time flies...

my 3 month time with mavo is over. i went back to work last weekend, and it went fantastically well. i miss that baby like crazy, but my co-workers are truly amazing. right around the same time, maverick chunked up, losing his tiny little newborn look...and also stopped nursing, deciding not just to make my mommy heart ache a little, but to tear it out of my chest and teeth on it. i miss nursing so much. i should be happy to be able to eat a bigger variety of foods. or to have the ability to pass him off to others for feedings, and even to be able to drink again. but i'm not. i have this gut wrenching sadness about the whole thing. i envisioned nursing him for almost a full year. bought a super expensive pump and everything so that i could facilitate my wonderful motherly job while at work. but instead, he just stopped. one day i went to nurse him, and nothing but tears. i haven't wanted to believe it. even pumped just to keep it around in case he changed his mind. but as the days pass and 3 ounces turned into 2, then 1...i've had to come to grips with the fact that it's over. my dream of blissfully rocking my baby boy to sleep at night all snuggled up nursing him...over. sporting my beautiful hooter hider made by my bestie...over. pulling him into bed with me at night and nursing us both back to sleep...over. i should get over this. as a wise friend tells me, "you'll be sad about alot of things. sad that he outgrows his infant carseat, etc. this is just another one of those things."...it's true. i know this. but i miss it terribly already. consider yourself lucky, my dear friend whose daughter won't drink from a bottle and uses you as a teether lately...it could've ended all too soon. the grass is always greener tho, right? : )

she works hard for the money

here it is. the day i've been dreading for a little over 3 months. my return to work. and although i'll only be working 20 hours a week, the thought of it makes me more emotional than i thought imaginable. 20 whole hours of not being able to hold my chubby little angel. 20 hours of smiles, and watching him while he sleeps, and fussing that's only calmed by me...i don't want to miss a moment. yet at 8:00 tomorrow night, i will miss many moments. 11.5 straight hours of moments at a time, to be exact. i'm sad to leave him. i'm scared i'll have lost knowledge, or not be as capable as i was before. i'm resentful that i have to send my tiny baby to other people overnight. people who aren't used to his crying. or who don't stare at him in complete awe even in the middle of the night. i trust my mother. his mother. and him (mostly). but no one loves this baby like i do, so the thought of trusting anyone else with the life that i brought about only 3 months ago makes me pretty weepy. i have to say i'm a little angry. why is it that some women get the joys of being home with their children? i'm not jealous. i'm really not. i love that my friends get to enjoy their kids. i just would really like that as well. and the fact that he doesn't even begin to try to understand the pain that it causes me to leave my lil munchkin makes things just a little bit worse.

on the flip side, maybe this would be a good thing. take my mind off the precious-lovin obsession going on in my house. make me feel like i'm appreciated. allow me to be close to my work family again. give me a sense of purpose. i know all the reasons why i'm doing this, but none of them are worth the time away from my new baby and my family. so here i go. slap a happy face on and get to it. i can do this, right?

it can all be explained by some cheap mascara...

i've lost who i am. in the process of being a mother, and a step mother, and in a relationship with an incredibly needy and demanding person, i've lost the core of who i am as a chick. strong, independent, outspoken, silly...those words no longer describe me. most of my shopping is done for others. and in the midst of it all, i didn't even realize it until yesterday. until i bought the cheap mascara. there it was. a pretty pink tube of volumizing, maximizing, super-awesome seven dollar mascara in my cart. but at the register, my "thrifty" kicked in when i saw 3.99 mascara on the endcap. so apparently, i wasn't worth the 7 dollars even to myself and compromised for the cheaper version. as i applied it last night, i cursed it. it sucks. puny little lashes stared at me in the mirror, laughing at my stupid decision to cheat myself. and as i got out of the shower this morning, bryan commented on the streaks of black streaming down my face. how did i allow myself to become insignificant? to become unworthy of even SEVEN DOLLAR mascara?? i drop 30+ at old navy for my daughter, yet can't splurge to buy myself the 25 dollar sweater i want? i'm losing who i am. who i was. i'm becoming that which i've always sworn i wouldn't. a serving, compromising, sit-down-and-shut-up kind of woman. and i hate it. so today, i'm buying myself lunch. and i'm not taking back my bath and body works splurge. and i'm not going to a wrestling match that i don't want to go to because i don't want to go. i'm no longer the subserviant woman i have become. and while i anticipate set backs on this declaration, i'm sticking to it. liberation, here i come. thank you, cheap maybelline mascara, for making me realize that even though you suck, i don't. and i deserve way better than your 3.99 bottle can provide.

