Small Minds

Small minds are much distressed by little things. Great minds see them all but are not upset by them.
Francois de La Rochefoucauld (1613 - 1680)

Mine must be one of the small minds. I am very, very stressed out. Everything is starting to pile up on me, and I feel like I can't take it anymore.

Yesterday, I posted how I gave my daughter back her pacifier. I've thought about it some more as to why I am so upset by this turn of events (giving her back the pacifier and letting her into bed to sleep with us). I think the main thing is that I feel like a failure as a mother. Rationally, I know that I'm not. My daughter is well cared for, and I do the best that I can. But, I can't help but think that I'm not very good at this parenting stuff. I'm not consistent at all, so my daughter never knows what to expect. I get upset about little things. I probably don't spend enough time with her.

I don't know. I feel like she was doing so well, sleeping in her own bed, slowly giving up the dummy, starting to talk pretty well. Now, she's sleeping in our bed or with me on the couch. I gave her back the pacifier. And, she doesn't seem to be making any progress talking. Let me address all of these.

1. The sleeping thing is making me crazy, and that (along with all the wonderful hormones) is probably why I'm feeling so down. I need sleep. There are people who can survive easily on 4 or 5 hours of sleep per night. And I can to once in a while. But not night after night. Last night, right on cue, 2 AM and guess who's awake. Until 4 AM.

2. I'm okay with the pacifier thing now. I'd prefer that she didn't have it, but honestly, I don't care what any books or so-called experts say, my daughter still needs the pacifier. It is a source of comfort to her, and with all the changes in her life in the past couple of months, I don't feel I have a right to take it from her.

3. The talking thing is weird. She was doing really well, vocabulary expanding like crazy, and now she's gone back to the grunt-and-point version of communication. Actually, I have to be honest. That's not entirely true. I think what I'm dealing with is that for a while there, her vocabulary increased at some kind of exponential rate (and I have a feeling it still is). But, now it seems she's learned so much that she just repeats what you've said rather than trying to form sentences on her own.

I am feeling better (I know it's hard to tell from this post, but I really am). And, as promised, I will tell you about my animals (although not necessarily why they hate me). I guess the best order will be in the order we got them.

Fungo joined our family in April 2002. He's a black kitty with little white "socks" on all of his feet. Why is he named Fungo? Well, that's a long story. But not really, so I'll tell it. My husband and I were reading (and still do) a comic strip called Get Fuzzy. In the comic, a man named Rob has a dog named Satchel and a cat named Bucky. We had two cats that we named Satchel and Bucky. Well, Bucky T. Catt (as he likes to call himself in the comic strip) is often trying to fight the neighbor's ferret, Mr. Sqiggles. Satchel the dog makes friends with Mr. Sqiggles and finds out that he likes to be called Fungo. So, we kept with the theme and named him Fungo. (In case you were wondering, Bucky and Satchel went to live with my parents.)

Funny Fungo fact (try saying that five times fast): He's afraid of ceiling fans. He will come in the house (they stay in this cozy little storage room in our garage) and even if the fan is not on, he will slink down as close to the ground as he can get going underneath it. And we have ceiling fans in every room of our house.

Buddy joined our family in June 2002 (on my birthday actually). He came from the pound. He is (as near as we can tell) a mix between a golden lab and a greyhound. I know that it sounds like an odd combination (and it is), but he's really a pretty dog. He's got the long snout like a greyhound and the way curved in tummy (which looks really funny coming off his labrador rib cage). You should see this dog run. That's how you can tell he's part greyhound. He can run so fast, and he gets really close to the ground.

Fun Buddy fact: He was my birthday present. When I got home, I walked in and my husband was sitting on the couch. Buddy was curled up asleep next to him, so when I went to sit down next to my husband, I almost sat on him.

