Cabin Fever

You know you need a break from motherhood when you are looking forward to a morning at the hospital getting an endo/colonoscopy. Lying in the bed with an IV in my arm, I smiled at the quietness of it all. Once the sedatives kicked in, I didn't remember a thing. Ahhh, I finally got the nap I have been fantasizing about!

Between the plague-like illness we endured and the laughable amounts of snow we have been getting, we have barely left the house in 2 weeks. I am contemplating a trip to the grocery store, simply for some adult company.

I swear the fever Sprout had for five days fried her brain and threw her into a regressive state. She has backtracked to shouting at me, being ultra picky about what she eats, and assumed a generally ornery disposition. Hmmmm maybe she is reflecting back what she is getting from me.

These 2 weeks have been the ultimate test in patience. I find myself snapping on a daily basis...breathe! I think I see a light at the end of the tunnel...oh yeah it is supposed to snow again next week. Maybe instead of the grocery store I will venture out to the liquor store instead.

SIckness Hell

Okay, so we are working on Day 4, I think, of this miserable cold that has been going around. The first 2 days are beginning to look like heaven. There was the blissful silence of a high fever. We have officially entered the whining day. Apparently the fever has incinerated the ability to form words and has left in its wake a guttural moan relating to caveman speak. "Are you Hungry?", "Ehhhhauhhhuhhhhehhhhh"

I find myself, instead of trying to comfort the ailing child, wanting to launch myself out the window. Maybe it is the hunger pains rippling through my gut as I am forced to keep a clear liquid diet for the next 24 hours in order to prepare for what I am sure will be a wonderful experience with the gastroenterologist.

UNCLE!

Clarity

My husband often wonders why I watch so much crap on TV. It occurred to me recently that I look forward to this media madness almost daily and I figured out why. Everyday from the moment that I am brutally awakened by a high pitch yet angelic voice until the moment the same voice ceases in the evening, I am constantly worried about the weight of my words, the tone of my voice, and the scars I may be producing on my offspring. Did I give that issue enough weight of importance, did I give too much to that one. Have I caused permanent damage. WILL I GET SOME TIME TO MYSELF!!!!

These are the questions I ask myself daily and that is with ONE child.As I contemplate the second, and consider my husband's mother, who had 12 herself, I wonder do I possess enough to give to them all and still have anything left for myself?

Musings for the New Year

I chose to be a mother and I feel that I had a pretty realistic outlook about what it entailed. At the beginning, a lack of sleep, feeling like a lactation machine, joy, frustration, surprise and incredible milestones. As I find myself in the preschool years, I feel as though maybe I was short-sighted.

I will preface all that is said from this point on with the following statement: I LOVE MY DAUGHTER MORE THAN ANYONE OR ANYTHING ON THIS PLANET.

I realized that there would be sacrifices of time, space and self. I was unprepared for it to be all encompassing. As a self-proclaimed night owl, affectionately challenge, space loving person, with a mildly addictive personality, I struggle with the constant chatter, albeit cute, incessant. The total invasion of personal space is getting me down. Does anyone else have a daughter that is perpetually touching their nipples? Using your body as a wonderland? Okay if it was John Maher, I would go for it, but seriously, Sprout, PERSONAL SPACE.

My mom has always told me to never wish any phase away, as it all goes by so quickly, but somehow I feel that I can offer so much more when the problems go beyond having water on your shirt, or the wrong shaped noodles. Got a boy in your life being an a-hole, we'll talk. Unsure of what to wear, call your Aunt Shannon or Tara.

Oh yeah, by the way, I stay at home with a 4 year old, and I watch my brother's 16 month old kid 4 days a week, about 10 hours a day. I envy, sometimes, my working friends. Most of them get to have adult conversations AND go to the bathroom alone. They savor the moments they get to spend in their own home, shower regularly, enjoy adult conversation. But do they miss milestones? Do the nuances of everyday life escape them? Are they more rounded because of it? How most of us never get to experience the other person's shoes, maybe this is a way to relate.

OK enough with the bitching, although you may see this as a common thread throughout future blogs, be it known that my purpose is twofold. One purpose selfish and the other as sort of a public service announcement. I need to talk about things, much to my husband's chagrin. I will try and keep him out of it as much as possible. But I find, as a lifelong journalist, in that I keep journals, not that I am out reporting for National Geographic, that I go a little nutty if I don't express myself. I also believe that I cannot be the only one that feels this way. Some people may think it taboo to make motherhood out to be anything other than a blessing, which quite often it is, I just feel that that is not reality. So I hope to offer others a place to bitch and moan at will. It is reassuring not to be alone.

Wishing everyone a happy and healthy New Year. I'll let you know the results of my colonoscopy next week. Haha, always too much information. xoxox Dani