They took the *songs* right out of my mouth!

For the last few days, as I've been helplessly glued to Noggin, I have seen a commercial that makes me think of, well, me! It's a commercial for Noggin (yes, despite their many attempts to call themselves commercial-free, they do have commercials advertizing the channel in the morning -- which begs the question... "Aren't I already WATCHING Noggin? Why the commercials to get me to watch it?") -- the commercial shows several 'professional' types sauntering around offices buildings and in and out of cubicles. One woman in business attire steps onto an elevator and encounters a blue-collar worker of some sort. She sings, "Hey, it's Franklin..." and he continues, "Comin' out to play...." -- or at least I think those are the words.

Before school let out this June, I found myself many a time in my classroom, walking around humming "Hey it's Franklin" while my sixth graders probably exchanged some "She is weird" sort of glances with one another.

My point is, once you've had a child, you start to learn about all the stuff for children (simple, really). I remember listening to friends talk about Oobie and Thomas the Train and thinking, "Wow, how pathetic that this is what their lives have become." Now, of course, I realize that this is, too, what my life has become, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. Now if I could just get that stupid "D-D-D-D-D-Dora" out of my damn head!

Rant about IKEA

I went there yesterday, and the first thing I noticed is that they have parking spots right by the elevator for "Family Parking." It has a sign with a picture of a person pushing a stroller. I thought "Wow!" as I parked there. Then I got into the elevator and they have this big poster with all the great things to love about IKEA. One of them is the "Snail Land" where kids can play while their parents are shopping. They also had a ball room with those plastic balls for kids to play on and in. Part of the poster showed a mom holding a baby about Avery's age and it said "We have baby food in case you forgot yours." Another part had a mom holding a much smaller baby and it said "We even have bottle warmers... just ask at the cafeteria." It was clear to me they were really pushing the "We cater to families" agenda.

Do you think they had a lounge or something similiar to nurse a baby? No. Did they even have a goddamn chair in the women's restroom? No.

I feel like writing a letter that says something like "No all babies do not take formula you assholes. Thanks for the availablility of a bottle warmer, but how about a cardboard box to sit on in the handicapped stall?"

Why isn't this important to these big organizations? Why offer a bottle warmer but no chair to sit on in the women's restroom. I should have just pulled the boob out right in the middle of the cafeteria and waited for some sort of reaction.

Grrrrrrr.......

Mixed Metaphors

...am I the only one bothered by them?

Last week at Target, the cashier was checking me out, and an item I was purchasing (toilet paper, if you must know) wouldn't come up on the barcode scanner. She couldn't figure out how to charge me for the item, so she called over a 'colleague' (when cashiers became colleagues with one another, I'm not sure). The 'colleague' instructed her in the fine art of manually entering the barcode number (Hello, stupid much?) and as she walked away, she said "It's not rocket surgery."

I couldn't have agreed more. Rocket surgery has got to be MUCH more complicated than both Rocket Science and Brain Surgery. Rocket surgery is for the VERY intelligent people who apparently can't figure out which metaphor they want to use.

Sorry, it must be the English Nazi in me.

And another thing...

How in God's name to my damn dogs know it's 4pm everyday? (4pm = dinnertime)

I've been sucked in.

...into the whole online mommy group debate over "Attachment Parenting" versus "Mainstream Parenting." Do these arguments even exist in the real world? Apparently so, or at least according to certain groups of moms who label themselves "AP." To my knowledge, no one labels themselves as "mainstream." The "mainstream" parents are pretty much anyone who doesn't fit into the Natural Family Living model.

What the hell is Natural Family Living? [insert blatant sarcasm] It's the belief that people, as a whole, are destroying the earth, and the "AP" parents and here to rescue us. Oh thank God! I can't think of anything I'd love more than to be rescued by a non-deoderant-wearing, no-leg-and-pit-and-crotch-area-shaving tie-dyed-peace-pipe-smoking tree-hugger. No wait, one thing I would love more is to be tied to a tree and set on fire. [/end blatant sarcasm] "Can you smell the satire?"

What bothers me most about this is that the "AP" moms tout themselves as being better than everyone else. They're smarter, they use bigger words, they care about their children...

HUH?

Since when did you have to be a flashback to the 60's hemp-wearing hippy to love your children? It is just like the "NFL" crowd to think this... which is obviously where my problem arises.

I am neither an "AP" parent nor a "mainstream" parent. I am me. I do what is best for my child and my family. I don't let Avery cry herself to sleep, though just about every woman of childbearing age has suggested I do so. I don't feed her foods that I don't feel are healthy and safe. I don't do a lot of things that the "AP" crowd considers "mainstream."

But, because I didn't give birth to my child in my bathtub and I don't dress her in recycled newspaper, apparently I'm part of the "mainstream" parenting style, which is fine with me.