Bitsy joined our family in August 2002. She is what they call turtle colored (meaning that she is red, orange, black, brown, every color but white). She is a crybaby talker. She will sit next to the door of the garage and cry until we let her in. She is named Bitsy because even at almost 3 years old, she looks like she is about 6 months old. She must be a runt. I don't know. She's really one of those cats that is so ugly she's cute.

Fun Bitsy fact: She's an attention hog. Try petting Fungo or one of the dogs around her, and you will incur the wrath of Bitsy.

Shadow joined our family in January 2004. My daughter was about 4 months old when we adopted Shadow at PetsMart. He's a black lab although you can see a bit of some kind of bird dog in his face. He is still just a puppy in a full grown dog's body (which makes it interesting sometimes). We have to feed Buddy and Shadow seperately because Buddy won't let Shadow eat. They play together, they sleep together, but when Shadow started looking thin, we started watching their eating habits, and Buddy will guard both bowls of food (even when we put them very far apart) so that Shadow can't eat. Now, Buddy has to come in while Shadow eats. Buddy will graze on food all day long and let it sit. Shadow wolfs his allotment down in 5 minutes.

Fun Shadow fact: He loves my daughter. Although no pets are allowed to play with her without an adult present, I think that he would be the one that I trust most. He likes to try and kiss her (which she hates), and I have to make sure that his tail doesn't bop her in the head, but he loves my baby girl.

Like I said, I'm feeling better now. In fact, I think I'll write a post on the 101 things my daughter does that makes me smile.

Worst Mother Ever

God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of his own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players, to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.
Gaiman and Pratchett's "Good Omens"

I am trying to keep things in perspective. I am having a bad day. My bad day actually started at 11:30 last night. That was when my daughter woke up. Let me see if I can break this down so that it won't be a very long (not likely, this will get long) disjointed post.

Issue #1: Pacifier
I just can't let this one go. I don't know why. Yesterday, I picked my daughter up at daycare, and the afternoon girl casually tells me that my daughter was screaming and crying for her dummy at nap, so they gave it to her. THEY GAVE IT TO HER!!! I tried extremely hard to remain calm (after all, it was not this girl who gave it to her, but the other one who is there during naptime). But it was hard to remain calm. I took my daughter and left more quickly than usual. I was pissed. Who are they to be giving her back the pacifier after 3 weeks of her not having it? So, I tried to be realistic. They have a classroom full of kids (okay, 8 kids if all of them are there on any given day, not exactly a classroom full, but I digress) that they have to think of as well. One screaming child will definitely keep all of them up. So, I asked myself why it was so important for her not to have a pacifier (so that I could calmly explain to them the next morning why I was taking her pacifier and burning it in the parking lot so that they could never find it again respectfully requesting that they give it to me for burning safekeeping). And, you know what? I couldn’t think of a good reason. Not one. My entire obsession with getting rid of the pacifier has no basis at all. Or at least not one that I could justify with anything more than “I’ve read that children don’t need the pacifier after 1 year old. At that point it is strictly for the benefit of the parents.” So. I have based my entire obsession to rid my daughter of her pacifier on my unrealistic expectations for her. So, either I am a bad mother for taking away my daughter’s only comfort item to which she has grown attached or I am a bad mother for letting her keep something for my benefit. So, I drove home trying to decide whether or not I should just give it back to her. I can’t really fight daycare on the issue, now, can I? What good would it do me to take it away from her at home if they give it to her at daycare. This would be an easier decision for me if, after 3 weeks, she didn’t still want it so much. She still screams and cries for at least 30 minutes going to bed wanting the pacifier, and I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since I took it away from her 3 weeks ago because she wakes up in the middle of the night and can’t go back to sleep without it (please keep reading for issue #2). So, I decided she can have it back. And I decided not to feel bad about that decision. And, then I quickly had to rethink my decision and try to evaluate whether or not it was really worth it to give it back to her. I mean, I will have to take it away from her eventually. I don’t want to be the woman in Walmart with a 4 year old who is so cute but would be even cuter if she would just get the pacifier out of her mouth. So, I decided to be the bad mother because I let her keep something for my benefit (read: sleep). And add to that, I am a bad mother because I withheld it for 3 weeks, then gave in (so much for consistent parenting), and I will eventually take it away again (at a point when I can rationally explain to her where she can understand that big girls don’t use pacifiers). So, there.

