thank goodness for little therapists

There are times when I don't know whether I should laugh, cry, or just shit my pants. Lately I've been having a lot of those times.

Spagett is still teething, and showing no signs of letting up any time soon. The dark circles under my eyes may well become permanent. Sid and I have been... well, to put it gently, we've hit one of those inevitable spots in a relationship where you are either going to kill each other with the fighting, or work through it and come out stronger. Which outcome we'll have remains to be seen.

We're both stressed out. I'm not sleeping well, he's working all the time, and when he's home, it's just nonstop whining and screaming from Spagett. There is not a moment's peace to be had here at Manson Homestead II. Ever. At any time of the day or night.

Thank fuck for my therapist.

misery is spelled S-H-O-T-S

Spagett had his six month vaccinations on Friday, in the midst of cutting his second tooth, and having a growth spurt. Getting the shots was easy-peasy. He wailed for the second it took to administer the shot and that was it. It was the aftermath that almost killed me. He whined and fussed and cried from the moment he woke in the morning to the moment he fell asleep at night, and then he'd wake up every two hours and commence the fussing. He would barely nap. His guts were upset from the rotavirus vaccine, so he was spitting up nonstop and having diarrhea. He didn't want to eat his solids, and if he was on the breast, he'd unlatch every minute or so and just scream. It was hellish. Absolutely hellish.

And today he woke up full of smiles, he had a poop that was normal, and he has been napping for two hours now. It's like I've been given a different child. One that actually laughs when you tickle him instead of holding his breath or crying. One that sits on the floor and actually PLAYS WITH HIS TOYS instead of screaming.

Today was the first time in four days that I enjoyed my time with him.

six teeth

We knew Spagett was teething, but it seemed like every time we checked his mouth, there was a new tooth lurking under the surface of his gums. First it was his canines, then his two upper front teeth, and then his two lower fronts. They're all perfectly content to just sit there, visible under the gums, and give him hell. SIX TEETH, OH MAH LAWD.

Well, one finally broke through today, and it's been cause for much celebration. FIVE MORE TO GO, HOLY SHIT, WE CAN DO THIS. And then someone had to go and piss in Sid's cornflakes and tell him that this is small potatoes, just wait until the baby gets his molars. To which I say: dude, why must you be such a twatwaffle?

So Spagett is still a grump, but we're getting through it as best we can. To add to the kid's misery, he has learned to sit up, and has mastered rolling over, and now he knows he can get mobile and that he's missing out on a bunch of stuff that he could get into if he could crawl. This poor kid has been desperately trying to get onto his hands and knees and go, and he just doesn't quite have the coordination, or the strength. He ends up scooting backward on his stomach every time.

I think it's hilarious, and have been encouraging him to practice at every opportunity. OH HAI, SPAGETT, I AM GOING TO LEAVE YOU HERE ON YOUR STOMACH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FLOOR WITH YOUR TOYS JUST OUT OF REACH WHILE I GO DO SOMETHING ELSE FOR A MINUTE. Oh, the humanity! And when I come back, he's a foot away from where I left him, having scooted away from his toys, and now he's lying on his back and watching the ceiling fan. Oh, the HUMANITY!

Did I mention I'm a total sadist?

heading for a... something

Sid has not been working dependable hours: he works nights sometimes, he works days sometimes, and more and more frequently, he's been having to go in on his days off. So when he is home, it's understandable that he wants some time to relax and do what he likes.

The only problem with that is, that leaves me no time to relax and do what I like. When Sid's at work, I'm at home with Spagett. When Spagett is sleeping, I'm trying to do housework. When Sid's at home, I'm still with Spagett, still trying to snatch time for housework.

I am going to go crazy.

As I type this, Spagett is on his play mat beside me, freaking out. Not crying, just getting really pissy. And it is grating on my last damn nerve, but I so want this time to get this frustration out somewhere, because I feel like I could cry. I could just break down sobbing right now.

