Dirty Little Secret

After some trauma in my youth and an ugly first marriage, I worked really hard on my mental health. I became a happy person. The only voice in my head was mine.

And then I had kids.

Now being in my head is like being at a committee meeting ALL THE TIME. There’s an officious president who’s all about following the rules from the parenting books (You can’t let the baby cry! Have you read to them for twenty minutes? ), the crackpot in the back (Why don’t you just chill and let everyone eat ice cream for dinner?), the one who’s read too many self-help books (You’re not giving enough hugs! Hug that kid who just used crayon all over her carpet!), the one who’s not paying attention (I wonder if Daisy of Love will be as good as Rock of Love?), the mommy blogger (Will this be funny enough for a post, or just humiliating?), the nutritionist (Where is all the organic food you were supposed to buy? They have to eat carrots!) and my mother (Don’t take a break! You haven’t done everything yet!).

It’s a wonder no one’s caught me talking to myself yet.

Do you have voices in your heads? Or do I really need that much fantasized about week in the loony bin?

Is your house a mess right now?

Mine is. Even more than usual.

Which didn’t seriously bother me until ten minutes ago. I’ve been putting away and organizing in bits and pieces all day, but I haven’t exactly exerted myself. I did, however, manage to collect huge piles of trash (For the love God, toymakers, please cut down on the packaging!). I placed them by my garage door, which is also right by my front door.

When the doorbell rang, I wasn’t expecting anyone. So I didn’t hesitate as I trudged to the door in my sweats/bangs pinned back by a bobby pin/no make-up condition because I assumed it was UPS or something. I assumed the person on the other side of the door was a stranger – a stranger who had probably come across people much worse than me and my house.

Instead it was Ironflower and Lovebug’s teacher. Of course I HAD to open the door. I apologized profusely for the mess as Hot Guy flew up the stairs from the basement and began hauling the trash into the garage. I tried to be sweet and gracious as she delivered the kids’ holiday projects and gifts that we hadn’t been able to pick up prior to the holiday break. I fear that I just looked hysterical as I tried to explain away the mess – and the fact that Lovebug came jogging out of his room sans pants – and the fact that Ironflower came out of her room wearing socks with a big hole in them.

Lovebug has a habit of taking off his pants while napping. But the hole in Ironflower’s socks appeared today. It’s the first time she has EVER worn out a pair of socks. EVER. And did I mention that my sweatshirt has spit up stains on it?

We are SO the trashiest family at the preschool.

(If you don’t believe me, notice that I’m blogging about this instead of scrubbing my floors.)

You thought it was all over, didn’t you? Now that my pregnancy is over and my newborn is a whole month old, you thought I’d quit whining. But you’d be wrong.

He’s a pretty good baby, you know. It’s just that he had the misfortune to get a virus soon after getting home from the hospital, which led to a trip to the ER (to find out that he does NOT have RSV or the flu and that his oxygen levels are great) and quality time with a nebulizer. The real problem was that instead of sleeping when he slept (at night, even) I sat up and listened to him breathe and cough. And wheeze. And cough some more. I guess I was convinced that if I was vigilant everything would be fine. And everything is fine, so maybe being superstitious works. So that was the first three weeks of his life.

But I was FINE. Seriously. All the pain was gone by two and a half weeks. I could carry the laundry and pull Lovebug onto my lap. ChunkyMonkey nursed SO MUCH that I lost ALL my pregnancy weight (too bad he hasn’t made a lot of progress erasing all the extra pre-pregnancy weight, but here’s hoping). I went back to driving and life. My scar was checked and deemed to be just fine.

But I noticed this hard lump under my belly button. I figured it was scar tissue and didn’t worry about it. Except then it started to hurt. And it got bigger. And it started to hurt more. Now it hurts all the time and it’s pretty big. I went to my doctor on Tuesday, but unfortunately the only doctor available was the one I like to call “Bitch”. And I don’t mean that in a Hillary Clinton/strong woman kind of way. I mean that in a could-care-less kind of way. And since I did not have a fever and it had been a whole month since the c-section, Doctor Bitch said it was scar tissue and it hurt because I’d overdone it by lifting my children (nevermind that I never lifted anything until I felt healed and that I did the same thing after the last c-section). She did agree to send me to get an ultrasound just in case. But of course I can’t have that until next week.

Naturally I’ve gone online about this. And all I find are forums filled with c-section/tubal ligation patients complaining about pain that their doctors don’t take seriously.

So now I’m in pain and pissed, because I have no reliable info and the pain is getting worse. And I’ve had two low grade fevers that went away on their own. And the lump is bigger. And the forum women are talking about their years of pain. Call me a wimp, but I don’t think this is something I want to just suck up.

I did read about a few women who had hernias after the c-sections and did feel better after subsequent operations.

That doesn’t reassure me either.

The pain is not so bad that I can’t function. In fact, it’s usually the worst when I’m going to sleep or just driving the car – when I can’t also read and watch TV and check my e-mail and play with the kids at the same time.

I will be seeing a good doctor in two weeks. I will get an ultrasound on Tuesday. I can survive until then. Right?

Though if you all could write lots and lots of posts until then (and not mind that I don’t comment much for fear of whining and/or because the baby seems to resent typing) I would appreciate it.

I never thought I would say this. But. . .I kinda miss high school.

It’s not that I peaked in high school or anything. I was filled with angst and insecurity, unable to attract and/or keep a decent boyfriend, secretly intimidated by all of my friends because they were all prettier and/or smarter and/or kinder than I could ever be. I was convinced that my size four body was fat. I was just as much of a hormonal loser as the next person. Though I did have really cute clothes. For the eighties, anyway.

