Parenting can be isolating... parenting with anxiety and a tough baby is even more lonely

Hello all,

Needing an outlet so wanted to write. These chances are few and far between these days. I'm on borrowed time, in a much needed hot bath, propping my Mac up and hoping it doesn't become a tub toy.

I've been feeling quite isolated lately. With Baby D in school and Baby X just wee (yet an absolute adorable, non-stop HANDFUL), there isn't much time to socialize.

Many of my mom friends who I connected with, through Baby D and her friends, have returned to work or other daytime responsibilities now that their kids are at school in the day. There are still a few friends around some days of the week, but with Baby X's naps and our walk to and from school twice a day, there isn't a ton of time for getting together. Add to that the fact that Baby X can easily take 60-80 minutes for his meals... and... well... yeah.

Parenting is a challenge. It doesn't matter if you are working or staying at home. I think it feels harder the more you care. And it is definitely harder the more you overthink things and the more you worry.

I have been very, very unsuccessful in managing those last two things. And it is tough.

I know exercise has always been helpful in battling the blues and my anxiety demons. I have been working towards working out more, but it is hard when Baby X cries so much if I am not giving him my full attention.

I can run for short runs in the basement while I ply him with Mum Mum crackers and little puff snacks in his booster seat with the Wiggles cranked loud enough to both be heard over the noise of the treadmill and cause some hearing damage for good measure. But it lasts only so long, he throws everything off of the tray, I stop and play snack fetch repeatedly, then eventually he starts to wail because he can see me, but I'm not holding him.

I go to a mom and baby fitness class where we are all in one big room, but again, he last only so long before he totally loses his shit. I've had to wear him in a carrier for part of the class before. The two childminding ladies there generally split the rest of the babies. One lady gets Baby X, and the other lady gets ALL THE REST OF THE QUIET AND CONTENT BABIES. Le sigh.

I'd like to leave him at the gym childminding, but I just can't. He screams and wails with other people. He may let someone other than family hold him briefly, but it goes downhill quickly. I can't go exercise knowing he'd be so upset. And what about all the germs? The cases of measles in my neck of the woods that he is too young to be vaccinated against? The older kids trying to poke, prod and touch him? And before you think I'm imagining that risk, I literally have to block kids at Baby D's school regularly from touching him when he's in the stroller. There is something about him that makes people want to touch him (his face and hands especially!!) and it drives me up the goddamn wall.

I'm trying to make some new mom friends, but even things like going for coffee are tough now. All Baby X wants to do is crawl and move. He will not sit happily in his stroller, ever, unless he is watching the kids at the school. He hits his max tolerance around 15 minutes. So then I end up avoiding those situations, or going and being totally stressed while he starts to cry and shriek and I try to console him and get all frazzled and leave.

I wish I cared less if he was a bit distraught. He's safe, fed, nursed, loved, and tended to so often. But when he cries, my anxiety goes sky high. Adding to that is when miserable strangers glare at me, like I'm prodding him with hot coals to make him cry at Starbucks.

People with "easy" or calm babies don't get it. People with anxiety don't understand. And lots of people tell me to just "teach him he doesn't call the shots" like he is a king manipulator when he is a small person who is clearly upset and doesn't have adult skills to cope with his big feels.

So I exercise through chronic pain and rush around his tears. I feel tired and worn down. I know this stage won't last forever. And I do adore my kids. He is just so precious and hearing him giggle is one of the cutest things ever. Even cuter when it's Baby D making him laugh!

Not a funny post. Nothing great to see here. But needed to get that off my chest.

This too shall pass.
Right? RIGHT?!?!

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When You Have ALL THE THINGS To Do... Do The Stupid Thing

I've wanted to write so badly.

If you can call this malarkey I type "writing".

Pretty sure I have no fucking clue when it comes to grammar and syntax and proper use of the comma. I love me a comma. I will use that little bastard whenever I feel like it.

Anyway.

YOU GUYS. YOOOOOU GUUUUYS. The few of you that still read, and those of you who come upon this blog by accident by searching a vague porn term and are immediately and wholeheartedly disappointed: Life is chaos.

My little guy is so cute. I mean really really adorable. (Comma there? See, I refrained because I figured you were judging me for my comma use, and now I don't even know. And I just used one there.) He's so sweet when he is not crying or screaming. BUT.HE.HAS.BEEN.CRYING.AND/OR.SCREAMING/MOST/OF/THE/DAYS/ALL/DAY.

It is totally exhausting.

He generally will only catnap around 33-47 minutes. YES. I track it. And he will generally only do that if he is contact napping, meaning being held or lying beside one of us. He's so sweet and these days won't last forever, but man. I get NOTHING done.

This is the best you get because he's going to hate me when he's older. Because I consist of, and spew forth, embarrassment. Oh, and privacy and stuff. 

So, little dude has napped a little, and sometimes had a 3-4 hour stretch of sleep once I finally get him down at night.

