Have you ever felt like you're running really fast just to stay in the same place? And that you'd have to run twice as fast just to get where you want to go? I feel like that a lot lately. Like I'm moving and moving and moving and not getting anywhere. I want to be different. I want to be better. I want, I want, I want. I want a lot.
I just don't know what I need.
I keep looking for something to fill the space. Nothing quite does it. I feel like I should be doing more. But more of what? Do I just need to get acclimated to my new role - the role of the one who stays at home? I'm so used to always having something to do that when there's nothing I feel...useless. Futile.
I didn't mean for this to be a woe-is-me post. But these things have been on my mind constantly lately. Besides taking care of the baby and housework, I don't feel like I contribute, that I don't earn my keep. There are so many things I want to do but I don't know how.
I want to sew. I haven't sewn anything besides hems in 19 years. And I don't have a sewing machine. I want to learn to crochet. I want to finish a scrapbook I started 10 years ago. I want to make something, do something, contribute something. I don't even know where to start.
I guess that's just what I wanted to say - I don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going. But that doesn't matter because I don't even know where to start. I'm just stuck in place.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Thursday, May 13, 2010
the low end
It's hard to tell someone you love that you're not happy. Especially when it's not their fault you feel like this. And there's no right thing to say in response to that monumental statement.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm just not happy."
"...."
Most think it's our right to be happy. That the forefathers gifted happiness to us in a package along with freedom. But the Declaration only says the pursuit of happiness is guaranteed. The government isn't just handing out samples of happiness with your voter registration. Pursuit implies effort; trying and sometimes failing.
And, man, have I been failing at it lately.
I began wondering if my body had just gotten used to this permanent state of fatigue and dreariness. That when I woke in the morning I expected the dread and so there it was - the anxiety of another LONG day before I could bury myself back under the covers and hide.
Besides the dread there were other indications that something else might be off. Dry skin, weight gain (more than just from the baby), hair loss, added depression. I went to the doctor positive in my mind that it was my thyroid. I knew that's what was wrong. Couldn't be anything else. I've been having my thyroid checked every year or so for the past six years and this time, this time, it had to be the answer.
But after four months and a series of blood tests it turns out it's not. I have all the symptoms of hypothyriod but that's not it. Blood work showed I'm on the low end of normal - between .4 and 2.65 and I'm at .6 - you can't get any clearer than that.
So then what's wrong with me? Why am I cringing in the morning when I hear the baby singing to herself through the monitor? Why am I disgruntled that I have to do laundry? Why am I out of my mind furious when I see that Jason forgot to feed the ducks? That's not normal. But at least I know that.
So back to the doctor and I'm on a new anti-depressant. Turns out all those symptoms can also be attributed to long term use of certain depression medications. The last one wasn't working at the dose I was OK to take, so we try another. This is only my second day. We'll see how tomorrow goes. Then the next day.
I just know that I'm tired of being on the low end of happy.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm just not happy."
"...."
Most think it's our right to be happy. That the forefathers gifted happiness to us in a package along with freedom. But the Declaration only says the pursuit of happiness is guaranteed. The government isn't just handing out samples of happiness with your voter registration. Pursuit implies effort; trying and sometimes failing.
And, man, have I been failing at it lately.
I began wondering if my body had just gotten used to this permanent state of fatigue and dreariness. That when I woke in the morning I expected the dread and so there it was - the anxiety of another LONG day before I could bury myself back under the covers and hide.
Besides the dread there were other indications that something else might be off. Dry skin, weight gain (more than just from the baby), hair loss, added depression. I went to the doctor positive in my mind that it was my thyroid. I knew that's what was wrong. Couldn't be anything else. I've been having my thyroid checked every year or so for the past six years and this time, this time, it had to be the answer.
But after four months and a series of blood tests it turns out it's not. I have all the symptoms of hypothyriod but that's not it. Blood work showed I'm on the low end of normal - between .4 and 2.65 and I'm at .6 - you can't get any clearer than that.
