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?
Tomorrow the boobah and I leave to go see my parents. We’re flying. Again. This kid has been on a plane more times already than I was my first 24 years of life.
But since we’re down to one breastfeeding session a day, that won’t be a big issue. But we will be traveling during naptimes and feeding times, which could get really ugly.
I’m trying to figure out what will work for a decent meal on the plane. And hope that he’ll get to sleep a little before we take off so he won’t be completely crabby while we sit on the runway.
My husband keeps telling me that traveling isn’t that bad. And it’s not, yet it is. It stresses me out. Always has. Add to that my worries about keeping the kid safe, fed, and mostly happy, and I’m stressed to the max. I hate traveling solo with the kid. I do.
Yet I do it anyway, because how else are his grandparents going to get to see him? more…
I’m rarely at a loss for words. I can – and regularly do – talk your ear off. It may not be anything terribly deep or life-changing, but I can chat with the best of them. I consider my blog a place to chat with ‘teh intarwebs’ and find some common ground with other people.
And I have so much going on in my head I don’t know how to get it out. I go from full-on panic to absolute confidence that everything will work out. I go from certainty that I don’t have enough work to the assurance that I have plenty to keep me busy. Of course, plenty to pay the bills is a whole other story.
I struggle with finding a balance between giving my son enough attention and trying to get some freaking housework done once in a while. And other work, too, of course. The paying work almost always wins.
As the finality of my decisions sink in, I start to feel a tight knot form in my stomach. I’ve never gone without a safety net, without the comfort of a regular job and a steady income. As I look at our budget, and think about insurance for our little one, the panic starts to set in.
And then I can’t sleep at night and want to sleep all day. I don’t want to work (at the day job) because I feel paralyzed. Yet not working kindof defeats things, doesn’t it?
Right now, I don’t have enough work to cover us. Right now, I don’t know where our insurance is going to come from. Right now, I am trying to avoid a full-blown panic attack.
I’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…
The honeymoon is almost over. I have to go back to work full-time in about a month. I wasn’t planning this. I wanted to stay part-time so I could be home with my boy. But with budget cuts, there are no funds to find me a part-time position. And the job I have is full-time. Therefore, if I want to keep it, I must work that schedule.
I haven’t been able to stop crying tonight. Just writing that started the waterworks again.
You don’t have to tell me that it’s not the end of the world. My head knows this. But my heart is completely torn asunder. Instead of being away from him a few hours a day, a few days a week, I have to be away from him about 9 hours a day. That is a huge change for me. Someone else is going to get to see him crawl, hear his first words, watch him develop his new skills. Hopefully that will be Daddy most of the time. And that’s great for both of them. But what about me?
This is killing me right now. The guilt, the frustration, the utter anguish. I just have no choice, and that’s the part that gets me. We need the insurance. I have to do this. And I don’t want to. I don’t know how I’m going to do this.
How am I going to do this?
When I went in for a 2-hour Glucose Tolerance Test (GTT) about 2 weeks ago, I was a little nervous. Because I had gestational diabetes, I am at a higher risk of developing Type II diabetes. I called for the test results and one out of three numbers was a little elevated. When that happened during my pregnancy, they put me on a strict diet and I worked with a nutritionist to keep my blood sugar numbers at an acceptable level. I was also monitored twice weekly.
So when I heard that one of my numbers was a little high, I got worried. I went in to see the Nurse Practitioner the next Monday. I had the baby with me, and of course he got hungry while we were there. I was able to feed him when we got put in an exam room. By the time the NP got to us, the baby was sleeping on my chest. The whole hospital is big on breast feeding, and the NP has a 4-month old, so she totally understood. She didn’t mind that I was lying down the entire time we talked.
Yes, I have one high number, she said. However, it can take up to six months before my body really starts returning to normal. She’s more worried about my baseline numbers, the ones in the morning before I eat and before I go to bed. So she told me to go back to checking my sugars. But only morning and night (at least 2 hrs after I’ve eaten). If things are high then, she wants to discuss it more. Otherwise, we’re just going to wait and see.
While I don’t get out of things completely yet, it could be worse. I only have to check twice a day. I don’t have to remember to look an hour after eating. I should be watching what I eat, but not as strictly as I did before. As long as my base numbers are low, then I should be fine.
And that’s a big relief for me. Of course, I’m not 100% out of the woods yet. I’m still at risk. But I don’t have diabetes right now. I’ll take it. It’s a small victory, but I certainly could use it.