Happy Summer?

So, how important is your uterine wall anyways?

'Cause according to my multitude of sonograms today...mine is "extremely thick"...

And what are polyps and how do they go away?

Oh, and whodathunk that it was difficult to pee....Lordy.
Ah, childbirth.

Damn you Google!

Still feel like crap. Testing to be determined???

Oh, and Happy Summer.

Night Terrors

Fafa is a pro at Night Terrors.

The funny thing is, the only one who is effected by them is yours truly.

They are the most horrific thing you could ever witness in the dark of the evening when all is quiet. But she is unaffected, when they are over.

F used to have them often as a baby. We would always know when they were going to happen because her days would be filled with an abundance of stimulation and she'd be overtired at bedtime. She'd be cranky and fall asleep hard. Then, she'd wake up screaming and inconsolable within 10-20 minutes of falling asleep. Sometimes they lasted five minutes, sometimes 2 hours. It was that bad.

She'd scream and cry and stiffen up and punch and scratch and not be able to recognize us. She'd be petrified of BD where he'd have to leave the room because she was that frightened of him. Her pupils would be dilated and she'd stare past me and scream out. Just scream. That blood curdling screetch that you just can.not.stop.

Then out of nowhere, they stopped. For a while, it was smooth sailing at night. Full nights of full, comfortable sleep. I thought we were past it.

Then, they came back. She had three in one week to be specific.

The last one made me cry. It lasted about 15 minutes. She was stiff, fighting, biting and screaming but she softened as soon as she woke up. Popped her thumb back into her mouth and rolled over with her lovey, like nothing ever happened. She even has the nerve to ask me what I'm doing in her bed afterwards. Gah.

I am pretty used to these by now. I know what they are when they happen and I know that she won't remember them when she wakes and I know she is safe because she is in her bed and I am restraining her. I know it is because she had a busy day...but what I don't know is why the intensity?

Why are these terrors so extreme? What could her little brain possibly be dreaming about when she is looking into my eyes (but not seeing me) and screaming "Mommy I need you!" at the top of her lungs? Why is she so scared? What is she processing during the day that she's not telling me that makes her so scared at night? It is frightening. For me.

It's to the point now that she's bigger and it is more difficult to hold her down too. She punches and kicks and bites and scratches herself and I don't understand. Why the anger? Why the violence? What is making her dream this way?

She still can't remember the incident once she snaps to. But I do. It scars me. Deep in my soul. My daughter is that intense and it scares me. She's only three.

Damnit.

I was all excited yesterday.

Earlier in the month, we got tickets to see The Dirty Sock Funtime Band and Audra Rox I couldn't friggin' wait. You know, it's like seeing Aerosmith, but for kids. The show was in Brooklyn and we got there waaay too early...Good job K!

We waited in the cars for the doors to open. It was freezing. We watch the band draggin' their gear into the venue, we chatted them up. We were the only ones there at that time. The lead singer is just too cute.

Fa is all ready to go. Brilliant, I think. She's excited! She's calm. She's happy. She's gonna do it. This time, after all the misadventures of loud, live shows...she's gonna actually do it.

We get lucky enough to get in to watch a little bit of the sound check because we were there so early and it was so, so cold and they felt bad for us. I'm thrilled. I'm singin', I'm dancin', I'm all excited...you know...former groupie feelin' like old times...You know how it is for me.

Audra is adorable and oh! so friendly. She was dancing with the kids on the dance floor. The members of the DSFTB were all out and about greeting the kiddies and chatting up the parents. All the kids are dancing and having a grand old time. But Fa. That's another story.

She looses it.

Absolutely looses it.

Screaming. Crying. It's too loud. I wanna go home. All that jazz.

I am furious.

I We (yes I dragged my husband on Super Bowl Sunday) try to keep her there as long as possible.

I got to talk to the lead singer some more. Did you know he brushes his teeth before every show? I know. He told me. He even offered me his tooth brush because I had a Bloody Mary and I told him I felt like my breath stunk. (yes, I was drinking at a kids engagement) He was so sweet. Gah! My new crush.

We leave. Even before the band comes on.

