Adieu

The time has finally arrived. Vacation is here. I will officially be unblogging until my return on Sunday, August 21st. I hope to return somewhat relaxed and less stressed, ready to begin the school year with much gusto.

A fond adieu until I return.

Flat

I think Genny must have had leftover doctor bad vibes today because she was a little crank-meister. She may in fact have been feeling a bit yucho from the shots and she appears to be getting her two eyeteeth in. She was fine for my friend who babysat while I went to work, but once I got home, she wouldn’t nap and was screaming and crying nonstop for many moons, or so it felt.

I seem to have pulled a muscle or twisted something in my upper back/right shoulder type of area. I can barely turn my head to the right. It happened last month, too, but then healed quickly. I don’t even recall tweaking it at all.

That’s it. I don’t know. I just feel kind of flat emotionally tonight. Neither here nor there. I need to stretch out again and see if I can work out some of this pain. It’s amazing how pain can stop our entire ability to function at times and then at other times, we can snow plow through physical, emotional and spiritual pain. Maybe mine is a whole combo situation right now—stress from different areas nudging the others over the edge.

21 Pounds, Give or Take

Off the high of yesterday’s good mood—today I splatted like a bug against the windshield of a semi-truck. I watched in horror as it happened, the truck’s window nearing my face and I powerless to stop it.

It all began when Genny wouldn’t take a morning nap and for some reason I found myself in the middle of a coma like need for sleep. Genny pooped all over her own foot thanks to a misaligned diaper. Then her afternoon nap, which should have been miraculously long turned out to last only forty minutes.

Then Genny and I needed to travel into the city for her doctor’s appointment (yes, her year-old one, and yes, she’s well into her fourteenth month). We were lucky enough to encounter not one, but two un-air-conditioned trains. We waited at the bank for twenty minutes to take care of some business and finally gave up and left when Genny’s cries were drowning out the muzak. Not to mention that while we waited, a gussied-up blonde sat next to us looking all lovely, wearing heels and a mini and I felt like one of those, dare I say it, moms, slumping in her old shorts, tee and unwashed hair. Yes, I cursed her quietly. I felt like screaming to the world, “I look that good, too! Just give me a couple of hours in a salon and spa, buy me a new wardrobe and hire me a nanny and I’ll outshine you anytime!”

Then a doctor’s visit for Genny where three needles were popped into her tasty little thighs. She’s wonderfully healthy, 21 pounds and either 2 or 12 ounces, unsure of which (bad mom syndrome again).

So, that’s the day. And now day is done.

Caffiene

Nick made a good suggestion on how to handle my days with Genevieve, which seemed to work pretty well today. I imagined taking care of Gen as my “job” and she as my boss whom I was responsible to. My main focus when I was with her was taking care of her, playing and learning. I looked at any few moments I could spare toward my own endeavors as a bonus. And she wasn’t such a tough boss today.

I discovered my tolerance level for caffeine. My new theory was that I would begin to allow myself a little bit each day to help fight off the fatigue I’ve been feeling. Well, a Dunkin’ Donuts Turtle Nut Latte, a homemade coffee concoction and a Starbucks decaf mint mocha chip Frappucino is too much. Lesson learned—I developed an ocular migraine with a throbbing in my left eye socket like someone was drilling.

I somehow managed to wash my system out with lots of water and was able to make it to my now weekly new yoga client. I still have more work to do tonight, so I better make this closing quick and snappy, like—may all the babies all over the world sleep well tonight.

Taking Out the Trash

I think Genny must have been sensing how stressed I’ve been because she actually took two good naps today. I took a half an hour nap in the morning and then got the laundry and some writing done in the afternoon.

I was still pretty edgy with Gen when she threw all her food on the floor, but I just ended the meals as soon as the food started flying. By dinnertime she must have been pretty hungry because she ate a full jar of chicken dices, and four big crackers dunked in pear yogurt.

The rest of the day was pretty much a taking out the trash type of day. We went to the Jackson Heights Parent’s Group in the morning where Genny crawled all over the dirty church floor with four other toddlers. We did the grocery shopping and went to the playground.

