I put on make up today

For the first time since getting PPD. Well, for the first time during the day not for any particular reason or event. And I did my hair. This is monumental. I actually had the desire to look presentable. Not because I had to but because I wanted to. It felt good. Strange, but good.
It is raining here for the first time in a long time. The wind is blowing and I have the window open to let in the cool breeze and the fresh smell. I am amused that while the leaves are dying and things are starting to look bleak outside internally I am experiencing a tiny spring. Not every day, mind you, but enough to feel human again. And hopeful.
In other news, my own recent personal emotional development did not increase my parenting skills today. I yelled at A when I was trying to talk on the phone and he kept butting in. Sometimes he frustrates me so much that I want to run outside and scream. I feel like I am talking to a wall. I ask him not to do something and he does it. Again. And Again. There is nothing more frustrating to me than not to be heard. Unfortunately it is a syndrome that I am almost convinced is genetically linked to the Y chromosome. Our dog is male and doesn't listen. Both my husband and my son are male and, well, you get the idea.
Do you ever look at your kids and wonder how you created something so cute? I mean, come on. Look at this face.
And this guy. Unique does not even begin to describe him.
He insisted on being Venom, the black spiderman. Yes, the costume is a little disco but my mom made it from a vintage pattern. I guess Marvel comics doesn't publish patterns for costumes they sell. I had to find this one on ebay. Not sure why my Mom chose satin but whatever. A doesn't care. In fact he loves it.
Days like today I don't feel like I put forth my best effort at parenting. My therapist insists that children are terribly resilient, however, and will probably grow up to be relatively normal people (inspite of me being the unspoken ending to this sentence). I can only hope.
Because when you have this for a mother you are pretty much screwed from the get goAnd yes, that is a homemade beer hat.

Friendship Meme

Tagged by Amanda. My first one so I feel obligated to do make sure I do it. :)

1. Have you had the same friends since childhood?
No. I still talk to one friend from grade school but not regularly. I did not have a very happy childhood school experience. So most of those people could drop off the face of the earth and I really wouldn't give a shit.
But I'm not bitter.

2. What do you value most about your friends?
Honesty and a sense of humor. I also like people who not only take but give. I have a propensity to give too much which usually leads to me feeling taken advantage of. I love getting to the point in a friendship where my house can be a total sty and I don't feel uncomfortable with them coming over and seeing it. Or when you get to the point where you can help yourself to a drink at their house and you not only feel comfortable doing it but also know where all the glasses are.

I also like people who are a foil to my personality. I love subtlety in humor and I just can't stand people who are gregarious all the time. I have yet to find more than a couple of friends other than my husband who can make me laugh really, really hard.

3. Are your friends your sounding boards?
Yes, but I talk about different subjects with different friends. There are only one or two people that I trust with everything I think and feel. I just don't feel comfortable sharing everything with everyone.

4. What is your favorite activity to share with your friends?
It usually revolves around alcohol of some sort. Or food. Hopefully both.

I have no idea how many people read this blog so I will tag the few I know who do because they comment.

Heather (Bobbin's Mommy)
Adrianne
Karen

Some Changes

Because who doesn't like jumping naked on a trampoline?
While holding your junk, no less.

Is it any wonder I'm tired?

