And Now a Happy Post

The Little Monster just had his 9 month birthday.  He was actually in for 40+5, so he still hasn't quite been out in the world for as long as he was baking, but still.  Need to fill out his baby book for this month (have to add that to the long ass list on my fridge).

Anyway, where he is now.

He's 29.5 inches tall, and despite our bathroom scale being a huge liar and saying he's 25lbs, he's actually only 21.  He's dropped to the 60th percentile for weight and Doc says that's great, as he was a little overweight while getting ready for his last growth spurt.  Still not really eating solids.  He has 8 or 9 (or maybe 10) teeth, and given that and his size, looks older than he is.

He's taken a few (I think a total of 7-8 in his whole life) completely unassisted steps, and I suspect the only thing really holding him back now is that he's not confident with walking yet.  He can crawl really fast. He also pulls up on everything, and can climb on top of stuff (he recently pushed his push-toy over to the baby gate so he could stand on it in an attempt to climb over).  He's also pointing, waving and playing peek-a-boo.

Mostly, this monster is a super bubbly, excitable little monkey.  He babbles constantly, laughs easily and has a ridiculous sense of humour, which is so delightful and I hope he will never lose (being hit in the face with a cushion accompanied by the word "Bleb" is hilarious; having his feet sniffed is hilarious; smacking the shit out of the computer keyboard while being told "no" in a stern voice is the funniest, best thing in the entire world; hitting people in the face with water bottles is also highly entertaining)

That's not everything, but I think it's enough of an update for now, without getting overly specific.  Anyway, I think I'm in love.

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.

Counselor? Therapist? Who Knows?

So, I'm not sure what the professional qualifications of the woman I saw are.  But she works out of the mental health office in the hospital, so I'm going to assume she knows what she's talking about.  I see her again this week, and then every two weeks going forward - although I'm already getting anxious about this cutting into family time.

She was exactly what you'd expect, down to the leggings and long, flowing shirt, necklace tied in a knot.  Like out of a movie.  The first thing she asked me was how do you feel about being here.

But, despite initially seeming like a caricature of a therapist, and the strong feeling that she was going to produce healing crystals at some point, on talking to her, she is actually pretty down to earth.  She started out very softly, but I think once she realized I'm not scared or overly fragile, she adjusted her approach and we just talked.

So it was all very good, and I think it will be good to see her again.  I've had a couple more angry spells, but (I think) I did a good job of not showing my anger to the monster.  I didn't yell or say anything mean.  Outwardly, it was more like frustration, even though inside, I was raging - though still not as bad as last time.

I still haven't set anything up with Dr. Illegible.  I think I'm going to wait until I get my bloodwork done.

Mr. Wolfman is great, but I don't really think he understands any of this.  And even though he does a tonne around the house, he seems to feel like I'm not doing enough. - and he really isn't getting it when I tell him I'm doing everything I can.  I was hoping that my going to see someone would make him realize how serious this is, but alas.

I think that's it.  the monster is back to waking up all the bloody time, and I am TIRED.  But, I'm going to walk into town, buy some household stuff, and if I feel like treating myself (I do) a pinwheel for the garden.

PPD? & Online Support

My birth board isn't a support group - but boy do they know how to act like one.

I posted on there, because I've finally come to the conclusion that I'm probably suffering from PPD or PPA and I need help.

Yesterday, I got incredibly angry at the little monster for no reason.  Like, wanting to hit something, fists clenching into balls angry.  I shouted at him.  He didn't cry.  I would have broken down and sobbed if he had, but in a way it made it worse, him being all small and stoic.

This wasn't the first time I'd gotten so angry, and there have been more crying-for-no-reason spells than I can count.  A lot of the time I'm great.  Happy and in a good mood and loving being at home with the monster.  And a lot of the time, I'm this other person, who gets angry and snaps at her baby for no reason, the bitch I give dirty looks to when I see her in Walmart.

So, I posted on my birth board, and driven by their words of support and encouragement, I promised to call today to set up an appointment to deal with this.  And I did.  My appointment is on Thursday, and I'm hoping it'll be the start of getting me sorted out.

I need to set something up with Dr. Illegible as well, which I don't want to do, because I have this irrational feeling that he'll be disappointed in me and I don't want him to worry about the monster.  He seems to genuinely care about the monster, and is always remarking on how beautiful he is and telling me to enjoy him.  Small town and a fair number of Docs, so he may not have any other patients who are babies.  Anyway, there's a chance this could be related to my thyroid as well, so seeing Illegible is a must.

I think that's it for now. I'm in a pretty good place at the moment.  Going to fill up the splash pool for the monster, if the weather holds.

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.

Genius Baby Part Eek: Pointing

The monster recently figured out how to point.  Mainly, he just points at everything, not as an indication of wanting it or showing it off, more just like, hey look, I can point at stuff.

Or so I thought.

My MIL sent the monster a bunch of books recently, most of which are in Mr. Wolfman's native language (we have an agreement that I don't speak to the monster in said language, so I don't eff up his accent, grammar, etc.) and one of which has no words, just pictures.  The monster loves this book.  Mr. Wolfman "reads" it to him in his native language, showing him all the pictures and talking about them, and I "read" it to him in English.