Issue #2: Sleeping
As I just mentioned, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in 3 weeks. My daughter wakes up and can’t manage to put herself back to sleep. Perhaps this is because I give into her and won’t let her cry it out all night. I do better. I let her cry until I can’t stand it anymore, stomp my way to her room (which usually quiets her down because she knows I’m coming), and tell her in no uncertain words to lie down and go to sleep. And she flops down into her bed. I give her Pooh Bear and cover her up. And as soon as I start to turn around, the crying starts again. In the last 3 weeks, I have slept on the couch a number of times with a baby in my arms thrashing around trying to get comfortable. Or, even better, my husband tells me, “Just bring her in here with us.” Oh, yeah. There are no words that I hate to hear more. Seriously. I mean, we kicked her out of our bed taught her to sleep in her own bed because she (like her mommy) tosses and turns in her sleep all night. So the just bring her in here with us means I am doomed to a night of feet, knees, elbows and hands poking into my back all night. As you can imagine, I don’t get much sleep. Parenting mistakes: Consistency (or definite lack thereof).

So, I gave in. I gave her back the pacifier. And when she woke up at 11:30 last night clutching the pacifier and crying her eyes out, I brought her in to sleep in our bed. So, being the horrible mother that I am, we have reintroduced something that she doesn’t really need (as evidenced by the fact that she doesn’t actually even put it in her mouth!) and she now thinks that she is supposed to sleep in either our bed or with me on the couch watching TV in the living room. I feel like the worst mother ever. Tomorrow, I’ll tell you why my pets hate me, too.

Disappointment

The greatness comes not when things go always good for you. But the greatness comes when you're really tested, when you take some knocks, some disappointments, when sadness comes. Because only if you've been in the deepest valley can you ever know how magnificent it is to be on the highest mountain.
Richard M. Nixon (1913 - 1994)


Well, the disappointing results were that I am not pregnant. My period started Saturday (28 day cycle -- very unusual for me). What's funny is that I wasn't really as disappointed as I thought that I would be. Must have been those PMS hormones making me crazy.

Instead, I got the hormone kick that I get around this time every month that I call the change-the-world hormones. Fortunately, these only last a few days. It's like making New Year's Resolutions once a month.

This month's resolutions:
1) Play with my daughter more. I don't know if I spend enough time just sitting and playing with her. It would certainly make me feel less guilty about all of those times when I get so impatient with her.

2) Get moving on my application process for nursing school. That would be a real disappointment to miss a deadline because I'm too busy feeling sorry for myself.

3) Lose some weight. Ugh! This is the one that I don't want to think about. Before my daughter was born, I was in the process of losing weight (funny how it got much easier after I started throwing up everything I was eating). My pre-pregnancy weight: 168. I gained about 15 pounds with my daughter putting me at 183. For some reason, I couldn't stop eating like I was pregnant and instead of losing weight after she was born (and while I was breast-feeding), I kept gaining. I peaked out at 189. Right now, (well, Saturday morning before I had anything to eat or drink -- the best time to weigh oneself in my opinion) I was 172. Not bad. I have been hovering around the 176 mark. My goal is 140. I am 5'9", and judging from past experience, that seems to be the weight that looks best on me (meaning I'm not carrying extra pounds, but I don't look like I came out of a concentration camp). So, here I am. Started at 189. Down to 172. Only 30 more pounds to go. What's I wonder is whether or not I will start getting that concentration camp look before I get to the goal of 140. I haven't been at that kind of weight since my daughter was born. I have some jeans that I was looking at the other day. They are size 9. I'm realistic enough to realize that I will never fit in these jeans again even if I lose 100 pounds. My hips will just be too big. Right now, I can wear the size 11. Granted, they don't look very good on me (yet!), but I would like for them to fit just a little bit looser. I will be happy to get down to pre-pregnancy weight.

