Friday, August 10, 2012

finding new incarnations of blogging as a verb

Goodness, this blog has become so dull lately!  I keep up on my 365 pictures but actual blogging has become a rarity this year.  Just 5 or so more months, woohoo!

I'm doing dandy, although it is exhausting being exhausted all the time and feeling like a giant failure at everything because of the exhaustion.  And for the better part of the week I had  intestinal problems that involved a feeling akin to being stabbed with a dagger in my stomach every time I stood vertical.  Dull, dull dull!

But real life carries on, and I intend to get back to bloggering like a normal bloggerer.  I sat down to type my brain out and since it has been so long since I bloggered normally, I was surprised by how self-absorbed and whiny it sounded.  Am I normally so self-absorbed?  DON'T ANSWER THAT.

Anywho, in the spirit of bloggitiggitying normalcy, I'm posting it anyway, but I'm putting a jump-break thingy in it so years from now when I go perusing my archives I'll have to actually click through to witness the annoyingocity and be thankful I at least partially shielded the normal populace from the woe-is-me fest.

Man, I'm out of bloggetting shape.

I don't have much to say this summer, given that my delicate situation has left me pooped.  It's out in the open now, since we told WonderGirl and she has told every living soul she sees.  I'm almost out of the first trimester so my energy should be returning, but there's the issue of my parents leaving the country in a few weeks, and knowing that for the 3rd time I won't have my mother there to help me.

It's not like I'm a big baby, but things went pretty badly the first two times and I'm walking into this next situation with a little more knowledge under my belt about what I'll be facing.  I was blind-sighted with how bad things were so instead of solving problems, I was consumed with basic survival.  And now that I know for sure what the bad things are and how bad things will be and how long they will take to regulate, I have firmer ideas about what could alleviate some of the cruddiness.  Except it involves me being locked in a padded room for 3 full days in a straight jacket while I scream through the pain and someone else holds the baby and parents my children.  Generally speaking, the one person you can depend on to allow you to abuse their kindness, physical well-being and emotional sanity like that is your own mother.  And my mom totally could.  Except she's going to be in China.  When my uncle was in the hospital last year, she actually slept on the floor next to his bed for weeks and woke up at all hours of the night to help care for him.  She's HARD CORE, y'all.  And I need hard core.

I need to look at the bigger picture to get through this.  And when I do, I feel insanely blessed to have the children that I do, and how awesome this will be eventually.  But for now, there's no solution and the memories of the PPD and D-MER are so powerful I can't help but cry for my mommy.  Bringing a child into this world requires faith, yes.  I just question why it also has to take a chunk out of my soul as well.

That being said, besides the fact that I'm tired and huge domestic disappointment lately, I'm doing pretty good, considering.  I hadn't taken a steady antacid medication before and it is seriously helping things.  There's still some problem with chocolate, but with my fancy pills I can survive just enough to keep me from going postal.

One last bit of narcissistic dribble:  I just realized the last time I had a pedicure was pre-WG.  That used to be my little pick-me-up.  Now my pick-me-up is going to the store for milk sans children.  This is all by choice, and I wouldn't change it.  But something tells me that all those mothering specialists who insist we not let ourselves go when we have children must live close to family.  And those fabulous little mini-mall nail salons you find anywhere but ClownTown, USA.


Jane said...

1. It's no subsitute I know, but you can call me and I will fly out for as long as necessary to stay with you.
2. It's true, there are about four nail 'salons' visible from my front porch.

M Pepper Langlinais said...

My pick-me-up is also going to the store without any hangers on. Really, any "me" time will do . . . I'll just go drive in circles around the block to have the car to myself. Anything.

I know you feel like you're standing in a tunnel with a train hurtling toward you. It'll hurt when it hits--you know this because you've been hit twice before. Don't brace for impact. It hurts more when you tense up. You've just got to ride the buffer until the train comes to a complete stop and someone can peel you off. This probably doesn't sound very encouraging, and it's easier to say than do, but it's flat-out true. Ease up, let go, and let 'er ride.

p... said...

Not that I am anywhere CLOSE to your mother, but you can call me anytime. I can even make house calls as long as I have a bit of lead time! You are more capable that you know it. Oh and I am searching for a mobile pedicure team now for you! Loves. p

Anonymous said...

One of your blog-o-sphere admirers commented to me recently that she missed reading your clever, uniquely written blogs...not that she didn't enjoy watching your photography skill develop; it's all good. Great minds must be in sync because here you are repenting to your fans about just such neglect. I very much enjoy how well you channel Erma Bombeck with your own twist of honesty and humor. Your reality show beats the socks off that TV wannabe fare. Your fans thank you and love you. You're good & you know it.

HEAR YE. I need to document the fact that I ran 3 miles and didn't feel like death.  So just to make sure it wasn't a fluke, I did...