I never much liked labels. If someone is going to label me, however, I'd rather be lumped into the showering-with-soap-every-day crowd than the much less desirable "AP" parenting group.

Now, off to the mall with my matching stroller and diaper bag!

Resentful Much?

Am I the only one who has to wonder things like "Will my father ever tell me he's proud of what I've become and he is proud to be a grandfather?" or am I destined to a relationship with him that's limited to replies to emails like "Hey Allison, the link you sent didn't work for me."

???

And yes, we'll be going out to dinner to celebrate a belated Father's Day tomorrow evening. I shall try to leave my immature eye-roll manuever at home.

Dentist Appointment. UGH.

Since having a baby, my gums and teeth are very, very sensitive. Something about pregnancy robs your body of calcium sometimes, and many women end up with dental problems. I am a serial flosser... at least once a day, sometimes twice. When Avery was first born, I didn't floss much for the first several weeks. I had an appointment in January and they were very concerned about my 'pocket depth.' Most people I talk to have never even had their 'pocket depth' gauged. My dentist, however, is supposedly on the cutting edge of dentistry, and every few years he has a new 'thing.' He's a personal friend of the family, not to mention Jed's sometime golf partner, and once you start going to someone for a service like this, it's hard to stop without some hurt feelings.

A few years ago he was focused on 'metal-free' dentistry. I had all 6 metal fillings taken out of my mouth and had composites put in instead. I am glad I did that. The amount of mercury in metal fillings has been known to cause lifelong chronic problems for people, althought dentist only have to notify their patients of the dangers if they employ over 20 people at their office. What one has to do with the other, I don't know, but it just goes to show that something once considered safe is now deemed dangerous. The scary part is, they are still teaching metal dentistry to dental students because metal dentistry is cheaper than composite.

Anyway, the biggest part of my visit that I am not looking forward to is that I KNOW my dentist is going to ask me about my TMJ, and he wants me to go through some expensive procedures to help correct it. This is his newest kick. I am thinking now about how to avoid the subject, although I am positive I won't be able to.

That part of my dental visit is more annoying than the cleaning, I swear!

Our first real evening away.

It wasn't an over-nighter, though it easily could have become one. We joined Chuck, Anna, Scott, and Kristin for a little 'shindig' at the Jonathan Club in Santa Monica. A Rolling Stones cover band called "Sticky Fingers" played while we sat and had a few drinks. Of course, the boys refused to call the band by its correct name and called them "Stinky Fingers" instead, but would you honestly expect any less?

Anna was all smiles while I gave the band a resounding 'thumbs-up.' Truth be told, we really didn't pay the band much attention at all. We mostly just sat and talked and tried to have fun without Avery, which is actually pretty hard to do. I can't be away from her for long without missing her and wanting her to be with me.

Even so, the six of us had a great time and we're looking forward to Kristin and Scott's engagement party in two weeks. That should be a good time too!

Thankfully, she understands.

An email from Anna:

No worries, I knew you were busy. The only reason I kept calling was that you called me and I thought you needed something.

Sorry you are going through such hell. I could say all the cliche things... it's temporary, it WILL end, this stuff happens to other mothers as well... bla bla bla. All this is obvious and pointless to hear when you are at the end of your emotional rope and physically and mentally broken.

I cannot begin to understand. I do know and have always known thanks to one the bit of advice my mother always gave me, change no matter how positive is emotional. You are a new person and will never be who you once were. This is not sad at all and you know this. This is life and it is beautiful - even though traumatic at this point. The blog is a great idea. It gives you the chance to vent, discuss and release in the moment. Because as you know, there will be a time when you will have enough sleep, Avery will not be teething, and you will feel a powerful contentment that will make all this seem distant.

Though this is NOTHING like it, your trauma is due to a blessing, not a curse. I can't help but think of when I went through my grief with Josh. The only reason it comes to mind is the fact that though I knew with logic there was a light at the end of the tunnel, but in the moment my heart and my body wanted to give out. I was broken. Knowing logically the hell would subside did nothing for me as I lived it. As you are living it now.

With all that said, I did emerge from the exasperated state I was in, though I was changed forever. You will too and you will be someone new when that happens. You know this. You will never be the 20 something obnoxious girl you were. But as you and I agree, who would want to be? What you will be and are is an amazing woman, who is beautiful, wise, funny, inspiring and certainly stronger.

You will sleep. I promise. I am sorry I can't make it happen. I feel helpless hearing of your pain on the other side the looking glass so to speak. The offer still stands, you need someone to come and clean, walk dogs, pick up poop or just be there while you try and veg.... I am your girl. Distance, shmistance. My job is flexible I can jump up and leave with little to no notice.

Try me.

Anna

I knew she understood.

I am angry, resentful, and feel violent.

