This? Was a year ago. (OK, let's be honest, a year and 5 days ago)
This? Was a couple of weeks ago.
Yes, it is true, my baby Charlotte Mae is now one year old.
I can't believe it has been a year. I am a mom of two little girls. Who have the faintest of red hair.
And my little Charlie? Is an awesome kid, if I do say so myself.
She cuddles, she WALKS, she loves stuffed and animals and real animals alike. Her and Kale get along fabulously. Which is to say that they fight over his toys. (She may or may not have gotten caught recently eating dog food, chewing on a previously chewed rawhide bone, and feeding Kale her afternoon snack. And dinner. And breakfast.)
She can say Hiii, and MOMMY, and apparently Daddy too, although I have yet to hear that one. Since everyone was so happy to take Sam when she was born, Charlie is a bit of a momma's girl. She is getting better, but I'm still her favorite. For now.
While she isn't as great a sleeper as Sam was, she still will sleep 12 hours at night, just not as heavily. She'll play in her crib for an hour before deciding to get up, and then is ready to go back down for a nap an hour later. Unless there is something going on. In that case, she wants to be up and all involved in the action.
I can't wait for the day when she takes Sam down. I have said this over and over, but Sam sort of deserves it. A friend recently brought her 6 month old daughter over. She was amazed at how rough Sam was, literally trying to rip her baby out of her arms. So I guess the fact that Sam will wrap her arms around Charlie and fall backwards with her isn't. quite. normal. At least Charlie is tough because of it. She hardly cries at all anymore when shoved to the ground. (And yes, we have tried telling her to "be nice" "be gentle" etcetcetc. Sam takes that as BE ROUGHER!! And then cries when put in time-out.)
I've fearfully started Charlie on whole milk, since the whole AWFUL gas thing that put her on soy formula at 6 weeks of age. And true to her form, Charlie handled it like a champ. She guzzles it down and doesn't even notice that there is no Karo syrup in the bottle. She has taken to sippy cups like a duck to water, coincidentally, she also likes watching ducks in the water.
She likes the lake, and boat rides, and her cousins. She doesn't like running water in the bathtub, being hungry or thirsty, or people she doesn't know. She has mastered going up and down the stairs and has yet to actually go down them the wrong way. This time of her life is so far my favorite. Her personality is starting to shine, and I just LOVE it. I can't wait to see what the next year brings. I am guessing many take-downs and many more sibling fights.
So it is no secret that lately I have been struggling. Did you read my last post?
But sometimes, it makes things so. much. worse. when you realize what other people are going through. And then you think to yourself, "Self, what the fuck is wrong with you?"
For example, my uncle had a quadruple bypass 2 Friday's ago. And he is not recovering well.
So his wife and children, brothers and sisters, and various nieces and nephews have been spending time hours away from home, days at a time, to be with him. The emotional ups and downs of a hospital watch are... well, yeah, they suck. I feel bad complaining when they are going through that. And yet...
Summer has flown by. And we have had a good time, don't get me wrong. I got to spend a great weekend with a great friend and her family that I hadn't see in over 2 years. And I spent another fun weekend with other friends. And I have another fun weekend coming up with more friends.
But there is also the couple of weeks when Kale got neutered, and got diarrhea. And Fonz's toe has been infected for a couple of weeks, and now his ears are too. Little Charlie turns one on Saturday, and I am having a hard time getting in the mood to celebrate. Or plan her party. Which I have already committed to.
This is what it is like to be depressed. For no reason. And then you get mad at yourself for feeling sorry for yourself. And that just makes you shut down even more. Workaholic has been busy beyond belief, which means he can't be there to, well...pick me up. Like usual.
I wish I could just snap out of this. I wish the new meds would work. I wish I had that fire in my belly that everyone else around me seems to have that gets them through their day. Part of me wonders if I am just lazy. I suppose it is possible. But am I really choosing laziness over self worth? Over feeling good? Over feeling like I got something accomplished? Goodness, I hope not.
I have this daily struggle.
Get out of bed.
Get things done.
Do my work.
It is every day that I have this struggle. It has been 5 weeks and 3 days since I started my new medication. I think it is working a little bit, but not nearly as much as I had hoped. I miss the part of Pristiq that helped me to get out of bed in the morning. I hate getting out of bed in the morning.
Do you ever watch the show Hoarders? You know, the one with people who keep trash in their house and think that it is something that should not be thrown away? Sometimes, those people actually get their houses cleaned up, and they often say how much better they feel about life.
I can totally relate.
My house does not qualify for Hoarders, yet. But I have things strewn about. Things that have no real home right now. If Kale tears up a paper towel from my office trash can, which he seems to do weekly, I don't mind if it sits on the basement floor for a week. Eventually, I pick it up and throw it away, and then wonder why I took so long to do it.
