It's Been a Thousand Years

... or at least it feels like it. In any case, it's time for an update.

The monster is 2 years, 8 months today, the hobgoblin just passed 12 weeks. They both continue to be wonderful.

Monster, despite his total refusal to eat just about everything, keeps on growing and seems pretty healthy. He continues to amaze us with things like being able to name all 50+ of his toy cars, using words like similar correctly and trying to learn everything about everything (most recently, studying world maps and asking where places are). His newest obsession is knowing why printed words say what they do, which makes every bedtime book take about 1000x longer, because knowing what it says isn't enough, he has to see where and how each word is spelled. The result of this is that he decoded his first word. He has quite a few sight words, but this was the first one he actually sounded out. He also taught himself to count to 10 in French, because why not?
 
He's really taken to his new role as a big brother, and is really protective of the hobgoblin. If we call the goblin any disparaging or silly nicknames (ie: Stink-butt) we are emphatically told "He is NOT an Stink-Butt; he is an hobgoblin"). The monster is slowly allowing some leeway, but mostly we're expected to refer to the goblin by his full name or one approved (and common, not at all silly) nickname. As is proper for a big brother, he doesn't feel these rules apply to him, so he is allowed to call his brother "Poop."

The Hobgoblin's personality has really come out to shine. He's pretty laid back and easy going, and really only cries if he's wet, dirty, hungry or gassy. He likes to be held and snuggled, but he doesn't mind being put down for long chunks of time, which is a lifesaver with two. He's very vocal and loves to laugh and smile, and getting a smile and a coo out of him is as easy as offering him one first. He's also a giant (but no longer in the 95th percentile), now wearing mostly 6 month clothes and the stuff that's on the bigger side of 3-6. If he keeps up like this, I think he'll end up taller than the monster, when all is said and done.

Me, I'm not doing great.

After 3 trips to the ER, I ended up having emergency surgery to have my gallbladder removed. That was a few weeks ago and I'm pretty much physically recovered. The process dicked up breastfeeding for a bit and I hated being away from my kids, pumping and dumping because of painkillers and everything else that went along with it. Mr. Wolfman was a rockstar and carried everyone through (though I'm pretty sure neither boy got a bath the entire time I was in the hospital).

At the hobgoblin's 2 month well-check, I did the questionnaire for PPD screening and scored pretty high. I need to pull myself together and go through the mental health intake process today, because I don't want it to get out of hand like last time. I just feel run down and panicky all the time. Basically anything beyond sitting still and doing nothing is immensely stressful for me. Basic things, like the boys' baths, are starting to slide. I have to fight back tears over minor, ridiculous things. Yesterday, Mr. Wolfman made a special trip to the store to get me something I wanted. He also got cookies for himself, and I started to get upset because I couldn't eat the cookies (due to an allergy, Mr. Wolfman wasn't being greedy). I felt actually betrayed that he'd get cookies I couldn't eat. And then, of course, I felt like a ungrateful child, getting whiney and upset because him taking the time to go out and get me exactly what I asked for was somehow negated by him not also getting me something that I hadn't asked for. And then the supreme guilt started to creep in, which I think is the backbone of PPD and PPA. I just constantly feel like I'm not doing enough, or like what I do is wrong, like my kids are suffering, my marriage is suffering, my mental health is suffering, my future is non-existant, I'm going nowhere and it's all my fault. Guilt, and a constant feeling of being overwhelmed, of not being able to cope, of not being good enough.

Mr. Wolfman seems to have a better understanding of what's going on this time. If I'm honest, I think me being stuck in the hospital and our first attempt at an extended family outing opened his eyes to a lot of what I do day-to-day and how incredibly stressful it can be, even without ppd/ppa hanging over my head.

The hobgoblin needs something. A mummy's work is never done.

Extract Foot, Insert Humble Pie

This has been a long time coming.

I grew up with two parents who worked* and whether intentionally or not, they instilled in me a disdain for mothers who opted to stay at home.  When I was younger, I would use derogatory terms for them, like Suzy Homemaker and swear I'd never be one. I needed more from my life.

When my sister had her first, and became a stay at home mom, I was shocked by how messy her house always was, how she could spend days playing video games instead of doing fun activities with her daughter, how sometimes dinner didn't get on the table until 8:00pm.  Taking care of her house and child was all she had to do, after all.

Frankly, I didn't know what the fuck I was talking about - and neither does anyone else who's never been a stay at home parent.

It's hard to put into words the sheer emotional drain that's caused by being needed every second of every day, of waking up one morning and realizing that you're actually looking forward to taking a poo that afternoon, because it is the only time you'll get to yourself.  Of knowing that, no matter how drained you are, how little sleep you've had in the past week (or, let's be realistic, year), no matter how much you just want to curl into a ball and do nothing for, like, ten seconds, you need to buck up, suck it up and bring your A Game, Princess. Of knowing that this is your life, now and forever, no backsies.

Not that I want to take it back.  I love my son, and I'm so, so glad that I get to witness his milestones as they happen, and cherish those quiet moments that are completely insignificant to everyone outside of my family, rather than having them disappear into history unobserved.  Right now, my monster is asleep in my lap, 99% calm, 1% sensing my agitation, but comfortable, content, and loved.  My Dr. Pepper is getting flat and warm out of reach, and there's stuff I need to do around the house, but I'm the luckiest Mum alive, and I know it.