Talk about pissed. Disappointed. Unsure. Nervous. I was all of those things. I just can't comprehend that out of all the kids in that place, mine was the only one shitting her pants. Totally lost it. Friggin' basket case.

I just don't get it.

What the hell am I doing wrong?

How do I get her to just loosen up and just enjoy the moment?

I am at a loss and I just don't know what to do to help her.

Where am I going wrong?

Miss Blue*

Let me just start this post off with a disclaimer...I have PMS, I understand if you leave now.

But it did give me some energy to design my new header...like it? I was in a "time out" when I did it.

Ok, with that done. I have to say, I am feeling blue this week.

Maybe its the end of the holidays, the excitement over, a new beginning with nothing to look forward to, missing something or someone...a mixture of it all.

I don't know. I'm just blah. I'm cranky, tired and angry at everything. I even banged into a car with my door on purpose yesterday because the douche bag parked too close to me in the lot. This is something I usually get mad at, I mean really....There were plenty of spaces on either side of the dork and me, but he had to park right next to me, up close and personal, like he was giving me an enema for crap's sake (ha)... but my emotions seem heightened this week and struggling with my daughter to put her in the car seat while I was sandwiched between the car and the douche just got to me good. So I dinged the douche. Nope. It didn't make me feel better. Just more pissed.

I feel like a crappy mother. I feel like I have no patience for anything F does good or bad and I feel guilty as sin. When she's good she's very, very good but when she's bad I want to run away and I question every move I ever made in life. It feels bad. To feel that much anger toward a little girl who is just testing her boundaries. I just have no patience. And she has to take a god damn bath. It's not up to her. But I have no resources to help me in changing her mind. I can't read parenting books, they make me feel worthless, I can't ask anyone...So we fight.

I love her with all my heart and soul but my fuse is blown and I need to regroup. Fast. Or I may teach her that anger (and a lot of yelling) is the way to deal with everything in life...She can already throw a mean tantrum when she wants to and I know it's because she sees me do the same thing with the adult version of what a tantrum is.

I already feel like I have made her uncomfortable in social situations because I am that way exactly. I already feel like I am not exposing her enough to life and the way you should live it fully because I am so stunted as an adult. I already feel that yeah, I look happy on the outside, but inside I am a disaster and I don't want her thinking its her fault. And I don't want her thinking that's normal.

I also know that I do have PMS and while it's not an excuse, it is real and my hormone levels are way low. That really effects my balance. I have been doing so great with genuinely being happy and enjoying life. I know I am lucky and I have a wonderful family and home and husband and daughter...but there's a but. And I don't know what to fill it in with.

Just this weekend, BD gave me the 'day off' and took Fa to his Mom's house for the day. I had the whole house to myself. I had a plan. I organized the entire basement play room. (Fun, I know, but organization makes me shiver with joy!) I was going to go to the gym and the mall...but, he took the extra car's keys (accidentally) so I couldn't leave the house. I was stuck. I was mad. Why? I don't know. I hate feeling stuck. My plans were foiled again...

Then I started to miss F. I look forward to her having fun without me then I can't wait for her to get home to be with me. I feel like I am stunting her growth because I can't allow myself to grow without her. I am too connected. I know she we need to have her our own individual life and be independent. I know I need to have my own life. I know therein lies the problemo.

Then I felt them creeping in. The blues. Why is blue the color of sadness anyway? It's such a beautiful color, why is it when you are sad you are blue? The sky is blue, eyes are blue, blue and red make purple...my favorite color. Blue should be a good thing.

Every time I feel this way I fear that it will get as worse as it was before F was born or even scarier, after F was born. I don't ever want to be that low again... and while I usually get out of it fairly quickly on my own (thank you years of therapy), it still haunts me. Especially that ppd.

That creepy, dark blue space that I was once in. The space I fought so hard to get out of because it was so lonely. That blue abyss that I was drowning in with no way out. Thankfully, I was successful. But when I feel this way, I get scared. Scared that I will sink back into it and I don't want that memory to be in F's head about her crazy mother. The one that acted all happy and nice on the outside but inside had a real struggle going on.

