We did the whole “head out and get candy from strangers, but kids, never do this again unless I tell you it’s ok and I will always eat your candy to be sure it’s ok” holiday. LB wasn’t too sure about things at first until she found out she got suckers.
Baby O was a pea in the pod (all together now? Ahhhhh.)
LB was Cinderella (comment on her shoes here. Oohh! They LIGHT UP! Oooolala!)
Well. I was the scariest of them all.
With the ability to make small children bawl, husbands slink off to the kitchen to do the dishes, and three year olds choose an hour of alone time in their room instead of spending time among the wrath:
I was PMS, hormonal, postpartum, sweat-suit wench woman.
I eat small children and raw macaroni necklaces. But only together. And with salt.
I was born in 1975. Subtract the 20 and carry the one and… count the toes, and that makes me thirty-two. (32)
I’m forgiven for forgetting your birthday that time, right?
Love, your daughter who isn’t lying about her age just quite yet.
P.S. The car is lovely, though.
P.S.S. I appreciate it and I did get the thirty-one dollars for starbucks.
P.S.S.S.P.S.P.S. If I had to pick an age to lie about, it would probably be twenty eight? Or even thirty? Or, hell, maybe thirty-one but I’d also lie and say I was a former playboy bunny and HAHAHA this is what happens when you turn thirty-one you skinny bitches.
PSPSPS S S S S S S. But I don’t think anyone would believe me anyway.
Seriously? As in ... Seriously? You’re kidding, right?
These are the first thoughts that ran through my head upon hearing about the Bumbo Seat Recall. I have a Bumbo Seat. We love the Bumbo Seat. Baby O sits up in his Bumbo Seat. It’s a blue, soft, squishy seat of wonderfulness.
Baby O give it a thumb up. Or down. He’s really not sure what those things are on the end of his hands yet…
Here’s the thing. Apparently if you place a child on top of a table or other high surface and leave them THEY MIGHT FALL OFF.
Let me say that again.
If you leave a child on top of something high? THEY MIGHT FALL OFF.
Dude. That’s news? Shit. Really?
What’s next? BEDS?
(I can read it now… Mother leaves infant on bed. She leaves him unattended to have a beer in the bar downstairs. During this time the infant falls OFF the bed. Beds are now being recalled. Please proceed to turn in all mattress and bedding to your local government agency.)
Let’s address the issue here, shall we?
If you buy hot coffee? It will burn your crotch if you slosh it out of the cup. Do not sue McDonalds or Starbucks or whomever. All we end up with are really dumb warning on coffee cups. “Content is Hot” Fuckme. Yathink?
If you leave your child alone on top of a high surface (in a rocker? A bumbo? A Car seat?) he or she may fall off. It’s called gravity. Do not sue gravity.
If you give your child a small object to play with, they will eat it. Or put it up their nose. Or butt. Please do not sue the toy. Sue your child for causing you all that stress and gray hair.
Or! I know!
Use your common sense!
I’m a Mother For Using Common Knowledge EverywheRe
Join me in this movement, won’t you?
Together, we can make a difference.
(And, for the record, I do set my child on the table. I just take pictures of him up there and make sure I’m totally drunk and stoned when I’m the only one home.)
(And if you believe that, please come buy my pony.)
(Just don’t sue it when it shits in your yard.)
I’ve been pretty open about my past experience with Postpartum Depression (or Postpartum Mood Disorder as it’s now known as). I always thought this was important because nobody was talking about it when I was going through it in 2004. I felt alone. I was lost. Nobody told me I might not want to be around my new baby or that I’d regret having her in the first place. I assumed this made me a horrible mother. What I didn’t realize, is that 80% of new moms feel this way.
Obviously, I wasn’t alone.
There’s been a movement to make women aware of the danger signs and symptoms of Postpartum Mood Disorder. Instead of re-telling my tale here, I thought I’d conclude the helpful tips I learned after I got help.
Let’s recap: The
and 6 (Added by me): organization.
You’ll see that number 3: Sleep, is a riot. HAHAHA! SLEEP?! Yea, right, if I was sleeping, I’d probably not be K-EERAAZZYYY. And it’s true. You would be a lot better off if your sleeping wasn’t being interrupted five to eight times a night by a screaming child. That alone is enough to make someone off kilter. Add in the hormonal changes and the change in your brain chemistry and you’ve got a recipe for fun.
