It’s been a long week. I’ve been on the go every single day – appointments, errands, extra running around for this, that and a bunch of other crap. Tuesday morning I took my mother’s cat and my grandfather’s cat and dog to the vet for neuterings (the cats), microchipping (all three) and vaccinations (the dog). I then bathed the flea-infested dog three times, and afterwards spent over half an hour going over his fur (thank god he’s a short hair!) with a flea comb. Have I mentioned how I can’t stand fleas? They’re certainly resilient little fuckers. I can actually see them run from the water spray/dog shampoo/flea comb. Rargh. It was like a mini game of hide ‘n seek.
Then the other night I spent three hours at my mother’s, going through her closets with her and bagging up unwanted clothing to free cycle.
This morning I took my grandfather’s cat to the groomer for a flea dip/bath/combing, then spent the next four hours at my grandfather’s house. He and my grandmother moved there in April of 2004, but the move wasn’t organized at all. Most of the packing was done last minute, and most things weren’t marked. Not long after they moved my grandmother’s health started to rapidly decline, so most of the unpacking was put on hold. Then my grandmother died in December 2004, my grandfather really stopped bothering with things, and then he suffered a heart attack and kidney failure in August of 2005. He was in a nursing home for just about six months, and since coming home has been going to dialysis three times a week, taking a lot of medications, and dealing with an open wound on his chest that will not heal.
So as I was saying, I spent four hours at my grandfather’s house this morning, sorting things out in the living room (putting some things away, and putting the remaining boxes of items all in one spot to make it easier for him to get to). Then on to the kitchen. For god knows what reason, he hasn’t bothered to mop the floor in about six months. Gross, I know. You don’t have to tell me. My socks told me – they told me so much that I didn’t even bother to take them home to wash; I threw them in the trash and drove home barefoot (ever try to get on heeled clogs without socks??). What a fun morning – taxi service to a cat, then four hours of moving, sorting, organizing, vacuuming, spraying (flea spray all over the carpets/furniture/curtains), sweeping, mopping, and throwing lots of stuff out. But the house now looks fantastic, and smells a hell of a lot better!
Wow, that was a lot of rambling. Okay, back to my first sentence: It’s been a long week. It really has. On top of all of the appointments and errands and animal taxi service and this, that and whatever else, there’s housework to do, meals to cook, a husband to spend time with, a toddler to entertain, and an infant to care for. Needless to say, I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep lately. I don’t get a lot to begin with, what with breastfeeding (Ryan goes to sleep around 1am and wakes one to two times during the very early morning hours to eat, and is then up for the day by 10am, and Alyssa is up by 11am) and then foolishly staying up after Ryan goes to bed, just to have some time to myself.
Tonight I cracked. After thirty minutes of a fussing, whining, wheezing, snorting, back-arching, fist waving, leg kicking baby, I had it. I had done it all – nursing, pacifier (he rarely takes it, but it’s worth a shot, right?), swaddling, not swaddling, rubbing his back, rubbing his belly, singing, rocking, walking, slinging, burping, belly time, etc. – to no avail. So I swaddled him, kissed him, and then laid him down in the pack ‘n play here in the living room. I then got myself a drink (of water 
), went into our bedroom, shut the door, turned off the light, set my alarm to go off in five minutes, and laid down on the bed and closed my eyes.
I’m sure there’s now a special spot in Mommy Hell reserved just for yours truly. According to the parenting nazis that are out and about, disposable diapers* and pacifiers* will get your foot in the door. Formula* just about guarantees it. But CIO? Hot damn, this bitch gets the VIP pass. To the front of the line for you! You’ll burn longer and harder than the rest of ‘em!
So bite me. I did it all. And at the end of the day, I’m only human. A tired, stressed human who needs a break, a moment to herself. I didn’t like leaving Ryan to cry alone, but I was about to cry. My frustration and upset was most likely making things worse for him, which made him fuss even more, which got me going even more, and so on. It’s a vicious cycle, and there are two ways to break it: Mommy gets a much needed time out, or Mommy goes fucking insane. I prefer the former.
And it worked out. Those five minutes of quiet were bliss. I was cool, calm and collected when I went back into the living room, picked up Ryan, held him, then fed him, and he dropped right off. Thank God. Now that Daniel is home, I’m going to go to sleep. ZzzZzz…
* Yes, I mentioned these items in a previous post. But I was joking. You know, ha ha? I keep disposables on hand for when we go out, pacifiers aren’t all that bad, and there’s a can of formula in my cabinet “just in case”.
Not everyone is a super mommy, everyone needs a break. Heck even I take a 5min time out when I am at work with the little kid-lets, you dont want a crazy psyko taking care of your child now do you, who starts to get visions of hanging them upside down and outside by their toes? Even if that person is you the momma…. I’m glad that Daniel came home soon after… He works hard I’m sure for you and your family, plus you work just as hard as well… That is alot of crazy organization you did for your grandfather, I am sure he is thankful for your help.
Now stop reading this entry and go and sleep….
Dude, don’t beat yourself up. You did the responsible thing. We’ve all seen reports of mothers who chose “shake the baby” or “drown the children” instead. You are human, and as such, you have a breaking point. It’s not like you left him hungry and wallowing in his own filth for 6 hours. You took 5 minutes. No permanent damage.
Jenn, you ARE a super mom. It’s actually recommended that mothers put the baby down and walk away for 5-10 minutes when mommy starts to get frazzled. This helps prevent shaken baby syndrome which is usually cause when a mom or dad is overly frustrated and shakes the baby out of sheer desparation. You did the right thing for sure.
Wow…nice typos I’ve got there. You know what I mean
Hi there.
You don’t know me, but I stumbled across your blog a few days ago. I think it’s funny how some moms look at you like they want to put you in an insane asylum if you tell them certain things about your parenting. My daughter Ariel is 7 months old, and I use all of those things that make some give me the crazy look. I didn’t realize until I became a mother just how much other mothers will give you unsolicited advice (and can’t forget the crazy looks). I don’t know how many times random people have come up to me in public and said “that pacifier is bad for your child” or something. I’ve just gotten to the point where I stare at them until they get uncomfortable and walk off. More then likely, a good deal of it is from my being so young – I’m only 21. What I’m trying to say is this – don’t worry about the parenting nazis. The only wrong way to be a parent is to not be caring for or to abuse your children in someway. Five minutes of crying will not hurt a child, no matter what anyone says.