I have posted about this feeling previously and got into trouble with 'people' about it so I have to be careful not to sound like a mental patient. But it is my fear and it is how I'm feeling and this is about me and this is a way to sort out my mind and keep it in writing to look back on. For prosperity's sake? I don't know. Sorry if I'm not making any sense.

I just know, I'm feeling blue. Maybe I can find it inside of me and get it out here. Maybe that would make me feel better. Maybe I just have to get out of the house.

*It's a song by Filter

Adios Kittenstein...Is the dog next?

This is an e-mail I sent to a friend telling her about the sicko cat we had for almost a year...I don't understand my luck with animals. I can't seem to bond with the four legged fur-balls. I dunno, maybe it's me?

This happened about a year ago...
But the memory still haunts.

"The cat...Oh the cat....the cat has left the building! Yup, we got rid of her. OK...here's the situation...don't laugh too hard especially if you are at work....:

Fa and I were playing with her instruments that she got for her birthday. She had the drum and I had the kazoo. Well, we're playing and laughing and carrying on when all of a sudden out of nowhere....The cat comes running in, BARKING and howling and hissing at me. She was hissing and yowlling, her fur was on end, her ears were back and her tail was thick. I panicked. I grabbed SF and locked ourselves in the bedroom.

She's screaming, I'm screaming the cat's screaming. It was like Cujo for cats. The cat wouldn't let us out of the room. She guarded it and growled when I tried to escape! Then, she calmed down a little so we left our confines but then, she blocked the stairway. The bitch wouldn't let us go up the stairs. Fa's room is upstairs. We're all still screaming and then....Fa throws up all over the couch. I got her so upset that she puked. Now I had to clean the smelly, regurgitated big bird cracker-stained couch with an evil cat on my tail. I was so scared....The scene was so evil, I was walking around with a broom for safety...Every move I made the cat would lose it and try to pounce. I never heard sounds like that before...Like a lawnmower with a frog caught in it. I called the animal shelter and they didn't want her either.

Six hours later...BD came home. The cat almost jumped him too. He got her to calm down and we locked her in the laundry room. She stayed there all night. She was afraid of me. I guess she associated me with the kazoo....Every time she saw me she snapped again.

Needless to say...Adios kittenstein....

I always hated this cat...

OK now you can laugh"

The dog just might be next...One more accident and Adios Pupster...

e-mail From Gerber

I am shit out of luck from Gerber...This is the e-mail I received today.

Laundress,

Thank you for your e-mail and telephone call.

We have checked with our warehouse but there were no pink gingham diaper style burp cloths left in stock. We are sorry to disappoint you.

We are taking this opportunity to send you some coupons which we hope you will find useful and will help offset your disappointment.

Best wishes from your friends @ gerber.com.
________________________________________
Good thing for K and her Southern Belle Sista.

By the way...there were no coupons attached to the e-mail. Boo, Hiss...

This is your brain...with PMS

I lost my bra. Period.

I can't seem to find it. I took it off last night before bed. I can't remember where I put it. Harumph.

I wanted to put it in the hamper. Not there. Not back in my drawer. Not on my end table beside my bed. Not in my bathroom where I took it off in the first place. I just don't know.

This is very strange...but I did do this once, so it's not all that strange if you think about it.

Oh well...good thing I have a few more to lose, um, I mean use.

Journey Through Hell and Back...A Comedy.

Once upon a time when The Laundress was still “JJ”, she was thin, muscular and energetic. She taught dance every day and went to the gym/took fitness classes in the mornings before work. She was still always cranky but at least she had a 'great bod'. Today, she feels old, washed up and tired. Motherhood can really beat the shit out of you, by the way.

After months of complaining to her King about the way she felt; TL decided to get a detox done on her to make herself feel better. It worked. TL had more energy and even lost a few pounds. She is actually right back to her ‘pre-baby weight. (2 years and 8 months later)

One day recently, TL thinks this crazy thought to join the gym again. “Why not?” She says. “It can’t be all that bad, really!” Well, she was wrong. Dead wrong. Last night, TL met the ‘Scorpion Woman’, her initiation/personal trainer at the new gym. She seemed sweet enough at first. She was young, beautiful and full of life. She made small talk and got to know a little about TL’s background, smiling the entire time. (she had the devil in her eyes) 

She made sure to explain how she was certified in pre/post natal exercise and kickboxing and she knew CPR. She explained where she went to school and how she became a personal trainer. She seemed almost docile. She turned evil quickly. As soon as they hit the gym floor, she became malevolence incarnate with fire spitting out of her eyeball sockets. Fwoosh...