Today, Mr. Wolfman let me nap while he cleaned the kitchen.  A gold star moment, one would think. I got up and told him thank you for the glorious nap.  He told me he doesn't know what I'm doing all day, the baby was paying quietly and he managed to get the whole kitchen clean. He can't even understand where the mess on the counter came from**.  It felt like I got punched in the gut. May as well tattoo inadequate on my forehead right now.

Yes, I'm mad at him. Yes, I've told him.  But I can't work up the red hot ire that's become part of my day-to-day the past few months, for a couple of reasons. 1) I don't have the energy and 2) He doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about. Oh, the baby was good for you for a whole hour and you got the kitchen clean? La-dee-frickin'-da. Now try not having a full night's sleep in over a year, spending months not being able to walk properly, give up half-your caloric intake to someone else and while you're at it, scrape some teeth across your tender nipples like ten times a day, and then clean the fucking kitchen.

Pity partying and ranting aside, it got me to thinking about how judgmental and ridiculous I was before having the monster and how completely ignorant I was about stay at home parenting. So I'd like to take a moment to sincerely apologize to every stay-at-home parent who I secretly judged, thinking that they had it easy, thinking that I had it harder as a working singleton.  Please forgive me; I knew not what I did.

Honestly, I feel like being a working parent would be easier in a lot of ways, but in no way can you quote me on that; I'm done with making assumptions and talking out my ass.

*My mom was and has always been a huge workaholic, my dad has always worked long shifts to make ends meet.

**Um, that would be from cooking pasta sauce from scratch at your request, only to have you order takeout, decide to eat it later, then not eat it later, as well as cooking a separate batch for the monster without salt or onions, only to have him throw it all over the floor the second it was placed in front of him, thankyouverymuch.

Ok, so she's a therapist...

... and I had to cancel my last appointment.

Mr. Wolfman has decided to work 2 jobs again this summer, despite the fact that I made it pretty clear I'd rather he didn't. Again.  I mean, he can obviously make his own decisions about what he does with his time, but, as I pointed out to him, he's also deciding what I'm going to do with my time, because now I'm 100% responsible for the monster, 100% of the time.

Plus 100% of the housework (although Mr. Wolfman did clean on his singular day off, so I just have to maintain the status quo).

This is a wonderful (not quite) paradox.  The more Mr. Wolfman works, the more stressed I get, the more moments of anger and anxiety I feel, the more I need therapy.  But, the more he works, the less time I have for therapy.  He only has one day off (not my regular appointment day) and everything non-work-related or that needs a car, needs to be done that day.  Woo fucking hoo. Still, I'm going to call and see if I can move my appointment to that day.

On top of missing out on therapy, the farmer's market which I've been looking forward to all winter is now a no-go, because even though Wolfman has that day off, it's (as above) his only day off.  And even if I wanted to be mean and tell him, too bad, you can spend 5 hours looking after the monster that day, I can't because I have no time to make anything to sell, no time to pump, no time for anything.

We'd also planned on being really outdoorsy this summer, going hiking and such. Yeah, no.  Looks like I just get to push the monster around town in the stroller and occasionally go to the park.

Ok, this is getting a little woe-is-me, so I'm going to cut myself off before I launch into the rant about not being able to drive anywhere... ugh.

Guess I didn't knock hard enough?

So, the monster is back to refusing solids.  He's not gagging on them, but he's not keen on eating them either.

The good news is, I saw Dr. Illegible yesterday for something unrelated and asked him about it, and he says it's totally fine.  We should, it seems, take the lead from him and let him eat what he wants and not worry about it.  So yay.

Also, we did finally get a pool for the monster, which he LOVES.  It's just one of the little inflatable ones, but he loves to splash around in it.  It's a whole event for him.  It has a little sunshade, and we put water that's a bit warm in it, so it's not like icy hose water, but not warm like bathwater either.  Of course, after one swim, the weather turned gross, but I think it's going to be a long summer.  In the winter, we might deflate it, or I might buy a bunch of ball pit balls and bring it into the living room.  I guess we'll see.

I'm in a pretty decent mood, so the post about how my mom decided to Skype me and then invite my cut-off cousin, who'd never seen my LO, to come upstairs and say hi to me - will have to wait for another day.

Solids!

So.  My (not-so)little monster, who has two teeth and weighs in at over 20lbs, started solids yesterday.  He was nursing every half hour, and what with the current teeth and teething again, my poor boobs needed a break.  He's been showing all the signs of being ready for a few weeks, so Mr. Wolfman and I decided it was time.

We started with carrots and it was a huge success.  The monster gobbled them up like they were going out of style, and since then, he's been eyeing (and occasionally trying to grab) everything on our plates. He's not a big fan of his sippy cup, but I guess we'll get there.

I know iron-rich foods are recommended, but the list of suggestions is just ridiculous. Eggs, which you can't puree once cooked.  Tofu.  Various grains that, while unlikely to cause an allergic reaction, if they do, it'll be a bad one.  And then there's tapioca starch in the Gerber oat cereal I found.  As in deadly-if-improperly-cooked. No thanks.  I bought Heinz oatmeal cereal, which is iron rich, but even that has milk and potentially contains wheat flour. That'll be his very-closely-watched second food, but for a few days at least, it'll just be carrots and breast milk.

Also, pumping is impossible, it takes forever, I get next to nothing, and the little monster is having a bit of trouble figuring out how to use a bottle, since he's never really had to before.  No idea what to do, because I'm not sure I can stand six more months of breastfeeding.

Oh well, not going to worry about that right this second.  We videoed his entire first-food experience and he's a super cute and happy baby, so I guess we'll focus on that for a while :)