So then what's wrong with me? Why am I cringing in the morning when I hear the baby singing to herself through the monitor? Why am I disgruntled that I have to do laundry? Why am I out of my mind furious when I see that Jason forgot to feed the ducks? That's not normal. But at least I know that.
So back to the doctor and I'm on a new anti-depressant. Turns out all those symptoms can also be attributed to long term use of certain depression medications. The last one wasn't working at the dose I was OK to take, so we try another. This is only my second day. We'll see how tomorrow goes. Then the next day.
I just know that I'm tired of being on the low end of happy.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
mother
I have been influenced by many women during my life. Teachers, friends, sisters, aunts, grandmothers, cousins. The list goes on and on. But none are more precious to me than my own mother. She shaped who I was to become.
I was spoiled as a child. Not in the normal way you're thinking. OK, yeah in that way too. But I was spoiled because I had a stay-at-home mom. I didn't know at the time that it was unusual to have a mom who made dinner every night, who made cookies from scratch and even sewed some of my clothes. She would read me books and play games she secretly hated (yes, Monopoly I'm looking at you) for hours. I had no idea how lucky I was.
As the backbone of our family, my mother is always there with gentle encouragement. She has never said an unkind word of anyone and put a face to the very definition of "service." There is never a time when she's too busy to help someone. My friends always used one word that defined her whole disposition - sweet.
When I started school, she began working. But you would never know that from the state of our home. The house was always clean, dinners were always made, laundry always done. She taught by example, knowing that it's easier to be comfortable in a clean house. She is always there when I need her, even though we live in different states. As a child I could count on her to hold my hair back when I was sick, double check my homework and not be too mad when I colored with purple markers on the fireplace.
When I became a teenager she gave me an out - if I ever didn't want to do something (ie, dangerous, illegal, boring) - I could use her as an excuse. A well acted "dang, my mom won't let me" works wonders in certain situations. As an adult, we worked at the same business for awhile. Every Friday we'd go to the same restaurant, get the same meal and sit in the same place. Those are some of my favorite memories. When I moved 600 miles away I could count on a phone call every day to make sure I was alright.
And now that I have a daughter, I have a new understanding of all she does for me. How she could rock her babies to sleep every night because she couldn't bear to hear them cry. And how every success, pain, sorrow and joy becomes your own. I can only hope that I'm as good a mother as she is.
I love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day.
I was spoiled as a child. Not in the normal way you're thinking. OK, yeah in that way too. But I was spoiled because I had a stay-at-home mom. I didn't know at the time that it was unusual to have a mom who made dinner every night, who made cookies from scratch and even sewed some of my clothes. She would read me books and play games she secretly hated (yes, Monopoly I'm looking at you) for hours. I had no idea how lucky I was.
As the backbone of our family, my mother is always there with gentle encouragement. She has never said an unkind word of anyone and put a face to the very definition of "service." There is never a time when she's too busy to help someone. My friends always used one word that defined her whole disposition - sweet.
When I started school, she began working. But you would never know that from the state of our home. The house was always clean, dinners were always made, laundry always done. She taught by example, knowing that it's easier to be comfortable in a clean house. She is always there when I need her, even though we live in different states. As a child I could count on her to hold my hair back when I was sick, double check my homework and not be too mad when I colored with purple markers on the fireplace.
When I became a teenager she gave me an out - if I ever didn't want to do something (ie, dangerous, illegal, boring) - I could use her as an excuse. A well acted "dang, my mom won't let me" works wonders in certain situations. As an adult, we worked at the same business for awhile. Every Friday we'd go to the same restaurant, get the same meal and sit in the same place. Those are some of my favorite memories. When I moved 600 miles away I could count on a phone call every day to make sure I was alright.
And now that I have a daughter, I have a new understanding of all she does for me. How she could rock her babies to sleep every night because she couldn't bear to hear them cry. And how every success, pain, sorrow and joy becomes your own. I can only hope that I'm as good a mother as she is.
I love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
what kind of day has it been?
