Tag-Archive for » mommy guilt «

The neverending week

STILL not caught up. Treading water. There are dishes in BOTH sides of the sink. The baby seat is still lost in the jungles of our garage. I still haven’t managed to complete some web copy and I desperately need to get it done. Also? Knee deep in resumes.

The work stuff is a good thing. Really. Trying to get as much done as I can before I take time off. But I swear my days are getting shorter and I just can’t quite find the time to finish everything. Especially with a clingy, demanding 2 year old attached to my hip.

Son’s hearing test was fine, so that’s a positive. They didn’t get to test each ear individually, thanks to his aversion to ANYTHING on his head. But it appears to be within normal range so they’re ruling that out as a reason for his speech delay. He’s never had ear infections or injuries, so we were pretty sure that was the case anyway.

Next steps, more evaluations.

And to add to the misery? Next week they’re paving our lot. Which means I’m either stuck in the house all day or stuck OUT of the house all day. No in between. Joy. Whose idea was it to pave just days before Thanksgiving? I really despise our management company. So much I might even name them one of these days.

Went to Java Mama today so the kid could have some fun while I worked. It was great, except for the other boy who kept pushing everyone and giving them headlocks. I mean, hugs. And even with repeated requests for her to WATCH HER DAMN SON, the mother was too busy chatting with about 10 friends and watching her baby in a stroller. That she could have taken IN the play area so she could watch her son more closely. Which she needed to do.

I never know how to speak up in those situations without getting so angry I make no sense. I fume and bite my tongue, unsure of the appropriate thing that will let her know her son’s behavior is NOT acceptable when it causes MY SON to hit his head. I am new to these waters, since it’s usually just me & my son hanging out at home. How do you handle misbehaving kids when their own parent seems content to ignore their bad deeds?

Still here, still pregnant

We’ve hit the 28 week marker. Time has moved so slowly I thought that I’d never get here. And now it’s third trimester time. Did I hit the uncomfortable stage of things this soon last time? I don’t remember. I’m already having trouble breathing and eating – where’d all the space go? At my last appointment, I was measuring a week ahead already. That prompted my doctor to go ahead and schedule a c-section.

Unfortunately, Thanksgiving gets in the way. And that means dates are limited, especially since I don’t want to go in on my other son’s birthday. I refuse to have two birthdays on the same day if I can avoid it.

So the doctor scheduled it the day after. Sigh. I don’t care about being in the hospital on Thanksgiving. I really don’t. But I am frustrated that I’m limited to two days just before then AND the doc chooses the 23rd. Why couldn’t he schedule it on the 24th and at least give us a day in between?

And don’t get me started on feeling like my choices have been taken away. My original due date was 11/29. But based on conception date, I know that’s early by at least 3 days. I didn’t get a chance to give him those details (and would he listen anyway?). Because of my gestational diabetes, he doesn’t want me to go to my due date. In fact, he apparently doesn’t want me to get too close to that since it’s possible my son will be big.

Let’s face it. i have a big family. I don’t think it has a lot to do with diabetes. We’re just big people. My other son was 9 lbs. 10 oz. My uncle was either 10 or 11 lbs. when he was born. Another uncle, other side of the family, was somewhere in the 6′ 6″ range as an adult. My hubby is 6′ 2″ See? Big people.

If I’m “lucky” I’ll go into labor on my own. But since the c-section is a week early and my last son was late, that’s not looking likely.

I was really angry and upset when I first got the news. Now I just feel resigned to it. The ultimate goal is a healthy baby and mommy, no matter how we get there. I just really hate feeling that my choices are limited. I was really hoping this pregnancy would be different. Instead we’re hearing the same tune just three years later.

And that’s part of why I’ve been avoiding much personal blogging. It all turns into angry rants or whining. And who really cares? It could be much worse. At least I’m not in the hospital on bed rest, unable to work or take care of my son.

One thing I’m dreading is caring for my older son while trying to recover from a c-section. Did I mention that he weighs 44 lbs.? Yeah, there will be no lifting him out of the crib in the mornings. Which is one reason why my husband is pushing to get him a toddler bed – one that he can crawl in & out of. (That still won’t help with diaper changes, though, which we do on our waist-high bed.)

