As a mother who lost a child, I want to take a moment to recommend a resource. Stillbirthday is a comprehensive, supportive network, where you can be put in touch with a “mentor” who has lost a child herself (among many other resources). My loss long predates the site’s existence, but I was lucky enough to have a “mentor” myself – a friend with a similar loss who emailed me the entire time I was in the hospital, talking about what she went through, how it felt, what was coming next, etc. I cannot ever express how much this mattered to me, and matters to me still.
I’ve been pretty disappointed in my lack of blog posts lately. I tend to think I’m failing when I can’t meet my own (admittedly redonkulously high) standards. I want to blog once or twice a week, but my time is getting chisled away so much that I just haven’t been able to. That sounds like an excuse, but it isn’t. E’s up at six-thirty every morning and, if I’m lucky, will nap for an hour, or even two. But that doesn’t make the dishes that he won’t let me get done (hugging my knees while jumping and chanting “Up! Up! Up! PEEEAAASSEEE!”) or the laundry I can’t get put away.
I’ll come right out and say it: I let my son watch TV. It isn’t all that much unless I’m sick or desperate for a break, and it’s almost entirely PBS. It’s still more than my idealistic self thought I would let him watch – but then again, it is also less than I watched before he was old enough to notice there was a TV. So there’s that. Our schedule fits up against OPB’s so nicely that I have all the shows in my Netflix queue and play them in order on weekends. It’s not crucial that it happen every day or anything; it’s just the average morning.
Mission Objectives: Dress self and apply appropriate cosmetics. Do something to at least manage hair. Dress child. Grab diaper bag and make it to the bus so we can go to toddler story time at the library. Time allotted: 45 minutes.
I am not my son’s favorite. I am firmly in fourth place – fifth if you count Kitty. Most of the time I’m OK with it. He’s barely fifteen months old. I’m with him all the time, and that is mirrored in his attitude – which is basically “I can see her anytime.”
For as long as I can remember I have been creeped out by the entire concept of dolls coming to life. I refused to watch Child’s Play, disliked ventriloquism and even viewed Jim Henson’s The Christmas Toy with suspicion. Muppets were just barely acceptable. And yet I owned (and apparently still own, but more on that later) many, many creepy dolls. I cannot explain this.
May 2012 be a great adventure!
Had some girlfriends over with their daughters for a little pre-Christmas festivity. Lovely day; gossiping and toddlers playing well together (and sharing! OMG!). And of course, baking cookies with Miss Ella, who also drew me a really nice picture of Princess Fiona. She’s such a sweet girl, and a lot like I was at the same age. Except if Ella had met me then, she would have talked me down. She can talk me down now, which is pretty impressive.
I have decided to retire the blog I was keeping for my son. Mainly because I just don’t have time to update it. Baby books exist to make moms feel shitty. This includes online ones. However, that does mean there will occasionally be picturespam here. I can’t resist; the damn kid is so cute.
Of course I’m sick the week of Thanksgiving. Lovely. I feel like my head is slowly filling with Miracle Whip, and I am pretty sure I must have deep-throated a bottle brush in my sleep last night. Ugh. The boy is stuffy and uncomfortable too, although he’s still a little ray of sunshine most of the time. Except when I pull out the snot-sucker; then he freaks right the fuck out.