TL gasped and sweat and hyperventilated a bit. She tried to look for the 666 engraved in the back of Scorpion Woman’s head, but that damn woman was too swift and TL couldn’t keep up with her. TL’s arms shook and her legs trembled with every set of gajillion reps that the evil serpent lady made her do to “strengthen her core”. (yah right, sure) Scorpion Woman allowed TL to take quick water breaks to ‘rehydrate’ but she really was just taking some time out to sharpen her claws and mingle with the other gym imps that hover around to see the sacrifice taking place.

After one full, agonizing hour, TL was set free to wobble down 3 flights of stairs to her car. Yet, TL didn’t know that it would be physically impossible to steer the 80 ton piece of machinery back home. What a night!

When TL got to her safe haven swearing all the while that she will never go back to that woman ever again in her life, she realized her daughter was already in her crib for the night. Bummer. So TL did the unthinkable on a usual night. (Must’ve been those damn ‘endorphins’.) She went into Fa’s room to hug her and kiss her goodnight.

She heaved the 30 pound child out of her crib, (gotta get this gal a bed) into her still trembling arms and rocked her gently in their chair. It was heaven on earth. She understood at that moment, why she was torturing herself. (For Fa.) If TL feels good about herself, then Fa will do the same and they have a chance in this crazy world. TL must make herself feel better and enjoy this life with her child. It’s the only chance she has. 

So, TL will keep her torture session for Monday and repeat the agony once again; one more time for the love of god. Then she is on her own. She will go to her gym regularly and make herself stronger and fit. She will eat right and drink her coffee again like a normal person. She will lose her momentum but her King will keep her motivated. (After all, he paid for her membership at the gym in the first place.) She will do it. She is motivated enough. She was even able to type this morning, so she must not be that bad...gah! To top it all of, she posted her saga all over the internet…so she has to keep her word….Maybe she will live happily ever after; after all…

I probably should be happy about it...

...RT is eating his poop so much that I hardly have anything to clean anymore! It's wonderful. But oh, so gross. I can't stand the thought of him licking us. He eats his poop then he licks my daughter's hand. UGH!

This can't be normal. Last night after we fed him, we waited for him to go before we put him in his crate for the night and he never went. Oh, but yes, I say, he did go. He just ate it before we could find it. 'Good boy', I think. Poop dessert. Yum!

Now I:

• Hafta find out what to give him to make him stop eating his poop.
• Start walking him regularly after eating, to avoid the poop feast.
• Start a whole new schedule of puppy training all over again.
• Enroll myself into Creedmore...that's the closest asylum in Long Island, I believe.

He goes for more shots this week. Hopefully, the vet will have some suggestions. If not, Anyone want a Boston Terrier? Cheap.

Because I need more stress in my life...

Stressor Exhibit A:
I think I hafta take Fa for her very first haircut. I hate to do it, but she's -a gettin' wiley! I have to fight to comb her hair now because her ends are all knotted and tangled...I am dreading this...for many resons:

• she's afraid of everything
• she hates strangers
• she probably won't let anyone touch her
• she will cry and scream and come out with a crooked haircut
• I will cry and scream and try to be calm but will ruin everything
• how am I gonna let a stranger go at the wriggling, screaming mess with scissors?

But I think it's finally time. We might just hafta bite the bullet and get motivated.

