I just finished painting the moldings I purchased at Home Depot last week.
48 feet of pre-primed clamshell. Pulled 'em down, 16 feet at a time, put 'em on that 4-wheeled cart, cut those fuckers in half on the un-patrolled table saw and brought them up to self-check-out. Okay, I couldn't ring them out myself but pretty impressive, eh? Then, I loaded them up, in my 'Bu. Drove them home, pulled the saw-horses down off the garage wall and laid them across with a tarp underneath and then went to a cocktail party. I managed all of that in less than 3 hours. Including the cocktail party.
Then, tonight, there I was, in the garage, drinking a beer (Adirondack Rootbeer) and painting my moldings. And was I saying "wow, check me out, I don't need a man!"?
No.

I went to the dump and unloaded 1000 square feet of carpet and pads. 2 days later, I unloaded a full truck bed of household garbage and recycling.
Was I all "yo! I am woman, hear me roar!"?
Nope.

I got into my bed last night at around 11pm, after 2 nights on the couch while my houseguests used my Master Bedroom as a hotel. I expected I would sleep like a log. I was very tired and I missed my bed a lot over the weekend.
I didn't. I tossed, turned, got woken up by a thirsty dog, woke up to pee and then wandered around the house making sure we were properly locked up. Then, promptly at 6:30am, my daughter hopped into my bed demanding to watch television while I go make her some warm milk.

My point?
I miss my husband.
I miss the man of the house.
I miss the part of my bed that keeps my cold ass and feet warm.

16 Nights Down, 4 to go...

While I don't feel like "writing", here are some shots from this week:

A quick caveat to my previous bitch-session about people and their lasagnas:
NY and MA readers can disregard. My new-mama friends can, too.
And, frankly - that might cover all of my readers.

Kitty.
Just this morning I was thinking, 'wow, it'll be 4 weeks tomorrow since I last saw my Kitty.' And just last night, I closed the garage door all the way. I had been leaving it open for him, not that he would ever go in the garage - the cat demanded to be let in, he didn't just settle in at garage level. Anyway. I left the garage open while I was at my mom's and something got into the garbage. There was not a big mess, just a turned over can and some nibbled Dunkin wrappers. But, the idea that whatever did that might make a home in my garage freaked me out. If Kitty were to come home, he would howl at the back door, like always.
My point is this - this week, 4 weeks since his disappearance, I was feeling myself sort of starting to let go.
Then, today my next door neighbor tells me she thinks she saw him in her yard. Now, I am sad and worried all over again.

9/24
Tomorrow is September 24th. Four years ago tomorrow we moved into this house. Happy Anniversary, 131!

Dump.
You know you think I am about to tell you about poop of some kind. You wouldn't be a fan of my Blog if you didn't know I had a poop obsession.
But, no, sorry to disappoint. This is actually about the dump. I went today. First time ever. And I dumped a whole basement's worth of shitty carpeting and padding. It was awesome. It was so awesome, I am going through this house tomorrow and bringing a whole bunch more shit that annoys me and dumping that shit, too.

Wyatt.
Wywy had his 1-Year Portraits done today. They really do a fine job at Target. Or maybe it's just Jackie, the photographer there. She did Abby's 2-Year pics and they came out good, too. More importantly, the experience was a good one. I love professional pictures. They are just so... well, neat. And organized. :)
While in Target we bought Wywy a toy that he can push around. He has shown a great deal of interest in walking but can't quite do it yet. He stands there, thinking about it, then sits down and crawls. But when he has something to push, he can walk. He pushes anything that will stay with him, and he gets very angry when it slips away or stops at a wall. I think he'll like the toy.
Professional pics and toy-pushing pics to come...

Abby.
Yes, of course she had her pictures taken, too. And yes, of course, she got a toy, too.

