Sigh. The Globe and Mail this morning had a headline on the front page proclaiming "Sleeping: It's all downhill after 12 [years old]". Awesome. Great news after Miss Baby got up for a snack from 3-3:10, and then I lay in bed contemplating the universe until about 4:30 or so. Pynchon let me sleep in a bit, but still? The wrong side of the bed is the one I got up on. And so today's post, on various failings. Maybe I'll see how ridiculous I'm being, and laugh at myself. Feel free to join in!
How I've failed as a mom this week:
Yesterday, Miss Baby's mood really deteriorated over the course of the early morning. She got grumpy and whiny. What happened? Wet diaper? No ... Maybe her teeth? Give some Tempra ... Is she bored? Move her around ... carry her for a bit ... engage in intense conversation about daytime sleep and routines. Finally? Figure out neither one of us fed her breakfast. Watch her lose her mind with joy when proferred a biscuit. Yeesh. I guess this is a little bit funny.
How I've failed as a responsible grownup:
This winter I've managed to lose no fewer than two scarves and one hat. Two pairs of sunglasses have mysteriously gone missing as well, possibly never to return. I hate losing stuff! Where does it go? Also, today I packed the cellphone charger to bring to work, and left the cellphone in the vestibule. Nice. I miss my hat ...
My nose is stinkin' up the joint too:
All day, I have the sneeze that got away: my nose tingles and runs like mad, my eyes squeeze shut and fill with tears ... and then nothing. No sneeze. I think I've blown my nose, like, 50 times today. (Twice already since starting this post. Really.)
The boobies are letting down the team also:
Is it the soother? Because Miss Baby seems to be weaning herself. She only really drinks at dawn and then at bedtime. Inbetween, if we get 2 oz from the bottle, or 2 minutes of the real thing into her, it's a victory. The boobies have gone haywire, kicking into overproduction now that Miss Baby doesn't want any. I imagine I'm on some sort of hormonal rollercoaster. And also feeling rejected. My heart is sore, and my boobs don't feel so great either.
Obviously, this ain't no perfect post:
Have I now turned into that mommyblogger who imagines that people want to listen to self-indulgent self-pity. Wah.
Clearly, now I'm going to go crawl into a dark hole. And sulk. I hope to be back to my good mommy, responsible grownup, functional-boobed, eloquent self tomorrow. Until then, grrrr!
Thursday, March 08, 2007
In which I fail at various things ...
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12 comments:
Swee'pea's had days when I thought he was weaning himself and I fretted. But they were just days... maybe his teeth hurt, maybe he was too busy thinking about other stuff, whatever. He's still on the boob. Sorry you're in overproduction mode though. That sucks (ha ha).
My blog is all about self-indulgent self-pity. Bring it on!
Do you have a breastpump? I would be using it right now, in case it's just a phase. And if not, well, who doesn't need breastmilk around the house?
That's why I like having multiple kids - much less fretting about their individual moods. The Baby throws a tantrum, and I'm like "yeah, yeah".
I have so been there...everywhere in fact. It's just one of those days.
Hope that tomorrow is a brighter day...as I'm sure it will be.
Dude. If I tried to list all of the ways in which I have failed in my motherhood and my womanhood and my adulthood generally, it would not fit on one page.
Also, one should never make lists of one's perceived defects when one is HORMONAL AND SORE-TITTED.
Got that?
Hormonal. Sore-titted. Check. ;-)
I'm sorry you had a bad day. I am with ya. And honestly, I do enjoy mommy-blogging-self-indulgent-pity-parties. Call me crazy, but I do. Because I'm with ya. Last week I was on the phone with a long distance friend. I just did not know why the baby boy would not quit whining and crying. And I was saying that, "I just do not know why he won't quit whining and crying." Well...could have been the smooshed and dried up - I don't know how long it had been in his diaper - poop. Just a guess.
I think I've given up on the dream of perfection for good. Too much damn work.
Oh, and I have like 9-gazillion scarves. People at Christmas apparently thought my neck looked cold. You're welcome to one..or a few...
I've forgotten to give breakfast to the Pie, more than once. One time, I didn't even think of it until around 11 am. (She didn't seem to mind, fortunately - she's not much of a breakfast person.)
Let's see, I have spent 3 days trying to write one damn press release. I am sooo behind on my collection's work that it just ain't funny. I leave my daughter strapped in her booster seat long after a meal is done just so I can eat in peace. There is a balloon on the back seat of our car that has been there since last October and that my daughter insists on playing with each car ride even though it is half-deflated, wrinkled and likely a health hazard. Oh and my boobies never were team players. Perfection be damned.
We all have these days and later it will seem funny or pathetically funny, I promise.
Either way, it will make you laugh and go buy another scarf - they should be on clearance, it is March you know!
;o)
Oh, good advice from HBM. I'll try to remember that for next time.
I lose things like hats and mitts and sunglasses ALL THE TIME. I'm sure the baby brain doesn't help.
Some days are like that, honey! My suggestion on the boobs is pump a bit off now and then to relieve it, but only a bit. They'll sort themselves out.
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