mama's little helper.

I sat on the doctors table.

Sobbing.

I had arrived on time for my appointment but without the paperwork I needed for my "pre-op" visit.

You see, Lumpy's day out in quickly approaching and they need to make sure I am alive and well before his removal.

"I..p-p-put the p-p-paperw-ork in my b-agggg yes-t-t-terdayyyy" I blubbered.

I continued in an incoherent hysteria....

....I feel as if I am loosing my mind. I am miserable, I cry all the time, I am insecure and paranoid. I feel hopeless and sad. (I stopped blogging) I forget everything...I actually left the garage door to my bay open the other night. All night. And the pass door to the house. OPEN. With Spouse's big-wig financial institution laptop in his Jeep...Someone could have taken it! Someone could have taken the BABY....

I continued between racking sobs....

It was like I woke up one morning and someone flipped a switch. I went from perfectly normal (for me) to a total basket case. What was wrong with me?

My doctor listened to my rant. She assured me that while the brainlessness of a Mommy is normal and gets exponentially worse with each child...she feared there was more going on. And then she said it.

"Post...Par..." I cut her off.

NO, that's not me. Maybe other people, but not me. I was happy, look at my girl! She is remarkable isn't she?

(Riley squeals at this as if to say, dang straight mommy! You tell her!)

"I can't have po-pa-pp...you know...that. Because it's been almost 8 months and well frankly that is just not ME."

She patiently listened to my denials. She waited for me to calm down.

She told me there was most likely a chemical imbalance in my brain. It was probably caused by 'The Juice' and in combination with my baby hormones threw everything out of whack. She said it wasn't my fault. She offered me medication.

I stood at this. NO. No meds! I have been depressed before. I battled my way through the death of a parent without the help of legal drugs. I know myself so well, I am an adult in control of my own mind (sob) and I will not give in to medication.

I left with the name of a therapist in my area. I have had plenty of therapy in my life, it has served a great purpose. It has aided me in over coming the outside influences which I could not control and my reactions to them.

Logical right?

When I got home I discussed it with anyone who would listen to me Spouse. He agreed with my doctor. It made a lot of sense. 'The Juice' flipped a switch and maybe a little pill could switch it off.

Maybe. I was skeptical.

I traveled to New Jersey to spend a week with my father and BF. I thought it over.

Today I saw my doctor again and today I left with a prescription for 'The Prozac'.

I can't stand the idea that I would need something like this. But one night I went to bed happy, and the next morning I woke up miserable. Nothing remarkable happened, no tragic events, no traumatic experiences.

I just woke up a different person than I was the night before.

I'm frightened. I can't stand the idea of a non-recreational drug influencing me. Making me feel or better; allowing me to feel somehow other than I am.

Does that make sense? I get woozy on Tylenol, what the heck is this stuff going to do to me?

why I tune in.

The Free-Credit-Report.com guy has some competition...


This guy from The Greatest American Dog...





And this guy from The Last Comic Standing...



Just two more reasons why I think reality TV is such a good idea.

by osmosis.

My heart hurts.

As my baby plays quietly by herself on the floor (as I think she does too often) my fingers clack clackity away on pointless internet crap.

Have you played Sramble or Scrabulous on Facebook? My lord it's an obsession.

My car died again last night. I know AGAIN.

This time it was the battery, and this time it happened in my very own garage...this time Spouse could fix it. BUT; I didn't realize how scarred I was from my previous experiences with my piece of crap Jeep. The fear and stress descended upon me in an instant. I shook with anxiety.

not again not again not again.

10 Days in New Jersey, breaking down in a ghetto Springfield Massachusetts. The hits with this car just keep coming. Each time its happened I cry "new car"....and then we pay a small fortune get it fixed and Spouse cries "no money".

Which is very true. We have no money.

And we live kind of in the middle of no where.

And we don't really know anybody.

And the only times I feel like I leave the house are because I make an excuse to and it's always to go somewhere that people traditionally spend money.

Which we don't have.

In a car that is an afternoon with AAA waiting to happen.

Do you see where I'm going with this? My heart hurts. I'm lonely. I'm broke. I can't go too far.

shhhhh I think I may even be a teeny-eeny-bit....depressed.

There I said it.

I have looked for stuff to do....it's all far away. Kindermusik, Gymboree, Meet-ups, Mommy and Me. Far far away.

Money. Gas prices. Car time bomb.

Yes I know I make a lot of excuses, I'm famous for them (chime in here BF).

BUT; this time I am really trying.

And it's not working.

And that doesn't help.

I also happen to come along with the small handicap of imploding instantaneously in temperatures above 70 degrees.

My worst nightmare is that the car will leave me stranded on the side of the road on a hot day with my baby. I fear it.

Not in the way I fear clowns, but more in the inevitable end sort of way.

As if I'm waiting for it.

And that is no way to live.

