that one day I’ll be able to get 8 straight hours of sleep again. That I’ll be able to sleep in and feel rested. This may be a pipe dream, but I still have hope.
I love my child, and I am thankful that most mornings he wakes up happy. He does so at 6:30am, but that’s not the problem. The problem is the two wake ups before the final up and at ’em that I have a hard time with. If I were different person I’d be ok with giving him teething tablets, kissing him on the forehead, and passing out face first. I don’t care what the bottle says, those tablets knock your kid out. It’s lovely….if they’re truly teething. I only give them to him if I can tell he really feels rotten, and the most obvious culprit is those mean old baby teeth.
God gave me a busy bee of a baby boy, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s a lively little character, which helps momma not worry about his metabolic disorder affecting him much. More sleep would help me keep up with him better though.
In all seriousness, the sleep thing has been a huge factor in my mood, and ability to cope. The postpartum was probably inevitable with my mental health history, vitamin D levels, and the hormones, but add lack of sleep and it exponentially grows. Most of the early days after his birth I don’t remember. Sweet little bugger, but very draining.
It’s very hard to take care of yourself while caring for a very defenseless baby, or super busy toddler. Either way, as my therapist says “mother’s cupboard is bare” at times. This is one of those times, and I’m feeling very rough. I don’t wear makeup most days, and I may or may not fix my hair while sitting at my desk at work. I am off today, and it’s harder to put myself together today than it is usually. I haven’t had a pedicure in months, and my feet look horrible. Breakfast today was a Belvita, goldfish crackers and a Popsicle. Ridiculous. I need him to take a morning nap!!!
Mission accomplished-little man is out, momma had a 20 minute power nap and now I’m watching Food Network. When dada is home ESPN is constantly on so I gotta take advantage while I can.
I should be doing a Jillian Michaels DVD or something but I literally have zero energy and motivation at the moment. I asked my hubby the other day if my flabby ass turned him on and he just scowled and shook his head like I was being a little crazy. This is the heaviest I’ve ever been, and I wish I was not only in a better mental space but a better health place. It’s not about my skinny jeans, or being able to wear a bikini, it’s about being comfortable in my own skin. When I’m heavier, my joints hurt more, my back aches, my feet ache…you get it. My body isn’t healthy. I’m not too bad off, according to healthy BMI ratios I need to lose about 35, but again…I don’t feel great. I will say this, regardless of the number on the scale, my body has taken on a different shape. It’s like pregnancy rearranged the furniture for me and I’m still getting used to bumping into the coffee table. My girls will never be the same…not without surgery. I’m not into pain regardless of why so I’ll pass on that option. I look in the mirror often and try to remember my younger, pre-pregnancy body shape. Makes me tear up every time because I don’t have an attachment to this body like I did the old one. I look at it with a passive air and ask myself “who is that? Do I know her?”.
My genes aren’t in my favor. I love my mother with my whole heart and when she passes I pray God will give me enough strength to pull myself out of my dark closet of grief. She is my mentor, and my strength, and I hate to think of her getting old and feeble and passing away. Despite my extreme love for her, or maybe because of it, I can “say” this….she gave up on herself a long time ago. You can see it in how she carries herself, what she wears, and yes…my mother is very heavy.
My heart aches as I type this…but I want to know what happened? I’ve seen her younger pictures, I know she used to go do more things, and laugh more often and dress like she still felt sexy. Where did that go? How do I help her find it again? How do I avoid falling down that far? Was it the exhaustion and stress of being a mom? Was it all of the energy that she put into us and let herself come last one too many times? I see the embarrassment in her eyes when we clothes shop, or she doesn’t fit somewhere out in public, like a restaurant table. Just thinking about it now makes me hurt for her.
As I sob while typing this I cry for her, I cry for me, and I cry for things that are lost or broken and may never be found or fixed again.
Do we lose part of ourselves with every child we birth? I can tell you I feel like a totally different person, and I am not sure that is how it should go.
My mom wants me to do weight watchers with her. It’s the only thing that has ever worked for her. I can’t tell you why I’m resisting. Time? Money? Pride? I have no good excuse so inevitably I will. I hate the counting and constant measuring of everything you put in your mouth, but I’ll do it for her.
Dinner tonight is grilled steak, and fruit and veggies. No recipe because I don’t usually take the time to marinate my steaks. I’m lucky if I remember to defrost them in time, marinade would require more brain power than I have most mornings. Remember….not on my game till about noon. Taco soup for a fund raiser tomorrow, but that recipe can wait…till tomorrow.
Happy Thursday all! My bundle of busy should be up any minute, and he’s going to be huuuungry!