On Lexapro-what a difference, everything has been better. Just slave-if by some wild chance you check this blog, may I be invited so that I can follow your writing? Have missed reading about your days.

got some sleep, thngs are at least bearable

If it weren't for the baby, I'd slit my wrists. I remember feeling this way after Boy 1 was born. I don't want to see friends or family. I caught the BF in a lie, and hate him for it, hate him for trying to lie about the lie, hate him for teasing me about my bad mood-well, shithead, you lied to me and have an online flirtation going on, I don't care that she doesn't live nearby, how about getting off your fucking ass and computer and doing something, am resentful that he's unemployed and I'm supporting everyone. I can't bear the thought of going back to work and leaving the baby. Maybe I'm upset about B 1 going off to college, but it's only down the street, so I don't think so. I feel like I'm reliving the breakdown of the relationship I had with B1's dad, and looking back I probably had PPD-but even if I were on anti-depressants, the BF would still be unemployed, I'd still have to leave the baby, the shithead would still do what he does, and if I were diagnosed, all I'd get is pity, maybe, and condescension, when I actually blame him for not being here much for 6 months, leaving me alone, lonely, exhausted, overwhelmed, insecure, I still haven't fully recovered, apparently. I would have hoped that after years of therapy that I wouldn't be in this position. I love my baby more than anything, anyone, and he's the only thing keeping me from going downstairs and emptying the medicine cabinet.

Ambercrombie and Dork

Since babies are no longer supposed to use blankets in their cribs, Mr. Baby has been wearing sleeveless sleep sacks. I've become concerned that he's going to develop a penchant for sleeveless sweaters as a boy that will develop into a full blown case of argyle vest wearing as a teenager, which has the potential to lead to a side disorder of sun visor sportage.

Psychos

http://www.courant.com/entertainment/hc-vidnewrev0519.art.artmay19,0,5996267.story


Aw, he got a mention in a mainstream newspaper.

Would you like to buy an O?

KS after first post-birth clothes shopping, in tears: "I'm a cow, nothing fits, I'm a size zillion. This sucks. I hate being fat, I need to lose a million pounds."

BF: "You're not fat, you just had a baby. I think you're hot the way you are."

BF cuddles KS, who thinks, wow, this is the best man ever.

BF, pensive, speaking into KS's hair: "But you do have really big feet."

Bed time

As I drift in and out of sleep, a warm voice murmurs in my ear, "You make me happy." Too filled with joy and sleepiness to respond, all I can do is nuzzle into his chest.

DRAT IT!

I think this blog has been compromised, dammit, though it was only a matter of time, given the fact that I rarely delete cookies.

Son opens up first paycheck: "Gee, and people wonder why I registered as a Republican." Sounds a bit like a Taupey comment, no? I could start a new blog, I suppose, and delete cookies after every use, or leave it as invited readers only (meaning NO ONE, not even people looking for "squirrel SNL" or "twenty-three positions" would ever read this, not that it has been funny in a long time anyway), but what's the point. Writing does help me clear my head, and I think I've provided a laugh or two in the past (people still think I'm funny on Facebook-I'm soooo proud), but since my life has calmed down (being sober kind of does that), there's not much going on but soothing a baby and trying to get the oldest to clean his freakin room. (Yeah, stop reading this and go clean your room!) Sigh, I may try to write the occasional amusing post, but any soul searching or funny incidents involving sex or trying to get off when no one is home and the baby is finally asleep, but the doorbell rings because you forgot that you booked a cleaning with a maid service about two years ago-and yeah, that's yucky, you shouldn't be reading this, go clean your room, geez, I hope to God he hasn't really read this, can't be described here. The boyfriend just moved in thirty years of Playboys into the cellar-ya think the teenager could content himself with that (which he may be, to a certain extent, because he's suddenly begun washing his clothes a lot more often than he used to.)

LEEP

"Oh, and about the IUD...There may be scar tissue after the next procedure, making the insertion more uncomfortable, so you may want to rethink birth control options."

Yeah, that's exactly what I'm concerned about now, birth control.

If you Wubba Wubba me, I will Wubba Wubba you!

And I mean it!

And...he found out he has been accepted into Clark, UCONN and James Madison as well. Clark and AU were his first two choices, and I think he;s going to choose Clark. Hooray!

I love the Would You Like to Buy an "O"? song.

AU gave the Boy a $38,000 package, 32 of which is in outright scholarships/grants. Yahoo! He's still waiting to hear from Clark (AU and Clark are tied for his first choices), UCONN, and the requisite ivy league university. In our town, almost everyone applies to at least one, regardless of the realistic chances of getting in.

The boy (lower case) has rolled over twice already. :) The older brother told him to enjoy the accolades now, because he sure as hell doesn't get praised for rolling over.

And sometime in the middle of the night I had a funny thought related to sex that I was going to term Old School blog. It had me chuckling at 3 a.m. Do I remember it? Noooooooooooooooooo.

Only here

Curious George at the Aquarium
Interjections by the 17-year-old

Whoosh! Splash! So George climbed the wall to see what was going on.
Oh no he didn't! (Mom glares.)

All the penguins escaped! The aquarium staff rushed over. They were angry with George.
And there's The Man, keeping the brown monkey down. (Don't you have something better to do, like study for an AP Stats exam?)