I'm not happy and I think I said as much to Spouse last night. Although he may not have picked up on the words exactly, you know, with all of the crying and the blubbering and the finger pointing.

And here's the rub. I don't exactly feel as if I'm entitled to be unhappy. I have a wonderful husband, an amazing baby and a beautiful home. Where do I get off?

I know it's a dangerous trap to compare yourself to others, and I'm not doing that. I'm comparing myself to myself. I know when I have felt like this in the past and frankly things were awful.

To make myself feel better I would dream of this life I have now. But then I would attack myself and scold saying I would never get it. I didn't deserve it.

Well you know what, I know I deserve it and I worked really freaking hard to get it.

But it's not enough; I feel like a spoiled brat because I want the other stuff too. I want the friends who are there all of the time, physically as well as emotionally. I want things to do. I want some action.

Friendly, free, air-conditioned, action.

I just don't know where to look for it, and I don't know if my car can get me there.

my new neighborhood grocery store?

Dear Trader Joe's,

I am writing you to beg a new Trader Joe's location in Nowhereville, Connecticut.

Where you say?

Nowhereville (Yes I know it is a silly name). It's in the northeast corner of the state and very convenient to both the Massachusetts and Rhode Island lines. If you open here you will get three states in one! What a deal!

Seriously, Nowhereville has recently opened a large shopping center including a Lowes, Stop and Shop and soon to open Target and Bed Bath and Beyond. Since Nowhereville is now the only convenient shopping for quite a distance, this has generated a large amount of new traffic to the area.

Although you currently have stores in Worcester MA, and a new store in Warwick RI they are not easily accessed from the Quiet Corner of Connecticut. The traffic which formally would travel to these areas (like me) for shopping is redirecting to the closer center in Nowhereville.

I believe (because I am in no way biased or enchanted by your dark chocolate covered almonds) that this area is prime for a Trader Joe's.

As it is, organic produce in the area is spotty and the farmers market lacking.

For me, rising gas prices and a new baby prevent me from traveling as I used to, to secure the vegetarian pot stickers, chocolate cat cookies and aforementioned almonds, delicious and healthful food that your store provides.

What is a girl to do?

(insert begging and pleading for my very own Trader Joe's Nowhereville Neighborhood Grocery Store here.)

Sincerely,
Your biggest fan

**name of town changed from actual letter, cause oh yeah...I sent this.

Seven.

So it seems you are more like me then I feared.

While you come with a sunny disposition that not even the cloudiest day can sully...you also come with the unexplainable, inexplicable. BAD MOOD.

You get bored. So easily. A toy which held total fascination 15 minutes ago is thrown wildly from your body never to be seen again. Should I even dare to try giving it back you yell at me.

You yell at your mother, you mean it and you are only seven months old.

You and I could sleep forever. Curled into each other in a soft bed. Sleep has never been a problem. In that I am blessed.

You are social, we love to go on adventures together and neither of us ever.shuts.up.

When you are quiet, when you snuggle and when you are patient; you are your father. In those tiny moments when how something works not how it looks draws your attention; when you smile at me because you love me more then anything in this world.

Then you are 100% your father.

And I am more in love then I ever thought I could be.

Oh and look at that chubb...don't you just want to eat her up? Those thighs!

Rule #37

Yesterday Spouse and I went to a BBQ at our neighbor's up the hill.

We had a really nice time enjoying other people entertaining our baby relaxing and chatting the day away.

When Riley's bedtime rolled around Spouse was fairly well lit and wanted to stay. There were horseshoes! and boccie ball! and beer!

While he did offer to take bed time in hand I accepted my fate as Mommy and brought the girl home for bath! books! and bed!

Today we ventured out for breakfast and when we returned home I announced thoughtless of my slightly hung over hubby my need for a nap.

Spouse agreed to take over parenting duties so I could nap. See I keep saying nap.

To me, napping indicates 20-60 minutes of shut eye.

What did I do? I went back to bed.

Four hours later Spouse woke me from my dead sleep slumber with a very hungry baby.

I was racked with guilt when I saw the clock. What kind of weekend was this for my hard working Spouse? Sure he got to take advantage of the best parts of yesterday...the drinking, the smoking, the not going home for nap and/or bed time while there was partying to be had.

But I just couldn't get passed the fact that he had to deal with a cranky over tired baby on his Sunday.

Then it occurred to me.

Maybe Daddies stay at the party and get to have a blast blowing off the stress from days spent away from home and working all week.

Maybe Mommies get to crash mid-day without being disturbed so they can catch up from the night wakings and the hours of sleep lost all week.

We both get our jobs done and have our rewards.

Although, only one of us seems to be able to remember to change her diaper and feed her lunch.

I guess we cant have it all.

it's wrong.

I saw a woman jogging up hill today with her leashed dog.

It was a Pekingese.

SO freaking wrong.