Friday, October 29, 2010

Farmville and Crazy Mom

In my birthing class that was "mandatory" for all new parents to attend that wanted to give birth in this fancy new hospital, it was stressed upon us that we might go through a period when the baby is first born where we may want to harm him.  (What they didn't tell us is that we will continue having these thoughts until WE die.)  Lack of sleep, hormone imbalance, trouble nursing, etc might all be factors in these thoughts.  Each couple had to come up with an alternative method of calming our baby down.  With 24 couples in the class, we all had some pretty good ideas.  The running water trick saved our marriage.  Shaking the baby was NOT an option, duh! 

Well, for one mom, it obviously was. 

While feeding the cows and harvesting her crops on Facebook's addicting game, Farmville, her 3-month old son began to cry.  Ignoring him, she continued harvesting and trading and buying and building her imagninary farm.  Baby continues to cry.  To make him stop so that she could finish her very important game, she picks him up and shakes him.  Goes and smokes a cigarette and then comes back to shake him some more.  Shakes the baby so hard that he dies.  He dies.  He died. 

Because?  Because playing her imaginary game was more important than feeding her baby, or picking him up, or playing with him or paying attention to his needs because you're the only person at that moment that he can trust to take care of him?  How does someone do that?  I don't understand it!

My son was not a good baby for the first...well, ever...of his life.  He cried and cried and ate and cried.  It was unnerving.  I craved for time to myself.  Yes, I had thoughts of throwing him.  But I was disgusted and horrified the millisecond after the thought passed through my sleep-deprived brain.  I knew it would be wrong.  Ultimately, I convinced myself in a matter of two seconds that hurting my child would bring more misery to the rest of my life than the peace of five minutes it would bring if I could make him just be quiet.  It wasn't worth it.  It would never be worth it!

I wonder what goes through the minds of women and men that are able to physically harm their children.  The lady that drowned her four young children?  What happens in that moment when morals are thrown into the wind and insanity is allowed to reign?  I can never understand it.  I don't ever want to.  I want my children to live and thrive. 

I don't know if the issue is the game of Farmville.  It's not a violent game.  I don't believe it planted (sorry for the pun) a kernel of violence in her head and subconsciously told her to shake her son.  In truth, Farmville is a way for someone to escape into a simpler life.  It is a life where your crops and animals depend on you to sell, feed, harvest, etc.  You can build a new farmhouse and help harvest other's crops.  An alternate life, possibly.  An escape from a newborn that cries and needs incessantly.  Sure.

Any person that stays at home with their kids or takes care of other's kids needs a break.  It's flippin' hard.  I stayed home with my son for four months and I just wanted to take a shower without him needing me to hold him.  You take for granted everything that you did before kids, like taking a 20 minute shower instead of 2 minutes.  (Sorry about the hairy legs, honey. Baby wouldn't let me shave them for the past two months.)  You need a break.  An hour or a few away from them can only make you a better caregiver.  After a date with my husband or a girls' night out, I am so much more grateful for my children than if I had stayed at home with them. 

Her son would be a year old now.  It literally makes my stomach flip to think about what she did to him.  She pleaded guilty to second degree murder.  My only hope is that the women in her prison will show as much respect to her as she did to her son.  Maybe while she's getting shanked or the crap kicked out of her, she'll remember she forgot to harvest her corn. 

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Random Thoughts Tuesday

Random Thoughts.  I think that I might be pretty good at this.

I'm having a tubing issue at work.  I finally fix this critical instrument, and apparently, the Horiba Ghost broke it over the weekend.  Gaah!  I have switched the tubing with new, exhausted all of the permutations for tubing combinations and am ready to pull my hair out.  The lady at work that really needs some data says, "Must be a hole in the tubing."

Me:  You think so?  After I just switched all of the tubing twice?  Maybe I took a needle and poked it through all of the tubing.  Maybe I need to use that same needle to poke my fucking eyes out. 

I didn't really say that, but my rage inside of my head did.  Bad rage!

Right....

You know what my mom says a lot that just ticks me off?  'But anyway...' and she uses the dot dot dot things a lot...like more than...is...nece...ssa...r...y.  Yeah, that bad.  Seriously!  Drives me insane!  Who does that kind of stuff?  My weird-o mom, of course. 

I have finally figured out how to make Lilly nurse longer.  I wrap her up in this satin and chenille blanket that I made and she just wants to suckle til the cows come home.  There is a possibility that my child will live in that blanket if this continues to work.  She also does the cutest thing when she sees the blanket.  She does the gimme gimme thing with her hands (clench, unclench fists) and as soon as it gets near her, the thumb automatically pops into her mouth!  Adorable!  My sister (a perpetual thumb sucker since the womb) just thinks this is the most awesome thing in the world.  As cute as it is now, it will cost me a fortune in braces when she goes through her most awkward stage in middle school.  I will just have to get her glasses at the same time.  Maybe she'll get her period, too.  Carbon copy: Momma.  Sorry, babe.  I've learned that it's hereditary. 

Monday, October 11, 2010

Strength, Motivation, Whatever

I am constantly finding that each situation that has been thrown my way is exhausting and makes me want to hit my head against the wall.  I love my kids, but they are a lot of work.  Especially at this age.  Xander only wants his mommy to hold him...and only him....that means, no Lilly.  And she's nine months old!  How can I not hold her.  It's how she moves and gets around.  Where is hubby during all of this?  Throwing up.  How am I - the one that got puked on four times - not trying to force my stomach up through my esophagus, when he's the one that handed me the child that sounded like he was going to puke?  Huh?  How did that work?  I am thankful that I'm not the one who is sick.  Because guess who would still be doing the childcare, cooking, and general everything?  Moi.  C'est la vie.  I married a man that loves to work hard...at work.  Not so much anywhere else.  And he's not a bad father by any measure!  I go to work super early and he wakes up with the kids (most mornings) to get them dressed and off to the sitter's.  I pick them up after work, cook dinner, clean up after dinner, bathe the kiddos, do the dishwasher, put the kids to bed, and then clean.  Occasionally, hubby helps and I love him again.  Every once in a blue moon a while, I get to knit another row of Lilly's slippers that I have been working on for six months.

