deprived

I thought that the sleep deprivation part was over when Violet started sleeping more through the night.  Apparently not.

One - I work overnight two nights a week.

Two - my daughter WILL NOT NAP DURING THE DAY.

Today, every time she got cranky and sleepy eyed, I would go lay down with her to get her to nap.  But, the moment - THE MOMENT - I got up, moved, breathed, she was up.

I haven’t slept, there are LOADS of dishes and laundry to be done.  And when AK got home and I finally stole a moment to myself to grab a bit to eat.  The cat jumped up onto my plate.  WHAT THE HELL?

Is there anything I can do about this non-napping situation? HELP!

thinking

thoughts spin around my head like bolts of light.

around and around and around and around.

i try to catch one, to hold onto one, to concentrate on one. but it is impossible. i grasp one for a brief moment and then it escapes me, and i am left stranded in the middle of my own brain with swirling thought and feelings wrapping around my mind, closing in tighter and tighter and tighter and tighter. a constant feeling of almost panic. almost.

i want to scream, i want to share, i want to let the feeling out - but the moment i do my lips become sewn shut. for a brief moment i have nothing to say even though it isn’t true. i have everything to say i just CANT say it because the thoughts are caught in my brain. maybe it is overcrowded. maybe there is something wrong with the connection of my brain to my throat so the words get bottle necked like cars trying to get off the freeway during rush hour. maybe they just give up and live permanently in my brain collecting more and more and more thoughts until my brain is tempted to explode and release them all into the air. in my mind i say them. i speak them. in my mind i imagine i am saying them to you. but then i open my mouth and nothing. air. no words. they are hidden. deep within the folds of my brain. hiding. like they cant survive out here in the world. the world is too normal for my thoughts.

sometimes i wish it would just explode. let the thoughts out. let the words out. who cares if everyone sees them, who cared if i am completely naked. exposed. so what. just get them out of my brain so i can be free to have coffee, take a shower, eat a bagel without constant whirling thoughts in my head.

sometimes i try to explain. i try to share. i say it. and then i sound crazy, and you give me that look. fear. concern. the look that tells me that no matter how you insist that you understand, i see in your eyes that you can’t possibly. i can see that you wander if i am mentally ill. if im crazy.

and i look at you, and i wander if you can see in my eyes that i think im smarter than you. im more emotional than you. im deeper than you. and then that thought leaves me for another one, and i wander if maybe I’m just crazy. but then that one leaves too.

good and bad

Let’s start with the good.

An ongoing dilemna has been the work vs. stay at home issue for me. And yesterday, part of it resolved itself. Two days a week I work for a vet. I love it, I love the extra money, and I love the care for my army of furry children. Hell, I NEED the care for the furry children. However, I HATE to leave Violet at home. Hate it. Now, I can take her with me. I kid you not, they are letting me take my baby to the vet clinic. I am sure there are still kinks I need to work out, but for now I am planning to set her up in the isolation room (I swear it is not like it sounds - hang up the phone, no need to call CPS). It is just a room, adjacent to the treatment area that we don’t use. A pack n’ play and a swing, and I should be in business. The pediatrician gave me the green light, the husband gave me the thumbs up, and now I just need my Violet to cooperate. Granted, I still work my ‘real’ job as a domestic violence advocate. But, baby steps people. Baby steps.

In other news, early this morning my rat - Lucy - died. When I came home from the domestic violence shelter on Tuesday morning I found her wheezing in the bottom of the cage and rushed her to the vet. We treated her with antibiotics, and xrays showed severe pneumonia. A few days of syringe feeding and she died last night in her cage. I don’t know what to do about her sister, Ethel. Rats are such social creatures and now she is all alone.

Good night sweet Lucy. May you have grapes to eat, and cheese to sniff, and water to wash your face in rat heaven. We love you.

torment

So, now that I am back from the long, arduous trip to BC I cannot keep postponing the inevitable Guatemala to-go-or-not-to-go decision. 

So, I let them know at work that I am going, and sent the great cyber cordinator guy my info so that I can get a flight.  And, I guess that means I’m going.

When they handed me my paperwork today, I realized that it was October 22, 2007 when I signed up for this thing.  Violet was three months in utero.  I wasn’t even showing yet, and my bellybutton was still neatly tucked inside the walls of my stomach.  THEN - it sounded like a great idea.  And it is.  It really is. 

