All day. That's how long Monkey screamed. There were times when I envisioned a banshee living with me, because that's what he sounded like. A tiny, male, screaming banshee in my arms, in my car, in his crib, on a walk, on his playmat...and at times even while eating. Argh.
I just about lost it. I know it was just a bad day and that most days (aka about 95% of them) are not like that, but all I need is the one bad day to realize how lucky I am that he's as calm as he is most of the time. I really started to lose it when he started clutching at my chest with his tiny talons...and drew blood. That was it. He was bathed. He was fed. He was dry. He went to bed with mitts on his hands so that he wouldn't scratch himself, since there was no way I was going to be able to trim his nails. He then screamed in his crib for about 30 minutes and finally went to sleep.
On top of all of this, Ben is gone for a couple of weeks. Stupid military with their stupid "trainings." It had to coincide with one of the worst days for record screaming.
Mommy needs a stiff drink. Preferably something with an umbrella.
I officially have no will power. Seriously...none. I keep saying "today's the day I really start my diet," and I keep falling off the proverbial wagon before I even get on it! Jillian Michaels is begging to kick my butt into shape, and my butt is resisting with the power of a 10 ton elephant.
Why would I resist looking my best? I don't feel great about my body right now, but apparently my body has other ideas contrary to mine about weight loss. I think a huge part of my problem is (and always has been) portion control. I'm one of those strange people who loves food, but to whom nothing ever sounds good. Therefore, when something piques my interest, I WAY overdo it. Think John Pinette at a Chinese buffet:
Today's already ruined. I'm already in too deep, and Monkey has been in a bad mood all day, which means no gym for me. Lucky for me the little bugger likes walks, so I did SOMETHING. I'll start the diet tomorrow. As Scarlett O'Hara said, "tomorrow is another day!"
Twitchy, apparently. Because I can't stop moving. If Ben has Monkey, and I am in the same room, I start bouncing like I'm trying to soothe Monkey. If I see someone on T.V. shaking or swaying or anything, I immediately start. I cannot sit still. My feet or my head or my hands (or all three) must be moving at all times. I must be going insane. I would not be at all surprised if our bed falls apart because I'm shaking so much in my sleep that all the bolts loosen and the integrity of the bed is severely compromised.
Oh, did I mention that I'm being eaten alive by the devil's minions (aka mosquitoes and gnats)? It wasn't until we moved to the south that I discovered that gnats bite. And apparently I'm on the menu EVERY DAY. I counted my bites today. I have just under 30!!! All of which popped up in 2 days, and I HAD BUG SPRAY ON! These little monsters apparently think I'm the best 3-course meal ever, and no amount of poison will deny them their desires.
On top of the shaking and the bug bites, I'm sore. I'm sure the twitches aren't helping the soreness...but I thought that maybe if I really started working out that I would calm down and be able to relax. So I started the 30-day Shred. while I'm sure my butt will look great at the end of it, my muscles are not thanking me now...especially when I have to tote Monkey around all day. My left arm and shoulder are about to go on strike. Then I'll be left without my baby-carrying arm (because carrying him with my right arm just feels wrong) so I'll have a screaming baby, no left arm, and a complete inability to do anything that requires two-handed coordination. Welcome to insanity.
Hobbies? I'm trying to keep the house standing!
I really want to learn how to make crocheted wire jewelry. Specifically cuffs. The problem? I don't have the time while Monkey is sleeping and the energy to learn at the same time. All of my energy goes into him. Therefore, when he is sleeping, my pent up energy must go towards cleaning, cooking, laundry, the pets, and (of course) my nasty twitching habit. Who has time for jewelry?
So, ultimately, I'm a twitchy one-armed itchy bug-bitten monster who aspires to have personal time to craft and read and relax, but does not possess the time or constitution to accomplish any more than simply the day-to-day necessities. That may or may not include maintaining my own sanity.
I was thinking the other day about Murphy's Law (you know, the one saying that anything that can go wrong, will?) and how it applies when you are the parent (or in my case, mommy) of a newborn/infant. Keep in mind these also have to do with the fact that I am married to a man who "de-stresses" by playing extremely loud and sometimes overly violent video games, so that affects many of my truths.
1-Spit up is inevitable. Embrace it as your new fashion accessory. Monkeyspits up at least a little after every feeding. This does not change based on what he consumes. That means that unless I am diligent in being armed with a burp rag and that rag is under his mouth I will have spit up on me almost all the time. Luckily I'm getting pretty good at anticipating when the white river will start flowing, and once you get to that point it's easy to catch it. Unless it's a flood, then there's nothing you can do.
2-Daddy cannot handle screaming. Apparently that's Mommy's area. If Ben has Monkey and a tantrum begins, Ben has 2 solutions. Solution A is to stick a bottle in Monkey's mouth and hope that he's hungry. Solution B is to hand PP off to me. Normally not a big issue, but then Murphy's Law comes into play: When this happens I will inevitably be in the middle of doing something where holding a baby is not a good idea...like playing with fire (aka cooking) or working on plyometrics (required for getting clothes in and out of the washer/dryer).
3-"Quality time" apparently means playing video games and hoping Monkeyis interested. This is how Ben "plays" with Monkey. There usually is no tummy time or real quality interaction unless I say something, and even then I get "but he's not crying." I had no idea that if baby's not crying then he doesn't need interaction. Huh.