I’m a mess. Have been the entire pregnancy. Worried about money. About how I’ll care for two kids at home by myself. How my older son will react to mommy’s attention going to the wee babe. How I’ll miss this wonderful time with my older son. We are such good buddies. Man, I love that little guy. But I don’t want to write a bunch of anxiety down, lest my younger son someday think he wasn’t wanted. He really is. So much so. But I haven’t done anything to prepare for his arrival — which is now ELEVEN weeks away thanks to the surgery — nor have I taken more than 2 weekly belly pics. Last time? Took a ton. This time? Not many. I wonder how I’ll give both of them adequate attention when I don’t even feel like I give ONE child enough attention (thanks to having to work so many dang hours – another story in itself).

See? Even I don’t want to listen to me anymore. Hence posts about anything or everything except my pregnancy. Or nothing at all.

I suppose I could write about how much I loathe both of my downstairs neighbors right now, BOTH of whom are doing remodeling. I hate it with a burning passion of a thousand fiery suns. Wouldn’t you think it would be, I don’t know, courteous to let your neighbors know that you’ll be starting some noisy remodeling? Especially those that you KNOW have small children? Yeah, none of that. I hate this place. Hence my looking for a 2 BR closer to hubby’s work. But those are way out of our price range. Actually, EVERYTHING is out of our price range. And I feel trapped. Another source of anxiety.

I really hope all of my stress doesn’t affect the wee babe, too much. But it probably has considering that it affects my eating and blood sugar numbers. See? Mommy fail AGAIN. I just want this to be over with so we can go visit my family and decompress for a month or so. Really hoping that helps. I need a break. I need to stop worrying about money, living quarters, my car that’s going to need a lot of work soon, working too hard for too little… I need something. I just wish I knew what it was.

My reality

Recently, it feels like I am such a failure at everything. And when you feel that way, it is so hard to write about it. Since that’s all I’ve been talking about lately anyway, it gets pretty old. And if it’s bugging me, it certainly must not be fun for you to read about.

And yet… it is my reality. All I see are the things I haven’t done. Projects I haven’t finished, things I have failed my son and husband in, my messy house, a stack of books I haven’t read, filing and laundry and dishes to be done…

I used to be (and feel) so organized. I was on top of everything most of the time. And now, if it weren’t for automatic billpay, we’d probably be without living quarters or utilities. I just can’t seem to get it together.

It’s hard to admit. Hence, the ongoing silence. What do I say without sounding like I’m just whining? AGAIN? It’s still my reality right now. All I see right now as I look around is everything I haven’t done yet. Every misstep. Every failure.

Blocked!

Having trouble tonight, thinking of something to say. I’m a bit preoccupied with things. We have some friends coming into town, only it’s not a happy occasion due to a death in their family. Thanksgiving is rapidly approaching. As is our son’s second birthday. I’m mostly enjoying writing every single day, although I obviously can’t be brilliant every day (hey, I would take being brilliant once every couple of weeks, thank you).

I could do a bunch of freewriting and eventually come up with something, but that would bore you (& probably me) to tears.

I’m frustrated. What’s new? My dad and his brothers were all storytellers. And hysterically funny. Why am I not able to do that, too?

I’m mad at myself for being so dissatisfied with me and what I have. I see other writers succeeding and I am happy for them. But then I turn a critical eye to myself and wonder why I’m not finding opportunities like that. Why I’m not a better writer. Why I don’t have more traffic and can’t build up an audience. I’m so busy beating myself up that I can’t see a way out of it – a way to improve what I’m doing.

I get so jealous of moms who get to stay home without working. Oh, the things I could do with my son if I didn’t have to sit in a chair 5-7 hours a day and work my tail off to barely get by. But I knew this going in. I knew this when I quit my job to work from home. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. I knew we’d have a tight budget. I just wanted to spend the time with my son.

Here’s the thing though. I’m not really sure how quality that time is. And I wonder if he’d be better off in daycare. With other kids to interact with and a structured schedule. And someone besides mommy all day. He has no other kids to play with.

So I either need to buck up and find some better paying work (writing gigs that pay better than the ones I’ve been getting) or suck it up and get a job. Not something I want to be thinking about right now.

I might be getting too old for this

Last night hubby and I did something we haven’t done in quite a while. We went out without the Boobah. My gracious and wonderful sister-in-law came over while we snuck off.

Okay, not really. But kindof. We quietly left, as the kiddo was already in bed. He never even knew we were gone. Yet I did. My heart did.