But, see I have this thing.  I have forever, and for the most part I trapse through life with no one knowing that anything is wrong with me.  I go to work, school, socialize and come across as a quasi-normal American girl.  And I am, except for as long as I can remember my mind has been filled with this fizzy feeling fluttering stuff, that apparently is called ANXIETY.  While my friend Mr. Fizz, is always there - the extent that he bugs me waxes and wanes back and forth, and for the most part it never affects my life enough to do anything about it.  Infact, I would say that it has improved greatly since back before I knew it was called something, back when I thought I was crazy and that my mind was just a snow globe or a puzzle missing a piece, or FIXING TO FREAKING IMPLODE.  And so if I am doing fine I worry about my weight or what to cook for dinner.  And if I am not doing fine, I worry about elevators, and clothes, and driving in the rain, and my husband being anywhere were anyone could hurt him, or my dog getting bit by a spider,   and crossing bridges, and my weight, and fire, and flying on airplanes.  You get the idea. 

Well, lately it has been bad.  Very bad.  Maybe so bad that it hasn’t been this bad, in say, ever.  I don’t know why.  I am thinking it is the normal hypervigilince that comes along with being a new parents crossed with hormones crossed with me.  Whatever it is.  I am mortified to go.  Mortified.  I want to go, I do.  But, in my mind I can’t shake the feeling that the car will crash on the way to the airport, not to mention the many times I have thought of the plane crashing, and someone kidnapping me on the road outside Guatemala City.  I think, if I die - who will love my baby like me?  How could anyone care for her like I do?  How can I leave her to struggle through the world all on her own?  And then I resolve myself not to go.

THEN, I think - I can’t live this way.  I can’t.  I weigh the risk, and the one I am taking, statistically, is minor.  Very minor.  I have done my homework, and I am going to be safe - as safe as possible.  I tell myself I can’t control everything, so I up the payout on my life insurance, and decide to leave my wedding rings home for Violet in case I am obliterated.  And I resolve to go.

But, THEN, I think about my poor sweet girl all alone.  And here we go again. 

What to do?

Which makes me wonder - as parents, are we selfish in choosing any path that puts ourselves at risk?  What do we really give up to give our children all we can?  Should we?  Is it the torment that makes me a good parent, or would I only be a good parent if I gave up the trip? 

And even when we make the decision we believe is right, there is still the moment of complete fear when I look over at my sleeping baby, her mouth moving as if she is dreaming about eating, and my eyes well with tears and my stomach knots up and I am filled with the most overwhelming feeling of dread.  I think to myself, is loving her this much going to drive me insane?  AM I ALREADY INSANE? 

And the torment continues.

Full swing.

Well, things are back into high gear around here. Last night was first night back at work following two whole weeks of vacation.  Everyone kept asking me if I enjoyed my break.  Break?  I remember my dad telling me when I was young how it was a vacation for everyone except him.  I get it Dad.  I totally get it.  Aside from driving to Canada and back with my two sisters and a baby, I arranged hotels, worried about gas costs (WTF?  $5.00 in parts of California and WELL over that in Canada - it cost $62.00 to fill up a VIBE), made sure everyone was fed and pottyied.  And it was exhausting.  Don’t get me wrong - I loved it.  The time with my sisters was invaluable, and I am glad Violet got to meet her Great-Grandfather.

The younger of my two sisters is here until the 19th, and the other is staying till end of August.  I have to admit with no break in between the return from Canada and starting work, the stress of feeding, and cleaning up after two guests and my child is wearing me pretty thin.  Last night I finally tore through the pantry and pulled out an old stack of paper plates, after doing my third dishwasher full of dishes for the day.  MY WORD.  I have been less than a gracious host since returning, and fed the girls ice cream for dinner last night.  What?  I let them pick the flavor! Tonight I plan on redeeming myself with burgers.  WOW!  I suck.

Monsoon season is beginning here in Sedona,  and I am hoping this afternoon I can take Jess out for a hike to see some of the area.  Depending on the weather, and before the fancy burgers I plan on offering up as penance.

Vacation.