I didn’t find any good trash though. I’ve been getting lucky of late: I found a Chinese screen, an almost brand new baby walker, and a two-wheel bike for Genny. I am the queen of garbage picking, of course, I don’t know if I should really be bragging on about that.

My mood seems to be equalizing a bit. Hopefully, next week’s vacation will ease my soul. That’s it for tonight.

The Me in Mommy

What is it with babies and mornings? What is it with babies and wanting to cling to mommies all the time? What is it with sharp little finger and toenails that can slice like those magic knives they used to advertise as cutting through tin cans?

It is a day for questions. Answers are not so readily available. I feel as though I am floating through reality and time—neither here and now nor there and later. I am like a guppy being tossed through a turbulent river that twists and winds and has no foreseeable end, at least not for eighteen years.

I am a mommy. That is who I am. There seems to be no way to deny it or step around it. There is no dance that will alleviate the fact. I am a mommy. And as my therapist pointed out, there’s no “me” in “mommy” (although there is a “me” sound, so maybe that should count for something). Maybe somehow someone (whoever decides on how all these mommy things work) should work in some non-mommy time for mommy.

Baby could wave “bye-bye” as she evaporates into thin air to be babysat by whomever that someone is who could do such a thing as to create a creature that never wants to give mom a break. That mom would laugh and wave bye, too. She would not worry, knowing her little darling rested easily and gently under the most watchful eyes.

And what would mom do? After the shock of having one free moment for her own brain and soul wore off, she would rip off all her clothes and luxuriate in a warm bubble bath. She would skip off to Starbucks with her pen and paper in hand and find the big comfy chair by the window reserved for her. Free-flowing Frappucinos would be pumped into her veins. A most contented buzz would well up in the pit of her throat as she felt her face relax for the first time since baby had been born.

Later that day, baby would be returned with a clean diaper and jammies on. She would be resting peacefully in her crib. She would sleep until seven in the morning the next day. And the “me” would be back in mommy.

The Game of Life?

Today was most definitely a mom on the edge day. I’m thinking my whole system is out of whack after running out of my antidepressants. I’m hoping that this glimpse back into my moody dark side is not my true self, but only a momentary squelch in my mental chemistry.

Genevieve was determined (okay, she wasn’t determined, she’s a baby) to make me swear and scream and generally freak out all day. We went to Grandpa Nick’s in New Jersey and she wouldn’t take an afternoon nap and was just screaming and crying and complaining. It got to the point where I found myself crouched and huddled against the wall while she just carried on.

I felt as though I could not take it for another moment. I distinctly did not like her. I absolutely didn’t like myself for feeling so full of rage and annoyance at her. I began thinking all kinds of silly thoughts—from understanding why it would be easier (and a great way to kill my soul completely) to just be a stay at home mom with no job and no school. It’s when I set my sights to larger goals of writing and being creative that I can then get so knocked down when I have no time or energy or sanity left to do those things.

It is days like today when I feel like curling up into a ball under the covers and giving up. I feel as though I will never be able to achieve while I am dredged down in this state of mind. I need a lift. I need a shift in perception. I need to have some small part of myself back again.

I feel trapped in this mom game and my last battleship has just been hit and I’m afraid I’m about to hear myself say, “You sunk my battleship.”

Stressed

“That makes Mommy sad when you throw food on the floor.”

I keep seeing Genny strapped into her highchair, her chin falling down toward her chest as she repeatedly says, “blah, blah, blah”. Smushed orange carrots and sweet potatoes stain the white wall. Blueberry mush and biscuit crumbs slobbered up with some milk all tangle together on her tray as she slides and sloshes her fingers through the mess. Almost as an afterthought, she reaches her hand up to her hair and gives it a twirl, eyeing me to see my reaction.

“That makes Mommy mad. I don’t like that.”

Yet I offer her more foods in different varieties because she’s not been eating a lot lately. I feel myself losing it, food bit by food bit. My anger is slipping out at her. I am getting frustrated with a fourteen-month old.

Thank goodness that when Nick comes home he comes baring my antidepressant prescription from Caremark. It’s been two days since I ran out. My mind must have been going through some cold turkey type withdrawal.