Stressor Exhibit B:
I hafta give this dang dawg bath. He stinks. He steps in his own poop and walks right through the house. I wipe his paws with baby wipes but then he just tramples through the dood all over again. I can't find a tub to put him in. Do you believe the asshole at Petco told me to go to a baby store and buy a baby tub. Douche. What the fuck am I gonna do with the baby tub when he grows out of it? Oh, have another baby to fill it with, of course....No thanks. Jerk. I wanted to get a tub that fits in the stand up shower we have downstairs so I don't hafta put his shitty paws in my bath tub upstairs where Fa's ass sits. Gross. So, we're off again to find a tub. And another thing: Bending over to pick up shit, and piss has now given my back a run for it's money and I am starting to live on Motrin again. It never ends.

Stressor Exhibit C:
Just when I think everything is a-ok. Hubby comes home in bad mood and I get so mad, I cry. So now we're not speaking again. Again. As per my therapist. I can't let this linger. I hafta confront. Yuck. I'm mad at you because you were in a bad mood, banging stuff around. But when a telemarketer called you were cordial and even smiled while talking to her. Hello? Is anybody in there??? I deserve that much.

Stressor Exhibit D:
It's so farking hot outside I could spit. I wanted to put Fa in the kiddie pool on the lawn yesterday and today, but it's scalding out there. We'd both melt away into the grass, never to be heard from again. What the? So now I'm stuck in the house with a bored 2.5 year old and a bored 2 month old dawg. I'm loosing it here...Anybody wanna come over to play? Then, if I'm on the phone, that's Fa's time to shine. "Mommy, get off the phone, watch me!", "Mommy I want a snack.", "Mommy, c'ome on in, come get me in my crib." Which leads me to...

Stressor Exhibit E:
All my friends are gone. Missing in action. I can't find one. I won't see one until tomorrow night for...woo hoo ceramics. One is here from Va so I'll see her a few times. One I see with her daughter on Wednesdays for music class...Who I happen to adore...A few others are gone by the wayside...Damn it...I can not keep a friend. I'll probably lose her too...With the mommy people I know, the only thing we have in common is kids. And I can't use that as enough ammo to start a relationship. I think I'm damaged. I either can't understand a person or don't like their kid. It leaves me lonely far too much to admit. I can't break the cycle either. Everyone who meets me usually thinks I'm fun and happy. But I don't usually get close enough for them to figure out the truth. No wonder BD comes home mad sometimes...When I was single I had the same friends as I have now. But we were available much more often. Now that I have a daughter and only one other friend has a daughter...it just all dissipates. BD says I don't try hard enough. It takes work to maintain a friendship. I don't put in the hours I guess. I am far to difficult. I get pissed at something (and don't say anything) and usually that's when the relationship sours. I don't let them know I'm pissed, so I don't call and they don't call and then years have passed and there goes that friend. Shit. I am damaged.

No wonder I'm alone most of the time. I say I don't care, but I do. If I didn't really care. I wouldn't have spent up all this space on Stressor Exhibit E!

Ranting and Raving and Carrying On

Fa has been up since 6am.

Apparently she has a moth in her room who seems to be invading her space. She's yelling at it. "Cut it out!", "Stop that!", "Get lost, that's not nice!" , "Get oooooooooooff theeeeeeeeee beeeeeeeeeeeed!" It seems that the moth is quite the wrabblerouser and she isn't having it.

Unfortunately, that means I am up also. Our morning routine is quite relaxing, usually. I get to shower at around 7am. Have my 2-3 cups 'o joe and blog a bit. She usually gets out of her cell about 8am. Now though, she's singing to the offending moth and I (as Fa would say, smacking the palm of her hand with the back of her other hand) "Gotta get mo-ti-va-ted!" This makes me cranky and you don't wanna make me cranky. You wouldn't like me when I'm cranky. No, I haven't been cranky yet here. Those previous posts were cake...a walk in the park...Go ahead, make me cranky, I dare ya.

We are off schedule here. I hope, and pray this means early nap time. (for both of us) Lately, I have been napping when Fa naps. Like she's an infant again. Only then, I didn't nap when she napped. I cried. Jeez, I'm a big ball of mental health aren't I?