AND THEN I SURVEY MY MAIN F*CKING FLOOR. And I withhold the immense urge to weep and light the place on fire. So much mess. So much clutter. So many random kid things strewn about the floor. And that is with me TRYING to put shit back immediately, and keep a hamper on the main floor for his dirty clothes and cloths, and gather up Baby D's stuff as soon as I see it somewhere it shouldn't be.

So I have some time to FINALLY accomplish something. ANYTHING. SOMETHING REALLY GODDAMN FAST BEFORE HE WAKES!! And do you know what my brain does? My lucky brain that can finally wash dishes, or clothes, or vacuum, or wash the floor, or put all the toys away, or tidy the art supplies and paper, or gather the items and (corresponding receipts) bought without being able to try them on at the store because he was screaming, or clean the toilets, or wipe down the sinks that have an IMPRESSIVE amount of toothpaste spray and spittle from Baby D?

My brain gives a hearty, intense DEEEERRRRRRRP.

I fucking BLANK OUT. I start something and see something shiny and fucking throw my chance away. I don't go to bed. I rarely watch TV (I miss the odd mental checkout of Chicago PD or Jim Jefferies). I just fucking blank out and scroll my phone and start three things and finish nothing. Then realize I haven't gone pee in 7 hours, so I do that for the first time by myself all day. Then grab junk food because that is all I feel like and have the time and energy to "prepare".

And I PISS THE MOTHERF*CKING OPPORTUNITY AWAY. And the GUILT. Oh man, the guilt. But I cannot emphasize enough how utterly draining it is to have a baby that doesn't want to sleep and cries so often in the day. I love him so much and it breaks me that I can't make him happier in the day. Holding him in my arms is the best solution, but it has a time limit. He is heavy. I have another kiddo. I have to eat and poop and SOMEHOW shove coffee into this gullet.

Those who don't have "high needs" babies have NO FUCKING CLUE how good they have it. Everyone has issues, and motherhood/parenthood is hard and requires sacrifice no matter HOW you slice it, but goddammit having a baby that won't let you be more than 1' away, that cries all the time... that is a serious brain drain. Emotional drain. And my anxiety just soars.

So anyway, here I sit. He actually stayed asleep after the initial put down in the crib for the first time in... seriously I'm trying to calculate but my brain is slow and mashed potato-like. I think in ever. He always wakes multiple times after the initial put down, until 11 or 12. Then it's every 45 minutes to 2 hours. And I poured the last of my red wine and sat to blog. Because I really wanted to. Assuming I'd get 20 minutes and start more again in three weeks. (I know, you're thinking - it took her more than 20 minutes to put this garbage together?!?!) And I have nearly a full post, and an empty glass, and no more red wine (WHAT THE FUCK, THAT'S NOT FAIR).

In truth, I've been so wiped out, this past week is the first week I've had wine in over two months.

Anywho.

I had the chance. The laundry hampers creaked. The table barely had enough room for me to push my laptop on top of shit to type. The floors are covered in baby food splatter. And I typed.

The mess is overwhelming. The sense of failure and disappointment is heavy.

My brain? She sends out a solid DEEEEERRRRRRRRRP.

__________________________

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The Reality of a Baby That Won't Sleep

I do want to blog more.
But life is a touch insane right now.

Baby X has a real problem with this one little, teensy thing we do sometimes. You may have heard of it? It's called sleep. I think, anyway. I haven't really experienced it for months so I'm pretty sure that's what it's called. I think you pronounce it "slay-eep", but again, sort of a vague concept at this point.

Little dude is amazing. So goddamn cute, seriously. If I didn't respect his whole and complete embarrassment of being associated with me in his older age, I'd be plastering his adorable mug all over this blog. You betchur ass I would.

Anyway, he's a gem, but he F*CKING HATES SLEEP, unless he is attached to me via my nipple, and even then the naps are sporadic, short, and I usually can't indulge because
A) he's attached to me,
B) I'm terrified of smothering him,
C) I'm worried I'm going to miss school pick up or not hear my alarm or (fill in the blank with any scenario an anxious person could worry about, and
D) if I AM able to relax, I generally start to drift off just as he wakes up.

I am not emotionally able to do sleep training, at least for now, but every single other adult I ever utter the word "tired" to has informed me that I'm foolish and that it is my only option. Not there yet. Whenever he cries for more than a little bit (think seconds, maybe a minute), it makes me feel physically ill. If he's just whining a bit and I HAVE TO do something else, I can tolerate it, but he tends to panic/hysterical cry once it's dark out/bedtime/in his room and I just can't stomach it.

So, for now, I am the master of my own misery. Unless the Hubs can start to lactate, I'm in a bit of a baby prison. A very cute, adorable, snuggle-bug baby prison. It could be worse. I'm just so so sleepy.

SO, I think somewhere deep down inside of me I am capable or blogging again. I do enjoy it. I just never have any time. But I will get back to it. When he doesn't cry if I am more than one foot away from him. So... by 15 or 16... years?

_______________________

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