Cracklin' Rose

Mood: Tired. So. Damned. Tired
Listening to: The soothing sounds of my daughter's waking whine

So when is she going to start sleeping through the night? As it stands she wakes up at least twice every night and she SCREAMS. I've tried letting her self-soothe, but trust me when I say that there is NOTHING soothing about the way she BELLOWS and WAILS at the top of her tiny, precious lungs. I'm not sure how long she'd go if I left her, but from past experience this girl does not give up. I swear I'd let her go until she wore herself out, but there are four other people in this family who need their sleep and ain't no way you can sleep through Rosie's nightly fits. We're talking LOUD, ANGRY, DESPERATE, RAW screaming. That sound you heard last night that jerked you from your dreams? My daughter. And we live many miles away from you.

It used to be I had a maternal urge to get her and soothe her, to protect her from the dark and all the oogey boogies therein. She would peep and I'd rush in to comfort her and assure her that all was right with the world because Momma was there. Now I just want her to shut the hell up because if Bear doesn't get enough sleep she's a complete PITA and so help me if you wake up Dee it will mean that she'll sleep in and be rushed in the morning and that always puts her out of sorts and for the love of G-d will you please. Stop. Crying.

See, she wants to nurse back down to sleep and thing is? I don't want her to because she bites me during the day and my nipples are sore and need the night to heal, and there's no biological reason that my 8 month old daughter should be nursing twice a night. She's addicted to nip. I'd send J in to put her back down, but he gets up earl-I in the morning and I don't think it's fair to interrupt his sleep, especially when he usually takes her "hey! It's 5:00 a.m. and I'm awake!! Good morning world!!!" shift. Thank God.

Soooo, last night at her first waking I held her on my lap and clamped her little back to my front with loving arms of velvet steel and rocked her as she screamed and squalled and twisted until she fell asleep. It took maybe 15 minutes, which, at 12:30 wasn't so bad.

I tried the same ploy again at 3:00 a.m., but was met with failure. Isn't it amazing how much longer 15 minutes is when it's 3 a.m.? I succumbed and brought her to my bed and nursed her back to sleep and we slept until 6:30 and now I'm totally back at square 1 because I gave in and nursed her down. Because I'm weak and tired and I just wannna sleep and let my bleeding nipples heal. (And don't email me about her latch. Her latch is just fine. She just likes to bite me.)

I'm seriously considering weaning the little dickens. There are a few reasons I hesitant to, though. Number 1 being that in the very likely event of a pandemic (I told you that I'm obsessed) I think it's important that she be able to nurse. I'm not sure, but I think that maybe it'd keep her healthier. That's my gut feeling. Number 2 is cost. The budget, she is tight and formula is expensive and for me a tad inconvenient. Number 3 is my commitment to breastfeeding for at least a year. It's good for her and one of the best things I can do to avoid breast cancer, and when she's not biting me, I do enjoy it. I like holding her. I like that she's getting everything she needs from me. And, number 4 is because I want to stack the cards in her favor in terms of weight issues on down the road and I think that the self-regulating that breastfed babies do as far as feelings of fullness etc., will play a part on her keeping a healthy weight in the future. I've already got 1 kid fighting to keep her weight under control and I don't want Rosie to have to go through the same struggles. It's all good. She just needs to stop with the blood draw.

So, yeah, back to the topic. Any suggestions on how to get this kid to sleep through? I've been militant about making sure she has her naps in the day so that she's not overtired at night. I put her down between 7:30 and 8:00 most nights. We have a soothing bath and a cuddle and a nightcap and then it's in her crib and she usually falls asleep without a peep. If she does peep it's not a very long one.

The one thing I haven't tried is coming into her room at night when she's unleashing the black fury of hell and sitting there without holding her, just sort of patting her back down or letting my aura soothe her or what the hell ever doing that's supposed to do.  It just seems cruel to be in there and not pick her up.

Comments? Suggestions? Cigarettes? Cigars?

As my husband's family LOOOOVES to remind me, I was conceived in the beautiful state of drunkedness - errr, I mean Kentucky. As were nearly all the members of my family. My grandparents, mom, birthmom, dad, sperm donor, all aunts and uncles (I dunno though, some may be from Pennsylvania). All bluegrassers.  And yes, some of them are missing teeth (not me) and all of them (except my dad) speak with a slightly southern accent. And, yes, unlike you northernahs, we at least know that the correct way to make green beans is with lard and bacon and more lard. You cook them 'til they're mush and then you add more lard and bacon.