child abuser???

just to drive home the manipulation we're talking about here...

today i receive a phone call. about 20+ phone calls and 17 texts to be exact. oh. and 8 voicemails. all from b. this is fairly typical. he does this often for things such as he sees a squirrel, needs me to call a realtor for a house he saw while driving, lost something, or wants to know what's for dinner. so i wasn't completely alarmed. i call him back. apparently precious told his mother he's scared of me. because i yell at him (god forbid) and once grabbed his arm supposedly. i won't deny the yelling. i'm a yeller. but i don't yell all that often and i certainly don't yell at him anymore than i do my own children. kids do dumb stuff and that's my way of making them aware of my frustration and correcting the behavior. also, i can never remember in the YEAR that i've known them grabbing this kid. or laying a hand on him period. although grabbing his arm doesn't seem like an evil thing to me personally. but it was the way this was handled. i was interrogated by my own boyfriend and the father of my 5 week old baby that he leaves me with on a continuous basis. with no supervision. *gasp* yeah. and if this child was not so manipulative, i'd blame his mother. or rack my brain as to what i would've possibly done to bother poor precious. but we're talking about the kid that i get up and dressed half the week every week. that i drive across town to school, leaving my own child with the neighbor, twice a week. that i have bought clothes and shoes for, taken to his favorite restaurants when we spend time together, and made him feel like the essential part of our family that any child is. this is the same little snot that runs and cries wolf to his mother just to stir things up. and yes, he's that powerful. everyone around him (aside from me) has given him that power. and now here i sit. accused. and beyond pissed. i guess this cuts out all that driving twice a week, now doesn't it? wouldn't want the risk of my ripping his arm off when he asks for a poptart, now would we?

one of the cool kids now

i finally got my computer fixed and decided to join the cool kids table and start a blog. yes, i've finally emerged from beneath my rock. with so many daily occurances to rant and rave about, laugh about, cry about, etc, i figured all moms should have one these days, right? speaking of kids, i feel i should provide an overview. i have 4 of them. yes, 4. and i consider the fact that i'm not typing this from a prison cell or a padded room quite an achievement. my oldest, p, is 8. p is an amazing big brother, a great swimmer, and can read your emotions like a book. he has adhd, talks non-stop, and pretty much has the ability to drive me up the wall. but he's the sweetest most compassionate child i've ever met. he's followed by my boyfriend's son, pickles, 6. pickles is spunky, silly, and always up for a challenge. i don't think that kid is scared of anything! he's also over-indulged and extremely spoiled, which can be quite a challenge. we have him half the time, and i try terribly hard to be a great influence in his life...this is really the hardest thing i've ever taken on. then comes funky, who's 5...and my only girl. she's my little sidekick, is girly and sassy, and just like me. feel no sympathy for this one, she runs circles around all these boys. and most recently we've added the mav, who was born nov 08. quite a run-down, eh?

so tonight i find myself cradling mavo till my arms hurt. he has colic, which is "doctor" for "really, really fussy baby". he fooled us, you see. he was the perfect baby for the first 2 weeks. nursed well, slept well (mostly)...i bragged to everyone i saw about what an easy baby he was. then something happened. he stopped pooping. as in, from after every single feeding to every 2, 3, 4 days. my perfectly happy child went out the window. they swear breastfed babies don't get constipated. i'd like to see scientific research. either way, this lack of pooping thing makes him terribly gassy, which was originally blamed on me. i drank/ate too much milk/milk products? tomato sauce? onions? i cut out half my diet, but this only made us BOTH scream and cry continuously. only to finally be told that he has colic. i was stoked to be told i could have dairy again, but admit that i squirmed a little when they mentioned that this could last another 7 weeks! he has also decided he's a night owl and chooses to stay awake until sometimes as late as 2am. i realize this is where i'm described as an overly-permissive parent who is discussed negatively at strangers' dinner tables. but he very well may be my last. and i want every second of this baby-ness. so he is exclusively breastfed, i co-sleep with him, and he's pretty much held or carried non-stop all day. part of me knows this isn't helping. most of me does. but i also know how fast this time goes, and i must shamefully admit that i'm attached. probably more than he is. so i'll blog. at 1am. with a kid lounged in a boppy on my lap. i swear i used to have a life.