Since you can’t control how much your new infant sleeps, the other things become that much more important. Nutrition becomes a priority. If you let your cravings take over during pregnancy (let’s face it, who doesn’t?) it’s time to get back on track. Make sure you eat. Eat protein. Eat healthy carbs. EAT. Depression can suppress your appetite so that you won’t eat which spirals your blood sugar down and your mood along with it. So please, eat. Even if it’s a royal pain in the ass (and it can be). Do it.
The creative portion can be a tough one, too. While you’re caring for your newborn, you might forget that you are an adult, not just a parent now. You have ideas! You have thoughts! You know things aside from sleeping schedules and feeding times. Tap in to your previous hobbies. Write. Blog. Paint. Play your musical instrument. Maybe even find a new hobby, something to focus on like knitting? Playing the guitar?
And, number six, added by yours truly, a type A specialist in todo lists, organization. Depression, as I was told, creates a sense of overwhelmed-ness (is that a word? No? It is now. Look! I’m being creative! With the English dictionary, no less!) I suffer from this even in the best circumstances. I take on too much and then can’t remember what I was doing. It’s become especially bad since having Baby O. My brain? It is fried. I barely remember what I was working on when the next task pops in to my head and I’m off to do said Next Task.
What was I saying?
See… it’s ok to become an idiot. It’s a THING. It’s called Mommy Brain. Learn it. Love it. Use the excuse. It’s real. But don’t spiral in to a catatonic state. Make a list and check it twice. You’ll find control in something again. Since that tiny person has so much control over you, it’s important to feel like you are still in charge.
Please join us today as an act of making this mood disorder public. Speak out. Tawlk amounst yourself. And if you are participating, please sign the Mr. Linky here. Please? Let’s reach as many people as possible.
*Please check back later today for a podcast on Mamas Pod about our experience with PPD. Three out of Four friends has some experience of various degrees. Come identify with us as we share our stories. (Coming 4pm PST)
I have numbers 3,4,5 and a bonus number 6 (!) on how to combat Postpartum Mood Disorder (or PPD if you had it back in 2004 like I did when it wasn’t “out there” yet.) But right now I’m busy getting everyone healthy. JOIN THE MASSES! Get Thee ASSES! Smaller! Smaller! GOooOOOoooOOOO ASSES!
Wow. Ok, that’s the red wine talking. My ONE glass of merlot thanks to Agatson. One glass and I turn in to Save the Cheerleader, Save the World.
I’m rambling. Am I rambling? This may be the best.post.ever.
So if you haven’t signed up yet, you have an entire day to do so. Do it noooooowwwww. You can Register if you’re not. You can let us know how you’re doing and talk to other members. You can join us and win money! and send your “before” picture (and a photo of your scale) to me so it can be posted in a member accessed location which has a few other features to motivate you to win said money.
One day I’ll finish up a few projects like getting our cars registered in this state (happy anniversary to our move date! One year of neglecting tags!), posting her template and updating this site. Really, though, now? I must go to bed. There is one hundred and fifteen dollars and 24 people counting on me to work out in the morning. Oh, and my belly. My large, postpartum belly…
(Let’s just pretend there is a pretty picture here to break up the boring ... or monotonous if I can spell ... length of this post, shall we? Oh, fine you want a REAL picture? God, you people drive a hard bargain. Here. Look! We’re so mature.)
After an impromptu doctor’s appointment wherein I got “the speculum action” (the most action I’ve seen, by the way, in some time) I was on my way home when I called my husband and found out some interesting bits of information. And by interesting, I mean annoying as all hellfire. It prompted the following promotion for mamaspod and the first podcast wherein I discuss my hayhay.
Something tells me it won’t be the last.
Not that I’m bitter. Or in need of an IUD. Or IB profin. Or vodka.
No, why do you ask?
The second, and to me the most helpful, tip my shrink (yes, yes, I have one, get over it already) is to exercise.
Uh. WHAT? Exer-hu?
I know. You’re not sleeping. You’re tired. You’re fat. (You feel fat, lemme rephrase this, you ARE NOT FAT. You just had a baby and your body is yelling at you to be nice, damnit!) And now you’re expected to go workout. Right?
The thing is, working out is more than just a thing to get in the way of washing bottles/nursing/laundry/being asleep. It’s an energizer. It actually changes your brain chemistry. It helps you get your body back and it develops your muscles to handle the schlepping around of that baby of yours. It strengthens your back to carry your new, heavier, bobs. And it can can give you a high you’d need a drug to get otherwise.
So why not join our weighloss wars fitness challenge? You can start Monday, October 22nd, in a pool of women willing to pay ten bucks for am onth of motivation, a chance at losing some weight, and the knowledge that even if you don’t win, you can get a little high in the meantime and make some friends.
Sounds good, right?