I’ve calmed down a bit, but of course, the baby is sleeping. I get annoyed with myself for not handling my emotions better. I get envious of all the other patient moms I see on the sidewalks with two or even three kids in tow who seem relaxed and fine. Meanwhile, my one little girly girl of a child pushes me to using profanities just because she refuses to eat.

The Heat

I’m thinking I need to have a larger goal with my blog writing. Should I be more focused? Should I only write about my life as a mother? Or as a former stripper? Or as a writer? And already I think I should just continue on as I have been.

The heat today was the kind of hot where you walk and you feel the sweat smack you in the face from the air around you. I found myself being quite cranky right along with Genny. We drove to our local Target, Starbucks and T.J. Maxx, and yes, I’ll admit, Starbucks. A very consumer driven day.

Later on we walked to the deserted Travers Park where the sprinklers were turned off, I think because of the threat of rain. How sad to see the large red metal hook-like devices standing dry while my clothes stuck uncomfortably against my drenched skin.

I have begun reading Paul Auster’s “Invention of Solitude” for my memoir craft class for fall. I am already sinking into his writing. I also worked on some poems tonight and worked on just accepting them for what they are.

I am wondering what it is going to be like to submerge myself again into writing about my stripper experiences once school begins. What will come out that hasn’t before? How will my being a mom now color my memories and attitudes toward who I was?

Repeat After Me

Genevieve had language explosion today. Almost-words were sliding out of her mouth like soy peach yogurt. She most definitely said diaper and cheese, not that I was using both these words in one sentence. If I say a word a few times, she wants to repeat them back. I see her studying my mouth, lips and tongue movements.

When Gen and I were browsing used books in front of the grocery store today, a nosy old man on the street said, “Oh, what a cute baby. It’s a boy, right?”

“No, she’s a girl.”

“Oh, well then you shouldn’t dress her like a boy.”

I just furrowed my brow at him and he shuffled along. I’ll dress my baby any way I want to dress her, and besides, she was not even looking boyish in the least. Just because her frilly romper is blue she’s supposed to be a boy?

I bit the inside of my cheek to refrain myself from expressing my true emotions. It would not be prudent for me to freely express my rants in front of Genny. I do not want her to be like the “Meet the Fockers” baby whose first word was asshole.

Not that I ever would have called the old man a nasty name. I long ago eradicated most expletives from my speech. Except when I get really frustrated then some things just plop out, but I’m trying to change my worst insult into “jack rabbit” or “fudge” as in, “Fudge you, you gosh darn old jack rabbit, she’s a girl!”

Relax

I had a very tightly scheduled day today and I did really well with that. I even somehow squeezed in time to work on my poetry. I am finding that the key to my successes lies in being regimented when it comes to things I want and need to get done.

Genevieve began to have another tantrum upon leaving Travers Park. I was clear and told her we had to leave and that was that. I got her strapped into the stroller and just started pushing and she accepted it quicker than she did last time. A small success, but rather satisfying.

Therapy and then a venti decaf mint mocha chip Frappucino to round out my afternoon. A visit with a friend after picking Genny up from the sitter and then back home to feed her, bathe her and plop her into bed. I cooked dinner and then headed out to work with a new yoga client, which went very well.

I am gearing up now for the upcoming hectic pace of school life. There is preparation to be done and I have committed myself to getting the pre-work done on my manuscript, so that I am ready to tackle it come September, or August 31st to be more exact.

I close my eyes for a moment and remember my own instructions: shoulders back and relaxed, chest open, deep and easy breaths, top of head floating toward ceiling. And relax.

Tantrum Monster

There were no themed playgrounds when I was a kid. There were metal slides with sharp edges and hard rubber swings with squeaky chains. Genevieve is growing up in an era of fun lands around every corner.

Julie and I took the wee ones to a Kew Gardens playground off of the F train today. I’m always amazed when I enter a new area of New York City that looks so much like a suburb. You step off a dirty subway train into lawns, sidewalks and large stone houses.

I stripped Genny down to her diaper and let her crawl off into the froggy fountains. She’d touch the large cement frog’s head and then point at one of the other ones. She wanted to be spritzed, but then once she was, she didn’t like it, but then she’d reach out again.