3WE.
This is Night 12. It's not getting much easier but it's not harder, either. I feel like a single mother. Too proud to ask for help, too lonely and tired to give a fuck.
People offer their help... "call me if you need anything". Yeah? Ya mean it? How about this: "Hi. I am very hungry, so are my children. But we don't have time to fix a decent meal so we have eaten Dunkin almost every day for a meal and for dinner we have had pasta about 4 times and tonight we had cheeseburgers on bread and raw carrots. How about a fucking dish of lasagna, asshole?!" I don't know. Is it me? If I had a friend with 2 kids who's husband was going away for 3 weeks, I would be cooking. I would be handing her meals, breads and cookies. Is it just me?!
Whatever.
My mommy is coming next Tuesday. She'll bring food.

Sleeping.
My friend Kim posted a blog with a simple picture of her baby boy sleeping on her chest. He is still tiny enough to do that and I felt a little pang of sadness when I saw it. I will never have a teeny-tiny do that again. That teeny-time goes very quickly - and that is a blessing and a curse. I am not and never claimed to be a huge fan of that time. But I am more and more sure of the fact that I am done, and ready to make a permanent decision about being done. But that picture panged me a bit.
Then, tonight. I was snuggling my baby girl. She will be 3 in January. She holds conversations and challenges me and remembers everything. But tonight, she had just had a warm bathie. She had on cozy jammies and she smelled delicious. I cuddled her in her bed for about 25 minutes while we read stories then just snuggled until she fell asleep. Then she was asleep. And I stared at her and I thought, "You're right, Kim. There is nothing better than this."
Then I went in to check on the Boy. He was on his belly, hiney in the air, Woobie clutched under his arm, snoring like an 80-year old man. He was wearing a red and brown puppy sleeper with feet. It's cold at night but not "heat on" cold yet. Not at $4 a gallon. So a fleece sleeper with feet for the boy who doesn't stay under covers yet is perfect.

Barbie.
I mentioned Abby got a toy. She chose an African-American (is that still the pc way to refer to a black chick?) Ballerina Barbie. She wore a purple tutu. I say "wore" because between the time I finished strapping Abby into her car seat and got into my seat in the front of the car, the Barbie was naked. And she had lost a shoe.
On the drive home, I was hoping both kids would fall asleep but no, not my kids. Wyatt played with the sun visor on his seat the whole ride (same thing he did all the way home from Brewster Sunday. weirdo.) Abby talked to that new Barbie the entire time. She was telling her all about her room and her other Barbies and her Princesses... "and there are lots of other princeress dolls. and Yes! they will all be your friends. It will be so nice and we will all be so happy..." She is truly the hostess with the mostess.

End.
That's it for now. My mom told me today that my sister, Deborah, is also addicted to Grey's Anatomy right now but she is a few episodes (maybe a whole season) ahead of me. I am about to watch the finale of Season 3. Then I take a short break to watch Sex & the City, the Movie. Then onto Season 4. I am recording Season 5's premiere on Thursday. Hopefully I will catch up before Season 5 is over!
Ok, goodnight.

Guess what I'm doing right now?
Guess.

Yep.
Sitting on the couch.
Watching Grey's Anatomy.

I just got back from a weekend at my parents' house. We tag sale'd.
We hung out. We ate. Oh, boy. Did we eat! Dunkin Donuts, Pizza, Steak, Spaghetti & Meatballs - dammit, I meant to take meatballs home.

My parents' house is my first "home". It's weird when it's not officially home anymore... THIS is my home. Coming home... well, that feels good but it was nice to be "home" with my parents. For a whole 2 nights.
Granted, my throat and lungs hurt. And I am so tired from not sleeping in my own bed. But it was nice.

This marks Night 10 of the 3WE. 10 nights. That is crazy.
I miss my husband. Coming home tonight felt lonely.

My kids need clothes. Warm, playing-outside clothes. So, I will be hitting the Gap this week. Macy*s, too. Can you say "WestFarms"?!