Let me back up. I have been looking forward to this outing for several days, ever since SIL said she’d come over. It was exciting. A date! Music! Libations! Motorcycle ride! The weather has been increasingly nicer. So much so that J has been riding the motorcycle to work. We used to go on rides all the time. I miss that. A lot.

I never realized how much I missed that time until we had a chance to go out. I don’t have a lot of people around who can babysit. I haven’t been building that network of people. I didn’t want to impose on the SIL, my best friend has been out of town for months and the daughter is just too busy. So we take turns going out to do things. Watch the daughter’s band. Meet up with friends. Or we just do things that can include the Boobah. It’s not that huge of a deal most of the time.

Until the daughter has a gig late at night. I have a hard time going out by myself that late at night. Meeting friends? Fine. Going solo? Different story, for me anyway. So we made plans to go together (and I worked up the courage to ask SIL to babysit).

And then, the night before, I started thinking. A little too much. I do that a lot. I tell myself I’m trying to cover all the bases, make sure I’m prepared. But the truth is, I worry. A lot. If I’m not careful, it can turn into a panic attack. So I start worrying about what would happen if, well, something… happened. J is an excellent careful driver. I trust him implicitly. But other drivers aren’t so careful about motorcycles. You hear about it all the time.

My worries can keep me from doing things, from enjoying things. From reaching out to meet new people, make new friends, find new business. From living.

So I sat on the back of that motorcycle last night, trying to quiet my fears. To just enjoy our time together. It eventually worked, but we were most of the way there before I could relax.

But we had a great time. Daughter’s band did a great job. We got to see her for a few minutes afterwards. It really was a nice respite, something we’ll have to indulge in more often.

As for hopping on the motorcycle without a care? Those days are over. It doesn’t mean I won’t get on the bike ever again. I love going up to Julian, out to the Hideout, and other places on the bike. It’s a lot of fun. But I have to think more carefully about it. And no matter how distasteful it is, we need to plan for the worst scenario. So I can worry a little less. And enjoy life a little more.

When words fail

I have so much going on in my head right now. It’s hard to make sense of it all myself, much less put it in order for anyone else.

I’m fine, hubby’s fine, baby’s fine. Just busy, and trying to find my way through all of the crap in my head.

We’re waiting to see how much my insurance will be on COBRA. Should find out sometime soon. I am dreading that letter, as I expect it to take everything I’m making right now – and possibly more.

Still trying to find a way to get it all done. It never gets done, but I’d like to get a better handle on things. more…

Making adjustments

Ah, summerI am officially a work-at-home mom. And that still seems weird to say. When people heard I would be leaving my job, they said, “That’s so cool that you can stay home with him!” Yes, but at a price. We can’t afford for me to just stay home. No way that is feasible. So I’m cobbling together clients and projects and things here-and-there in hopes it will keep us afloat.

It’s a big adjustment. I went from doing most of my work in the afternoons to needing them done in the morning. And I don’t think I’m managing it very well. Our routine has normally included the kid and I lying in bed for a while after he wakes up and eats, snoozing, playing, and being a bit quiet. I always had about an hour’s worth of work to do, which was no big deal. I did it while he went back to sleep.

After he wakes up, we go into the living room where he plays in his high chair while I fix some breakfast. And then I try to scarf down my food in between feeding him. That routine usually takes us as late as 10.30 or 11. Then I would work from 1.30 – 4.30, and again after he went to bed. more…

getting over the guilt

becky & sonI’m still struggling with the guilt over going back to work full-time. You see, my son has never spent time with anyone other than one of us. Never. He’s been around other people, but one of us has always been there. How am I going to just drop him off with someone at daycare? It all seems so sudden. I guess I should start during this month by dropping him off for a couple of hours just to get him used to it.

And just thinking about walking out the door without my baby? Still terrifies me. It has nothing to do with his wellbeing or safety. It has to do with my issues of letting go. Of not being there for him. I know I won’t always be there for him. But while he’s a baby, I feel I should. I want to. Heck, I need him more than he needs me.

Yesterday, I bought a couple of suits on sale. I’ve been needing to update my wardrobe. Some of my suits are, I’m ashamed to admit, ten years old. But today, buying those suits feels like an act of concession. It feels like I’m giving up. It feels wrong. more…