When it was time to head home I tried to get her dressed. The tantrum monster roared out in screams and back arches turning Gen’s little chest red and blotchy. I settled for just getting her strapped into the stroller with her shirt on. How a sweet angel child can turn into such a raving lunatic is hard to figure out—hard to comprehend, but I have seen it with my own eyes and let me tell you, it is terrifying.

Foggy Funk

Unexplainable blue foggy funk creeping through my brain and belly. I wonder if waking up to the alarm clock of a baby’s cries for fourteen months now has anything to do with my mood. Whatever happened to lovely weekend mornings spent racked out in bed with the covers pulled up to my chin?

I could barely get my legs moving today. Nick let me sleep in for an hour and then we switched duties. Gen and I strolled to The Met grocery store on 37th Avenue to get her some milk and we lost her purple binky along the sidewalk or a grocery aisle.

I ate an extremely unhealthy strawberry frosted donut with sprinkles on top from Dunkin’ Donuts, which used to be my favorite breed of donut when I worked at a D’D back in Connecticut. With my sugar buzz and decaf iced latte with soymilk and, you guessed it, sugar, I headed home with Genny.

She did take a morning nap, but no afternoon one because we were too busy having fun. We went with friends and their baby, Vedaant, to a downtown nautical themed playground along the Hudson River. Genny dug around in the sand pit, splashed in the cement river and slashed with her hand at the sprinkler spouts.

After the playground, Vedaant and Gen shared a cool bath and some rubber duckies. We sat around drinking homemade Indian spice tea and getting sleepy. Gen is now in bed and Nick just ran out to the grocery store to pick up some things. I find myself alone, somewhat, for a few minutes. I sigh and breathe deeply. I listen to the rattle of the air conditioner. I close my eyes.

Date Night

Nick and I had ourselves a little date tonight thanks to cousin Alison. We saw War of the Worlds. Overall, the movie was disappointing, but it was a lot of fun to get out of the house on a Saturday night.

Earlier today we drove out to cousin Bob’s house to get our tire fixed. I took Genny to a nearby park that had an enormous playground, but she slept the entire time and didn’t get to play at all.

I do want to give Genevieve a big kiss after seeing this movie, but I will certainly not risk waking her up to have that beautiful moment. I will kiss her plenty enough tomorrow.

Dream

A mother’s dream—I brought Genny into her room for bedtime, placed her on the floor while I plugged in the monitor and nightlight, turned around and saw her butting her head against her crib. She was saying with her head, “Mommy, I want to lie down. I’m tired.”

I quickly changed her diaper and pulled a pink onesie over her outstretched arms and placed her down on the crumply yellow sheet. Her fingers in the mouth and body limp; I crept out of the room shutting the door behind me.

I washed dishes and read a magazine, checked e-mails and decided on my classes for fall and now I am blogging myself asleep.

Quacky

Genevieve’s latest trick when she does not wish to comply with my expectations is arching her back, stiffening her entire body and screaming bloody murder. And so, apparently, the lifelong tensing and tightening of all our muscles into knots and bolts begins.

She still prefers kneel walking to regular upright on her feet walking. She’s now drinking regular old moo-cow milk. And she knows that a cow says moo. She likes to watch her DVDs and lets me know it all the time by taking them out of the cupboard, cling-hugging them and pointing repeatedly and gruntily at the television.

I still prefer napping to chasing a half-naked baby around the house trying to Velcro on a diaper to a wiggling butt. I am still not drinking cow milk because of a lactose type situation, but I went all out tonight and ate real ice-cream (mint chocolate chip). And I know that a cow says moo. I like Genny to watch her DVDs because I get a moment’s rest, but I have been pretty good at limiting her video intake to under an hour a day.

Quack, quack, waddle, waddle all day long. Quack, quack, waddle, waddle sing a duck song.

School Registration

Genevieve is talking in little bursts of word strings. Sometimes it really does sound like she’s actually making sense. Today we went to my dad’s house and she stood in the kitchen with her hands pressed against the sliding glass doors, stared out at the pool and kept saying, “poo, poo, poo”. And she wasn’t pooing. There was an almost “l” sound at the end of the word, but just not quite yet.