So, it took almost two weeks and started in Sedona, Arizona and passed through Los Angeles, Santa Barbara, San Francisco where we visited family, Oregon, Washington, Victoria where we visited more famiyl, Vancouver, Seattle, Boise, Salt Lake City, and back to Sedona.  It was wonderful, it was long, and here are some photos:

Northern California.

Oregon

Locked out of the house in San Francisco.

My travel companions.  My sisters and daughters.  What a girls’ trip!

Returned.

We are home finally, with loads of laundry, photos, and things to catch up on.  Everything went well.  Violet is an amazing traveler, and it was great seeing my uncle in San Francisco and AK’s family in BC.  We are sufficiently exhausted and I am still wandering whose brilliant idea it was to drive from Arizona to Canada with two sisters and a two month old in a Pontiac Vibe?!??!?!?! Oh wait.  Right.

ok so here goes…

So I have been meaning to address this smoking thing, and decided to do it NOW before leaving on vacation with the could of explanation looming over my head until my return.

But, where to begin? Where to begin?  As I have mentioned many times before our family lives… well, everywhere else. We have a parent in Ontario, British Colombia, Texas, and Tennessee.  All curtesy of divorce, mind you - and I won’t even get into the tangled web that is grandparents and step-grandparents. 

When I first found out I was pregnant with Violet I assured all family members we would be CERTAIN to make sure we visited enough so that they could all REALLY see the baby.  What was I thinking?  Probably, I wasn’t, probably I was planning on going about my life as I did before hopping a flight here or there, with last minute travel deals, taking… well - next to nothing.  Apparantly no one had the guts to tell me to GET A FREAKING CLUE. 

So, now here we are. Baby in hand.  And trying to fulfill the family obligations to visit everyone all the time forever.  That poses several problems.

First, traveling is expensive.  And with mounting fuel costs, and flight costs it isn’t easy even to get around as it used to be. I am spending thousands on trips to Texas, and early tomorrow I leave for California and British Colombia- a trip that will probably cost me $2500, IF I stay in budget.  I work a second job to pay for these trips.  Two days a week I leave my daughter and go probe dog anuses and squeeze anal glands, and shave matted cats, and handle animal blood - so that I can afford to go on these trips. 

Two, traveling takes time.  I am lucky to have ample time off work to spend thousands gallavanting back and forth across North America - but the husband has two weeks.  Yep, two weeks folks. We are 25 years old, and most normal jobs come with, TWO WEEKS.  So, instead of doing ANYTHING else - he spends every second of vacation visiting parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, aunts, cousins, dogs, and people he can’t even remember. 

Three, and this is where it gets sketchy.  The money is unimportant, the time is small in the big picture - it’s the frustration and the stress.  We are working, and planning, and driving, and spending all of our free time to take a TWO MONTH OLD baby to see EVERYONE UNDER THE EVER GROWING family tree.  The whole time we were pregnant we talked about how we wanted family to be important to Violet, that we wanted to be around them… alot.  But, now that she is here - it really is proving more difficult than we thought.  And, well, we just don’t want to anymore.  The cruel truth is that none of this is for her. She won’t even remember.  And that family I want to be important to her, it’s the siblings and parents I had growing up that I want for her - everyone else,well - it was just a bonus.  I want the family life.  And that isn’t what we are creating.  We are home less to pay for it all, split up often because dad flies/mom and Violet drives.  Not to mention the stress of balancing everything.  And as ironic as it is, we never get to do things as a ” family”.  Try as we might, due to the husbands vacation allowances, and our family obligated travel plans, we don’t get time off as  family until mid 2009.  Our daughter will almost be a year old.  Is it worth it?  I honestly don’t think so.  So, who do we eliminate? 

Personally, I think more family shoud come to us.  My sisters already do, which helps tremendously.  And I have a few friends that will.  But only AKs mother is so willing, the rest of his family we have to go visit.  In TWO provinces and in CANADA. 