I cannot take not getting sleep much longer. I envision myself throwing the couch through the sliding glass door. It's probably a good thing I can't lift it on my own. Last night was especially torturous. It wasn't that it was worse than any other night, it's that my patience is wearing thin and I NEED sleep. My body hurts. I can't think clearly. My friends ask me things like "How come you don't call me more often?" Ummm.... let's not even go there. Unless Avery's sleeping, she won't let me talk on the phone. Or they'll say "Why don't you let me take her for the night?" If only it were that easy. Avery isn't a stupid baby. She wouldn't have it if I were to try to dump her off to someone else. It just doesn't work that way. Then, of course, there are other friends that ask all the obvious question, as if I am stupid and haven't thought a million fucking times about what might be keeping her up. "Is she hungry?" "Is she too hot/too cold?" "Does she need a diaper change?"

After eight months of not getting sleep, do these people HONESTLY think I am that fucking clueless?

I find myself only being able to relate to other sleep-deprived moms. The one mom I hang out with pretty often has a baby that has slept through the night since he was about 2 1/2 months old. I cannot imagine what that must feel like. I lay in bed and wonder what it's like to put a baby down for the night and have them actually go to sleep, stay asleep, and wake when they're rested. Why does my baby have to be the one that goes to sleep, wakes up 10 minutes later, then again 20 minutes later, then again an hour later, and continues on and on all night long? Is this some sort of retribution for me doing this to my mom? I did, you know. I was a terrible sleeper too. Will Avery then be destined to have a terrible sleeper whom she resents and complains about on some future equivalent of the Internet? God, I hope not. I wouldn't wish this kind of torture on my worst enemy.

Please, people.

Stop spelling the word "originally" wrong. It annoys the shit out of me.

Venting about work...

I share a teaching contract with a girl named Heather. Heather has two sons; her son Logan is 3 and her son Luke is 1. Heather doesn't see her job as a big priority. Heather schedules things like regular doctor's visits on the days she's supposed to work. She gets a sub. My students already have a weird enough situation with having two teachers.

Four times this school year she has scheduled surgeries in her family for days she was supposed to work. Her husband, the fireman, had two knee surgeries, both scheduled on Mondays. She works Mondays. The surgeries could have been on Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday.

Her son Luke had tubes put into his ears. On a Monday. This could have been done on a Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday.

Last Monday, June 6th, her son Logan had his tonsils and adenoids removed. She works Mondays. There were 2 weeks left in the school year. Why not wait two weeks?

For all of these major events, Heather took the week off of work. Last week she wasn't in at all. We had semester (end of year) exams. She wasn't there.

She went to work yesterday, Monday. I will admit, I was surprised what with her son at home, sick after having his tonsils removed.

She was not at work today. Logan had a secondary infection in his throat and was taken to the ER. Again, why not wait until AFTER school is out?

When Avery has a doctor's appointment, I make it for a day when I don't work. If Avery had to have some sort of surgery that wasn't life threatening, I would ask to schedule it for a day that I wasn't working.

To me, this all makes perfect sense. To Heather, however... well we don't pretend to know what makes sense to Heather.

My new favorite quote...

"Women should not feel guilty if they are unable to breastfeed, but they should feel guilty if they are unwilling to do so, and they should be intellectually honest enough to know the difference." -Elizabeth Gene

It's time...

I have really enjoyed blogging about my daughter, Avery, and her willingness to and resistance against sleep for the past several months. I figured it was time that I had a place to blog events in my life that don't involve the consistency of poop and the woes/joys of breastfeeding. At some point in the last 8 months, I got lost, but I keep finding pieces of myself all over the place.

Like today, for example. I found a picture from a Vegas trip that my best friend, Anna, and I took for New Year's Eve in 1990-something. I can't remember the year as I made that trip 7 or 8 years in a row. That particular year, however, we watched a hotel get blown to bits and we drank screwdrivers out of thermoses all night long. I don't miss those days, per se, but I cherish them. Even though we were partying and I even still smoked back then, there was just something nostalgic about seeing the picture and remembering bits and pieces of the whole trip.

As Avery gets older, I am able to do more things that resemble a normal adult life, but what's weird is, I don't really long for a life like what it was before she was born. I just keep striving to find the new "me," the "me" that isn't just a goofy girl who is a secret computer nerd and closet bookworm, the "me" that is those things AND a mom. It's a tough balance, as you tend to get lost in the journey of motherhood when it's so new and confusing, but I promised myself not to lose me along the way.

So, my goal for the week is to exercise like always to try to get back down to my pre-pregnancy weight, to call Anna because she's emailed me and called me and I haven't managed to return an email or a phone call, and to scrub the grout on my shower floor. Not necessarily lofty goals, but goals nonetheless.

About me...

My name is Allison. I am a first time mom to Avery and have been married to Jed for 5 years. Despite the complaining it do in this blog, I really do love both my daughter and my husband, but only when my daughter doesn't whine all day and when my husband showers me with gifts, money, candy, etc.