Genny was resistant to the pool once we finally got out there, but she warmed up to it the more I bounced up and down with her safe and snug in my huggy hold. She then let me put her in the pack and play in the shade while I jumped in and out of the pool. She laughed when she would see my head pop back up.

I successfully completed my registration for school. At first I was shut out of the Literature class I was supposed to take, but my persistence paid off and a seat opened up. So, August 29th is the first day of class. It’s hard to believe. Now that we know my schedule we can start trying to figure out how we’re going to work the whole childcare situation.

My life will be opening up very soon.

Around We Go

Genevieve is drinking regular milk now. I hear myself saying this in my mind. It seems beyond ridiculous that this is the most important thing going on in my life today worth mentioning. When did my life go away so that my daughter could exist? Fourteen months ago.

Now, I hear in my head the voice telling me to quickly affirm that, of course, I wouldn’t change it for the world. Celebrity moms are always sure to make this point when they detail their post-partum depressions in tell-all interviews.

“Having my baby was the worst thing in the world. I hate it. It’s awful. But, of course, I love it. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

And I understand that need to correct oneself as a mom because, of course, it sounds horrible to say you wish your child didn’t exist. But I’ve got to tell you, there are times when I fantasize what it would be like to have my own life back again.

There’s the voice again—pushing me to emphasize how cute Genny is when I ask her what a cow says and she says something that sounds like, “moo”, or the duck goes, “duck, duck”, or the feathered friend outside our window is a “burrd”.

Yes, it’s true. I love her. I want her to exist. But even when I have those feelings like I wish she didn’t, I feel the need to censor myself because of my love for her. I love her so much. I just don’t love the job of mom so much.

Tired

Once again Genevieve was awake at about 5 am. This is entirely too early for one’s brain to function properly. If I don’t catch up on some sleep soon, I may be heading toward a nervous breakdown.

I know the only way I’m going to get ahead in this world is by working super hard, but when I’m exhausted, I can’t get my creativity to flow. There’s seems to be no choice other than sacrificing creativity for sleep, but then I’m depressed because I’m not producing anything creative. It’s thoroughly frustrating.

We went to a friend’s first birthday party today. Genny was brave enough to be crawling in between all of these strangers’ feet. Then we were home and the whole family took a nap. After an early supper, we strolled to the playground where we ran into more friends and played in the sprinkler, on the swings and slides.

Gen went to bed easily since she’s probably as exhausted as we are. I’m planning on going to bed very early tonight and seeing if I might feel better. My energy and mood are very low at the moment. My sentences are not flowing—a reflection of my mind.

Delayed Reactions

One of the worst things to see is a car accident on the highway. I don’t mean passing by one that’s already happened and been processed, but one that’s unfolding before your eyes. I’d already seen a horrible one on I-95 many years ago when I was returning from a stripper shift.

A car was driving like a lunatic and then up ahead I saw it sliding sideways back and forth across the three lanes. We all slammed on our brakes. As I slowed down and held the center lane I saw the sports car flipping and rolling along the median and then I saw a man fall or drop or jump from the passenger window. I remember it all happened in such slow motion.

Tonight, driving home from Connecticut on the Merritt Parkway there was a red mid-size car tailing people with only like inches to spare. The next thing I know, he’s passing a Volvo station wagon on the right and then deliberately steering into the car, hitting it and causing it to swerve out of control and hit the median.

I stopped the car and ran out to the Volvo; the red car took off. The young woman stepped out of her car totally fine and already calling people on her cell phone. We waited with her until the cops came and I told them what I saw. Unfortunately, no one got the license plate number.

It was a scary scene—the whole front end of her car smushed in. She was so lucky to be uninjured. I was just talking to her and making sure she stayed calm. When we were leaving she was finally starting to cry.

I can’t imagine what would have happened if it had been our minivan that this crazy person decided to tail and smash. Genny was secured in her car seat, but still, you never know.

So, Genny went to bed late tonight. And I’ve got a bag of ice on my swollen toe—I think running over to the accident exacerbated it.

I feel very hazy and spacey, like I’ve just seen a dream and I’m trying to remember it so I can analyze it or share it with friends. It’s all cloudy in my mind and I see the screeching tires and the flying smoke, but I don’t hear any sounds at all. It’s very quiet and still, like being underwater.