Anyway, that is how I'm feeling today. I feel stupid for letting myself be convinced I was pregnant. I guess I just want to be so badly. There are many things that I want in my life, but I want another baby. I'm only 24 and my biological clock is ticking! I don't know what it is. Probably because I'm afraid of the other things that I need to do first.

I know that I need to get back into school and pursue the LVN that I have been wanting to do since my daughter was born. I guess I'm scared of screwing that up.

I'm scared to quit a job that I love to move where I won't have a job, and there aren't many jobs to be had.

My daughter is one of the things in my life that I have done right. The timing wasn't perfect, but she is truly here to get me back on track. I think I'm starting to lose focus again, and something in my mind knows that would refocus me. Does that make sense? Not really. I don't know.

I need to get things going with school. After I'm done with that, then we'll worry about another baby. I guess I just wanted my children to be close in age, and the more that we put it off, the farther apart they will be. Right now, if we wait until I finish school and then start trying, at the earliest, my daughter will be almost 4. That's really not bad. I wanted them a couple of years apart, but that just isn't feasible. And it will be much easier if I wait until my daughter's older. She can help. I have a feeling that I will have to teach her not to help so much. :) And another good thing is that I won't have to pay so much for daycare. My daughter would only be about a year away from kindergarten. Listen to me planning kindergarten for a child that isn't even 2. I'm so glad this day is almost over. I need to go home. My head is pounding. I hope that I have some Tylenol in my purse.

I'm going crazy!

I wish my period would just start already! As long as it hasn't appeared (and it isn't scheduled to until Monday or Tuesday), I can't give up the hope of being pregnant. I want to be so badly that I have convinced myself that I am. I have absolutely no signs of starting anytime soon except for the crazy mood swings I've been having (and guess what those could also be a sign of?). Either my period need to come or I need a positive pregnancy test. One or the other. Because living in this limbo state where I can allow myself to think I'm pregnant is about to drive me out of my ever-loving mind. Hopefully, a week from now, I can claim that my insanity is just pregnancy hormones. More likely, I will just have a bad week. Either way. At this point, I don't care. I just want a definative answer either way. The negative home pregnancy tests (yes, more than one) probably aren't a good sign. The problem is that I don't believe them. Why can't I just believe that I'm not pregnant and move on? Why do I have this overwhelming feeling that I am? I am just setting myself up to be very, very disappointed. I tell myself that the pregnancy tests don't show because it's too early (even those that say you can test before your period). But, the way that I see it, if I have enough hormones in my system to cause the symptoms, wouldn't I have enough hormones to show a positive on the test? Hmm? Good question, right? Here's too much information for you, I'm having discharge now. What the hell is that? I never have that before I start my period. So, isn't that nice of my body to try to give me false hopes? I'm going to go nuts before this is done. My husband will be sure to use about 3 methods of protection from now on because he certainly won't want another child with my genetics! (Just so you know, I'm totally kidding). My husband is a good guy who told me that he would be happy if I was pregnant even if it does mean that a lot (and I mean A LOT) of plans will be screwed up. But, he also told me that I couldn't take any home pregnancy tests until he got back. He left Wednesday. Gets back tonight. I already have a test for tomorrow morning. When it comes out negative, I think I will just cry and start pounding on my abdomen until my period starts. Sorry for this long, rambling disjointed post. My brain has turned to sludge until I know whether or not I'm pregnant.

No time to post....

Work has been very busy today, so I haven't had time to post. I'll try to post tonight from my parents' house, but the internet connection is run by little mice on wheels, so we'll see if blogger will cooperate.