4-There is no such thing as a break Ben takes the night shift once a week. This is supposed to be where I get to sleep an entire night through and he gets up with Monkey. Great! Except that he doesn't wake up unless Monkey is SCREAMING BLOODY MURDER, and even then Ben waking up is not guaranteed. Most of the time it ends up in me hearing Monkey, waking Ben up, and then 5 minutes later waking him up again because he fell back to sleep. Then, about 15 minutes later, Ben will wake me up because he can't figure out how to re-swaddle Monkey...well, that's if he even changed his diaper. There have been nights where I get up in the morning to find him swaddled exactly how I did it the night before and a diaper so full I'm surprised he isn't red as a tomato on his bum.
5-Yay! I'm getting a workout from carrying Monkey. Too bad my left arm is reaping all the benefits.
I almost always carry him on my left arm. Why? That way I might be able to function with my right arm. However, I'm seriously thinking that by the end of this I'm going to look like Hellboy...one arm way bigger than the other (and everyone else will know which side is the "weak side").
6-I am tummy time.
So, we all know that tummy time is important for newborns/infants so that they can strengthen their necks/arms/shoulders/backs. Great. Monkey HATES to be on his tummy...unless he's on my tummy. Great. I thought for sure I would have more time before I became a human jungle gym.
7-Finally...in reality I am living with 2 children (at least in some respects). Ben is a wonderful man...kind, considerate, a wonderful provider. He's funny (at times) and can pleasantly surprise you when you need it most. However, he apparently cannot sort laundry, fold or put away clothes, clean up coffee cups, water bottles, shoes, or socks, sweep a floor, make a bed, wash a dish, or pack his own bag for work. Oh, and when his World of Warcraft account got hacked and all of his stuff was stolen, he reacted not unlike Sheldon (minus the authorities being called).
I know I'm totally jinxing myself here...but really, I'm surprised. Monkey woke up at midnight for a feeding. Fine, I'd already slept 2 hours, so at least I feel like I've gotten some shut eye already. After only eating 2oz (damn child eats 4oz at every feeding and goes 3-4 hours between feedings, but with only 2oz in him I seriously think we're going to have sleep issues tonight) he fell back asleep.
So, I read a little more of Rants from Mommyland (my current favorite blog) and put him down in his crib. Of course, the second he touches the mattress, his eyes open. I, thinking that the Dr. JUST told me (as in today) to put him to bed drowsy but not asleep, leave him there and walk out of the room. Commence fussing. He cried for 5 minutes...and now silence.
I can't help but think that was too easy. Perhaps he's in there plotting my demise, and I will see what that plan consists of all too soon. Or it really was that easy...in which case I should count my blessings, not question it, and go back to bed.
Hah...like my crazy brain will allow that to happen!
(edit: I knew I spoke too soon...he woke up 30 minutes later and now we're both awake on the couch. Who knows how this will end!)
I don't like this. No project work since...January? Ugh. that's too long. Not to mention I'm slacking on the working out front. OK, kind of. I get on the treadmill almost every day, but it's not the same as getting in the gym for Zumba and really sweating it out. Is it horrible that I can't wait for Monkey to get his vaccines so that he can go in childcare at the gym while I work out. It feels selfish just saying it, but there it is. Maybe I'm turning into the Wicked Witch of the West, thinking about myself.
Then again, maybe I'm being more like Glinda, the good witch. Maybe knowing how to get what I need will make me a better mommy (oh hell, I know that's true, but still...sometimes that lovely mommy guilt kicks in and I feel like I should be doing everything for him and if I want something for myself that's wrong). Damn mommy guilt...daddy's don't get that. At least Ben doesn't seem to. He has NO problem coming home, saying hi, and getting on the computer to play games. I'm not saying he doesn't deserve to relax...he totally does. But it would be nice if, instead of waiting for me to ask him to take the baby, he would just come home, change, and take Monkey, no questions asked, no waiting for me to almost have a meltdown before saying "do you want me to take him?"
OK, now that that's done. I need to get my butt off this couch and do something. I was going to take Monkey for a nice long walk, but we're having thunderstorms all day, so that's out. Grrr...stupid mother nature!
Of the screaming. OK, so it's not all the time. Well, in my head it's all the time, but I'm pretty sure that's just me. Maybe...or there's a very maladjusted little person in my brain running around screaming and randomly beating his/her head against my skull. It's a toss up.
Monkey has gotten to the point where sleep is apparently his enemy. Today went something like this: 5:10am...awake. For the 4th time
that night. And this time he's not going back down.
6:00am. We're both asleep on the couch. The clincher? He only stays that way for about an hour. Mommy couldn't be happier. Really. 10:30am...nap time. YAY! He usually stays asleep for at least 3 hours for this nap...plenty of time for me to get household work done and still get a nap in.
WRONG! 12:30pm and he's awake. The next time he goes down is at 2:30...for all of 20 minutes. After that he's awake (OK, he takes 10 minute naps twice, but those don't count) until 8:00pm, when he starts to crash. It takes me one hour and one cold dinner before he's in his crib without waking up 5 minutes after I placed him there.
I can only hope that he does better tonight...prior to the past couple of nights he would wake up twice in the night and be up for the day at 6:00am. Last night he was up 4 times BEFORE he woke up at 5...not a happy mommy.
The worst part? When he goes on these crying jags he REALLY doesn't want Ben to hold him. He wants me, and even then he won't settle. Tonight even swaddling didn't help right away like it usually does. Poor little guy.