What I really miss:  I miss actually resting when sick. I miss not having to clean the bathroom or pay the bills. I miss having all of my friends live within five miles of me. I miss being a size four (especially because I would totally appreciate it now). I miss sleeping late on the weekends. I miss beer. I miss going out for lunch every day (do they even allow open campus anymore?). I miss getting a real tan from the SUN. I miss having a close friend with a pool. I miss being able to actually finish a to-do list.

Is there anything you miss about high school?

1. Is it possible to get a sinus infection suddenly, in July, when no around you has been sick and you haven’t even had a cold?

2. How is it possible that even after following all the food introduction rules and continually placing vegetables on their plates my children STILL won’t eat any vegetables?

3. Why does Diet Pepsi with caffeine taste better than Diet Pepsi without caffeine?

4. Where are all the missing socks, anyway?

5. Why can’t I think of anything to post about?

6. Why does New Jersey require a prescription for pre-natal vitamins?

7. If I join Twitter, what will stop me from becoming addicted?

8. Speaking of addicted, why don’t I have any M&Ms in the house?

9. Where HAVE all the cowboys gone? (points if you can remember who sang that song, because I can’t)

10. Why won’t Abba reunite?

11. Why are there so many assholes?

12. Why don’t bad things happen to bad people. . . .only?

So, you may have noticed that I haven’t been posting or commenting as much lately. And I’m going to choose to believe that you care about this (because really, isn’t the internet all about fooling yourself and/or others?).

Ever since Hot Guy went into the hospital in April, I’ve been sort of a mess. Being surprisingly preggers (and all its attendant tests and fears – which turned out to be for NOTHING, he’s fine), getting into a car accident, losing my job and suddenly needing a new car probably have not helped. As a consequence, I have grown lethargic, my house has grown messy and horrifically disorganized, my posts have (mostly) been lame, other bloggers’ talents have stopped inspiring me, my inbox is overflowing with emails that deserve replies and depression threatens the whole damn family. All I have done properly is mother. And you know that’s going to go out the window soon if I have nothing else.

And then I read this book: Lighting Up: How I Stopped Smoking, Drinking, and Everything Else I Loved in Life Except Sex: A Memoir. And I was reminded that I don’t have to let everything fall apart just because one (or two) things have. And that while we’ve had a lot of stress lately, we are exceptionally blessed to have each other and our kiddos.

So I’ve been working on getting my life back. I’ve cleaned and reorganized the house. I’ve gone through Lovebug’s clothes to determine what can be handed down to the new baby. I’ve started exercising. I’ve done paperwork I’m behind on. My list – the list that lives on our calendar and has just grown longer and longer lately – is halfway erased and I’ve only been working on it for forty-eight hours.

Give me another couple of days and I’ll be my old self again – posting and commenting with abandon.

Thanks for putting up with me. And in the interests of being my highly organized self, I’m going to update my sidebar. Leave me a comment if your blog is missing, okay?

I haven’t gotten very political on this blog. And trust me, it’s not because I’m not a political person. I honestly can’t tell you why this made me change my ways and give up my general separation of blog and political state.

It’s about Hillary. And feminism. And stuff.

Look, I don’t care if you hate Hillary for her political views or her odd marriage. I don’t care if you make jokes about her personality or her political decisions. But if you’re making jokes about Hillary really being a man? Or giggling while someone shouts, “Iron my shirt!” Then you’re an asshole. Because would you joke about Obama “really being white”? Or would you laugh if someone shouted, “Plow my field!” during one of his speeches? Maybe you would. And if that’s true, then go have fun in your cave. But if what I said about Obama REALLY offended you, why doesn’t it offend you when Hillary gets the same treatment?

Possibly because you’re like the woman who commented on The Soccer Mom Vote who claimed that feminism had ruined her life. I wondered how. Was it the right to vote? Own property? Get paid the same wages for equal work? Not being sexually harassed at work? Having maternity leave? Having rape victims not being treated like sluts? I was really dying to know how feminism had ruined this woman’s life.

I am so tired of hearing about “whiny” feminists. Did you know our maternity leave policies are on a par with Lesotho’s? That only 16% of our elected representatives are women? That date rape still happens?

What’s your take? Do you call yourself a feminist? Or do you think I’m being hysterical?

(all stats taken from this week’s Newsweek)

Does anyone else ever go to sleep thinking, “Tomorrow is the day I’m going to pull myself together and get the house spotless, do five amazing activities with the children, exercise and finish that reading article I’ve been working on”? And then wake up to find that you’ve overslept and possibly have a stomach virus?

Me neither.

New Year’s Resolutions From Jerseygirl89

I’m not very good at keeping New Year’s resolutions. Although in high school I did make a resolution to keep my toenails painted (what? I was concerned about world peace. I just didn’t think I could fix it) that I’m proud to say I’ve kept to this day.

It’s the only one.

So this year, instead of setting myself up for failure, I’ve tried a new philosophy. I’m only going to make resolutions that I can keep.

1. I will not make fun of Britney, Lynne or Jamie-Lynn Spears. Well, not on my blog, anyway.

2. I will not gain any more weight. (So much more attainable than losing weight. And still good for me!)

3. I will not question my parenting skills more than once a day.

4. I will wear shoes that are not my clogs or my sneakers at least once a week.

5. I will answer emails within three days weeks.

6. I will stop watching “WE”, the channel for psychotic women.

7. I will not waste time wishing I had somebody else’s blogging skills.

8. I will stop cutting my own hair when I’m stressed out.

9. I will remember to take my vitamins.

10. I will floss . . .more often (that leaves the options nice and open.)

I think I can fulfill these. What are your resolutions? Or do you skip resolutions at this time of year, realizing that jumping on the “new year” bandwagon doesn’t have anything to do with success?