Yesterday, Mr. Wolfman starts asking the monster, Where is the whale? Where is the duck? and so on and the monster actually STARTED POINTING.  Maybe this is totally normal, but I reserve the right to be amazed.  So I started going through the book with him in English, asking him to point to different pictures, and HE BLOODY DID.  So, even still only saying 3 words, my little monster understands two languages and recognizes all the pictures in his little book.  I am thoroughly amazed.

Also, knocking some serious wood, but the monster is eating solids again!  I got it into my head to give him pears a couple days ago and he loved them, so yesterday I tried pears and carrots and he was a huge fan.  Since he's either refused or gagged on everything I've given him since Easter (cucumber even made him vomit :( ), I'm pretty excited about this.  Hopefully today we'll get him a little pool for the summer and all will be right as rain :D

Wooden Spoon

So I came across this ridiculous blog post this morning.  It seems to be a spin off from another ridiculous blog post, in which I can only gather that the author talked positively about being disciplined with a wooden spoon.

http://addins.kwwl.com/blogs/anchormom/2015/04/the-entitlement-generation

^ This particular little gem starts with the author laughing at someone for stating the obvious:

“If your parents had to use a wooden spoon on you, then they clearly didn’t know how to parent you.” 

I've posted the link, but you don't really need to read the article.  It's essentially the same as all such articles: Mlah, mlah, my parents taught me respect, mlah, mlah, no talking back, mlah, mlah, slaps-to-the-face and soap in the mouth, mlah, mlah, wooden spoon, mlah, mlah, well rounded, mlah, mlah, still get along great with my parents. It even includes the bonus, optionals: I raise my kids the same way. and this is why kids these days are so entitled.

Great.  Way to keep the cycle of violence going.  It, of course, blames a lack of discipline for society's entitled youth, lumping together irresponsible parenting, like not hitting your kids with things like participation trophies and never giving failing grades.  Time outs fall in there somewhere as well.  Hit your kids, damn it.  Because, you know, you do a disservice to your kids by not hitting them.

Here is my take (I know, first time mum of a baby, I can't possibly have opinions):  Kids and young adults these days are horribly entitled and annoying.  I think this does stem from parents being too permissive and society awarding mediocrity.  I also think this issue is wholly separate from physical discipline.

I also think that the type of people who spout this hit your kids nonsense (It's not abuse, it's discipline! Waaah) probably got hit themselves and to admit that there was something fucked up in that, is to admit that their parents are fucked up, and to realize that your parents and childhood weren't what they seemed can really shake someone up.  It's easier to keep up the fantasy that your parents were the best parents and that your childhood was great, with the minor caveat "My parents weren't perfect, but..."

The comments section of the article is especially telling.  From the writing style, a bunch of 50+ people, talking about how great their lives are because of their parents' discipline. Most of the comments have glaring grammar errors and none provide any evidence that physical discipline did anything positive for them - apart from their own declaration of being well-rounded.

My favourite:

I loved your comment that your neighbor was part of your “disciplining group”. In my home we knew to “mind” our neighbors too. I knew if Mr and Mrs Faulkner said, “mary,put that rock down and do not throw another one”, thatI had better not touch another one. The Faulkners were our neighbors and their daughter. Margie, was my good friend. The Faulkners were black and we were white. But I knew i knew my parents would skin me alive had i not done as the FAulkners told me. Their children would have minded my parents as well. To have sassed them would never have crossed my mind. Oh, that we could be like that today in our neighborhoods. 

Reasons why this person is old: Her friend's name is Margie.  She feels like we need to know her neighbours' name.  She uses "mind" instead of "listen to".  She uses the word "sassed".

Reasons why this person is ridiculous in her dotage: She feels like we need to know the ethnicity of her neighbours, followed by the word but.  They were black, but she still had to listen to them, even though she's white.  Yeeeeeah....

These are the type of people who always come out of the woodwork when an corporal punishment debate gets going.

So here's the thing.  I don't plan on giving my son participation trophies or yelling at his teachers if he does poorly in school.  I do plan on telling him no. I plan on teaching him that actions have consequences. I also plan on teaching him respect by being respectful - to him, to myself, to my husband.

I plan on teaching him that hitting is almost never appropriate, and having the ability to physically intimidate someone doesn't give you the right to - and that if anyone ever lays a hand on him, he has the right to defend himself, and if he needs me to, I'll step in and defend him too.  I plan on teaching him that reasonable adults don't hit - and that his Dad and I are reasonable adults.

And since these arguments always come down to anecdotal evidence (why would we want to listen to actual professionals, after all?), here's mine:

I was never hit as a child.  I was never physically disciplined in any way.  I never smoked, used drugs, got pregnant before I was ready, got in fights or got into any major trouble of any kind.  I only occasionally cut class, and I to this day am polite and respectful to everyone, unless they give me cause not to be.

I know a girl who had loving parents, but was spanked as a child.  She got heavily into booze and pot for a bit, got pregnant as a teen from a one night stand and ended up losing her 4 kids. And just as her story doesn't prove the negative effects of physical discipline, claiming that you're well rounded doesn't prove that it's harmless, either.