Just tryin' to spend some quality time with my little bro', but it's all numbers with you people (faded muttering as teen mounts stairs)

Can't help it

Dr. Zhivago

My oldest son never had a pacifier, and so I didn't think this little guy would use one either. WRONG!

I have to go in a for a colposcopy, dangit.

Ahem, excuse me, there's a pre-schooler attached to your nipple

As much as I wish that our society was more relaxed about breastfeeding in public so that I could take the little bugger out for longer periods of time, I was rather taken aback when a three year old climbed onto his mom's lap and began to nurse...Though, I have to admit that when she first walked by me, I though, "Nice rack."

I may have actually slept more than 5 hours in a row last night. Woohoo!

(Rereading this...awkward sentences. When I can speak coherently again, maybe I'll be able write too.)

Oh-that playgroup is at the elementary school that my oldest attended 12 ish years ago. The people that I ran in to who were there way back then remembered him. (Which, to those who know him, would get an "of course". He's, ah, memorable...i.e., as a child, NEVER stopped talking.) A few even watch him on Cable access because he's the BOE rep from is school. OK? Does that make up for his shorter paragraph from the last post?)

Oh boy...a blog that once chronicled my drunken adventures has solidly turned into one of those My Kids Are So Great blogs. May lightning strike me if I begin attending those crop book picture meetings and knitting.

A little bit of this, a little bit of that

MY SON REGISTERED AS A REPUBLICAN!!! UGH!

On the bright side, so far he has been accepted into the Honors program at UHART, with a $14,000 renewable scholarship, and (drum roll please) Trinity. Even though UHART is his "safe" school, and Trinity is fourth on his list, it is still such a relief (and, in the case of Trinity, a Holy Crap!) to have him accepted into two schools already. I was so psyched that he was called to have a local interview with Harvard (with an underesecretary of CT, no less), until we learned that Harvard tries to interview most applicants. It was still pretty cool, though.

The baby is cooing, smiling, and close to outright laughing. He still doesn't sleep for long stretches at night, which can be grueling, but he's a blast to be with during the day. Thank god for my mother-because the BF isn't here every night (and, due to Saturday's incident, hasn't slept here since Wednesday the 18th) he just doesn't get it-he'll call to tell me he's tired because blah blah blah. I'm not tired-I'm sleep deprived, and, if it hadn't been for my mom coming every day for a few hours, I would have seriously considered checking my self into the hospital. Of course, I have to remember the added stressors-getting taxes, FAFSA and the Profile done with a newborn, and thinking that I had to pack up to move (which I've put on hold-I mean really, what were we thinking?) and stupidly checking my work email to dicover my class has fallen apart. Anyway, today is a better day, the BF is going to stay the night-and even though my boobs may explode by morning, the baby is getting two nighttime bottles so that I can finally sleep.

Keep your fingers crossed for me.

First big laugh in a while

In waiting area at women's therapy office:

"Please welcome Dr. Kuntz to our practice"

I should be trying to sleep since the baby just went down for a nap, but I'm afraid it will be like night time-I can't turn my brain off in order to sleep. I feel like I'm going nuts. I can't believe he hasn't called to check on his son. Fine, he's mad. Fine, he may hate me, though I still feel like I had every right to ask noisy people to leave my house at 12:00 midnight, even if they are his children (not little kids, mind you.) I don't get to sleep more than three hours at a time, at best, and yes, he works a lot, but at least he gets two or three nihgts a week at his place...there goes the baby.

Loving the baby, but...

So, there's a check next to each symptom of post-partum depression, but I can't help but wonder if five hours of uninterrupted sleep wouldn't make most of them go away. I wish I could find out.

Shaken, not stirred

This picture is self explanatory.

The baby had two "good" nights in a row (meaning he went one four hour period without needing to eat, and slept for three of those hours), but I made the mistake of singing "Stay Up All Night" by the Talking Heads to him yesterday, and judging by his reaction of eating at least every two hours in a 24 hour period, he took me literally.

Sapient pearwood

I gave my mom Hogfather as a stocking stuffer, and now she's hooked on Terry Pratchett as well. Hee hee.

And, I just saw that Christopher Moore has a new one out. Though I'm still out on leave, it takes me a week or more to read a book. Hmm, I wonder why.

And in other news

Yesterday, I killed a spider with a baguette.

sleep

I need sleep. Four straight hours would be heaven.

Maybe...

...I should stop singing made up verses to songs...
The winos on the bus ask, Got some change? Got some change? Got some change? The winos...

Huevos splash

You may wonder how the heck I get online with a newborn. This is what I do: turn on some classical music, snuggle him and type with one hand. Also, I make sure I make frequent eye contact with him, coo and throw in frequent multi-syllabic words in order to foster language development.

Example: (snuggle snuggle, Bach is playing) Oh, baby, you're so cute (while typing "assholes" in an email), transcendentalism, la la, you look just like daddy (while messaging "I'm agonna scoop his* eyeballs out with a spoon"), ah, gynelotrimin, shhs shh, sweetie pie, mommy's ripping her cousin a new-ah, hmm, maybe time to log off.

*NOT the daddy, who has been absolutely awesome.

one handed typing

my breastmilk brings all the boys to the yard

hee hee

Michael Isidoro C was born on Dec 30, 9:35 pm, 7 lbs, 12 oz. 21 in. He is, off course, darling.

I love my boys.