The plumber is coming today. I hope he's coming to get some work done. We are getting that reverse osmosis water purifier for the home installed. You know the one that cleans and filters the tap water so you can get rid of the Poland Spring monstrosity in your kitchen. The one that takes up space and invites your daughter to play with the spiggots that release scalding hot water. That one. Hopefully we can say sayonara to it tonight. Although, I'm so used to drinking out of a fountain, I might not be able to drink water from the tap out of self-consciousness. Are the pipes clean? Will it really filter out the impurities? Or will I be subjecting my whole family to cancerous nastiness that the tap water usually contains. Gee, another thing to obsess over. Great.

So, after much yelling, screaming and carrying on at my father and his girl yesterday, they calmly got me a cardiologist appointment for next week. Hopefully, this guy will help me and get rid of these chest pains. I haven't had the fun in the sun summer that I was planning here in the new home. I'm starting to get depressed. Hee hee...starting. You'd think I was there already wouldn't you? But I'm really not. I guess I just like to complain. Alot. Ask Husband. He'll tell you. No wait don't, he'll go on for hours about how miserable I am. Just listen to me.

Aren't I so amusing?

I have homework.

My therapist thinks I need to practice being in uncomfortable confrontations. I disagree, but I'd never confront her on it.

You see, when I get mad. I clam up. If you know me and I'm not speaking, you know I'm mad. You might never find out why, we just might stop talking. If you are my husband or my father, you might eventually find out why I'm mad. But you'll really have to dig for info.

Whenever my husband and I fight it's because I stop talking to him over somthing that might have happened a week ago. Then, I fester. Then, he gets pissed and asks me why I'm mad. Then, I start to cry and it usually ends there. See, I'm okay with letting it out, once I'm ready. But I ALWAYS break down into a ball of sappy hysterics. I can't confront anyone without crying. That's my real problem. Once I muster up the courage to spill it, I weep. Not just tears, mind you. Hyperventilating hysterics. Crying that hurts your nose because its so clogged with mucous. Crying that makes it impossible to utter words. Crying that makes your eyeballs bulge for three days afterwards. Like a spaz.

I am getting better with my husband. It's the other people in my life that I can't confront. The problem? I always get caught off guard by the unexpected stupidity and I fall short for a smart retort. Then, hours later, I think. "Shit, I shoulda said..." But it's too late. I am forever thinking of good "comebacks" or "defenses" hours after the fact. I can't very well bring it up then, it's over...the stupidity has washed away like the shoreline from the ocean tide. However, I am then left to fester; to wallow in my own silence. To continue to think, "Why didn't I just frickin say...."

So, my homework is to practice. Because, after all, practice makes perfect. So loogout everyone. If I get my panties worked up enough you might be in for it, 12 hours after the initial confrontation. Better late than never. You might not even know why I'm pissed, but once I gather my thoughts, I'll let you know.

Wishful thinking, I'm sure. But at least I'm confronting the fact that I need to practice. Right?
Chalk one up for me in the practice department.

Pericarditis!

What the F*?

That's what I have. It's basically a viral infection turned sour in the lining of my chest.

I went to the doctor to get an antibiotic because I can't stop coughing. Before I know it, he's planning to have an ambulance drive me to the cardiologist because he didn't want me driving alone....He didn't like what he heard in my chest. He was second guessing himself because someone of my age and health usually doesn't get this. Can you say....GULP! What the f*?

After he explained everything, I was so panicked, I almost crashed the car into a pole...SO maybe that Ambulance wouldn't have been such a bad idea. After a thorough evaluation by a fantastic cardiologist..

Turns out.....

Choose the best answer:

I had an EKG and have to:
a) be on antibiotics for 7 days
b) be on steriods for 7 days
c) use an inhaler for 7 days...
d) go get another EKG in 7 days...IF I feel okay, otherwise sooner....
e) All of the above

If you chose letter E you are correct damn it.

I am supposed to stay well rested as per Doctor's orders...He told me if I'm ever gonna lay on my ass, this would be the time...HA, he obviously doesn't have a two and a half year old at home. I have never felt so alone as this moment.

Fa, of course is being such a cooperative young lady. She is behaving for me today and seems to really understand that I need her to help me out here. At least she cares.

Anyway, as you can see, I'm pissed about this and other things as well...But I think I'm gonna just say. "If you don't have anything nice to say, keep your gaping mouth shut!"