Someone shoot me (with some demerol!). The bad back is back, he's muscled his way in, shoving good back to the side. He never calls first, just shows up in the middle of the night. Ugh. The good thing about having a bad-back-attack is no housework! The bad? Having a 17lb 4 month old to carry around.
I truly believe my enormous breasts are the cause of all my back misery. In fact, I can pretty much blame them for everything. Sorry, I can't learn golf, my boobs will get in the way (didn't anyone see Jessica Simpson try at this?). Sorry, I can't go jogging with you, my boobs will get in the way (and probably knock me out). Sorry, I can't breastfeed my child, my boobs will get in the way.
Okay, that last one was sad. I tried so hard to breastfeed, but when you're holding a newborn in a football position and you are all hunched over like Quasimodo something is going to give. And that something is my back. Believe me, I tried to see through the pain. But it wasn't happening folks. And do you think I got any sympathy from the Nazi's at Le Leche League? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! I think they would have forced me to continue even if blood was squirting out my ears, eyes, and mouth. No thank you kind ladies, I think I'll try formula (gasp).
And you know what? My baby is still alive and doing fine and my back is almost back to normal. Except for days like today. Today it again feels like I'm morphing into the Hunchback. Now all I need is a bell tower.
Thursday, July 29, 2004
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
Ah...sweet, sweet sleep.
I actually got to sleep in today, until 9:15am. Woohoo, it's a glorious day. Granted I was up until midnight with brat child, then again at 4:30am, but I digress.
Why is it when we're young we can stay up all night and still be bright-eyed and bushytailed the next day? Now, as an adult, we miss 1 or 2 precious hours and we're transformed into the antichrist. You'd think that as growing children, we need all the rest we can get. Our bodies are done growing now (at least in length...some of us still grow in width), and we can't enjoy them all night long without the aid of illicit drugs.
Also, I remember being able to crash anywhere you put me. The backseat of the family wagon, the couch, the sandbox in the backyard. Now, if I'm not in bed, preferably medicated with a Tylenol PM, there is no way I'm falling asleep for another hour.
I think that's the hardest part about having a child. The first thing to change was my sleep pattern, and that was before said child had even made her grand appearance. I think as soon as I hit that third trimester mark, my sleep left me and was replaced with achy hips and a tiny bladder. But, I think she was worth it. Though, I rarely am thinking that at 4:30am, when she is ready to play and I'm ready to crash.
Why is it when we're young we can stay up all night and still be bright-eyed and bushytailed the next day? Now, as an adult, we miss 1 or 2 precious hours and we're transformed into the antichrist. You'd think that as growing children, we need all the rest we can get. Our bodies are done growing now (at least in length...some of us still grow in width), and we can't enjoy them all night long without the aid of illicit drugs.
Also, I remember being able to crash anywhere you put me. The backseat of the family wagon, the couch, the sandbox in the backyard. Now, if I'm not in bed, preferably medicated with a Tylenol PM, there is no way I'm falling asleep for another hour.
I think that's the hardest part about having a child. The first thing to change was my sleep pattern, and that was before said child had even made her grand appearance. I think as soon as I hit that third trimester mark, my sleep left me and was replaced with achy hips and a tiny bladder. But, I think she was worth it. Though, I rarely am thinking that at 4:30am, when she is ready to play and I'm ready to crash.
Monday, July 26, 2004
Motherhood is Boring
No one told me that motherhood can be so boring. Don't get me wrong, I love my little girl to pieces, but man she isn't the best company, know what I mean?
Every day is the same day. The only varying thing in my life right now is what's on television every night. At least I know what day it is, thanks to primetime!
I've always loved kids, couldn't wait to have a few of the little buggers myself. But infants? Whew, what a drag. They just lay there, make these alien sounds like they're calling the mothership, and drool. On everything. Making your house look like it's been attacked by some mutant colony of slugs.
But, what makes up for the endless hours of mindless drabble, when she smiles. Oh, that smile melts my heart every time. And, the funny part is what I do to earn one of those toothless, gummy smiles! I have stooped to new embarrassing lows for this. I dance around, singing made up stupid songs (personal favorite: "why is your butt so stinky?"), and contort my face into a scary array of poses, hoping that one of my antics will cause her to pause , study me, then let one rip (a smile duh!).
Every day is the same day. The only varying thing in my life right now is what's on television every night. At least I know what day it is, thanks to primetime!
I've always loved kids, couldn't wait to have a few of the little buggers myself. But infants? Whew, what a drag. They just lay there, make these alien sounds like they're calling the mothership, and drool. On everything. Making your house look like it's been attacked by some mutant colony of slugs.
But, what makes up for the endless hours of mindless drabble, when she smiles. Oh, that smile melts my heart every time. And, the funny part is what I do to earn one of those toothless, gummy smiles! I have stooped to new embarrassing lows for this. I dance around, singing made up stupid songs (personal favorite: "why is your butt so stinky?"), and contort my face into a scary array of poses, hoping that one of my antics will cause her to pause , study me, then let one rip (a smile duh!).
For that alone can make me forget how boring motherhood can be.
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