Ohh, how they delight in the fact that when I was a senior in high school and couldn't find a date to the prom (not that I was ugly or stinky or in any way unpleasant. I just didn't have very many options as my now husband but then ex-boyfriend was all hot and heavy with his then girlfriend and it just didn't seem appropriate to call him and you know, ask him to my prom. Although he probably would have gone. Because I'm that hot! Or because he's that nice. Prolly 'cause I'm hot. And I just was kind of quiet and went to an all girls high school and while Mr. Lackey was good looking and I totally had the hots for him, even I knew that the chances of him saying yes to his student's request that he accompany her to prom and share in a slow dance to Ms. Jackson's "Let's wait a while" were practially nil [even though I was that hot] because I'm pretty sure that the Catholic Church frowns on teachers dating students even if it's quietly accepted that priests can ya know, bone the altar boys [oooooh, I went there], so that left me with the option of going without a date and being a suspected lesbian (which, nothing wrong with that, but of course back then it would have been the end of my world if anyone had even suggested it because it was the 80's people and it was a catholic school and while I longed for a gay boy friend with which to shop and lust over Adam Ant with, I sure wasn't that cosmo.) OR not going... well, they weren't really options at all in my way of thinking.

Sooo, at my birthmother's funeral my mother introduced me to a very nice lady who had a son my age named Jim. Never mind that she was also my mom's brother-in-law's sister. Never mind that that meant her son my age named Jim was therefore my uncle's nephew. BECAUSE if we were related at all, it wasn't genetically and we weren't even raised as cousins. He was my aunt's husband's nephew. And I'll say it again, WE WEREN'T RELATED. And AREN'T related. Except through my uncle.

So annnnnyway, I called Jim and met Jim and Jim was cuu-uuute! And Jim agreed to accompany me to my prom. Much to my now in-law's delight. I totally regret EVER telling them about it. Because it just adds to their "you're from Kentucky" bucket of jokes they carry around. But yeah, it's funny. Technically I took my cousin to my prom.

BUT ANYWAY, the reason for this post is that true to my southern roots, I like blue grass music and when I found this video by the Soggy Bottom Boys it made me smile.

Mood: Irritated
Listening to: The Killers' Mr. Brightside

Y'all, my Word is hosed. Hosed I tell you!! I can no longer access my documents, which is, you know, bad. Especially if you're a writer and you have the itch. Frustrating isn't a strong enough word.

It's like finally losing those last 5 pounds, finding big money in your purse, and Kohls is having a one day only sale where everything is 75% off but your car won't turn over and no one else is around to drive you.

It's like 10,000 spoons and all you need is a- well, no, it's not ironic, but it is terribly bad luck, Alanis.

After a two year dry spell I finally feel inspired. Rosie is settled for her long nap, the house is clean enough so as to not be emotionally distracting, and I've got ideas, people. Ideas! Better than ideas I've got people meeting in the attic. They're milling about, drinking coffee and chatting amiably each anxious to tell me his story. Do you know how long my attic's been empty? Well, yeah, I guess you do since I just told you.

Two years is an awfully long time to go without inspiration and drive. Especially if you want to get published. Argh. Stoopid dying hard drive. Stoopid WORD.

Makes my heart stutter every time I read about it.

You?

Mood: slightly irritated
Listening to: Phil Collins: Wear my hat

Okay, so we're having a pool installed. It's no secret, and up until now the neighbors have done an excellent job of keeping their kids out of our yard. Up. Until. Now. The little fuckers.

The four year old she-devil from across the street, the four year old demon next door, and some 13 year old boy from down the road. I've never met him before. He was delightful. Delightful I say, especially when explaining to me that he followed the four year olds' lead and threw mud and stones into our pool. Into our POOL. Have I mentioned how much liners cost?? Because they aren't cheap. Fuckers.

Okay, I'll be the first to admit that my girls aren't perfect children, BUT they don't go out of their way to destroy other people's property. More's the pity and as much as I've encouraged them to. (Honey, go over to the neighbor's yard and pick her flowers for a change. Sweetie, why don't you put on your riveted jeans and slide down her van? Scratched paint is fun! Darlin', what say you drag an axe into the neighbor's yard and threaten her children?*** And yes, all three have happened to me. Often.)

