Update: Mental Health

So, things have been going. Not good, not bad, just going. 

Do I feel as though I'm settling into more of a routine? Yes. But do I enjoy that routine? Not always. I feel as though a majority of our time during the day is spent in the car. This is fine for Lovie since he's at preschool running around for three hours but since it's a 25 minute drive to and from his preschool that doesn't leave Baby Sister a lot of time for eating/napping/tummy time. Yes, there is plenty of time for tummy time in the afternoon/evening but you know. It's just not ideal. But, I guess you do the best you can with what you've got. 

Do I like being a stay at home Mom? Yes and no. I love the fact that I'm able to be with them - morning, noon and night. And they are such happy kids. They are totally thriving. But I'm not. I miss working. I miss the drive to get something done by a deadline. I miss consistent adult interaction. I miss having tangible metrics for achieving success. I'd say the latter is the hardest thing about being a stay at home Mom - you have no idea whether you're successful or not, until they grow up to be either a priest or Eminem.

Currently, I'm pursuing part-time opportunities as well as full-time ones that have the flexibility to work from home some days. I think it'll be best for everyone. And I'm really looking forward to it. Also, being a stay at home Mom has been hard financially. We've had to cut back on some things and, selfishly, I don't want to cut back on certain things.

I've found that while I love being with my children I hate HATE housework. Hate it. I'm fine with it if that's not my only goal throughout the day. But it is. And I'm going insane.  I just can't find joy in laundry or dishes or cleaning. And my admiration for those who do/have done it read: my amazing Mom grows exponentially every day.

I've learned I'd be a great housewife if I could also have the wealth of those of the Real Housewives of ... series. I'd enjoy being a stay at home Mom if my biggest worry was with whom I was going brunch that day or what color I wanted to paint my nails at my weekly mani/pedi. Yes. That I could get behind. At the very least I could totally get behind having a maid. *swoon*

And I'm finally able to talk to a therapist next week. It was the soonest appointment I could get. I know the grass isn't always greener, and that working will present itself with a new set of challenges to adapt to. I know that eventually I may be a stay at home Mom again - but it'll more likely than not be when I'm ready. I just don't think now is my time.

Regardless, I do know there is a happier patch of grass out there and I can't wait to find my happy patch!

Depression? Postpartum? SAD?

I just want to feel like myself again and less like this:

There are some major things that have happened (fairly) recently, that may be contributing factors to this. I'll go in sequential order: 

1. Got married (late 2010)
2. Got pregnant (December 2010)
3. Stopped working (August 2011)
4. Had Baby (August 2011)
5. Full time Mom (late 2011/early 2012)
6. ???? 

I know. None of those things are sad things, they are happy things. However, as any newly wed knows, there are major adjustments that happen upon starting a marriage. A lot of people think that if you live together before-hand that then when you're married it's the same. But it's not. There are certain changes that take place that take adjusting to - both good and bad. So, yes it's happy but a happy marriage takes a lot of hard work. Then with pregnancy the hormones and just being pregnant overall make it more uncomfortable/borderline miserable than enjoyable. I'd even go so far to say that the only enjoyable things about pregnancy are feeling the baby move, seeing the baby on a sonogram, and having bigger boobs. Then the baby coming makes for a very sleep-deprived and over-stressed/over-worked/over-everything lifestyle. Then being a full time Mom is alienating. It's been so hard. By far the hardest, loneliest thing ever.  

Since I don't have a circle of friends where we all started out with one child the same age so then we decide to have our second around the same time too, I don't always have a network of friends that I can call on for a play date/Mommy date. I do have a lovely circle of friends and I am grateful and thankful for them, we just aren't all at the same stage in our lives. 

I realize a lot of the reason why I don't have a network of girlfriends with kids is because up until this year I was working full-time ... and the last thing I wanted to do most weekends was send Lovie off for a play date. Due in large part to me enjoying having him around, missing him and he was having non-stop play time (all day 5 days a week) at daycare. I am also well aware that now, I can't always do playdates because of Lovie's preschool schedule and the fact that Baby Sister is so young and still so needy read: breastfeeding. 

So, I'm trying to keep a very realistic, very honest rationale for the reason for my depression/sadness and realize a lot of why I am this way is situational. And the Type A in me puts a plan into place called How I Can Fix It ... so Chapter 1 in How I Can Fix It is take steps to form/foster relationships with women who have kids approximately the same age as mine, which can be achieved by: 

1. Taking Mom's up on their offer to "get the kids together one afternoon"
2. Asking Mom's on Facebook for playdates
3. Joining a MOTTS group at Lovie's preschool (MOTTS = Mom's of Tots to Teens)
4. Becoming more involved at church
5. Keeping an ear out for other social activities

When I do have more flexibility to be more of a social butterfly with my children, I want to have a network to turn to. Also, depending on what we have going on each day, Baby Sister and Lovie can have very flexible schedules. That's why if a fellow Mom asks for a playdate, unless we have a doctors appointment or SOMEthing going on I won't decline. 

