kids Say in a while.

Yesterday my big girl asked me what I want for Mother’s Day. We are planners in this house. I told her that what I wanted was to be a mother. She squinched up her face at me. She asked me what I want to get. I said hugs and kisses.

She sighed and said, “We give you hugs and kisses every day. They aren’t special.”

This is one of those moments where my heart isn’t sure how to respond. Wow. I can’t imagine having that kind of hubris about physical affection. It is just so expected and standard that it isn’t special? I’m still grateful for every single day of morning snuggles. I don’t take it for granted. Some day my kids won’t be little and they won’t want to start every single day with touching me. I need to appreciate the fuck out of this while I have it.

And my daughter… she just can’t perceive a future where things might change or be different. Being loved is just… life for her.

On one hand I feel like I have done something wrong by not teaching her to value this more. On the other hand… I taught her that love is so plentiful and common and constant that you should expect it every single day.

I did that. Noah certainly helped and I don’t denigrate that. But…. I did that. Noah would have skipped days. Noah wasn’t with us on the road trip. Noah has absolutely filled in the gaps when I wasn’t available (like my Alaska trip) but he wasn’t the one who created the absolute assumption that the kids would be loved on daily. Partially because back when he worked out of the house things were just more catch as catch can. I think he could provide it now.

My kids can’t imagine a world where they feel anything for me other than complete adoration.

I did that. Even on days when I was pissed at them. Even on days when they were grounded or they received some punishment that infuriated them. They know with all of their heart that they can’t be so bad that I will stop loving them and hugging them.

I did that.

This ache I feel inside about how I will never be good enough to deserve being loved? It is a foreign language to them. They can’t imagine having this feeling.

I did that.

I’m so excited about this third journey through motherhood. What will it be like to parent a baby and a toddler when I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I can dig deep and find the patience to do this right. The first two times I was so riddled with self-doubt. I was always afraid that I was going to absolutely fail them and be their monster instead of their mother. Instead my kids have no desire to be away from me and they think that spending their days with me is the absolute best way they can spend their time.

I don’t know for sure that my third kid will end up liking me as much. But I no longer fear that I will completely fail them. Maybe we will end up having non-compatible personalities. I feel pretty ok about our ability to figure that out.

We have already figured out a lot of things together and I don’t see that trend slowing down.

We finally negotiated food stuff yesterday. The kids were… surprisingly plucky about it. They were almost delighted to decide some of their own restrictions. Like, we are cutting back on how often we have dessert and sweet breakfast because the kids can admit that we have assigned “sweets” 6 days a week and we get random treats and… that’s too much. That means sugar is not a sometimes food it is… the food we eat and that’s bad for us. And when they get to listing off the fruits and vegetables they like to eat… it doesn’t sound so bad. They have plenty of stuff they like to eat.

We agreed to a pattern of eating and they said they will try to manage it for themselves without parents having to police it. Breakfast and dessert we should each try to have a piece of fruit so we feel like we are getting the sweet burst we like to have. For lunch kids are going to try to have two vegetable servings and for dinner we will try for one vegetable serving. I know that isn’t a lot in the scheme of things. But the kids trying to be responsible for eating their vegetables without reminding is kind of new for us.

I’m really tired of asking them every day what they have eaten and if they have gotten enough food groups. I just… I need a break. So we agreed to a pattern of eating that won’t require as much thought on anyone’s part or as much negotiation on my part. They said this is how they want to manage their dietary needs. Other snacks should lean heavily towards protein. We have a great many options in our house.

We’ll see how long this negotiation lasts. *sigh*

If I got a month of not having to nag I’d be happy.

Support is amazing.

There’s a thing going on with my child that I haven’t written much about because it isn’t my story to tell and I’m worried about their boundaries. But I want to express gratitude for part of it in my records so that in the future when I feel like stuff is hopeless I will have to acknowledge that hope does exist.

That thing that happened last summer. Between my big kids. The thing that wasn’t cool and one kid ended up feeling upset but not permanently wounded and another kid ended up feeling like they are a monster in training.

My child isn’t a monster. But a serious mistake was made and learning from it and growing past it are part of life’s difficult process.

We’ve been struggling a lot with the growing past it part. Kiddo is still feeling like they are bad and there is no redemption for them. Dude. There’s so little in this life that cannot be redeemed. Especially something you do as an under ten year old child. That’s just… life… Just about all of us fuck up. How do you internalize that and integrate it and become a better person?

That’s what life is? I think?

But the support I am giving my kid is insufficient. I reached out. I emailed my shrink, the kid shrink, our family shrink and I said, “I don’t know how to help my kid through this. I am failing them and that means we need to find new tools because it is not ok to fail them on this topic.”

I feel so grateful that we have these folks in our life. Hey L, you recommended a great shrink for me! And they have been able to recommend a whole string of useful people! This has been the best therapy rec of my life! Gosh I owe you for this.

So the three therapists talked to one another. They came up with a couple of layers of strategies and they emailed back. They are going to help us as a family create a ritual to release the shame. We are so woo and this absolutely right up our alley.

I feel overwhelmed with gratitude that I found support folks to help my family learn how to grow together towards health and love without shame.

We are so fucking lucky.

Sitting is hard

This is the hard part of the fourth trimester. I’m already getting bored. But I believe in this. We are only 11 damn days into this mess. Well, once she can handle being in a carrier a little better so we can get off of sitting in a chair it will be a little easier to move around the house and yard. This tiny fragile person needing us to sit still phase is rough. I feel like a whiner for thinking it is rough. But it is.

People are coming to visit us. It’s not like we are just watching the grass grow through the windows…

Still. It was a long pregnancy of feeling awful and I’m super antsy. But I’m also exhausted and physically recovering still. Ugh.

I went for a walk on days three, six, and nine. Today on day eleven I feel like I’d probably enjoy going out again. That’s a good sign in terms of energy and physical recovery.

Noah is currently holding the baby for the longest stretch he has managed in a few days. I’m so grateful. It’s hard that early on the babies only want mama. I get weary. But then later they like him better so it all evens out.

I’m feeling like the most boring awful person lately because I’m trapped in the house with three video game addicts and I’m not being as nice as I ought to be. But the only way to have less of it shoved in my face is for me to go sit in a bedroom with the door closed. It would be like if I lived with someone who was completely obsessed with sports and I had to go hide in a closet to get away from it.

I feel small and petty and bad because I feel bored and so uninterested in trying harder to care about other peoples interests. I’m feeling ungenerous about listening to information about other peoples games and books and movies.

I don’t want to fill my head with your interests. I want to be allowed to have my own.

But then I feel like I am not even sure what my interests are beyond “moving around and people being there to talk to”.

I am glad I got to see two friends over the past two days. That was nice.

I’m scared that I’m doing that thing where I spend so much time being silent that when a grown up comes over and wants to talk to me I am really bad at listening because there are so many words trapped behind my teeth that I’m never allowed to speak. Because my interests aren’t interesting or ok.

I feel boring and bored.

I asked my family about going to see Jenny’s family this year and my whole family kind of deflated. They really really really want to go sit on a beach somewhere warm. They don’t want to go to cold Scotland so that I can see people I care about that they barely know. I get it. And I pick almost all of our travel so it seems sporting for me to not demand that yet another trip be all about me. But I’d like to go see Jenny. I don’t get to have everything I want. So we will go to Mexico. Which seems weirdly awful because we had to be selfish assholes who didn’t go the entire time P was there (was it selfishness or pregnancy…)

Why do I think that travel is mostly about seeing people.

Because people are my entire motivation to live.

That’s complicated because I want people to want things from me in order for me to feel like I get to have them. And that’s fucked up.

Sometimes I wonder if I resent the fact that Noah really doesn’t care about my appearance so I have no reason to ever feel like it is a good idea to try and look pretty. That was a real problem in my relationship with my Owner. He was intensely focused on how I looked and I am not a pretty girl so I constantly felt like I was letting him down. I was a failure as a trophy girlfriend. Too many things are physically uncomfortable so I can’t be bothered to do them. The idea of spending money every week or two on my nails makes me want to have a panic attack. What a fucking waste of money. I’m not actually judging other people doing it… I don’t care.

It’s just… not for me.

I am not the kind of pretty girl who should have a cared for body. It takes effort and money and time and… no. It’s not for me.

That was true before Noah so it isn’t like I think my issues are about Noah. But he doesn’t care about me looking nice so when I have the vague flickering barely there impulse to try I simultaneously want to cry because no one wants that from me. They want it from other people and that is not for me.

It’s hard that what he would prefer to have is me playing video games. So I go from something I barely have an interest in to something I have a complete negative interest in and I feel like I’m failing to be what I should be. I’m not really interested in trying to be a pretty girl but I feel sad that I fail at it. I would love to never hear about video games again in my entire life and I can’t go an hour without them.

So yeah. The words get dammed up behind my lips and they come out in this flood. “Am I ok? Are the things that I want to have define me allowed? Is anyone interested in the person I would like to be but I feel like I need permission?”

It’s weird to me how often people tell me that they admire how myself I am.

You don’t see how much I cry because I feel like everything about me is wrong and not permitted and I am bad. I do not conform how I should. I don’t even know what I should be conforming to.

But I feel wrong and wrong and wrong and wrong.

I am very burnt out on doing almost nothing for the pregnancy. Everything about my self identity cracks when I cannot do much. I feel like my personhood stops existing. Now that most of what I’m doing is being a chair/nursing service for a baby…

There is so little me in this situation.

I’m sure Noah isn’t feeling much “like himself” but at least he is playing video games, which he likes.

I’m looking at online shopping shit I won’t let myself buy because it is all too much money. But it’s something to do while I’m trapped and bored. I’ve read several books. I’m bored. I feel frustrated and trapped and incompetent.

I feel like I want to be mean and mean and mean and mean. So mostly what I am is quiet.

Sarah–North Face looks better than Duluth Trading Company for the heavy long johns. Since we were talking about it. But at $100 a pop… yeah… my mid-weight long johns from REI will have to be enough. They are waaaaaaaaaaay cheaper. Maybe if I move somewhere with weather I will get desperate. But for the frigid California 50 degree winter… It’s ridiculous.

Overall Duluth Trading Company pants look fun though. I am not stylish.

I have found exactly one nursing dress I like. Apparently what I like in a nursing dress is hard to find? All of the previous dresses I had that were nursing compatible have died an ignoble death. I have a maternity dress that is nursing compatible (Thanks R! I am seriously living in your hand me downs.) and a dress that Ma gave me that has a loose neckline and I can just lower it. It wasn’t intended as a nursing dress but I have no modesty.

Otherwise I had retreated firmly into my overly modest what-do-you-mean-do-I-have-boobs sort of clothing. I expected to gain a lot more weight so a bunch of the maternity/nursing stuff I got second hand… doesn’t fit. I am not an XL. Apparently.

I’m so god damn bored. I don’t care about this shit. But it is something to think about when I would otherwise like to do mean things to myself because I am so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so bored.

I have even been productive. It’s disgusting.

I want people. I want socialization. I don’t want to reach out and risk rejection. I want to crawl into a closet and never come out. I feel so wrong today.

Whyyyyyyyyyyyyy is my mood so shitty.

Trying to find our places

We are experiencing growing pains as a family. We are struggling with how to communicate around our current needs and limitations. It’s not just me who is short tempered and sharp. I am probably the sharpest but I’m not sure my temper is the shortest.

The big kids want to be helpful. They want to be responsible for their sister. They want to feel competent. This is tricky because there are pieces they can help with… but those aren’t the times that feel most satisfying to them and I get it. They want to comfort the baby and it feels really bad to them that the baby screams until she gets mommy. That feels bad and I get it. It is also hard that when the baby is distressed and screaming I am not good at patiently saying, “Please move so that I can do what I am doing to help the baby.” Instead I am irritable and I want to just nudge their head the heck out of my way.

We are trying to talk gently about these things when everything is calm, but this is hard. None of us have experience with this kind of thing. When MC was born EC was only two. She didn’t push hard to be helpful in the same way. She was still nursing and wearing diapers. Now she is on the verge of being ten and she wants to be allowed to sling the baby over her shoulder and carry her off for a diaper change.

Can we have a couple of weeks to let the baby get more sturdy first? Newborns are so terrifying in their fragility. By the time she is three or four months old I will probably be comfortable with that. I’m still not going to direct/demand such behavior. You are not a little mama who has to be responsible for the baby. But since you want to so bad… I will let you… soon…

But right now when her hips could dislocate so easily if you just lift too hard… I’m scared to let you. Newborns are terrifyingly vulnerable to me.

EC is struggling with the mix of responsibility, limitations, and privileges she has. She wants more and less. MC is struggling in different ways. They are feeling overwhelmed by not being older/more competent already. They are really upset about the things they can’t do yet. The stuff might be minor.

We need to find ways for MC to feel competence right now. They have to be allowed to try at things. EC needs to have access to a little more time to feel smug and delighted over her privileges.

They are both running headfirst, as fast as possible, into their limitations and that sucks. I have so much sympathy.

MC read me a book today!!!! They read The Gingerbread Man and they only needed help with half a dozen or so words! That was super exciting!!!! EC has been a little bit of a punk with making fun of MCs reading mistakes. I pointed out that at this exact same age EC couldn’t read a board book let alone a long picture book so just shut all the way up. Don’t you dare mock someone who is younger than you for their growing competence not being exactly the same as yours. This is my grumpiest face of all.

MC has actually made waaaaaaaaaaay more academic progress than I expected this year. They are doing great. EC continues to resist making math progress but has otherwise made fantastic leaps and bounds of progress in writing, storyboarding, research and documentation, science, reading, grammar, spelling, javascript, and general logic. She is working on a whole bunch of stuff and I’m impressed by her dedication to every subject other than math. Math is pissing her off. But math is improving now that we bought a whole bunch of manipulatives and I’m making her sit down to work on making math visual instead of just in her head. I’m also forcing her to work with scratch paper to write down the entire process of doing problems because just doing it in her head is not adequate. She got far that way and now she needs to see how far she can get with the proper support of seeing the steps worked out.

I’m actually kind of weirded out by how well she does with doing math in her head. I struggle to keep some of those concepts in my head the way she does it. I have to write stuff out or I can’t manage some of the problems she can just do. I think that giving her a few more ways to visualize and a little practice writing the steps out will be all she needs to leap frog through the areas she has struggled. We’ll see. I’m really looking forward to quitting the charter school so we can go back to block units. Doing everything all at once is so much harder for us.

MC’s shrink is excited we are getting them screened for ADHD because the shrink has seen definite signs even in one on one non-stressful settings and they are happy that MC will get support/recognition for how hard focus is for them.

We all learn best when we can fully immerse ourselves in a single subject for a few weeks or months at a time. We can cheerfully spend 4+ hours a day on something we are trying to learn but we really struggle with covering four or five subjects in a shorter amount of time spent every day. We struggle with getting our attention to shift. We struggle with feeling like we get tired and we don’t want to think anymore after the second or third subject. When we do one subject in a day we can spend a looooooong time enjoying it and we don’t get tired in the same way. The transitions wear us out. It wears out our patience and focus and attention and we just can’t absorb very much if there are more transitions.

I feel so grateful that my children ended up with brains like mine so that I am not failing to provide the kind of change/stimulation that someone else would need.

The kids did like 80% of the work to make a cake today and I bet they will handle all the decorating. We have mixes that are kind of old so I’m thinking this will be a nice trick to play a few times over the next few weeks. MC got to practice splitting egg yolks from whites, which is tricky and gives a sense of satisfaction of mastery as they learn. EC got to feel hyper-competent as they read all the directions and bossed the shit out of the process. And then we will eat it for dessert over the next few days. The kids feel so happy when they are able to provide for the table. They do a lot of other types of food, but making a dessert feels like a reward to cook and then eat.

I’m trying to think of tasks to set them that will allow them to learn something and feel happy about doing it.

Making another damn savory food… isn’t quite as satisfying in this moment. Because MC isn’t as motivated to cook and EC is already so good at making so many things.

They don’t want more responsibility for cleaning. They are both actively resisting a lot of the out-of-the-house social opportunities… they like hanging out with me and Noah more than other people.

I never anticipated this. My children just flat like me more than they like other people. Being with Noah is awesome. Why would they want to go hang out with children who will inevitably get on their nerves?

It’s fascinating. I really didn’t think it would work like this. I thought they would be irritated with me. I thought they would be demanding more social opportunities and classes and maybe school by now just to have more freedom. They feel like they have as much freedom as possible being with me rather than risking being under the auspice of any other adult.

I didn’t think I would be so cool to anyone ever in my life.

It’s interesting how EC is talking about moving. She has pretty much decided that she’s not going to hunt hard for new friends in our area. The people she likes the most are GU (Geographically Undesirable) and she doesn’t get to see them much. The neighborhood friends she has made have all moved away and we’ve lost contact because their parents are not interested in maintaining contact. All the other moms work and don’t have time to facilitate a relationship and that’s totally fair.

EC is looking forward to independent teenage/tween friendships and she has flat stated that it isn’t that good of an idea to hunt hard for people like that when we are getting ready to move because then moving will hurt too much.

She is so wise I can barely stand it.

MC is still holding on to a few local friends who have mothers who will still do play dates. That’s continuing to be good for them.

I’m thinking almost constantly about why I want to move. I’ve written up a few long posts and shoved them in my draft folder and they will never see the light of the internet proper. Pieces of this thought process are disgustingly petty and about running away from problems. I think way the fuck too much about people who probably don’t think about me at all.

Other pieces… I feel like there are layers of petty on top of real stuff and I’m trying to figure out how to handle the real stuff moving forward.

How do I move into having real friendships that are less codependent? How do I teach myself to pick friendships based on factors other than people needing me to do a kind of work for them? How do I learn how to feel like I can be part of a community?

It’s really bullshit that I don’t feel like I belong in any communities here. There are a bunch of communities where 90% of the people involved either enthusiastically welcome me or are 100% neutral because I’m a stranger. There are only a few people in any community that don’t like me much. It’s not really about those people.

Those people might be lenses through which some of my issues are magnified, but those people have no power over me.

How do I teach my brain that before I go meet new communities?

How do I teach myself to not be such an asshole? People don’t need me to fix their problems. They need me to accept and love them. I don’t need to clean someone’s house for them to be worthy of a friend. I don’t need to teach someone how to do something in order to be worthy of friendship.

I don’t have to buy friends, not with money and not with time spent working.

Hanging out with my family so much really does make it easier to understand that people don’t just value me for how much work I can do. There are long stretches where I’m a useless motherfucker and my kids and Noah still want me around even if I’m just sitting in a chair and being kind of a butthead.

It’s really weird.

This is such a healing experience.

I’m trying to figure out how to have this experience be healing for all the deep inherited wounds my kids have. Sometimes when they get upset about something, I feel like I can see the edges of ancestral guilt coming out. Sometimes when I explain why something works the way it does and I see the kids visibly relax I feel like I am doing the only work that can be done to heal my family line.

Even though I feel very guilty about not “having a job” and “doing something useful for society” this feels useful too. Learning what being ok feels like and learning how to talk about it… that feels useful and like I will never be able to help anyone else until I learn this in my bones.

I have never been able to learn this at the speed of life while doing other things. I’ve tried. This family is the most healing experience of my life. In ways big and small I struggle with fully articulating. These people make all the suffering worth while. I am glad I am here so I can feel this good.

Even as my back hurts like a motherfucker. Let’s not discuss my arms. It’s bad.

There are many kinds of pain. Physical pain is really not the worst thing that has happened to me. I’m conscious that other people have had far more physical pain than me and maybe I shouldn’t have so much hubris about my insignificant bone breaks and maulings. I could experience far more physical pain.

But when I felt the ring of fire my internal response was, “Awesome! Now this is real!”

I was so glad to have that pain. It meant my baby was almost earth side and I wanted to meet her more than anything.

I’m not so good at the emotional pain. I have been in a loving family for almost 12 years. Almost 1/3 of my life. I feel so lucky that I get to be here with these people.

This is my dream come true.

And I want to move somewhere with my favorite people and build connections to new communities. Communities that I did not join when I was desperately broken and I felt like I had to earn my place with sex and pain and work. I want to know what it would be like to not walk into parties and be able to count off my lovers.

I want to know what it would be like to interact with communities from the point of view of coming from a family unit instead of being perceived as extremely expendable.

It’s going to be a whole new world for me.

So that’s what it takes.

We have now heard our baby scream like someone was yanking her finger nails off. It happened when she spit up in her sleep and a bunch of it went up her nose. She screamed like she was being murdered until I went and got the nose sucker thing (a Frida… not the bulb thing) and sucked all the spit up out of her nose.

Then she went back to sleep.

Oh.

Yeah. Now I understand why P&A used to say that EC was a high needs baby. If my first child had been this mellow we would have had more kids.

going well

This kid is so damn chill. I have never hung out with a baby who was this mellow before. And I can’t attribute it to the pot because I started using that before MC came along. This kid is… just chill.

I would sign up for a study like this in a hot minute.

I hurt. That’s my dominant physical experience right now. All of me. Particularly my neck and left hip. But everything.

She is nursing like a champ and getting chubby already. It is absolutely ridiculous how good I feel about my kids getting double chins. I’m praying we get to a third chin again. (Was easy with EC. Never happened with MC.)

Swaddling is fucking awesome. She got a 6 hour block of sleep and I slept for a little over 5 hours. That’s as much as I’ve gotten in 2-4 broken chunks over the past few nights. That’s so much sleep at one time that I will have trouble going back to bed. Luckily she’s cluster feeding right now so me being awake is good.

She’s nursed for over an hour, almost an hour and a half now. My boobs hurt less. Good.

It’s interesting navigating how the big kids are searching for control right now. They are struggling with not being allowed to do what they want to YC. She isn’t a doll and you can’t casually sling her around. They aren’t trying to be rough. They just aren’t good at careful yet.

And gosh they want to tell me how to take care of her. I confess my tone of voice has been incredibly shitty when they scoff at me and tell me it would be easy to take care of her if I just followed their orders.

Oh helllllll no.

Have you dropped crotch fruit since I wasn’t looking? No? Then hush your mouth.

Do not fucking tell me how to parent my baby.

But.. outside of that the big kids adore her and are happy to hold her as much as they are permitted. Outside of a boundary stomp per morning (gosh my kids are pushing their luck) we are having great days. I’ve been sharp with them every morning (stop yelling/don’t tell me how to parent/if you keep fighting about these toys we will bleeping donate them) but then the day settles down and we don’t keep fighting. But holy crap am I over screaming matches that start at 6am over who owns which stupid little rubber Shopkin piece. I can solve this argument. It involves a garbage can. You both lose. Argument over.

(I totally didn’t throw their stuff away. But they did stop yelling the argument.)

Ok, sore hands.

Beeee yourself

Eldest Child wanted to sleep with my nipple in her mouth at all times. Middle Child wanted to nurse enough to not be starving and then get that dang boob out of their face. Youngest Child wants to nurse probably slightly past satiation so that she has a good vomit towards the end but then she wants to sleep with the nipple against her lips in case she wants it later. If the nipple moves away she is terribly upset.

EC could not be put down. MC liked being left alone to look around a room a little. YC mostly wants to be held but if you put her down for a few minutes she’s ok with it and she doesn’t start indicating that she’s lonely until I’ve been gone 5-10 minutes.

EC and MC both screamed in the car as if we were lying them on a bed of nails. YC… is mostly chill unless she got into the car hungry.

EC was the most violently anti-diaper changes; she screamed hysterically through every diaper change for months. MC didn’t like them but didn’t cry 100% of the time. YC sometimes gets annoyed with being cold and complains about that but mostly she’s thrilled to get poop taken off her and she is quiet and cooperative.

Noah points out that this baby is the least… fussed post birth and she’s the only birth where I didn’t feel traumatized.

It is wonderful to me that I can’t see my family or Noah’s family in YC’s face the way I can in EC or MC. She is so completely and totally her own person. YC has a few facial expressions in common with EC (oh they have a mighty pirate YARRRRRRR face) and her face shape is suggestive of EC’s face… but very different. My Youngest Child looks like herself and that’s it.

This child seems so relaxed and mellow. She seems happy and like she’s getting exactly what she needs. I don’t feel as anxious and on the verge of ruining her life/killing her as I did with the older kids. She feels so fragile, but she also seems happy and sturdy. I think she feels fragile because I have acclimated to big kids and the difference is striking.

My milk is fully in. I’m at my pre-pregnancy weight (I’M EATING EVERYTHING THAT ISN’T NAILED DOWN). My house is shockingly tidy. My kids have not fallen behind on school work. I’m doing 1-3ish hours of chores a day and mostly resting.

I’m doing “the right things”. I’m a little bored because sitting this still is not my favorite. I think that today I will be up for trying another walk. I tried making breakfast on day three and squatting to get stuff out of the bottom of the fridge fucking hurt so bad I wanted to scream so I didn’t try a walk yesterday or day three. I’m on day five now.

It’s amazing that she’s only been here five days. I like her so much.

I think YC will be fully out of newborn size by the time she is ten days old. I can barely sorta get it on her now.

I am back to the point where I’m looking at all of my clothes and thinking, “How much boob access does this have?” I have multiple years in front of me where all of my clothes need to be picked based on access to my nipples. This is kind of hilarious to me. Given our plans in this time period I’m a little confused as to how much of this I should box up for “some day” and how much I should just pass along.

I already took all of my maternity stuff out and put it in bags to donate. I could barely wear it pregnant because I never got that big and I’m already shrunk down to about the middle of my size range. I’m mushy and I have extra skin, but my girth is not anywhere near as big as I am sometimes without being pregnant so my clothes are fitting fairly normally already.

My boobs are ridiculous. Rock hard and almost the size of EC’s skull. Which is disturbing because she’s almost 10 and has an adult sized head. YC’s skull looks tiny and insignificant next to my mighty tits. This makes me giggle so much. Bodies are weird. I miss tandem nursing right now. Having a big kid to relieve all the pain of engorgement was a gift.

Yesterday I hit the wall of “Oh my god every single piece of me is in pain. Ow Ow Fucking Ow.”

Blacksheep followed up on me asking her how she psyches herself up to be bad ass. She said that part of it is she never says to herself that she can’t do something.

I really do aspire to be as bad ass as this woman someday.

But the thing is… I have limits. I have physical, emotional, and mental limits. There are things I can’t do.

That’s hard. I think that my limits are often pretty extreme… there are many ways in which my limits greatly exceed “average” so folks are confused by the vehemence of my expression of limits. Mostly… I am not what people think of when they think “disabled” which is completely legit.

My limits move around based on a lot of factors. When I did the elimination diet from hell my body was so sick. I could not do a fraction of what I normally can. It was rough. I go through periods where I have no energy or ability to think and I essentially shut down. I plan around these things and try to avoid hitting the wall so that I fail people.

I think that I am so certain and defensive of my limits because I’m well aware of how often I could fail people if I were more casual about how I observe my boundaries. If I didn’t watch my limits like a hawk I would let people down and I really don’t want to. I have so much to give and then I’m done and I don’t want someone standing around needing me to continue or they will fail too. That’s not fair.

So I am adamant and fierce about my boundaries because if I don’t then I will hurt people. I know where I will fail and I identify that point and I do my best to avoid it. I know how to work me until I am absolutely spent… but I got through the necessary bits.

So when it comes to talking myself into doing something hard… I have to look at the whole picture before I decide if I can or can’t do something. There are millions of things I could do if I was supported properly and they were all I was doing. Can I do those things within the structure and framework of my life given my other obligations? That’s a harder question. The calculus is intense.

So as much as I admire and look up to the idea of seeing yourself as just so fucking competent it isn’t in question… I’m pretty sure that will always be aspirational for me. There are too many ways I fail for me to have such hubris. (I’m not saying it is hubris for someone else… I’m talking about my failings here.)

I am really enjoying how much mothering feels like something I can do even though it is hard and draining and demanding. Mothering really kind of sucks as a job. It’s painful and often not that rewarding moment by moment.

But I get to look at my glorious children and know that I did that. I made them from scratch and then I fed their bodies and nurtured their minds and their spirits. I don’t think that mothering is the best task for everyone. I don’t think it should be a mandatory part of anyone’s life. But I want it to be part of my life and I want to be good at it.

And I am.

Normal

On one hand, I worry about how much sleep I’m getting. On the other hand… I’m actually getting a fairly normal amount of sleep for me when I am unmedicated at night. This is what my body… does.

There is this belief that you must get a “reasonable” amount of sleep or you can’t be healthy. I believe it is true… to a point. Do you know how grateful I have been to have doctors start telling me that my sleep stuff is probably related to a combination of ADHD (I burn more energy with less need for rest than average) and PTSD hypervigilance. I probably don’t NEED as much sleep as other people. Seven hours is pretty average for me with heavy sleep meds.

So getting 3-5 hours is low but… not scary low for me?

One of my favorite parts of giving birth is my horrifying anxiety just… lifts. I have a little anxiety about my babies but not a lot. Mostly I feel competent in a way I rarely feel in life. I can’t sit around like a queen giving orders when I’m pregnant but I don’t hesitate postpartum. Bring me that. Fetch the other thing. Go do this chore. No problem!

I will sit here and hold my baby and somehow manage to still be wildly productive because my mind feels so thrilled to be doing what it is doing.

I love my baby. She is perfect. If she weren’t canonically perfect she would be perfect to me. I’m not scared of my children having problems. I have problems. We cope.