When we decided to have a baby, we had assumed, wrongly, that Sid would be home more. That everything would not be falling on me. Spagett comes with me to my goddamn therapy sessions, for fuck's sake, because Sid is never home to watch him for an hour or so. It's fucking ridiculous, and I don't know if I can keep doing this. I am losing my temper with Spagett more and more, and it's horrible of me, and I feel terrible for it. It just keeps snowballing.

I don't know what to do.

playing catch-up

Life has been hectic here at Manson Homestead the Second. Between Sid's crazy work schedule and taking care of Spagett, the only real down-time I've had in a while is using the toilet. Which, let's face it, is not really my idea of leisure time.

Spagett is four months old, and growing like a weed. He's been showing interest in solid food for almost a month now, and even though I hadn't planned on starting him on solids until about six months, he seemed ready so those plans went right out the window, like all plans any mother makes! Once a day, usually in the afternoon or early evening, he gets a solid: usually banana, applesauce or rice cereal. He's had avocados, and this week we'll be introducing butternut squash. As an aside, I'm making his food myself, not buying the jarred kind, and it's working out great.

While Spagett's been doing well, I've been struggling with anxiety. It has gotten progressively worse since his birth, and I kept thinking it would ease, but it doesn't. I worry about some pretty wackadoo shit, too. It's not like I'm your typical worrywart mother. No, I'm freaking out about things like the floor caving in when we're up on the second floor. Things like the house falling over and Spagett falling out a window or having a dresser fall onto him. Things that I know will never, ever happen. And yet I can't get the fear out of my head. Along with that are legitimate, but exaggerated fears as well. When we're out with Sid and we stop for gas, when Sid goes into the station to pay, I worry that someone is going to jack the car and drive off with me and Spagett. When I leave the house, even though there is no sign of a break-in, I become convinced someone has gotten into the house and is lurking in one of the closets. The other week there was a thunderstorm, and while I normally love a good thunderstorm, I was scared. The wind, the thunder, the sound of the rain... none of it comforted me as it used to. Instead, it dredged up terror. Since it's not going away like I thought it would, I am going to speak to my doctor. We'll see what she says.

In other news, the community pool opened up over the weekend, and I would be down there right now swimming if it weren't for Spagett. I want him to enjoy it, too! When he goes in for his four month checkup, I mean to ask his pediatrician about taking him in the pool. I have a swimsuit and a sunhat all ready for him, and all I need to buy is a swim diaper. But I have questions about the pool water, and sunscreen, and that kind of thing. Before I just dive headlong into things, I want to discuss it with someone who knows more than I do.

Oh, I almost forgot! Spagett has said his first words! He has been parroting us for weeks, very garbled and not-quite-words, but this was an unmistakable "I love you!" Unfortunately, I didn't catch it on video. He said it again, and I managed to capture that, but it isn't as clear as when he said it the first time. Everyone who's heard it agrees that he said "I love you" but you be the judge.

5 am

Spagett's sleeping habits have drastically improved, and now he wakes up every morning at around 5 am. He sleeps for three or four hour stretches (in his bassinet!), but it's inevitable that he'll wake between 4:30 and 6 am. This has become my favorite time of the morning.

On the days that Sid leaves for work early, I have the bed to myself then. Spagett will wake, and I'll change his diaper, feed him, and put him in the bed with me. I will lie there in the semi-darkness and stare at his sleeping face in wonderment: it is so hard to believe, still, that I am looking at my child. I close my eyes, just listen to him breathe, and in those moments there is no one else in all the world but us.

The days that Sid doesn't leave for work until the afternoon, I follow the routine and then put Spagett in the bed between us, and then I can't fall back asleep no matter how tired I am. I feel obligated to drink in those quiet, sleepy moments when father and son are sleeping side by side unawares, mirror images of partly open mouths and outflung limbs.

I have never in my life been a morning person, but I am glad to say that has changed.

a lesson in awesome

Spagett's two month checkup was a few days ago, and besides the vaccinations, it went GREAT. We saw his usual pediatrician, who took one look at him and said, "there was a note in his chart about overfeeding, but I don't believe in fat babies. There's underweight and well fed. He's clearly growing well, so keep doing what you're doing."

Yes, as a matter of fact, my son's pediatrician is fabulous!