I had more to say, maybe I'll blog more later... but I need to go watch Grey's now...

I have this nightgown. It is more like a housecoat, like your gramma would wear. I wore it in the hospital after I had each baby, but I remember specifically purchasing it when I was about due with Abby.
It is big, sleeveless, roomie and buttons down the front, for good nursing access.
After I was done nursing Wyatt, I had no reason to keep it. I would never wear it for a non-mothering reason. It's something your gramma would wear. Seriously.
But, last night, I decided that since no one would see me and it is ridiculously comfy, I would wear it. In fact, I thought about long before last night. When I was packing Jay up, I saw it and thought "ooh, I am going to wear this the whole time he's gone." It is the most un-sexy thing in the world, and even after 10 years and 2 babies, you have to at least try not to be not-sexy.
Anyway.
I wore it last night. And it was glorious. Although, there are 2 large, dark stains over the nipple areas. Lansinoh, I believe. I hate that shit. And, Abby did ask me "that Grammy's, mama?"
Oh well. I can't wait to put it on again tonight.

So, it finally happened. Another one of those "he won't fall until he does" situations. Wyatt dive-bombed out of the high chair and landed, palms down, on the hardwood kitchen floor. Nice, huh?
I was right there, but I was picking up toys and trash and whatever else lands on the floor of the kitchen/dining area through out the day.
It was 5pm and WJ is usually pretty whiny/crabby by 5, anyway. He's tired. Maybe hungry but in this case, he was just finished eating.
He cried so hard and for so long, I was borderline panicky. I know that if Jay were home, I would have been on my way to the E-Room. But I had to be rational. I didn't want to over-react or under-react.
So, within about 20 minutes, he was much calmer. There was no bleeding, nothing swelling. I poked him and prodded him and he didn't freak out.
I gave him some Tylenol and he slept fine. He is fine today, too, so I guess I did the right things.

I bought that harness. As soon as he stopped crying, I went online and bought that harness.

We completed night 3. Now, have I mentioned that there will be 21 nights in total? only 18 to go!

I have prided myself on making pancakes from scratch. No real reason. The only other way I knew how to make them was with Bisquik and somewhere along the line, I started hating Bisquik... I think it's because of these little sausage things I made one time out of the Bisquik cookbook. I hated them, and turned on the yellow box.
So, yesterday, Abby told me she wanted Panckaes for Dinner.
Ok.
Then, as we were grocery shopping, I saw that the mix for Aunt Jemima pancakes was on sale - "just add water". For $2.50, I figured it was worth a shot.
I will never make pancakes from scratch again.
They were light and fluffy and delicious.
AND - BONUS - if they are too watery or too thick, just add more water or more mix. No worries about measurement!
Fabulous idea. Kudos to you, Auntie!

Day 2 is done.
To give you an example of how tightly this ship is normally run - let me tell you how our evening usually go.
Jay gets home from work. We eat dinner. I bring the kids up to bed while Jay simultaneously cleans up the dinner and the day. I come down, about an hour later, he is done and we relax.
Today, I made dinner. Then I came down after putting the kids to bed. It was 7:30 - late, actually, Abby was especially cute tonight. She had some extra naked time.
When I came down, I saw that no one had cleaned up dinner. Damn. I did it.
Then, I came into the living room and saw that no one had cleaned up the toys. Damn again.
I straightened, locked up, cleaned up, set up - made the house peaceful and quiet after a long day - and now, just now, at 8:25, am I sitting, writing this and getting ready to watch... yes, Grey's Anatomy.
I miss my partner.

I want to announce that I am the proud mother of a boy who clearly and appropriately says "BYE!"

Don't believe me?
Here he is, waving and saying "bye". Clearly - he has places to go and that box will take him there.

My last thought is also about the boy. He needs a harness. I found this, it's a portable harness that attaches to the kid and then to whatever you need him strapped into. It seems like the best alternative to just leaving him on the ground and throwing him some food. Because if we don't do something, his first trip to the E-Room will be before he is even walking. And did I mention he is climbing stairs now? Yeah - he needs a harness.

