So I'm feeling....better. Some days are better than others, for sure. I'm trying to keep myself from getting overwhelmed with anxiety or sadness or bullshit feelings or house projects, taking care of them piece by piece, and pulling back on the reigns of impatience over wanting to feel perfect and do everything at once and find a new house (we're talking several years down the road and many necessary home improvements along the way). I'm also willing myself not to lose my shit over little stuff. Because there's so goddamned much little stuff, if you let it get to you, you could lose your mind. And by "you" I mean "me."
Like Easter brunch. Jackson had not napped at all that morning, and was rubbing his eyes as we loaded up the car to take off. So when we got to the restaurant, I told everyone in no uncertain terms, he needs to be left alone until he's napped. He needs to stay in his carseat and have peace and quiet so he can fall asleep. I turned my back for one minute...and he was out of his carseat being passed around and kept wide awake. Oh, and anytime someone (whether friend, family member, coworker, stranger, hobo) says he looks like me, someone in KB's family swoops in to boldly refute and inform me that, oh no, he looks 1000% like KB or [insert random probably distant sharing-only-8%-DNA-with KB family member]. So I got a fair amount of that, as usual. It's such a stupid little thing, but it gets under my skin like nothing else. Why do family members have to act like such asshats?
But we have a full docket of outings over the next few weeks, so I am mustering up my inner-oomph to brave these and other assbaggeries. My therapist pointed out to me recently that, unlike some people in my position, I don't retreat from things that are hard, I push through them, and I should feel very good about that. So I am pushing onward and through. When my mother-in-law tries to sneak ice cream and milk and juice and whatever else into my 7-month-old tomorrow, I will quietly prevail. When the family Mother's Day brunch turns into another "ignore/defy/enrage Jen and keep the baby awake and perpetually hand him to anyone but her and also tell her at every turn that he barely even looks related to her even though he clearly does" Festival of Fights, I will roll my eyes in my mind and keep a smile on my face. Sometimes you have to suffer fools. (And when I feel insecure or sad or anxious I will push it down and tell myself "you are okay." And maybe eat a piece of chocolate.)
We're also going to a school fundraiser this weekend and I am leery of how it will go. KB and I are total homebodies, so mingling is not a competitive sport for us at all. But we figure we need to start getting to know other parents, and this seems like a good place to start. I just hope it doesn't devolve into some compare-and-contrast child brag-a-thon. I have - 400% interest in the whole "this is what MY child can do/is doing/is doing better than yours" bullshit. KB's strategy is to play 20 Questions with each person we meet and let them blather. He hypothesizes that people LOVE to talk about themselves, so if we feed that ego monster we'll be a big hit. We shall see.
And as for The Milkman himself, he is going through some mammoth developmental growth right now. He's rolling and up on his haunches trying to crawl. TRYING TO CRAWL. Holy shitballs, y'all. We're scrambling to get less-than-safe furniture (is a coffee table made of metal okay? how about one made entirely of glass? no?) out of the room so he has space to move without braining himself. I'm hoping his basement playroom will be done by end of May so I can take him down there and let him roam free-range. I think he's also teething (for real now, not as everyone and their assbag neighbor has been suggesting since he was 6 weeks old). The best part of teething, besides waking up at night with gum pain? Practicing biting. My nipple. Yeah. His new move is to clamp down with his nubby little gums and TURN HIS HEAD quickly to the side. I'm pretty sure this is a plot point right out of Saw VI. [In order to escape the clutches of the evil Jigsaw, Jackson must rip his mother's nipple right off of her tit while nursing.] It's pretty awful. I've yelled "ouch!" as loud as I can, not out of some planned response, but just out of pain and so far it has startled him pretty soundly. Hopefully he'll stop on his own. I am so not ready to give up nursing, but also not ready to part ways with my nipple.
And now, time for random cuteness: