Living In A Nightmare

Posted by Anonymous

Is this for real? Am I living in a nightmare? Let me start by saying that my husband and I have been married for almost 4 years. We have been together for almost 8. Really and truly he is my other half. My everything along with my 14 month old daughter. Last week he tells me that he does not know if he is in love with me anymore or if he wants to be married to me anymore and that it is my fault. The bad thing is that I think it is my fault.

Throughout our whole relationship I have been battling depression and most likely pmdd along with a little late onset congential adrenal hyperplasia which has symptoms that mirror polycystic oviarian syndrome. I have been dealing with these things my whole life, along with a few ovarian tumors and the removal of my right ovary. So lord only knows how messed up my hormones are and you can guess at my moods. I don't even know if I believe in pmdd but I know that I feel like a raving nut for about two weeks out of the month.

So, for the past several years, but really getting bad over the past year since we had the baby I have been very, very mean to him. If I was a man you would call me abusive. Not physically, but emotionally abusive. I call him names, I yell at him, I curse at him, and I have no idea why. Too much mayo on the sandwich? Major tantrum. Baby not dressed in clothes that match? Better watch out. Why do I do this to him? What is wrong with me? He is a really good man who has been more than patient with this lunacy. Now he says it has killed our relationship and he may want out.

However, there is our daughter to consider, and we want her raised by both of us and we don't want to be single parents. We don't want to be arguing parents. We want her to remain happy and safe and perfect. Also, I know I cannot raise her alone financially or otherwise if he leaves us. Every day is a roller coaster.

I wish he could understant that I do not know what is wrong with me or how to stop it. I wish he could understand how hard mothering is. I wish he could know the tangle of love/aggravation/exhaustion/sadness that I feel. On top of all this we have a kid-which means we have no money, so go nowhere unless our parents are paying, and are constantly under financial stress bc the mortgage on the house we just bought and the daycare are sucking us dry. He has been at the same job for four years, which is good, but I make more money with a bachelor's as a teacher then he does with a masters at his job. This has been a point of contention for years. But the alternative seems to be he is not home much, and that is not good either.

We have had many talks over the past two weeks and some days are better than others-I am trying really, really hard to clean up my act. I also went to the doctor and got some Zoloft, I have a fabulous doctor who talks about all of this with me. There is apparently a two week waiting period for this to kick in. This is day 2 and mostly I feel spacey which could also be due to lack of sleep as I convinced myself that he was having an affair so I stayed up worrying about that all night. I asked him, very calmly, this morning if he was in fact having an affair. He said no, if he was he would not be at home every night. However, he is going out tonight with friends, something I have encouraged him to do, but he has never actually done much. He asked if I was going to call 20 times tonight-I said no, how about 3? He said no, only if it was an emergency and reminded me that he kept the baby on Friday night and all day on Saturday so I could visit friends and did not call to bother me-but let me have a good time. I know I have to do the same.

The whole idea of an affair came to me at 1:30am when it dawned on me that he worked sort of late two weeks ago on a Thursday, before all of this and I never thought about it. Now it is another Thursday and he is going out again and it reminded me of our very haunted past, when we were sneaking around behind someone's back. Not something we are proud of, not something I ever got over doing, but it was there none the less. Maybe I deserve this as some sort of kharmic payback. He says he is not having an affair. He almost laughed at me and asked me if I was. I checked his phone, not very many unfamiliar numbers but he uses the thing at work so who knows who those numbers are. I will not check his email, even if I knew his password I could not bc he always knows if I try something like that. Where did this craziness even come from? It never would have occured to me to even consider this until all of this got dumped on me last week. I breifly considered stalking him but he would hate me for it as he does not do that to me and anyway what would I do with my daughter?

We are trying to get into counseling but I have yet to get a stinking counselor to answer the phone, much less return a phone call and I do not know what to do about that. Isn't counseling what counselors do for a living? Don't they need patients? Are there that many screwed up people out there that all appointments are full?

Over the past few days he has told me he loves me, does not love me, loves me, feels good and bad on some days, might be in love with me, and made love to me. I have no ideal what to think, what to and am trying to survive my day in a zoloft and exhaustion induced haze. I will take care of my daughter and make sure she is happy and cared for. I will try not to give in to the pain building up in my chest threatening to burst out at any moment. We just go on - living together, parenting, and acting like nothing is wrong, and then sometimes we talk about it. I don't know what else to do. Any thoughts?

Home Sick

Posted by Anonymous.

two days ago she told me that the doctor has called for a test. a bone marrow test. she is my little sister and i have to help hold her while she faces what may be leukemia. maybe. i've spent two days distracting her/myself from what she describes as 'this demon inside me.'

fucking fuck.

fuck.

no seriously, fuck. i'd never say it to her, but this isn't fair. cause it's not just that, it's the triple threat. it's the my-mom-was-diagnosed-with-parkinson's-six-months-ago-my-other-sister-was-diagnosed-with-ms-one-month-ago-and-now-my-sweet-precious-love-her-like-my-daughter-sister-is-facing-the-C-word triple threat.

and i'm treading water. like a madwoman.

i wish it was me. seriously, i wish it was me who had this and not her. i always wondered how people could want to take something so horrible from someone and bear it themselves and now i get it and i wish it was fucking me.

she keeps saying that she feels homesick. like when you're visiting your grandparents over the summer as a kid and the whole day is consumed by sunny fun and then you get back to their house and sleep in a strange bed with sheets that don't smell the same in a room that's just a little too cold on a pillow that's just a little too thin and your stomach aches for home.

only, she is home, and she feel's like that.

shit shit shit shit shit.

i keep drawing a blank when she asks me where the hope is supposed to come from. how am i supposed to face this with her?

Letters

Posted by Anonymous


To the wife of my husband's cousin:

You know what, I don't NEED 37 pictures of your children pushing a toy car around on your driveway. Nor did I need that album of party photos that included the out-of-focus shots of tortilla chip bags, or the one with 10 pictures of your bathroom. For the love of God, learn to edit!

To my mother:

I can't believe you just made me feel guilty for not wanting to spend an extra $600 to take a 6 a.m. flight with a 4-hour-layover - with a THREE-YEAR-OLD. During our visit, I'll be telling her to go bug you when she wakes up at 4:30 because of the time change.

To my husband:

If you're so freaked out about us having an only child, how about you make it worth my while to have a second one? How about YOU get up at the crack of dawn with our kid, cook the dinner, do the weekly shopping, do the laundry, take care of the dishes, handle the gardening, paint the house, take on free-lance projects and hold down a full-time job, and see how you feel about another kid. Yeah. I thought so.

To my sister:

After I tell you a funny story about my 3-year-old being bossy, you tell me that you are concerned that she will grow up to be a bully unless she is properly socialized and that I need to have another kid. And when I warn you it's a touchy subject and I'd rather not speak about it, you start crying and hang up on me? Get over yourself.


To my supervisor:

Your obsession with 'buy-in' from the rest of the department on the projects I am working on is co-opting the last remaining shreds of creative joy I took in my job. In case you're wondering, yes, I am deliberately digging my heels to make your life harder. Making you hate your job too is the only power I have left, and I intend to use it.

Cruel Dilemma

Posted by Anonymous

Last summer my 8 year old son was molested by his 12 year old adopted cousin. Thankfully we found out about it right away and we were able to have good discussions with our son... We have not allowed ANY contact from the boy who molested our son. However, now we are getting pressure from the both the parents of the molester, and the grandparents to "get over it", "move on" and let the boys get together again... for the sake of "family harmony".

I just don't know how that would effect my son.

Would seeing the boy who molested him hurt him more emotionally? (We would NEVER let him play alone with him)

Or would it be good?

If we did start seeing them again, I do worry about safety. The molesters parents are very laid back... we have FOUR sons to try to keep safe.

For me, as a mother, the easy answer is never to see this boy who caused so much pain again.

But is that what's best?

Thanks for listening, any advice is more than welcome.

This Ain't A Song For The Broken Hearted

Posted by Anonymous.

My son got dumped yesterday.

Let me start over.

My teenage son's girlfriend of 8 months who started out as his Best Friend Forever and who was the first girl to hold his heart in her hands took his heart and broke it today. Into several little pieces. THREE DAYS BEFORE THE BIG DANCE AT SCHOOL.

Let me start by saying that I gave him some good advice the last few weeks when he and I felt like she might be stringing him along. She started ignoring him for no reason and hanging out with other boys. I told him that I know from experience that this is her way to be passive/aggressive about dumping him. I had been dumped that way many times. So he confronted her, and she dumped him.

I also would like to go on record saying I gave him some good advice about how he should stay friends with her since they've been friends for so long and they'll probably be friends for years. But that maybe it's okay to make her feel bad for a few days since she did dump him three days before a dance.

Now that I've sworn to you that I was a good Mom, at least a little bit. Let me tell you the rest.

I might have spent the majority of last night helping him mend his broken heart by calling this poor girl a frakkin' beeyatch and possibly offering to burn the gifts she had given him. I may have also tried to talk him into rolling her house. There may have been times when I openly mocked her annoying habits by doing exaggerated impersonations of her and then encouraging him to direct horrible insults at me, pretending I was her. And then there was the whole, "Fuck her. You're too fucking good for her anyway," comment I might have made in a fit of desperation when I thought he was going to start crying. It may have been the first time he's ever heard me use the f-word somewhere other than the car. And, of course, there might have been a moment when I told him that if she went to the dance with the boy she's been flirting with, I was going to spray paint the walls of his school declaring that she is a WHORE.

Of course, I wouldn't actually do that.

(Or at least I'll let you think that I wouldn't. But I totally would.)

But - I did threaten it and it made him laugh. Actually - all of my rants where I may or may not have called his girlfriend "THAT SKANK" made him laugh. And it's the only thing I knew to do for him. Make him laugh.

I asked him if he'd still go to the dance, just to hang out with his friends. He said, "No." I don't think he wants to risk seeing THAT SKANK dance with THAT ASSHOLE FUCKWAD. So he asked if I'd go see a movie with him instead.

And now my heart is broken.

I guess I'll just toughen up and enjoy a date night with him since this is probably the last time he'll invite me out to a movie. And then, when he's not looking, I'll totally take her off his top friends in MySpace. It's the least I can do.

Blackbird, Fly.

Posted by Anonymous.

Small Christmas lights, first red, then blue, then green, then white sent small stars of color over the ceiling where she slept. Tiny. Little hands, grasping and flexing tubes that ran into her nose. Warm among blankets that her mother brought for her. Warm among the clothes that her father bought for her. Nurses quiet and reverent in the soft lights, humming wordless songs to small babies in plastic cases.

And me.

Still wearing a scar from her exit from my body, 7 weeks to early and a lifetime too soon, for me; I sat. In the almost black of early morning, in an outside caked in the dirtiest of old snow and sharp winter air, I sat. Alone, with my daughter. For the last time. I sang quietly to her and slid my clean hands inside that incubator, pressing my lips against the side of it, willing her to feel me. One finger tracing the line of her back, one stream of tears tracing the line of my face.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
take these broken wings and learn to fly

My voice became the only one singing, as the room fell silent around me. Me and my daughter. The daughter I had failed to carry to term. The daughter I was going to permanently place in the arms of another woman, to call mother. My guilt was overwhelming in my failures to her. Failing to grow her healthy, failing to raise her. failing to be her mother.

Her dark hair, gently curling around her face, was mine, her softly curling lips, her father's. I would see none of these things day to day. To see them change as she grew, to hear her beautiful voice lilt words for the first time. To hear her cry, until her needs were met.

To be the one she cried for.

Blackbird fly
Blackbird fly

Knowing full well, that this was beneficial for her. For them. For everyone but me. My daughter sighed under my touch and moved closer. For one shining moment, I was hers and she was mine.

Read No Evil...

Posted By Anonymous.

So, I was not at work for a day recently and the guy who subbed for me used my computer. He logged into gmail and didn't log out. I read his email. It was not my finest moment... but I did it.

It became obvious that he was "seeing" several women, including his long-distance girlfriend who is 6 months pregnant. (He commented that he liked the picture that she had attached to her last message because her t*tties looked so much bigger). There were messages from the local women, flirting, sex talk, etc.I wanted to send this long distance girlfriend forwarded messages of what he had sent/received from the other women, but I didn't. I logged him off, instead. I felt a bit guilty for reading his email. Now, two weeks later, I feel guilty that I didn't let the pregnant girlfriend know what was going on.

What do you think? What would you do?

Hold On, Or Let Go?

Posted by Anonymous

My relationship with my husband used to be a source of great strength and comfort for me. We were a team. We could rely on one another and we enjoyed each other’s company. I couldn’t wait to see him at the end of the day.

Then we decided to have a baby and everything fell apart about halfway through my pregnancy. My husband quit his job from one day to the next without discussing it with me and without a back-up plan. When the baby was born we had to move back to his hometown to make ends meet. I had to leave my job.

I stayed at home for a year with my son before starting a freelance business. Eventually I began to overcome my anger with him for what had happened. We were beginning to rebuild our relationship. Then I discovered that he had been lying to me for years – almost since we met – about something to do with his family that had a direct impact on me. Again, I felt angry and foolish.

I considered leaving him, but I couldn’t afford to, and I didn’t know where I could go. I didn’t want to be a single mother, and I didn’t want our son to grow up traveling back and forth between us.

I tried to overcome my anger, to forgive my husband and trust him again, but the resentment is still there. It doesn’t go away, and I don’t know how to rebuild the open, trusting relationship we used to have.

My business is doing well now. I make as much as my husband. Last year I earned more. When my husband suggested we move to a new town closer to where he works so we would see each other more in the evenings and hopefully work through some of our issues, I agreed. I knew that moving would absorb the resources I had set aside as a way out if I needed one and so I committed myself, financially and emotionally, to staying with him.

Things have improved somewhat. I’m in therapy now, and although it has been fairly helpful, there has not been a dramatic improvement. I am still fearful that he will deceive me again and resentful for having this fear.

I just found out that I am newly pregnant. I do want another child, but I am paralyzed with fear that this pregnancy will lead to the complete deterioration of my relationship with my husband and ruin my chances of financial independence for a long, long time. Which makes me wonder if I am really all that committed in the first place.

Why can’t I just let go?

How Do You Know? (What *She* Knows)

Posted by Anonymous; follow-up to 'How Do You Know?'

(Anonymous asked the question, last week, 'How do you know when he's having an affair? If you've been through it, how did you know/find out?' This week she has more to say about why she asked that question...)

I think maybe I am grasping at straws, or catastrophizing things, or maybe I am just trying to make sense of the total disconnect that I feel between us. He never initiates sex and sex is infrequent and not really intimate (more of an exercise than an engagement). We aren't close. He likes attention. There's just something there that I have always felt. Maybe I wonder how he can go through life without being intimate with anyone. He has few friends, by choice. He doesn't turn to me for much more than common conversation and co-parenting.

We started therapy again last week. Things aren't terrible, but they just are flat and not good. I feel no positive reinforcement, no spark from him, although it's totally possible that I am just projecting my dissatisfaction on to his emotional state. I doubt he'd leave our marriage because we have 2 kids and I think it would be a rough parting. That's another thing that makes me say "hmmm....".

Maybe this is all in my head, but I still wonder.

Of course, Mr. Spitzer doesn't help things at all...

How Do You Know?

Posted by Anonymous

How do you know when he's having an affair? If you've been through it, how did you know/find out?

Thanks for any guidance you can give.

Help An Academi-Mom

Posted by Bobita

Are you a mom? Do you blog?

I am a mom trying to finish my PhD; and I need YOUR help!

I am conducting academic research FOR you and ABOUT you. I have a particular interest in studying those things that make the transition to motherhood easier, or at the very least, better understood. The growing number of “Mommy Bloggers” has piqued my interest and I am researching the experience of blogging for mothers of young children. Your help would be greatly appreciated and go a long way toward increasing the knowledge of the ways in which blogging can be meaningful for people like mothers.

Please complete my survey and let me know about your blogging experience.

Please click HERE to learn more, or simply click the web button that you see below.

I know your time is valuable, thank you so much for participating.

Save Me

Posted by Lizzy from Hilarities Ensue.

Right smack dab in the middle of my world, of my second pregnancy, I'm hit by another round with my old friend/enemy. It's been a while. It's been nearly 9 years since I've been down this round and it really doesn't ever get any easier.

I've written and re-written this post in my head a thousand times. What's too much to share? Where is that line between keeping my private life private and Keeping It Real? In the end, here's where I'm at.

We're being crushed by debt. Every day the phone rings every 10 minutes, another bill collector trying to get paid. I have medical bills of past and present, I've had to ask our pediatrician to wait a week to deposit our co-pay and I've asked the same of our neighborhood pharmacist so Henry could antibiotics for a persistent ear infection. Suddenly, where we were just scraping by has amounted to an enormous financial weight, to the tune of $70,000. SEVENTY. THOUSAND. DOLLARS.

How is it that two educated people can't make ends meet? I've worked full time since I was 17-years-old. I've never had extra money, I've always been able to get by. Get the rent paid, pay the bills from time to time. We don't live extravagantly…we don't take vacations, I'm not getting jewelery, we drive a 2000 Chevy Prism/Clown Car, neither one of us has a gambling problem, we don't really live beyond our means. Sometimes we would use our credit cards to buy some stuff for our house, or once Henry came along we liked to buy him some things. So how is that we suddenly can't move forward with our lives as a family without someone asking for more money.

I was squeezed out of my job shortly after Henry's birth and, as you might remember, The Mistah lost his job teaching on Long Island in April of this year. After spending 6 years working for the city, The Mistah had taken the risk and had accepted an nontenured position teaching out on LI, the job didn't work out. In the year he taught out there, we paid $250/month for medical insurance (while working for the city, we paid nothing for our coverage); our insurance coverage was lousy, every little thing had at least a $500 deductible so we paid out nearly $6,000 in deductibles along; gas was insane with The Mistah driving 250 miles a week, with gas prices rising by the minute, this added up so quickly, even for our "fuel efficient" clown car.

I stay home with Henry, truly the toughest job I've ever had. At this point, if it were possible for me to find another full time job for the fall after Alice is born, I would have to be earning at least $70,000/year in salary to cover day care expenses for two children. In my career, I would be leaving the house before the kids were awake and coming home after they were asleep. Which isn't to say that there aren't people who do this and make it work, but then call me selfish, but it's not a life I think I can live with. I've worked in jobs where I slept for a few hours a night, under my desk, in order to make deadlines…and for pittance, as well. It's just not a life I'm willing to go back to. I think it goes without saying that there is something very, very wrong with a society that can't allow for a working family to make ends meet. There has to be a way that a mother can stay home and raise her children and be able to afford to buy her kid a banana when he wants one.

For the first time in my life, I'm having what I believe to be anxiety attacks–rapid heartbeat and trouble breathing. I'm feeling paranoid and judged and I don't often want to leave the house. In fact, not having any spending money has basically limited our social activities to our once-weekly Music Class, sponsored by Henry's great-grandparents. With all of our young friends turning two in the next 6 months, I'm declining invitations to birthday parties because I can't afford to give the children gifts. Two weeks ago, I paid my subway fare with change from the change bowl on our dresser.

And what about this baby growing in my belly? Are we doing some sort of disservice to her that we can't afford to have her? I feel completely disconnected from her and have had some uncomfortable thoughts…should she go to a family that can feed and clothe her? I know I can and will love her, but if I'm honest, I'll admit that I have times when I can't see the forest through the trees. I hear the judgements in my head, I hear the whispers. Don't worry, you don't have to flame me in the comments. There's nothing you can say to me that I haven't already said to myself.

I want what's best for my family and for myself. I want to love and protect my family, but right now I'm feeling like I can't get out of bed. I can't catch my breath, I can't surface. How can I do what's best for family when I so clearly have let them down? I'm so conflicted between What Should Be and What Is. How can I do what is best for my family when I can't really take care of my own self right now?

How did I get here? How do I get out?

Needing Strength: An Update

An update to the post 'Needing Strength; Needing Mom,' by Anonymous.

It was really helpful to write this post when my mom was diagnosed and I thought it might help to post an update. My mom passed away the day after Thanksgiving after a torturous 2 1/2 months of "treatment". She opted to try a clinical trial since she had also seen her brother die from pancreatic cancer and wanted to help others. I was so proud of her and of course it was her decision to make, but looking back I really think the drugs expedited her decline. I have so many regrets and such extreme sorrow, it's sometimes hard to keep breathing. I feel bereft and unmoored and yet all I can do is keep moving every day.

My brother and sister and families came in for Thanksgiving and were staying at my house and we were hoping that my mom was going to be able to visit (she was in a care facility to get some IV antibiotics for a blood infection). Thanksgiving morning she was taken to the ER because she had chest pains. My sister, brother and I spent the whole day with her there and she because increasingly disoriented. We didn't know if this was because of the pain medication she was being given, her dehydration or that she was really declining. Our hospice organization sent a nurse and that was the first time someone said that she might not make it through the night. I was in utter shock. Against my better judgement, I was convinced to go home and eat dinner with our spouses. After dinner, I was getting ready to go back down to the hospital to spend the night with my mom. I was in the bathroom on the first floor when I heard screaming and my nephew shouting that Dusty had hurt Lily. Dusty is my sister's dog and Lily is my two year old daughter. I raced out of the bathroom to find that Dusty had bitten my daughter in the face because she was playing with a bone and Lily tried to take it. We called an ambulance and took her to the nearest hospital (not the one my mom was in). She had 6 stitches (luckily the dog had not gotten any of her major facial features, but she had puncture wounds in her cheeks). To say I felt like a horrible mother is an understatement. Of course, I spent that night at home with my daughter and my sister stayed with my mom (the dog went to my mom's house-that's a whole separate story). The next morning, my sister called at 6am and told us that we should get down to the hospital.

My mom died before we got there. I never got to say goodbye. The only thing I am thankful for is that she never knew that her beloved granddaughter had been hurt. I am trying to get back to "normal" becaues I feel like that's what is expected of me, but I feel like the world is incredibly unsafe. Every time I look at my sweet girl's face, I am reminded of everything that happened. She is a resilient and wonderful girl and will likely heal completely, but I still can't believe this happened to her and that my mom is really gone. Thank you for this forum - I am having a hard time sharing these things and feelings with the "real world".

Why Has No-One Invented Sat-Nav* For Moms?

Posted by MummyMania.

After months of hint-dropping – and running empty on present ideas – against my better judgement, I bought my dearly beloved a Satnav* for Christmas. Unable to cycle to work anymore, he’d bought his own car and I thought at least I’ll be blissfully unaware of the new woman in his life. But a bit like Princess Diana said, there are now three people in this relationship. Not content to confine the maddening mumbling map to his own car, he brings it into mine whenever we travel en famille.

Her irritatingly banal BBC news voice enters the vacuum of our car, disallowing any real conversation and coming between us like a filling in a sandwich.

I wouldn’t mind if we genuinely needed directions. I wouldn’t even mind if I was a rubbish map reader. But we don’t. And I’m not. Still, every journey now is delayed for ten minutes while he studiously enters in the digits of our intended destination (which is only 2 miles away down a straight road…), and then we spend the next 40 minutes being dictated to by a disembodied fishwife telling us every .2 of a mile to turn left, turn right, go straight, go here, go there. Go to Hell I want to yell, but I try to accept this new marital relationship with some dignity, even while she is leading us on a merry dance round the most circuitous route known to man (and woman).

The first time we used it, it duly took us to Bridewell Lane. Unfortunately it was Bridewell Lane in a different town to the one we wanted. As I bore into him with that well-perfected, raised-eyebrow look of disgusted condescension, he muttered something about using proper postcodes and cheerily reset the damn machine to start the farce again.

Seriously… under what other possible circumstances would a man enjoy – nay, love – being dictated to by a stern humourless woman he doesn’t know??? Ok, let’s not go there.

So with conversation impossible, and the kids screaming in the back from being strapped into their carseats for an illegal amount of time while Bossyboots in the corner drove us all round the bend, and another, and another… I got to thinking. Why hasn’t someone invented a Satnav for mums? Let’s face it. When you first bring your babe home from hospital, who wouldn’t pay their life’s savings for a kindly voice in the corner telling you when to feed the baby, when to put the baby to sleep. Make a cup of tea. Sit down. Phone your mum to come over and do the ironing. When to pick up the baby. Dress her in warm clothes – no, not that silly, the pink one! Hold her silly, she’s crying. No, not that way – over your shoulder, she needs winding. Do you know nothing???

On second thoughts…. Maybe not.

*Satellite Navigation - like a GPS system, but with a British accent.

Dance In Puddles, While You Can

Posted by MummyMania.

Yesterday a close friend of my husband's died.

Just like that.

He was 39, funny, caring, outrageous, and kind. He leaves behind a shattered wife, and the two loves of his life - aged 3 and 18 months. Yesterday, in a moment of freak accident, as his snowboard careered off the edge of a mountain in brilliant sunshine and glorious surroundings, their young lives changed forever. His exuberance for life was only matched by his adoration of his girls - girls that will now grow up without him to hold their hands, to dance in puddles, to shout "Daddy, Daddy" when they find a ladybird in the garden.

I know his wife, his many many friends, and his family will make sure those beautiful girls grow up surrounded by the best memories of their dad they can offer. And despite my lack of religious belief, I know - because it can be no other way - that he will walk beside them every step of their young lives.

Last night my husband broke down as we went in to check on our own girls. so precious. So beautiful. So needing of us. So let's cherish them. Let all of us who have them, cherish them.

Lets make sure we hold their hands, dance in puddles and chase ladybirds in the garden. We must, not only because we can, but because we owe it to those who can't.

Cannonball Run (Not So Fun)

NEED BOOB HELP.

(tapping out SOS furiously.)

Not The Life I Want

Posted by Anonymous.

Dear Everyone,

Please stop asking me how I am. I know this is a nice thing to do, and I appreciate that you are just being polite, but my supply of "Fine, thanks. How are you?"'s is expired, and I don't want to have to tell you the truth. I don't think you are really interested in how overwhelmed I am and the vile ways my body is revolting against me. You don't want to hear about the clumps of hair that I watch go down the drain every morning and the bald spots that I'm left with, or the heavy pressure in my chest that makes it hard to breathe. You can't handle the fact that my eyes well up with tears 25 times per day for no apparent reason and even I don't understand my shocking mood swings. I can't bear to tell you how my joints ache or that I've been getting unexplainable nosebleeds. You don't even want to know the disgusting, frightening dreams I have at night, or how I wake up sweating and panting and screaming. How it takes me thirty minutes to get out bed every morning and I often find myself crawling back under my twisted sheets just moments after I've finally found the energy to leave them. How I can sleep for eight hours in a night, then take a three hour nap in the afternoon, and slumber for ten hours the next night and still wake up utterly exhausted. I don't want you to know that I fall asleep mid-sentence while reading to my daughter every single night, or that my short fuse has caused me to yell at her for no reason more than once in recent weeks. I don't have the words to explain how it feels to be failing at the one thing you are good at-mothering. I am ashamed to admit how lonesome I've become. How much I need a kindred spirit. And how sorry I am that I can hardly bring myself to be happy for the people I love and admire with out feeling sorry for myself.

If I told you the truth, you would not sympathize. You would chuckle, uncomfortably probably, and avert your eyes. But you have a good life! you would say. And you would be so right. My daughter is amazing, joyful. Perfect. My fiance loves us both boundlessly, even though she held my heart long before he came along to make our family complete.

Everyone hates their jobs! you would explain, It's the American way! And maybe you are right. But it is not my way. It is not the life I want. To send my daughter to spend her days with someone else, while I toil away at a desk, wasted, wasting....it is unbearable. To brush my lips against the cheek of the man I love in the morning and not see him again until the next because my eyes started drooping before he could even get home from work at night...it is miserable.

You're so young, you might reason, it'll get better. To that I say--too young. I am twenty three. I am too young. These are the feelings of a very old woman, wise and wrinkled, who has suffered her whole life. And--will it? When? How? At what cost?

I don't expect you to have the answers. I don't expect you to understand. I don't want to burden you with the truth. So if you see me, just smile and nod. Or give me a thumbs up, a high five. Or, if it's easier, cross to the other side of the street and bury your face in the newspaper.

Just, please, don't ask me how I am.


Sincerely,
Me

My Way Is The Right Way

Posted by Anonymous.

I am at a crossroads or so it seems to me. I am just so
irritated by my husband. Little things he does or doesn't do
drive me up the wall. It makes me insane and freaking crazy. It
has gotten worse since we had a child. Many things about him
would bug me before, but, it seems worse now. Things that were
endearing drive my crazy. When he is away, and then returns
(gone for a week recently), it is worse then ever as I feel my
routine has been completely disrupted. Sometimes I feel complete
rage and others I feel extreme disappointment. I know that my
rage and emotions are completely misdirected and
disproportionate. I know that logically but sometimes I just
feel out of control.

He works in an industry where he works very long hours for 2-4
months and then has 2-4 months off. He is off now, and so am I
as I am on mat leave which is probably why it irks me even more
lately. And I bug him incessantly, I ask him did you do this,
why didn't you do this, why do laundry and not put it away, why
look at the internet without checking email and the job lists,
why did not empty dishwasher when feeding the baby, why why
why?? He accuses me of being critical and controlling which has
some truth to it. But he rarely will pick a fight nor will he
take my bait for a fight, so we both stew, and stew, and stew,
and I think it is impacting our relationship, our life together
etc. And I don't know what to do.

We have a good life, relative to many people in the world. We
own a house (well the bank does), we have some investments,
although we are cash poor at the moment. We go on vacation on
occasion, we have a beautiful and healthy child. We own STUFF
like books, TV, computer, camera, furniture etc. We have lots of
food in the freezer and cupboards. We have friends. We have
supports of family members. We own a car. I have a regular very
secure job. His work is more unpredictable but when it is good,
we go on vacation, buy more STUFF etc. I like my life. I like
structure, routine, calendars, lists, that things have a place
to live (like scissors, and tylenol, and the heating pad). I
like that my house is tidy and clean, that I can be anal but not
completely crazy. My house can have toys scattered around, and
there can be crumbs on the couch, table or floor, and I will
still let you come it and visit! I am a weird dichotomy between
order and chaos. I like that I can be flexible and spontaneous
and spur of the moment, but I also will schedule social events
and visits or else I know there are some people I would never
see if I left it to spontaneity I am a complex organism but I
like things to be organized. I worry and get anxious when things
are in chaos. For example: If the mail doesn't get opened the
same day it arrives, to me, it is the end of the world (I know
it is not but that is the way I feel).

The problem probably is that I am "perfect", "right", "my way or
the highway", "I know best", "I can do it better / faster /
cheaper". I like my life to be structured and organized
therefore I am the one that does all of the following in our
household as that way I know it is done "right" and that it will
get done:
menu planning
grocery shopping
personal hygiene shopping
household item shopping
all comparison shopping to ensure the best buys
gift buying and giving
writing thank you notes
sending christmas cards
organizing parties, dinners, events
sending out invites
maintaining photo albums (baby book etc)
pays the bills
manages the money
researches and manages all RSP, RESP, mutual funds
sorting and organizing child clothing and hang me downs
buying clothing as needed
opening and sorting mail
filing important papers and making sure that they are organized
maintaining car insurance / house / life insurance
maintaining regular oil changes
organizing all our income tax including stuff for him being
"self employed"
managing the health and welfare of pets (nails being clipped,
rabies shots, etc)
remembering when it is garbage day / recycling day
knowing when there are appts and ensuring we get there when
scheduled
knowing when we have social commitments and ensuring we get
there
etc etc
you get the drift.

My husband and I share the housework - like vacuuming,
bathrooms, shoveling snow, yard-work, he does all DIY stuff. I
do more tidying and every day things and he does more bigger
things like vacuuming etc. And he is good about that when he is
not working. He does things in weird order sometimes, and starts
something and doesn't finish it, and then starts something else
before finishing the 1st thing (which is not the "right way" to
do it!). But overall I can't complain in this regard even though
I do find reasons too.

The thing that bugs me most about him is he can't do multiple
things at a time. I used to find that cute and endearing but now
it makes me blind with anger. For instance in the morning, I get
up give baby a bit of a bottle, let her play while I empty
dishwasher, make tea / coffee, make breakfast and feed the dogs.
When I sleep in (as I go to bed later), the hubbie feeds the
baby, and then she is watching tv while he is on internet, or
sometimes he is playing with her. He can't manage to do all the
other morning things that need to be done. He doesn't comply
with my schedule of how things are done, and what is the right
way. And it drives me crazy. I see it as a personal attack and
as his way of trying to upset me or piss me off when in reality
it is just his way of doing things.

When I work so hard to make sure we are financially ok, that we
have cupboards full of food, and money for the future when we
retire, and life insurance for our daughter, and when I ask him
not to spend more then $100 from his account b/c there are
things coming out of it, then he goes and spend $150 and there
are overdraft fees, or bounced cheques. I see this as a complete
lack of respect for what I try very hard to do. I see this as a
personal attack on me and the way I run our household. And I
have talked to him about it a million times. When we don't have
lots of money, I make sure I eat before I go out so I don't have
to spend money, he never thinks of that til he is in the car or
getting headaches from starvation. I even will pack myself a
sandwich when I go out sometimes. Even though lately I haven't
gone out at all.

When he is out of work for 2-3 months and knows he needs a job
sooner then later (especially now since I am on mat leave and we
are living on one EI cheque and our line of credit) he does not
look on Tuesdays at his emails for the job lists he gets sent as
the first thing he looks at on the internet, it bugs me. He
doesn't put it as a priority when in my mind it is like one of
the #1 things on the "to do" list of the day. And I can't wait
for him to take his time and look, I want him to do it right
away and now. I bug him instead of letting him wait and check
on his own accord like on Thursday. Part of that is my anxiety
about money and being ok. But I take personal offense from his
lacksidasical attitude about it. Particularly when I feel like I
work HARD to plan our future together as a family and feels like
I am not asking much in return.

He is great in many other ways. Like he can make my daughter
laugh like it is nobody's business. He will feed, bathe, change
diapers, look after baby on his own so I can do stuff or go out.
He can make me cry when otherwise I would not (don't you know
crying is for sissy's?). He will support me in any project or
task that I want to do. He doesn't fight. He is a family man and
puts the needs of child and us ahead of his own (most of the
time). He gets up at night. He is sensitive and kind. Everyone
in my family and circle of friends love him.

And I am worried. Anxious. Scared. What is going to happen when
I go back to work?? How am I going to manage the entire
household and then some and work full time as well as be able to
spend time with my beautiful daughter?? How can I let go of some
of the control without feeling completely out of control? How do
I get him to change ha ha? How do I get myself to accept him the
way he is? How do get my extreme and disproportionate emotions
under control? How do I stop nagging and bugging and bite my
tongue?

Of course though, I know I am "right" though. How do I stop
having to be right all the time and being so childlike when I
don't get my way?? How do I repair the hurts that are felt on
both sides at moment and let our relationship be more light
hearted and fun rather then like a list of things to do?

And how do I admit that maybe there are some things that I am
wrong about.........because I don't want to appear weak and have
this be about me, as it is about us. Us, me, him, and a baby.

Fair Weather Friends and Broken Hearts

Posted by Slackermama.

I've hinted at this topic before on my blog, but I've always known that I would have to give the topic a good "airing" out. Mostly because whenever I think of it, a nasty taste fills my mouth and I start to feel my "Grinch-ometer" start to skyrocket. And ya'll, that's not good. I don't want to have such negative thoughts. And now with the New Year upon us (or after us since I've put this off so long), I'd really like to put this behind me once and for all. Of course, the best way for me to exorcise these demons is to blog about it. I've always been the sort that achieves the best therapy through writing and this is no different. The only reason I haven't blogged about this before now is because I didn't want to hurt feelings. The reason I have my blog in the first place is to talk about things in my life that are important to me and this is important to me. I can't really worry all the time about if feelings will be hurt, because it only results in my own feelings being hurt. Which would be tolerable, except that after my feelings are hurt then my family members' feelings are hurt. And that, well, let's just say that it's a deal-breaker for me.

I tried to speak about some of these issues before, back in August. But feelings were hurt and in the interest of keeping peace, I removed the posts from public viewing. Apologies were made profusely, by me, and I hoped that the bygones would soon be bygones. But, you know, I don't think they are. I don't think the bygones have EVER been bygones. People SAID the bygones were bygones, but I happen to think that actions speak louder than words in most cases and the actions have told me that I am VERY much still in the doghouse.

Let me backup. Some of you are probably scratching your heads going, "Wha?" This involves my friends. These are friends I've made recently and my son goes to school with one of the women's kids and is friends with him as well. It's a "group friend" sort of thing and as of last spring, was one of the best things in my life. See, Kile and I have lived in Reno for a long time but we've never had really close friends. No one we've ever felt we could really count on. No BFF's forever or anything like that. We've had plenty of friendly acquaintances, but no one who will stick through us in thick and thin. We've always wanted friends, but it's harder to meet people when you're an adult. When I met these women, I felt like this was a great opportunity to finally have some close friends that I could hang out with, laugh with and rely on. And for quite a while, that's exactly how it was. It was GREAT. Our husbands even enjoyed hanging out together, which thrilled me to no end. The kids liked each other, the husbands liked each other and we liked each other. Couldn't get much better. I was really happy to finally have friends and they seemed to genuinely care about me and my family.

I'm not sure exactly what changed. Or when it changed. It may have started around June. Not for me, as I was still in "Blissful Ignorance Land, a place I often find myself in situations like this. But things did change that month and I definitely can't hold that against my one friend. She had just had a baby and that was a huge shift in her life. The boys were out of school for the month so I didn't see a whole lot of either of my friends that month. But then, there was VBS. I'm sure you remember me talking about VBS. I didn't really want to help out with it, because working with kids makes me nervous. It's definitely NOT my calling. But I fouled up and I didn't tell my other friend that I didn't want to do this. Which is definitely what I should have done. I fully admit that was my bad. I handled it all really badly and flaked out terribly on my friends, leaving them to deal with a lot more than they would normally have had to. I worried that my one friend was really upset with me. She assured me afterward that she wasn't, and I apologized anyhow. I thought the issue was over but I wonder now, here on the other side of things, I don't think it was. I think my friend was upset and was trying to let it go but never did let it go. I hope that makes sense to you all.

July was pretty good, as I do believe my friends were trying to let the whole VBS thing go. The boys started school that month, we went to many awesome drive-in movies and we had Liam's birthday party at my friends house and had a great time too. As far as I was concerned, VBS was ancient history. After all, there wasn't anything for me to be upset with anyone about as it had been pretty much all my fault. And no one else seemed too mad at me so I let it go. I went to BlogHer and while I was gone, my one friend watched Liam during the day for Kile so he could go to work. That was such a lifesaver.

I came back from BlogHer and it was nearly August by then. Harry's friend had had a birthday party a day or so before and reportedly there was a lot of leftover pizza. A casual invitation was made for us all to come back that next day and have pizza. After Kile picked me up, he called them to check on what time we'd be getting together only to find out they had made other plans instead. Fine, whatever, I was beat anyhow and just took a nap instead. But I could tell Kile was disappointed. Again, it was something I didn't really focus on until future situations caused me to reflect on it. Not a big deal by itself, but when combined with everything else, it forms a pattern. At school that Monday, I was probably a bit quieter than normal. I was still tired from my trip, reeling from the events in Chicago (so much fun!) and just feeling vaguely off. I remember wondering if I was coming down with a cold or something. My friends asked if I was okay and I told them I was because as far as I knew, I was. This general mood continued for the next week or two and I stopped wondering about a cold and started wondering about depression or something. My moods were definitely down and lot more unpredictable than they normally are. I wondered if it was a really bad case of PMS, because it was reminiscent of something like that. But I'd never had really bad PMS before and couldn't think of why I'd have it now.

My one friend's son had a birthday party one weekend in mid-August and I was really looking forward to the opportunity to hang out with my friends and have a good time. But when we got there, I could tell I was still feeling rather moody. And I did try to keep my mood to myself as best I could. After all, this was a child's birthday part and a moody grump like me had no place in an event like that. I was also feeling rather tired, another recent occurrence and by the end of the evening, I just wanted to go home and put my feet up. I also wanted to leave before my moods got the better of me and I did something really awful and hurt someone's feelings. Kile took me home and then returned to the party to play Wii and hang out and I felt myself calming down as I relaxed. I wondered if I should have gone to the party at all, the state I was in. My one friend called to check on me, worried about my exit and wanting to make sure everything was okay. I assured her that I was okay, just didn't feel in the mood for socializing at the moment. No worries. And I figured that was that, but apparently, it wasn't. The next day was another birthday party, my other friend's littlest son and we went to that as well. I was feeling a lot better and actually had a great time at that party. I thought my one friend might have been a little quiet with us, not as friendly as she might have been otherwise. But I had no way of knowing if that was because of something I had done at the party the night before (Kile seemed to think not) or if because of something else that had nothing to do with us. I chose to believe the latter.

That evening, Harry talked to us about his friends sometimes calling him names or being mean to him. We had a frank discussion about what he should do in those situations, trying to bolster his confidence in himself and assuring him that he should come to us if he found himself feeling uncomfortable. We wanted to be sure to deal with any possible situations right away, before they blew up into giant problems that would cause a lot more damage if gone unchecked. I thought would be the best thing to do in order to preserve friendships. I just didn't know that my new resolve would be called into service quite so soon.

The next morning, when I went to my one friend's house to walk the kids to school, I found she was again being a little stand-offish. So I did start to wonder if indeed it WAS me. All this was running through my head on the walk down when Harry came to me, crying. One of the boys had called him what Harry considered a bad word. Now, you have to understand that Harry is pretty puritanical yet about such things and what he thought was a bad word was actually pretty mild. (It was "butthead", by the way) The way he was acting, you would have thought one of them had just shot his dog. But what I thought was important was how he felt. He felt very hurt and being my boy (and my baby, besides being almost 8 years old), I wanted to help him anyway I could. He told me he would like it if I would pick him up in the van after school and then drive him down to school the next day. I never had the impression he wanted this to be a permanent change, but that he felt he needed the time away from the "walking down to school" routine. Since I was already thinking that perhaps my one friend was upset with me, I thought it was probably a good idea. It would help things calm down, perhaps. Then, in a couple days, it could all go back to normal. Problem solved, right? I told my one friend when we got to school my plan to pick up Harry and drive him to school the next day. She seemed maybe a little surprised, but otherwise showed no concern. She didn't ask why or seem upset by it so I figured she took it at face value. See my problem here? I don't play "politics" very well, I don't read between the lines well and I don't have good people-reading skills. It's just an empirical fact. I tend to wear myself on my sleeve and I wrongly assume others do too.

When I got home, I was still feeling moody (yes, STILL... you think I would have caught on by now) and starting to take it out on the month itself (nope, NEVER done that before). And, as I've said before, I like to use this blog in order to air my feelings so that they don't fester and to work through my feelings. So I wrote a post about what happened on the walk to school, among other things and expressed my interest in August being over as soon as possible. That was pretty much it. After I wrote it, I felt a lot better (which was the point in the first place) and put the matter out of my mind. That is, until a couple hours later when I found a comment from my other friend. And she was MAD. She said that I had called her son a bully (Hu-wha??), that I had been rude at the birthday parties over the weekend (Okay, maybe the first one but the second one??) and how I had abused their friendship so horribly. I honestly felt like a knife had been shoved into my heart. Was this a joke? The level of venom in that comment was mind-blowing. I cried. I read it again a while later and cried again. I didn't know what to think or what to do. What had I done?? Had I done anything? I couldn't think of anything and I couldn't understand why she was SO mad at me. That night I got an email from my one friend's husband where he basically read me the riot act. I felt like a kid in school, getting her hand slapped by the principle. I felt shamed and I still wasn't sure what exactly I had done wrong.

I talked this all over with my husband at great length. I told him how I wished that my other friend had emailed me her concerns rather than commenting. If she had emailed me, I could have addressed her concerns and if necessary, removed the post on the spot. As it was, other people had seen the post and her comment and had replied in my defense. God bless them for it too because while these commenters may not have gotten it all straight, I was just SO happy to have someone on my side for a change. I did take the post down that night, as I promised my one friend's husband I would. What else could I do to make things right? I wasn't just concerned for my own friendships, but for my son's friendships as well. My other friend wouldn't reply to me, and my one friend's husband (just him, she didn't email me at all) kept insisting that I had hurt her feelings so badly that she was just devastated. And indeed, I felt very bad for hurting her but what about MY feelings? I felt absolutely CRUSHED through this. I was crying all the time, on top of this nagging moodiness and just felt wretched. No one, save my own husband, seemed to care about that. Seeing as how as I was being viewed as the "perpetrator", I guess I can understand why.

Kile was sympathetic to my plight, but aggravated by my constant moodiness and interested in finding out once and for all WHY I was this way. He got a pregnancy test on the way home from work and promised me when he delivered it into my hands that if I wasn't pregnant, he was taking me into the doctor for a hormone test. Because something was the matter. This wasn't normal for me. Still, I was STUNNED when the pregnancy test came up positive. And I felt like it answered EVERYTHING. Kile did too, and interested in finally clearing the air with my friends, he emailed them the news that I was pregnant. Surely this would give them a reason for any fishy behavior they may feel I'd been exhibiting, right? And good friends cut each other slack on such things, right? Especially if they just found out they are pregnant.

Only? Not so much. No, they were still pissed at me. And again (for what, the 10th time that week?), I was crushed. This was a miraculous event for me. Anyone who knew me at all knew that getting pregnant this way was nothing short of an act of God and something I would have loved to share with my dear friends. I wanted to be excited and I wanted others to be excited with me. What I got was more angry emails and more cold shoulders. I felt abandoned. I felt that maybe this friendship had been all in my head. That I had imagined the closeness. My heart was, quite literally, broken.

The olive branch was finally extended later that week. And even then, even when I tried to explain my situation as best I could and how I never meant to hurt any feelings, I was told that there were still hurt feelings and that it would take some time before trust would be regained. I figured it was better than nothing and against my better instincts, decided to just turn the other cheek and let it go. It was more important to me to try to preserve the friendship at that point. I've never been one to be interested in holding grudges anyhow.

We never did have it quite as good as we did back in the spring, but it was better. I felt I could relax again at last. My one friend didn't have me over very much anymore, but she had her hands full with the day care she was starting up so that didn't bother me too much. Things were going okay, which was more than I could have asked for back in August. October was another month off for the boys. We had talked before they went on break about having a Halloween party for the kids at my one friend's house at the end of the month. We had done one the year before and the kids had enjoyed it so much. We also made tentative plans to have a couple play dates during the month to keep the boys sane. Well, the play dates didn't happen, but that wasn't too surprising. After all, life goes on. Harry went out of town for a time, and then my one friend's family went out of town for a while and that's how it goes. My other friend called towards the end of the month to touch base and she mentioned the Halloween party. She said that she figured the party would be happening on the Tuesday before Halloween but wasn't sure of any other details. Before we hung up, she assured me that one of them would call me either that weekend or Monday and let me know the final details. Great! It was a plan. Harry had been pestering me about it and I could finally tell him that YES, the party was going on on Tuesday.

I saw my one friend with her family at a local restaurant on Saturday night. I didn't think to ask about the Halloween party or I would have. We just made a little small talk before heading to our own table. I realized later that they were probably eating out for my friend's birthday which was in a day or so and I probably should have wished her a happy birthday. But... I kinda suck that way. I don't think on my feet too well and I missed an opportunity. I figured I would give her my birthday wishes at the Halloween party in a couple days. The weekend ended, however, with no phone call with party details. And then there was no call on Monday. Strange, I thought. But maybe they got busy and forgot. Surely I would hear something come Tuesday morning, right? Especially once they saw I didn't show up and realized that no one had told me when to show up. Right?

Yeah, not so much. I had to tell Harry that I didn't think the party was happening. The only thing I could think was that someone's kid was sick and the party had to be canceled. I thought it was strange that no one called me to tell me, but then I didn't get a call with details either. And I do realize that I could have called and asked what was up. But a) I am not good with making phone calls, avoid it like the plague and my friends know that and b) I didn't text either because I didn't want to "pester". It wasn't my party to hold and if there was something to tell me, I figured the hostess would let me know one way or another. Harry was DEVASTATED, of course, as only an 8 year old can be. I felt pretty bad but didn't know what else I could do. I think he held out hope that maybe the party was just postponed and would be held later on in the week. I told Kile later in the day about the lack of party and he too thought it was odd. Only, he doesn't have my hangups so he texted my one friend and asked her about it. And she texted him back that there HAD been a party that day. But that since I didn't show up, they assumed I wasn't feeling well. End of story.

When I heard this I felt a wide variety of emotions. I felt anger (no, make that FURY), disappointment, sadness, guilt, and hurt. Oh, the hurt. See, I had to tell Harry that there HAD been a party and we had missed it. And I had to watch him cry because he missed out on something he had been looking so forward to. And yes, I did wonder if I should have checked sooner. But that led to the anger and hurt. Why hadn't they called me?? My other friend had said that one of them would. And when they saw I didn't show up, why didn't they call me then? If they thought I wasn't feeling well, well, wasn't that worth a call to see what was up? Wasn't I worth at least that much from them?

The answer came to me plain as day and twice as ugly: Apparently, I wasn't. After all, friends who cared about me would have certainly called me at one point or another. They would have noticed and cared that I wasn't there. And they didn't. They didn't care about me and this apathy had led to my child's feelings being hurt. I didn't know what else to think. And I honestly think that's when I gave up. Kile pleaded with me to keep relations nice. Harry's birthday was coming up in a week and he was worried that any friction might interfere with the birthday plans. Kile also wanted to spend Thanksgiving with our friends who had earlier invited us to their house that day. We got an invitation from some of our family members who live down in Sacramento for Thanksgiving and we normally would have gone. They had a new house that we were interested in seeing and my parents would be there and it would be fun to see everyone. BUT, we had made these plans and Kile really wanted to follow through with them. I was a bit nervous about relations, considering the Halloween Snub, but ultimately agreed. I "let it go" yet again (though felt considerably more wary), and relations seemed to be okay. No one even mentioned the Halloween party, which I didn't even know what to think of that. But, whatever. Like I said, I think I was through caring.

And Thanksgiving went really well. We had a great time over at their house and they were the perfect hosts. The kids had fun, the adults had fun and I really felt like it was a little taste of what things used to be like. We had tentative plans to do dinner for Christmas too, since both of us don't have any family in town and were planning to stay in town for the holidays. And Kile had been talking for MONTHS about having them over for New Years Eve. See, Kile's idea of the perfect New Years Eve is to have friends over for a very fancy dinner, followed by games or movies until "the ball drops". He's wanted to do this for years, but we've never had really good friends we could do that with. This, he figured, was his chance to fix our friends a fantastic dinner, use the nice china and really do it up. He was already planning out the menu, even. Not my cup of tea, as I mentioned in my "Anti-social" post, but I was excited for him. And it would be nice to have New Years plans.

Shortly after Thanksgiving, Harry told us he wanted to take the bus to school instead of walking down. This is something we'd been talking about for a long time. Probably since he started school back in kindergarten. But with the new baby on the way, we'd been talking about it a lot more. It had pretty much been decided that he would start taking the bus when the baby came, because it would be way too much for me to lug the two kids down in the van twice a day when the bus basically drops him off and picks him up at the bottom of the street. Then, my mom would get after me on the phone whenever we would talk about it. She would urge me to get him on the bus this winter, so that I wouldn't have to worry about the snow and ice on the way down to school. Given my past history with ice, she was worried I would fall on the ice, wreck the van or SOMETHING. Even though I've done this in previous winters and previous pregnancies. But, whatever. Still, the deciding factor was Harry telling us that he wanted to take the bus. It was ultimately his decision. I want that to be clear as crystal. Neither Kile nor I in any way influenced this. Neither of us influenced either him wanting to walk down by himself just a week later (sob!). I let my friend know that he was taking the bus. This bus thing started up amid some pretty nasty weather and with her day care business, my friend wasn't able to walk down as much anyway and was having her son get rides to school fairly often. There was a time or two that she forgot to tell me that her son had a ride and it caused some confusion. This way, it would be one less thing for her to worry about. I wouldn't have to drive down in the mornings either, so it was a win-win situation.

At least I hope so. There has been a play date since then where us friends got together on a half day and the kids played and we had lunch and had a great time. No one seemed upset with me about the whole bus thing so I counted that as a bonus. However, there haven't been any play dates since, but it is the holidays and people do get busy. So I don't read too much into it.

Now, my one friend did let me know at this play date that her husband had decided they would go down to his mom's house on Christmas day and stay there for about a week. She told me this after I asked she would like us to bring over for Christmas dinner. Okay. So I guess that meant we were on our own. No biggie though, we've been on our own before. We would just buy our own dinner fixings and do it up ourselves (which we did and it was marvelous, btw). But later on, after I'd gone home, I thought about New Years Eve. It sounded as though they planned on being gone through New Years, though I hadn't gotten any confirmation on that. Still, I knew that New Years Eve was not going to happen. Kile was upset upon hearing this, but I think he held out hope. At least, he did until recently when he finally emailed my one friend's husband to ask about New Years Eve and was told that, yes, they would be out of town.

I figured as much, but Kile was pretty disappointed. And I felt disappointed for him, because I know he was looking forward to it. And I think he felt abandoned. Like his New Years plans were good enough until something better came along. So I suggested that instead of staying at home and doing our own New Years thing like we always end up doing, that we go to Elko that weekend and visit his family. So that's what we're doing. We're going on Sunday (that's the plan right now at least, we'll see what the weather does) and will come back on the 2nd. No use in sitting around here feeling sorry for ourselves. We're going to go out and have plans, darnit. One way or another.

So yeah. Feelings have been hurt. Theirs and ours. And I hope this (extremely long-winded) post gives you a look at something that has been bothering me lately. This is everything as I remember it, as I felt it and from my perspective. I don't know if any of these involved parties will even see this post. I don't really mind if they do or if they don't. I didn't write it for them, I wrote it for me. I needed to get this off my chest. Kile worries that if they do see this, that it will impact Harry's friendships. I'd like to think we're all adult enough for that not to happen. And I hope that they can understand my need to talk about my issues on my blog. They haven't understood it in the past, unfortunately, but I can't really say that that's my problem. No disrespect meant at all. I just need to be able to feel like I can speak my mind here, in this cozy forum of HBM. And maybe now some of you understand why I feel hesitant about friendships. Once bitten, twice shy and all of that.

No Pregnancy Glow

Posted by Anonymous

*Update below*

I really want to write about this on my own blog, but I can't. I normally post on my blog daily, but I have been so bummed I have not done anything with it since mid-December.

I found out on December 7th that I am pregnant with baby number three. THREE. A number I did not think was going to be in my vocabulary describing my family. I had sold the pack n' play on Ebay, gave away almost all baby clothing to friends and relatives, and was ready to donate or freecycle what I had left that people I know did not need. December was a month spent mostly in shock of my situation, (getting pregnant while not missing one single pill!) and when I wasn't thinking about it I was really, really nauseous. I never throw up, but just feel gross and have lots of heartburn. At the moment my salad and chicken I had for dinner is erupting into my esophagus. And I am so tired I fall asleep when I sit down to play with my kids on the sofa.

A small part of me is excited, but most of me is dreading being pregnant, and dealing with waking up every 2-3 hours to nurse this baby once he or she is here. I dread dealing with another episiotomy healing, having no sex life, bleeding for 6 weeks, and being fat. Maybe I will be more positive when I don't feel sick every day. I was not this sick with baby number one and two. I had major PPD after my second child, and I am already feeling depressed just thinking about how exhausting having 3 is going to be. I am one of those people that was never into babies. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids dearly, but I am not one to ask to hold someone else's baby. After I had my second child and he woke up EVERY HOUR at one point, to nurse because of his acid reflux, and would not sleep because he was in pain every time he was put on his back, I started to be repulsed by infants. I wouldn't even go near my infant nieces and nephews. I have really begun to enjoy not carrying a diaper bag with me everywhere, and like not needing a stroller if I go out with my kids. I love that my kids play together and I don't have to be on top of them, I love not needing diapers.

I am afraid mostly because I think back to when I had my newborn son and my 18 month old daughter way back when, and I ended up having suicidal thoughts. I was so exhausted I got mastitis twice in a month, with a fever over 104. I was at the lowest point in my life, beyond exhausted, dealing with a child that would not sleep because he was in pain, and having to take care of a toddler still in diapers. The only thing that helped was time and eventually going on Prozac. Sleep deprivation nearly killed me after I had my son.
I am just hoping this time is easier.

Thanks for listening.

UPDATE: Anonymous has just discovered that she is, in fact, carrying twins. So these will be babies THREE and FOUR. (Biggest hugs to you, Anonymous.)