Things I did today:
* force-fed the cat medicine that causes him to leak poop
* followed the cat around wiping his butt
* called the vet
* changed the sheets after the cat leaked poop all over them
* cleaned the carpet
* cleaned the chair
* changed 5 diapers
* changed 2 sets of baby clothes
* made 6 bottles of formula, 1 of prune juice
* cleaned spit-up prune juice
* did 2 loads of laundry
* loaded the dishwasher
* cleaned the kitchen
* burnt my hands because the faucet doesn't know the difference between warm and OH-MY-GOSH-I-WILL-KILL-YOU hot
* went into the snow to feed the ducks
* played peek-a-boo, danced, sang, ate feet
* carried around a baby who cried whenever I put her down
Things I did NOT do today:
* shower
* brush my teeth
* brush my hair
* exercise
* eat lunch
I'd like to punch whoever said being a stay at home mom isn't a full-time job.
* force-fed the cat medicine that causes him to leak poop
* followed the cat around wiping his butt
* called the vet
* changed the sheets after the cat leaked poop all over them
* cleaned the carpet
* cleaned the chair
* changed 5 diapers
* changed 2 sets of baby clothes
* made 6 bottles of formula, 1 of prune juice
* cleaned spit-up prune juice
* did 2 loads of laundry
* loaded the dishwasher
* cleaned the kitchen
* burnt my hands because the faucet doesn't know the difference between warm and OH-MY-GOSH-I-WILL-KILL-YOU hot
* went into the snow to feed the ducks
* played peek-a-boo, danced, sang, ate feet
* carried around a baby who cried whenever I put her down
Things I did NOT do today:
* shower
* brush my teeth
* brush my hair
* exercise
* eat lunch
I'd like to punch whoever said being a stay at home mom isn't a full-time job.
Monday, April 26, 2010
6 months
Dear Twiddlebug,
You can crawl! And it's amazing, awesome and hilarious all at the same time. That first time you lunged a few inches I thought your smile would make your head explode. You were so astounded by what you could do. And you haven't stopped since. So far you won't venture very far from your blanket but I know soon we'll have to start moving things off shelves and baby-proofing cabinets.
Your bottom teeth haven't come in all the way yet and some days that leaves you cranky as a baby can be. But despite the crankiness, you are such a happy child. There is so much laughter just from letting you kiss us. And by "kiss" I mean lick and slobber uncontrollably all over our cheeks until the ick factor gets too high. But like Daddy says - we don't wipe off your kisses, just the slime.
You've started imitating more of the noises that Daddy and I make. Your favorite is a version of our "I'm gonna get you" shriek. Except yours is screamed at more of a banshee-being-eaten-by-a-wolverine level. You've also learned the art of blowing raspberries and love to let everyone within a half mile radius know you can do it.
You love when Mommy and Daddy play with you but you're also content to just lay on your blanket and eat your toys. I've truly never seen such a happy baby. You giggle, snort and smile until I think your cheeks will crack. Sometimes I want to run into your room and wake you up just so I can see your happy face. Bad days don't exist around a smile like that.
Love, Mama
You can crawl! And it's amazing, awesome and hilarious all at the same time. That first time you lunged a few inches I thought your smile would make your head explode. You were so astounded by what you could do. And you haven't stopped since. So far you won't venture very far from your blanket but I know soon we'll have to start moving things off shelves and baby-proofing cabinets.
Your bottom teeth haven't come in all the way yet and some days that leaves you cranky as a baby can be. But despite the crankiness, you are such a happy child. There is so much laughter just from letting you kiss us. And by "kiss" I mean lick and slobber uncontrollably all over our cheeks until the ick factor gets too high. But like Daddy says - we don't wipe off your kisses, just the slime.
You've started imitating more of the noises that Daddy and I make. Your favorite is a version of our "I'm gonna get you" shriek. Except yours is screamed at more of a banshee-being-eaten-by-a-wolverine level. You've also learned the art of blowing raspberries and love to let everyone within a half mile radius know you can do it.
You love when Mommy and Daddy play with you but you're also content to just lay on your blanket and eat your toys. I've truly never seen such a happy baby. You giggle, snort and smile until I think your cheeks will crack. Sometimes I want to run into your room and wake you up just so I can see your happy face. Bad days don't exist around a smile like that.
Love, Mama
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