Also, part of Chapter 1 includes going to talk to someone. A therapist. Regardless of what it is, it's now my job to be the best, most productive Mom and wife (whether I was working or not). And that's what I am trying to be on a daily basis. Which may mean going back to work ... I'm not too proud or guilty to admit that I may be a working Mom ... hey if means I'm happy then that directly translates into a happy home/kids/husband. I just don't know, I do know I can't solve this problem on my own so I am going to therapy. A lot of this requires time and still adjusting to new schedules, routines ... Regardless, I'll keep you all posted on my progress and how things are going.

Motherhood is a struggle that's for sure. And that's something no one really does ever prepare you for.

Lazy

Call it lazy, call it pregnancy, call it what you will, I like elevators. Typically, I do not care for elevators, except in buildings that have more than 4 floors. But with pregnancy hiking up steps is the last thing on my list of activities I want to participate in. I am hot and sweaty enough just thinking about walking from my car to the building, so I rely heavily on elevators ... to go up 4 floors mind you ... and seeing as how I'm 7 months preggers but look like I'm 9 I think my excuse is pretty solid.

What floors me are the people who have the rolling briefcases. What bothers me most about them is when they take the elevator up or down one floor because of said briefcase. Lame. Because there's nothing more aggravating in an elevator than having to stop on every floor. (I work on the 4th floor of a 4 story building ... there has been more than one occasion when we stop on every floor on the way up due to these jokers)

I'm sure these are the same people who park in handicap spots without a sticker because they don't want to walk and those who take a motorized cart around Sam's Club because they don't want to walk when they get inside either.

Really? You're going to ask about that in the elevator??

I get that summer is about spending time outdoors. Often times people can tell that you did so by the golden color of your skin - or sometimes the red color if you aren't as careful. Which I guess is what I'm trying to get at. Time in the sun doesn't equal younger appearance or smaller waistlines. It may give that impression. At first. But down the line you are going to look like a 70 year old leather jacket by the age of 35. When, I ask you, has that EVER been the epitomy of cute, praytell?!? What spawned this thought process and subsequent blog is the following conversation between me and a coworker of mine in the elevator at lunch time. Me: Hey! How are you doing? Did you have a good weekend? Coworker: I'm good it was great! Me: Yeah it was so hot out - we just relaxed by the (cutoff by coworker) Coworker: Yea, you don't look like you spent ANY time outside. (coworker exits elevator) I was left a little dumbfounded by this conversation. A.) because where do my coworkers get off reminding me of the fact that I am pasty white? B.) since when is being tan at work a requirement - so what, you're going give me a lower performance review because I am not golden brown?!? Don't even. (but may not put it past them) C.) this coworker was male. Since when do guys care about tans? And! Moreover, most guys I know like young, fertile looking women. Not leather jackety, alligator skin looking 30 year olds. I have a man at home who loves me & all my pasty white glory. And if he doesn't he does a really good job of hiding it. Keep up the good work honey!

Another thing I'm scared of...

Is accidentally eating a staple. Totally. If you've ever had Chinese food you'll understand. Not because I think that the lovely Chinese restaurant people cook with staples. But, because those good crunchy noodle things, that make your egg drop soup taste better and more cholesteroly, have staples all over the top. So does the bag that your food comes in, so do the fortune cookies. If you're even remotely hungry you're going to rip open the bags to get to your food. Right? And there's probably a pretty good chance that one of those staples could find their way into your food. Right? What I'm afraid of is that I'll be paying so much attention to something on TV or to one of my family members that I'd miss the staple in my food and eat it. Then I'm sure I'd scratch my throat pretty good or it'd get stuck in my throat and I'd die because hello!?!?, the Heimlich isn't powerful enough to get a staple out. It'd prolly settle in nice cozy like in my throatal cavity. Then they'd have to do an emergency tracheotomy. By "they" I mean "family member;" Which would be a disaster because no one in my family is a doctor. So, they'd probably do it in the wrong spot. Then, if I somehow managed to survive I'd have a huge hole in my chin. Which would be cute, but I'd be alive at least. I guess all those years of developing a "good personality" would really have to come in handy, right? Another way you could swallow a staple accidentally is if you were at work and when you took staples out of things you sometimes put them on the floor not realizing that you put them there but yeah you kinda did realize it. And then you drop a mint. You go to pick it up and a staple gets caught in your finger nail. You throw the mint away but somehow the angle you had your hand at didn't release the staple with it. Then you reach into your bag of chips or candy and THAT's when the staple decides to fall out. Right. Into. Your. Mouf. DEAD. Gone. Right there at work. And that's why I don't like staples. The End.