Why is it that these kids feel that it's okay for them to destroy my stuff? What the hell is wrong with their parents that these kids think this is acceptable?? And the best part about the nextdoor neighbor's explanation? Apparently they were watching the neighbor across the street girl, she was playing with Beezlebub. They thought the kids were in the basement playroom. They had no idea where their son and their neighbor's child that they were also responsible for were. This isn't the first time.

Yes, I'm pissed about the rocks and mud and the possibility of having a rip in the liner, but what would have happened I wonder if we hadn't had the safety fence up?! As much as I cringe when I see the little bastards approaching the property line, I don't want them to drown or almost drown and end up brain damaged. I'm optimistic that they have something good to contribute to society. Probably after they pay their debts to society, but still... I don't want them dead.

But anyway, as long as we're clear on that point I'll continue with my point about their beautiful parents (and truly, the nexties? Beautiful. Excellent genes.) and their refusal to... to... to be freakin' parents! Look, I realize you want to protect your kids, but constantly making excuses for their behavior? Not cool, and not helping them. I loved how the first thing out of the mom's mouth was, well, obviously the little ones' followed the 13 year old's lead. Imagine her embarrassment when all the kids said, "Oh no, Mummy. We did it first. Then heee did it." Imagine my glee. Then imagine me looking at the 13 year old and biting my tongue. "Are you retarded?????" Ohh, I so wanted to say it. But then I've never met this boy before so he very well could have been and then that makes me the ass hole.

However, I will say that later that night after I'd called all the parents and used my teacher conference voice to explain our concern about the situation, that the 13 year old's dad walked him down the street and stood behind him while the boy apologized and offered to do whatever he could to make amends. Now that I can respect.

Oh, and he's not retarded.

*sigh*

Of course, the problem was more or "solved" when the concrete guys dumped a bunch of concrete in the water. Looks like we're getting our pool cleaned anyway.

*sigh* *again*

Mood: jus' fine
Listening to: Michael Buble's Home

So today the Bear and I went to the store to buy some ear drops and medicine because she says her ears hurt. I also bought some infant decongestant because I'm pretty sure Rosie's gonna come down with something soon. I dunno, she just seems off her feed lately. Then I decided that since I was there that I might as well buy some condoms. In the 8 months since Rosie's been alive we've gone through a dozen condoms. Well, 11 actually, as we were going to have sex yesterday and had everything in place so there would be minimal fumbling and then decided to nap instead. Best sex I never had. But anyway, I bought condoms and Meijer has this new thing at the self-scan where you demagnetize or whatever your items.

I swear I demagnetized the box of studded condoms.

MEEP! MEEP! MEEP!

Apparently not, huh? (And never you mind what going through a box of 12 condoms in 8 months says about my sex life. 2 of those months were off limits because of having given birth and one hellacious episiotome that rendered me a fartin' MACHINE! Also, J was gone nearly a month on business, so we're doing okay and I don't care if I sound defensive, I'm FINE with only have sex 11 times in 5 months. Fine I say.)

So, of course, rather than make a run for it like my inner shoplifter wanted I waited patiently while Hester the hearing impared Meijer docent went through my bag to find the magnetized item. She held the Dimetapp up to examine. Was it the Dimetapp? Nope. She squinted at the ear drops and gave them a shake. Nope, not those either. What could it be? The binder? Nope. The Ibuprophen? Nada. The bouncy ball I'd bought Rosie? Nyet.

"MUST BE THE STUDDED CONDOMS," Hester informed me. Loudly. In front of my 9 year old daughter and the patrons milling about. Most of whom I either taught or went to school with. 

She held them up to the shoplifting sensor. MEEP! MEEP! MEEP! Not that that would draw any more attention to me or my vanilla-kink bend or anything.

"YEP," she announced proudly. "IT'S THESE HERE LIFESTYLE CONDOMS WITH THE STUDS ON THEM THAT'S THE PROBLEM."

It was a Mr. Mom moment. "Herb, I need a price check on these ladies Stayfree Maxipad -" "-S'alright, Herb, really."

I think I need to re-evaluate my life. 11 condoms in 5 months, Mr. Mom (circa 1983) quote, open letters to Adam Ant? Yeah. It's bad.

 

**edited to clarify that now that I think about it, we've had some unprotected sex, too, so don't feel sorry for us. We're doin' jesssss fine. Awwww yeah.