So join. And maybe I’ll share with you my before picture. Tomorrow. Yea. Tomorrow. Instead, let me show you my before, before pic. You know, the “three months before I got knocked up again” picture? Which will, hopefully, look like my after shot. Minus the muffin-top.
One year after having LB I was back to here.. good but not anywhere near where I was before. I had ten more pounds to lose at date of this picture.
Five months after having Baby O. .... Yikes .....
*This is part 2 in the Series of Post Partum Mood Disorder posts. There are five-ish in this series. You can find part one here.
For some time now I wanted to do a series about preventing/combating Postpartum Depression. I have a shrink, (gasp, what? You DON’T?! Don’t you know everyone has a shrink? How uncool of you..) that I saw before I even had Baby O. After my last experience, I thought I better have someone in my pocket in case I decided to lock myself in the bathroom and cry for a few hours a day. If you know me, that’s not anything near my normal self and not someplace I needed to visit again.
My (tres hip) shrink had some good things to say. In fact, she gave me five things to work on to help me through the first year of postpartum shifts, otherwise known as hell. These five things have helped immensly and even helped me not need to speak to her. I think she may re-think giving out such good advice since I no longer require her services.
In the course of the next five(ish) posts, I’d like to share with you the five key areas to focus on when adjusting to life after having a baby.* Ready? Here we go.
#1: Social Inter-Action with Adults.
That’s really the end. I mean, you know what to do with that. Social Interact. GO FORTH and meet other parents. Go out with your friends for coffee. Go to lunch/dinner/desert with your husband. Whatever. Just go. Talk. Be around people during the day. Join a mom group. Go to playdates.**
Or, in my case, go forth and make an ass of yourself in front of The Seattle Mom Blog. (And this is where I share with you my experience of Friday night and prove to you why I am, in fact, going forth in front of other people and not just my own family, or my tile in the bathroom. But oh, if I happen to need to lay on my bathroom floor, at least now it will smell like grapefruit.)
Michelle and I went to a Seattle Mom Blog event on Friday night. It was not, in any way, a pushy sells gig, so they said, but was sponsered by Method. These people are brilliant. They provided drinks (in abudnance), free, pretty products and a promise to an environmentally friendly and yummy smelling clean home. They don’t need to push a damn thing. They had me at “Sangria?”
I met Jenny, who I emailed about .3 seconds after
Michelle dropped my drunk ass off gushing over my love for her. I mean, really, if anyone can live up to her fun reputation, it’s her. Really. And then there’s HolaIsabel who I’ve read and pretty much adored for evah (who I will have to go have a drink with soon. I know, I know you are jealous. You should be.) and Working Mom, who is adorable and fun and grabbed those last two drinks with me. And all the people I couldn’t even tell you how much I love that I live in the same city with. Here. In Seattle.
But that’s not all!
No, yours truly not only stared directly at An Ordinary Mom’s boobs (I hear this is a blogher thing to do? I must go next year!) but also had someone shout “alcoholic!” in reference to my drink (so they say).You think this would embarrass lil’ ol me? Oh, hellzno. I proceeded to pick up a man (yes, you heard me.. this is caps worthy, I PICKED UP A MAN) for my friend Nicole and directly BROKE A GLASS (Yes, I’m shouting over your laughter now) whilst talking. That’s right, people. It’s all true. I am THAT good.
To distract you from the farting laugh you are now engaged in, I post pictures. Look! Over here! PICTURES!
(No, I was not paid to do this. Unless you call getting sloppy on organic mixers payment, which I almost do.)
And, here I am, very pleased with the lovely stove-top the Grapefruit All Purpose Cleaner left me. YES. They WORK! And I officially am finished with Soft Scrub.
I am not, however, pleased with the “EXTRA LARGE” tee-shirt that fits just right. This resulted in the weightloss war I set up that starts next Monday. Join us, won’t you?
*This information is given to me by a professional. I do not claim to be a Postpartum Mood Disorder specialist, just a woman who got wacky after her first kid and decided to fight back on the second.
It’s time for HAI HAI HAIKU KU KU FRI FRI DAY DAY DAY
Where the hell are you
Ask all ten people who read
I am here barely
Two kids and a job
An announcement to come soon
After a long day
(Haiku friday via Jennifer. AKA: COOLEST bitch in the west, er, Alabama)
Today’s goal: Make ToDo list.
Tomorrow’s goal: Check Off ToDo list.
Not on the list: Whatever-the-hell-I’m-doing-now
(This extremely short post brought to you by my daughter, who does not nap and my son, who is teething.)
19 guests here now.