Funk

I can't sleep. That's nothing new.

Maybe it's because we watched Juno earlier in the evening and it set me off emotionally, I'm not sure. (Great chick flick, by the way.) All I know is I'm in a funk and I just don't know what to make of it. My baby boy turned two years old last week and it's been a harsh reality check. Of course I'm delighted that he had a birthday and that he's even lived this long while having me as a parent! Do I get token coins and tickets for any of that? I think I should at least win a free game or two of skee-ball or somethin! I plan on blogging about his birthday party soon (since it was a really great time), but I'm currently a little overwhelmed with our vacation here in Boston, not to mention all of the pictures and video footage I still need to sift through.

I have so much I want to blog about, but I'm trying to force myself to be a little more analog these days. I suppose what really sticks to my brain will make it to my blog. Should be interesting to see what wins out in the process.

Anyhow, something is bugging me and I just need to get it off of my chest while I await the tylenol pm to friggin kick in already! (I'm going to be worthless in a few hours from now when we're supposed to think about going downtown.)

This time two years ago we were in the throws of the hell that is new parenthood. We had just come home from the hospital on the 4th of July after the alien invasion, also known as a Cesarean section, also known as, to most people besides me, giving birth. I would have settled for the anal probe, seriously, if I would have had a choice. Anything would have been better than a C-section. It sucked and I needed anti-depressants to deal with it all. Someday I'll write what I hope might be a therapeutic blog about that and hope to hell no one reads it for fear the human race will end and it will be all my fault because I blogged about where some babies comes from.

Speaking of which, I am now wishing I'd never stopped taking the anti-depressants. I keep telling myself that when we get back from traveling, I need to make an appointment with a shrinky dink. I can't stand feeling this way anymore and putting my poor, patient husband through it either.



I think it's separation anxiety. Maybe it's just anxiety. All I know is I'm messed up when it comes to being with my child these days. I know what is normal, I minored in psych for crying out loud (which is what I feel like doing lately.) But, like the dude in Juno said, well, sort of in this way "I know I'm prepared. I just don't know that I'm ready."

I don't know that I'm ready for my son to be a kid and not a baby anymore. I know I don't have a choice. My heart hurts when I think about him. When he's awake, I can't wait till it's time for him to sleep. When he's sleeping, I can't wait for him to wake up. And need me.

This is the part where all the other sane people go, "you're kidding me, right?!"

I just want him to need me. ME. Not anyone else.
ME.
M.O.M.
I just want to be needed. Hugged. Cuddled. Kissed.

Lately, only Daddy will do. Lucian could care less if I'm around. He cries in his sleep sometimes calling for his Dadda. He even signs Dadda in his sleep while calling for him. Whenever I try to comfort him, he wiggles away from me and wants Dadda. I can't blame him. I want his Dadda too. (for different reasons though)



I miss my baby boy. When he was born, everyone else got to hold him, meet him, touch him, bond with him, fall in love with him — all before I did. I am very very bitter about having to have a Cesarian. I have yet to forgive myself for going back to work full time for almost the first year of his life. I'll never get that time back and I spin my wheels trying to make up for it.



Sometimes I wonder if he doesn't want to be close to me because he feels I abandoned him. I know that's silly talk, but this is just one of the irrational thoughts in my head lately.

We've been in Boston visiting family this whole week and it's been a little torturous on the anxiety issue. My inlaws probably think I'm a major bitch right about now and probably can not wait till I leave. They would probably have a much easier time if it was just Nate and Lucian spending the time here. I'm certain I complicate everything, but they have no idea of the constant struggles I face mentally when it comes to being here with a young child for the first time. I think maybe this trip is beginning to highlight some things for me which I hope might help me to explain things better to a therpist in the near future.

Not sure if you know this or not, but Boston is a huge freakin city. There are crazy drivers in fast cars, major traffic, everything is high up and close together. There are lots of screechy trains and tracks and people. Lots of people.

In my irrational head: they are all out to get my child. Every time I have to push the stupid umbrella stroller that we borrowed from my sister over train tracks, I have a mini panic attack. I have these mini nightmares that the wheels get stuck just as the T train starts to approach us.

You don't know how close I was to making Nate take us to the nearest baby store and purchase an expensive Jeep stroller with big chunky wheels.

But, we are simple people and that just would not be practical for us, nor our budget. So I suffer and scream inside each time the wheels hit a snag in the road as we walk every-freakin-where in this huge city.

I now know why I've put on so much weight and can't seem to keep it off. My survival plan does not involve climbing three flights of stairs each any every time I want to enter my home. It also doesn't involve walking several blocks to get to a train and then walking several more blocks to go somewhere else, all while toting a child and a backpack filled with everything you might need for several hours out and about. It just doesn't and when I try to keep up with the fast-paced lifestyle here, I feel like a complete failure.

It doesn't help matters that Lucian wants nothing to do with me most times and then his aunt and uncle want to spend time with him and care for him the way THEY see best. Nevermind what I think should happen, my opinion doesn't matter here. I'm just the crazy woman who wants her child on a leash while waking into town so that he doesn't wiggle himself loose and dart out into traffic.

Anyhow, I guess the tylenol pm is starting to kick in because I've now sat here a couple of times watching the cursor blink.

Part of me thinks I may regret writing this post. The other part of me, the part that is finally getting tired, just doesn't give a rat's ass. Now if only I could be this mellow when leaving my child to go play at the park with another relative that isn't myself or his father, I think life would be a little kinder to me and my emotions.