We are in a transition stage right now. Workaholic is working much more than usual. Until he is done with his latest project, I feel lost. I have things that don't belong in my dining room in my dining room. I can't wait for him to be finished so I can get my dining room turned into a playroom, as it should be. I can't wait to get the toys out of my living room and into my dining room. I need to get the boxes of books out of my bedroom...to anyplace else.
Every time I get a space cleared, it stays that way for about a day. And then it is cluttered up again. I can't wait until things calm down. I need things to calm down. My mind has a hard time focusing on anything. I can't get my work done. I can't get a decent blog done.
Even though I know I need to get organized, I can't get myself organized. I keep telling myself that it will all be OK soon. In the meantime, days pass, and I hardly even notice. I hate that. I wish I had that fire in my belly to get me motivated, instead I have nothing. All I want to do is hide in my bed all day long.
I struggle.
I would like to update you on the rest of my Day One of Vacation.
3:30pm
Go into Charlie's room, where she is taking a 3 hour nap.
Reel backwards from the smell.
Peek at her, laying so cute in her crib.
With poop smeared all over the sheets, blanket, pacifier, and child.
Yell for help.
Wonder why my children have such a facination with taking off their diapers.
Fortunately for everyone involved, there were no more poop incidents for the rest of the weekend.
I took the next 3 days off of work for vacation. Let's review real quick what I have done so far on day one... (It is 9:09am)
- Been woken up at 5:30am by Workaholic's alarm on his phone. That goes off every day. And doesn't wake him up.
- Been woken up at 6am by Workaholic, not sure if it was his alarm or him leaving or what.
- Been woken up at 6:30am by a whining puppy. Who doesn't understand what vacation and sleeping in are.
- Gotten up with the puppy. Fed the puppy. Medicated the puppy. Let him outside. Let him inside.
- Poured a 30lb bag of dog food into a plastic bin for Fonz. Fed and medicated Fonz. Let him outside. Let him back inside, but kept the puppy outside for a few minutes. This is key.
- Unloaded and reloaded dishwasher. Talked to new K for a couple of minutes. Decided to let the puppy back inside.
- OHDEARGODWHATISTHATSMELL??????
- Almost vomited multiple times when I realized that dear sweet mother-blanking puppy rolled in fresh poop.
- Bathed dear sweet mother-blanking puppy.
- Bathed myself.
Needless to say, I think that instead of beginning my day and running a ton of errands in this debilitating heat, I am going to lay down for a while and rest. It is vacation, damn it.
Dear Charlie,
Since your sister is out of town for a couple of days, I have learned a few things about you.
I've learned that when you are screaming when in the bathttub, it means that you don't want to be there. And you will do anything, I mean anything, to get out of it. I have also learned that you know how to throw yourself over the edge of the tub, which means landing on your head on the ceramic tile floor.
I've learned that your pain tolerance has increased tenfold in the past couple of months.
I've learned that when you are quiet, it means that you are contemplating just how to get to the bottom of the stairs without going down backwards. Like we have taught you. I watched you ever so slowly lean forward and deliberately move your chubby little legs down to the next step without falling down. I was happy to see that you decided that was NOT the best way to go and went down the next two steps backwards. On your belly. Like we taught you.
I've learned that you can cross the living room in about 3 seconds flat. To get to the stairs.
I've learned that you know that your sister's room is your sister's room, and you take every opportunity you can to mess with it.
I've learned that you really love ice. And that you will get what you want. (see above regarding the bathtub incident) In fact, your first steps were taken while on a boat ride. You were standing next to me, and you really wanted to get to the ice in the cooler. So you took 2 steps to get there. On a moving boat.
I've learned that you know a heck of a lot more than I think you do. Your babblings mean something. Especially the ma-ma-ma-ma-ma one. That means mama.
I've learned that you are a happy kid. I mean a really. happy. kid. You love sleep and walks and playing in your crib with dirty laundry and using the dogs as step stools. I think you just noticed Sampson today. You love him too.
I've learned that while you and your sister are for sure different kids, you are most definitely my kids. And I love you.
Because I am an awesome mom, I am teaching my daughter the best way to speak. And by teaching I mean that she repeats everything we say. Especially everything I say.
"Actually, mom, I'm going to go play outside now, actually."
"Oh shit."
"Darn it!!"
"Go away, puppy, GO!"
"Why don't we sit down and think about it?"
"No, it's not time for bed (or lunch, or anything mom wants to do). Not yet. Maybe later."
Yes, she is our little parrot. I am scared for what she says when we are not around.
