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. 

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.