How does one stay sane?  I feel like I am constantly grasping for energy, pulling for some piece of life that will get me through the next thirty minutes.  Dammit and the bills are due!  That's right, I am the family accountant. 

What does my husband do, you ask? Good question!  Let me tell thee.  When he comes home from work, after dinner, he sits down to eat his plate that I have prepared for him.  After which, I clean up.  He then changes from his work clothes into his pajamas and sits on the couch or the nice chair in front of the computer.  While either watching television or checking FB, he might hold Lil for a moment while I (attempt to) change Xander's diaper.  Xander then roams free while I attend to Lil. 

Yes, I have talked to my lazy husband.  Yes, he has admitted that he has a problem.  Somehow, though, he gets stuck on step two and does an epic fail and retrograde into retardedness.  La da di, I did something right for two days and now it's time to return to the days when I did nothing right.  And so, the endless cycle of love then hate then love happens. 

If it is not that obvious, I am in the hate you stage right now.  When he stops throwing up and I can sleep in the same bed, I might love him again. 

This is my dumb dumb dog, Bubba.  No, I did not name him.  Yes, he is licking the window.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

The Pros and the Woes

There are some days when breastfeeding is almost too much for me.  When Lilly refuses to nurse because the milk won't let down fast enough and then she's mad when there isn't more immediately because, dammit, she would like three more ounces, thank you!  Those times, I want to quit.  I want to quit so badly and be able to go away for a weekend with my husband and not have to worry about there being enough milk left in the freezer, and not having to prepare for weeks on end, and not having to pump every three hours, and not having to worry about if there will be enough milk when I go back to work.  It's beyond frustrating.  I want to pull my hair out and throw something.  Freedom.  That's what I want. 

After that moment passes, what next?  I don't want to pay for formula.  I don't want to wake up in the middle of the night and make her a bottle when I'm half asleep (would you like some coffee in that bottle?).  I like to know that I am able to provide for her, to calm her down when she's hurt.  I'm also fond of her being partial to me over her father, even if it is because she likes my boobs. 

At the end of the day, the pros outweigh all of my woes.  Not everything can be perfect, and by this point, I am pretty sure that nothing will ever be exactly as it should.  What's the fun in that?  I only have three more months of breastfeeding.  Then I'm done.  Forever!  Unless we get a surprise, which seems to be the running mantra of our lives.  Somebody knock on some wood. 

Friday, October 8, 2010

Pictures That Never Get Developed

Is it just me that doesn't (want to) do scrapbooking?  I can't even get the pictures from my digital camera printed, let alone put them on some fancy page with cutesy little cutouts and stickers.  Blah.  I would rather get the laundry done, the dishwasher unloaded, and finally knit that last slipper I have been working on for the past six months.  Lilly, someday you will have a full set of slippers.  Someday...maybe next year. 

We didn't even get wedding prints.  Gasp!  It's not laziness, I promise.  It's a lack of motivation to spend a ton of money to get enough prints to distribute to family and friends, finishing my senior year of college in chemistry, and taking care of an infant.  That equation added up to very little physical photographic memories. 

Lately, since I have a job that provides more income in one paycheck than I got in one semester as a student, I have a few more prints.  Especially when my awesome friend (also the Godmother of my kids) takes photos with my munchkins and her munchkins (my Godchildren).  And they are good.  Man.  Now something else that I need to post.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Starting Out

First post!  Whoop!  My name is Megan, but my mom calls me Fred because there are so many kids.  My kids call me Mommy, which makes me melt and give them whatever they want.  Apparently, I'm a sucker.  I work as an analytical chemist and I love, love, love! my work!  The two biggest problems that I have, though, are one, I have to get up way too early and two, I'm  breastfeeding and have to pump... a lot...because my daughter is a milk fiend.  I bought rechargeable batteries and definitely gotten my money out of those.  Anyone else feel me?  My hubby works with people that don't pay their loans and if he starts pulling his southern charm on you...watch out!  He did it last night to me and I gave him ice cream.  Pitiful.  Again, I am a sucker :0)  My son is Xander and he is a nutty 2-year old.  Just a nut!  Lilly is 9 months old and is the sweetest little baby, except when she's sick and then she is not even close to being sweet.  Blech. 

So...work...I deal with lots of awesome instruments like a Gas Chromatograph (GC), Inductively Coupled Plasma(ICP), FTIR, and the mostest awesomest SEM which means Scanning electron microscope and takes detailed pictures things.  Think that nail is perfectly smooth?  Think again! That piece of equipment is awesome. 

FEI SEM Pix
I pump at work two to three times in a 9-hour day and have to schedule it around when the janitor doesn't come in (he's a weirdo).  My Medela pump takes eight batteries when it's on battery power, so to save some money, I bought rechargeable batteries.  Life (and wallet) saver!  Just don't check in my lunch box in the refrigerator...it's full of milk.  I work with a bunch of guys so they don't really understand what I'm doing.  Which is kind of nice!  "What's that weird whirring sound in the bathroom?" No one knows! Ha!

Any questions on breastfeeding?  I got some nice hookups to some awesome lactation consultants!