So very very tired. W is still waking up multiple times a night. Sometimes 5. Sometimes 3. There is no rhyme or reason to it. It is what it is. I remember when I went through this with Angus. On the nights where he would sleep well I would obsessively try to remember what I had done during the day that lead up to it to figure out what had made it happen. Then I would try to repeat the sequence of events to the letter to duplicate the outcome. It never worked. But I guess it was nice to feel occasionally like I was in control of the situation when really I wasn't.
In therapy last week I didn't have a chance to pick up my customary latte before my session and my therapist (who from now on I will call Dr. M) commented on how tired I looked. Well, duh. But she said it in a nice, caring way. I told her that W still wasn't sleeping consistently well and she had had a rough night. We discussed how it is harder for me to block the intrusive thoughts and anxiety when I am tired. So we tried to brainstorm some ideas on how I could get more rest to feel better. Because I am running on about a year's worth of sleep deprivation and it is not really working. To say the least.
She disclosed that her daughter was six so she had a hard time remembering what worked and what didn't. Some of her ideas made me want to laugh maniacally.
Here are some of her suggestions:
"Keep her awake at night and put her to bed later."
"Don't let her sleep as much during the day."
"Don't nurse her to sleep when she wakes at night."
Ah, it all seems so simple, doesn't it? When typed out, the three suggestions above seem like something even an idiot could do. Really, these things are almost insultingly easy.
Oh, how I laughed in the car on the way home. Laughed so hard that I cried. And cried. And cried. Fatigue can do that to you. Make something that is deathly serious seem hilariously funny.
I had an epiphany at Wal-mart last week. Right in the produce aisle. In the static of my brain I had a moment of clarity so sharp that it was almost painful.
My son was making some kind of repetitious, extremely annoying noise at a frequency that only three year olds can reach. My daughter was beginning to cry because she was tired (wonder why?). A box of diapers kept falling off the bottom of my cart onto the floor. My left breast was leaking milk through my shirt.
And then the world stopped. There was a hush and then a hum. All at once I realized...
This is what insanity sounds like.
The sound of a three year old chanting and a baby howling. The hum of people talking around you. The announcements over the loud speaker. Squeaky shopping wheels. The cacophony of every day life combined with the sound of your children freaking out.
The urge to scream welled up within me. Okay, not just a scream. A howl from the depths of my soul combined with frantic running around and pulling of my hair. Maybe some face clawing for shits and giggles. How satisfying would that be? Just to absolutely fucking lose it in the middle of Wal-Mart. To just run around screaming and pushing people out of the way.
The idea was so seductive that I almost gave in to it. Is it against the law to run around screaming? I suppose they could escort you out. And tell you not to come back. That would suck because they have such low, low prices. So I guess that is out. If anything, the thought brought a smile to my face.
Really the government should investigate sleep deprivation combined with a 3 year old and a 6 month old freaking out as an alternative to water boarding. Just record that noise along with the ambient sounds of an average Wal-mart and play it over and over after a detainee has been woken up the night before every two hours by a howling baby's cries. And wait.
I don't know, that almost seems too cruel and unusual doesn't it?
Back to the cuckoo's nest.

Every day is like Sunday

Busy, busy, busy.
Too busy to post? Nah. More like too lazy and too unwilling to do anything in the evening other than vegetate.
I have had a sudden increase in anxiety and intrusive thoughts again. Not surprisingly this has coincided with a terrible week of sleeping on W's part. Usually the worst days I have are the ones where I get very broken and little sleep. All of this business started after a night where W woke up every hour on the hour a few months ago. I was talking in therapy yesterday that sometimes I don't even feel like I am really here. Like my life is just some sort of dream from which someone will eventually wake up and then I will be no more. I told my therapist that on days when I feel this way I have strange impulses to do things to get back inside my body.
Like pulling over to the side of the road and rolling in the hot, dry grass.
Squishing my toes in mud.
Running my hands along something roughly textured.
I told her that I have been resisting the impulse to do these things because I am afraid that I am just opening a doorway for more crazy impulses. She said she thinks I am smart enough not to do something unsafe. She encouraged me to give in to my impulse the next time I have one because it will ground me.
So I did.
On my way out of her office I had the impulse to run my hand along the rough stucco of the building. I knew what it was going to feel like because I have done it before. But the impulse to feel something, anything (even something I knew would be mildly unpleasant) was too strong to resist.
I touched it.
It was what I expected. Bumpy, scratchy, and unpleasant to the touch. But it was good to be back inside my body again for that moment and connected to my feelings instead of having this sense that my life is a movie and I am just watching it on the big screen in a movie theatre.
Something my therapist said really resonated yesterday. She said that most people move through life with a cloak of invulnerability around themselves. They know bad things happen but figure that they usually just happen to other people. My cloak has been stripped away and I am shivering, naked and exposed. I think that sums up how I feel nicely. Exposed.
On a brighter note, HAPPY 1/2 BIRTHDAY TO MY BEAUTIFUL LITTLE GIRL! I can't believe that she is 6 months old. It has flown by for me.
It is amazing how different she is in comparison to her brother. She started babbling last week and even the noises she makes are girly, more like a high-pitched "Squeeeeee!" A was always lower registers and more grunting noises with lots of "Ooooohs!" W is army crawling and rolling all over the floor, much to the chagrin of my aforementioned fat and lazy animals. She is not a good sleeper, but will put herself to sleep when she is tired. It is the staying asleep part that she doesn't quite get. Her disposition is very sweet and all in all she is a very relaxed baby. I love the fact that every time she sees me her face lights up. There is nothing in the world that feels better than that.
Here we are on the hayride to the pumpkin patch

And here is A jumping like a fool on the haycovered trampolineSuch wholesome family fun. If you had told me ten years ago that this is where I would be and this is what I would be doing I don't think I would've believed you. I certainly feel lucky that everything has turned out how it has .
Except for the whole rolling around in the mud thing. That is a little weird.