I won’t begin to tell you how difficult it was to decided, that - well, they just aren’t worth it.  Every hour of her little life is flying by me and I am spending time with animal ass to pay for people to see her.  I wish wish wish that it were more possible.  And, yes, we are considering moving to Toronto in 2009 - thus eliminating, 20 people we would need to visit, but until then the sound of disappointment in their voices makes my heart ache - enough to send me to the store for a pack of Marlboro lights.  And cheap wine.  In those little four packs that you see old weathered women buy at the gas station.  Yep, it sucks THAT MUCH. I feel guilty, and sad, and worried.  Even though I really really feel it is the BEST thing.  It is tricky and scary and selfish - and that is the parent part, the part they dont’ devote chapters to in the pregnancy books. Maybe cause it’s those things you can’t plan for.

cup half empty

I breastfeed.  In the beginning I wanted Violet to be exclusively breastfed, and while I was home on maternity leave all went great.

Then I started back to work.

I have already mentioned that my supply is getting lower and lower.  And now I think I know why.  I work a job that sometimes involves crisis management and intervention.  And I am prepared, at the necessary moment, to flail around to get dressed, put away, and ready to handle things.  I am.  That rarely happens though - so it has no bearing on my milk supply whatsoever.  However the other clients here often bang on the door when I am using my breast pump, incessantly.  So do the other employees, that is - when there is even another employee on staff.  It is frustrating, and often after I have satisified the clients immediate need (another blanket or towel, green beans or juice) I can’t get the milk to, er, let down again.  I should add I DO NOT work at a hotel. Anyway, that milk is barrelled up in there and is refusing to make an appearance.  I can’t begin to tell you how frustrating this is, which only compounds my problem.  And after nights and nights of this happening, I pump less and less and produce less and less.  Then when I try and nurse my poor daughter, she screams, I weep and I end up giving up and giving her formula.

Seriously, it is so bad that I tried at 3am to pump four times, and was interuppted every.single.freaking.time.

I manage on my days off to increase my supply, I pump constantly, feed her on demand, and lay in bed with her for hours, drink tons of water, and take lots of supplements.  And then the work week comes … and there it goes and drys right up. 

Since I live in Arizona I don’t think I have any rights as far as breastfeeding in my workplace.  One would think that something that is proven to provide such amazing health benefits to all parties involved would be number one on the senate/legislative agenda.  I have tried several resources and can’t find anything.  And at this point I am so frustrated with the hypocrisy of my workplace, as we strive to provide a nurturing environment to mothers and their children - just apparantly, not ones that work there, that I am tempted to quit.  Even though I love my job.  And have worked there for several years.  What can I do and where can I go to find out what rights I have as a breastfeeding mother in the workplace?  What should I do?  I am tempted to tell the clients that if I am in the bathroom that aside from a military emergency they are forbidden to touch the bathroom door.  But, something tells me that it wouldn’t go over well with the high ups.

Any suggestions?

vacation?

Sunday/Monday I leave for British Colombia via San Francisco.  I am driving to Canada with BOTH of my sisters, my TWO MONTH old, and my husband who meets us in San Francisco.  We are going to SEE HIS MOTHER.  Vacation?  You answer that question. 

I love my mother-in-law, minus the normal complaints, and am stopping over in San Francisco to visit my favorite uncle, his wife, and my cousin.  Also, both of my sisters are coming - the one living with me, and then my other sister who is flying in from Knoxville on Saturday where she is spending the summer with my parents.  More than anything I am excited about the time I get to spend with them, trekking up the Pacific coast.  All of our lives are about to be compounded with college, and babies, and work - and it really seems like the last time for impromptu trips to Canada. 

Thankfully, Violet is a good traveler.  She is.  But, we JUST got back from a twenty or so hour drive to Texas and I am less than looking forward to driving the entire way, worrying about gas prices, pee breaks, eating, etc for eleven days.  I TOTALLY GET IT DAD. 

The other thing: fitting all of our stuff in the car.  I have told the girls all of us are sharing ONE SUITCASE.  Yes, you heard me.  ONE.  We will all pack together, using ONE SUITCASE.  (Sorry - I just had to read that again).  I drive a Pontiac Vibe.  I love the car, but it doesn’t have the roomiest of trunks.   And considering Violet, the smallest member of our troupe, comes with a massive stroller and a portable swing -  the rest of us need to make some adjustments. 

All in all, I know it will be worth it when I see my husbands face light up when his grandfather gets to meet his baby girl - but the packing, planning, stressing part is leaving me less than excited. 

***

P.S.  I SIGNED myself up for this.  And I SIGNED myself up for Texas.  Do I have a deathwish?  Might someone given me a freaking clue ( or a damn good thrashing.)