Like, we get to take her to Stanford for an ultrasound for her kidney because stuff wasn’t perfect at birth. I don’t care. Whatever I have to do for her will get done. She is my baby.

If I have to blow things up to take care of her I will. If I have to mow someone down because they are blocking something I need for her… I won’t flinch.

My children motivate me in a way nothing else on this earth ever has or ever will. I will find a way to change for my children. I will become whatever they need from me. It doesn’t matter if it is hard or if it hurts. I brought you into this world. I owe you. I owe you everything.

I don’t mean “everything” like every class or toy or treat you want. Boundaries make healthy people. But I owe you my life. I owe you my sanity. I owe you my need to get up in the morning and try again.

Apparently in our house we now have a Sissy and a Sibby. (Sister/Sibling) This is… making me cry in a nice way. My big kids are so happy about the baby they are about to burst.

After the next diaper change I’m starting a load of diaper laundry. This makes me weirdly very happy. Let the next cycle begin. I am so ready. I am ready to take care of you and do what you need. You are worth all the work I could possibly put into you and more. I will give you what I have. It will fall short of your needs because life is like that. Luckily you have a daddy who loves you to distraction. And you have a Sissy and a Sibby who want to take care of you when I can’t do everything.

You, my lovely daughter, are going to be ok. We will make sure of it.

My milk hasn’t fully come in yet, but my boobs are sweeeeeelling. It’s hilarious and painful because my boobs are already getting to that point where my nipples are hard for a newborn to manage. Overwhelmed by boob is a hilarious facial expression. By later today my boobs will dwarf her head. Ha.

Last night I swaddled the baby super well and gave her to Noah. I went to bed a few minutes before 8. I got up for the day at 2:30 for the second feeding (the first feeding was around 11, I think?). Amusingly… that’s barely short of sleep for me. I hope Noah will sleep in. If I get up and get breakfast for the kids, this may be a fairly good pattern for a couple of weeks. I get a solid chunk of sleep for the first shift then Noah gets to sleep.

We’ll see what normal we find.

post-partum healing

If you’ve been reading me since the poop chronicles this will seem like a normal/gross piece from me. If you think body information is tmi, maybe skip this post.

I have figured out the best regime for caring for my mutilated crotch post childbirth. The afterpains suck monkeys but my external bits are gloriously cared for.

Before the birth I set up a station in the bathroom. A big pile of cloth pads interspersed with Thinx underwear. I loaded up the different panties with pads and stacked them up on a shelf. I have witch hazel pads, “Bottom cream” which is a bunch of herbs and essential oils, a hand mirror, the peri bottle the hospital gives you, and a bunch of the softest cloth wipes I’ve ever found.

I start out by emptying the pipes as much as possible. (I’m living in a weird alternative universe where my body shits like a champ. I don’t know what the heck happened but it’s all coming out formed and perfect. I have mastered pooping! It only took till age 36 for it to just… work!) Then I use the mirror and the peri bottle to clean as much gunk/blood/poop as possible. The mirror helps. Because of the mirror I can tell you that my cunt is not nearly as fucked up as it was after ECs birth. That was… hamburger. Ugh. Three god damn hours of pushing in that birth. Ugh.

After the water I carefully and gently use a cloth wipe to blot the area. I don’t really wipe with this cloth. I just make sure there is no poop or blood clots hanging out. Then I get a with hazel wipe (like Tuck’s but a different brand). These are tiny and little. I wipe with these to get the edge of my vagina and my hemorrhoids clean. It’s important to geeeeeeeeently wipe the hemorrhoids. Leaving any bits of poop in there can lead to infection.

Then I use my finger and scoop out a big wad of the bottom cream. Ahhhhhhhhhh soothing. Of course I start in the front and slather my entire inner labia/around the vagina opening and then I make it back to my anus. Those hemorrhoids get covered entirely. Then I put on the nice Thinx panties with a cloth pad.

Ahhhhh. Soothing. Nothing abrasive. Nothing that irritates.

My crotch is so happy with my care. I want to pat myself on the back for being so nice to my cunt. Forward thinking on this plan is giving me so much ease and comfort.

The pad is taken off after 2-4 hours (the time span is getting longer) and the panties last an extra 1-3 hours past the pad coming off. The pad/panties are all nice flannel/cotton feeling. Disposable products give me rashes.

I truly wish I had figured out this system for the first kid.