Monday, March 30, 2009

We had such a nice weekend. At least, I did. That is, I had such a nice weekend after my small Saturday afternoon anxiety attack over toddler bathing suits in the middle of Old Navy and Jimmy had to cart us all home just so he could kick me out of the house for the rest of the day. Alone. With no toddler attached. And no ginormous diaper bag. Or any need for a stroller.

And then oh my gosh did the weekend improve.

In my defense, we hit Old Navy after a morning 2-year-old's birthday party at a big playground. And it was unseasonably hot, during Lena's naptime, and did I mention full of toddlers? Lena refused to eat, or drink, or sit for one second unless that second included throwing everything on her plate and her neighbor's plate into the grass, or jamming her fork into a pb&j triangle and waving it around in hopes of flinging it directly into a grown-up's face. And for some reason I think I'm going to be using this brand of excuse for the next three years.

Getting out was nice.

Getting out was very nice, even though I had no idea what to do.

(The mall seemed like a safe bet.)

But standing in the middle of all that marble and chrome and glass, trying to navigate globs of preteens without a stroller in front of me, no arsenal of sippies, bottles, crackers, diapers, and wipes at hand, being able to look at a rack of clothes without worrying that someone was simultaneously trying to yank the tshirts off the shelving behind me or throw a bottle at the nearest stranger or wriggle out the bottom of her stroller (only to get her head stuck under the snack tray, because YES it has happened before and IN THE APPLE STORE)... It just didn't feel right.

So there I was, feeling like I was shopping COMPLETELY NAKED and that everyone was staring at me and wondering why I was there without my third (very cute but very active) arm and I had to check my purse to make sure everything I needed was in it, like, eight times because it felt so freaking LIGHT, and what did I accomplish? I bought the baby a dress, I bought the baby a pair of tennies, and I bought the baby a book.

This is what my "me time" is like, now. And I came home sooner than I needed to, too, because my arms felt so completely, utterly empty.

Can you blame me?

Friday, March 27, 2009

Good golly, two days in a row. You'd think I was back on my meds. Oh, wait...

Yesterday I made a comment about how I've been reading dooce, and I thought I should clarify by letting you know that I've been more specifically reading Heather Armstrong's new book, It Sucked and then I Cried. I bought it on pre-order through Amazon, it arrived at my door on Tuesday, and while it is an utter embarrassment to me to admit that I have not finished a book NOT written by Sandra Boynton since I had the baby (who is now very much a TODDLER), today is Friday and the only reason I haven't finished this one is because I very pointedly saved the last three chapters as a Friday treat.

(And Wednesday was a wash, being that it was Jimmy's birthday and we were busy delivering cupcakes all day. Yes, ALL DAY. Oh, delicious cupcakes!)

I suppose it goes without saying, then, that I really am enjoying this book. She hits so many notes that I can relate to, not the least of which are the isolation of being a new mommy and dealing with depression, but also isn't afraid to talk about life with baby in an honest, irreverent, and funny manner without neglecting to point out the sweeter moments that make your heart want to bust wide open.

I know, I know. It's dooce, so I'm not telling you anything you don't know, here. But the book has been particularly encouraging to me this week, enough so that I've redoubled my efforts to stay medicated, which for me has been extremely difficult given that I've chosen an herbal route that leaves me taking no less than thirty and sometimes upwards of fifty pills a day. And I am TERRIBLE with keeping up with it. But it is what it is, for now, and I'm feeling better these days, and plan on feeling good for some time.


Alright. It's so warm and gorgeous outside, and Lena keeps trying to throw sidewalk chalk onto my MacBook, so... happy weekend, everybody!

Thursday, March 26, 2009


Every day something new occurs to me that I think I could maybe write about here, but if it doesn't happen right away, it sort of rolls around in my head and eventually piles up in a corner with all the other little silly unimportant thoughts, until there's such a mess of them that I couldn't possibly write about any of them. Disjointed thoughts look so pointless and un-amusing to me when traveling in packs. Sort of like clowns.

(That's a bad description, because I so rarely find even lone clowns amusing. French clowns are a different story, though. Perhaps if my thoughts were in French...)

Not too long ago I mentioned wiping out all the archives of this site and starting fresh, the main reason for that being that I was tired of keeping my blog a secret from people I know, because doing so was so not worth the effort especially for such Morrissey-esque moping that seemed to sum up most of the writing, but not feeling like going back and making sure every post was kosher for my friends and family, not to mention protecting my own warped sense of privacy, it was just easier to take it all down and start clean.

And it's all been good, especially given my postpartum proclivity towards staying home with the baby for days at a time, but recent events forcing me to socialize IN PERSON with living, breathing human beings who know me and my family and who OH MY GOD MIGHT READ MY BLOG has been a sort of weird experience.

The weirdness being all on my part, as far as I can tell. Although that's not saying much, as apparently in addition to becoming easily wigged out by socializing with people IN PERSON, I've also lost all ability to interact normally and within accepted etiquette parameters, despite my Southern heritage, and have developed a very keen ability to shove my foot entirely inside my mouth with an athletic finesse that would make Mary Lou Retton jealous. And I chose Mary Lou Retton BECAUSE I AM OLD.

(My apologies for all the caps - I've been reading dooce. It's like when I spend a lunch chatting with my aunt and uncle in Atlanta and walk away talking about how the kayatays over yonder kipt us frum kitchin enny deer. And that is not an insult, because they are proud of the way they talk. Yes, really.)

Anyway. The fact is that I need to write, and I'm too lazy to write in secret anymore, and socializing is difficult these days so the blog is a convenient (if not sometimes appalling) way to keep up with me, if you are so inclined. And so, I am trying to force myself to continue, because it's therapeutic for me, and Lord knows I need the therapy. I know this is where I should say, "Who doesn't?", but really. Who am I kidding?

And you see? I feel better already.