Night One of the Great 3-Week Experiment is done. It was not easy. The first night never is.
Fortunately, my grossly under-diagnosed ADD and OCD were here to keep me company. I folded about 6 loads of laundry, put away the summer stuff from the pool (that we closed Thursday), organized, cleaned... I don't know, but I kept busy.
Then, of course, I watched 2 episodes of Grey's Anatomy, Season 3.
I did manage to feed my children a decent dinner of baked chicken and veggies, with a side of cheddar cheese...
And when they went to bed, I invited a few friends over to help me through the rest of the evening...
My Abby started talking at about 10 months - and by "talking I mean "Hi, Guys!" and "Bockie, mama" and other 2 word phrases that you could clearly understand. She was in full conversations by 18 months, maybe before that.
Now, at 2 & 1/2 she can converse, plan, articulate, make-believe - like a 4 or 5 year old.
Truly. She is gifted. ;)
She talks and talk and talks and talks. She only stops talking to sing or yell. And as I was sitting on the couch tonight, watching tv but withe monitors extra loud in the kitchen, I could hear my little chatterbox, fast asleep, having a full on conversation with who I think was "Cassie" from DragonTales.
Every night, that kid talks in her sleep. Loud, long conversations.
I have never gone in to check on her during a sleep-convo, as much as I'd love to see what she's doing while she chats, because ... well, she's not crying or in any danger... I don't hear anyone talking back. And who am I to disrupt a good dream?

More on the 3-W-E as it progresses...

I think I have writer's block. I have these moments of genius throughout my day where I say to myself "self, that's genius, you need to blog that!". Then I forget about it.

I am working on completing my collection of Bing & Grondahl Christmas plates. It's a Danish company - Porcelain Christmas Plates - they spit one out each year and I have them from 1960, only missing 1999, 2002, 4, 6, 7, 8... man - those are some expensive freakin' plates. But, if you know me, you know that my OCD will not allow me to leave those holes in my perfectly aligned, perfectly fitted line up along my dining room walls.
Observe:Anyway - I guess I just live a fairly boring existence these days.
Each day I take care of my 2 kids, then at 3:30 I take care of 2 more kids, then by 6 or 7, I'm freakin' tired. I sit and watch tv.
I guess I will find my groove again. Get dinner on the table at a decent hour, a meal worthy of a family dinner. One night, last week, I think, I made Sloppy Joes. Then, my neighbor stopped by while I was serving it and I was embarrassed. I made them at Jay's request, but when I stepped out of myself and looked at the situation, I realized that Sloppy Joes is not a dinner that I was proud to serve my family. I don't do Hamburger Helper, either - ick. No amount of "fresh veggies" can make that shit a healthy, happy meal. The commercials bother me to no end. I make well balanced, healthy, delicious dinner. And I serve it, hot, to my husband and children, when my husband gets home from work. I don't do flavored meat in a pan. (Ok, save for tacos. We love tacos.)

This is chicken breast that I sprayed with fat free spray, rolled in bread crumbs and parm and baked. Then, when it was almost done, I covered it in diced, Italian tomatoes, fresh garlic and mozzarella. Then, I served it over whole wheat pasta. Am I headed to Food Network Challenge? Probably not. But was it delicious and healthy? You betcha!

I have been getting Netflix like it's my job. Tomorrow I will start season 3 of Grey's Anatomy. Don't tell me what happens. I hope I can get through 2 seasons in 2 weeks, Season 5 Premiers on the 25th... for months I thought it was 4. Now I'm in a rush.

Abby's going on the potty full time these days. She's fabulous.
Wyatt is a dancing fool, doesn't sit still EVER. He is standing on his own, cruising across furniture and he crawls faster than the wind. I suspect he will walk by the time his birthday rolls in, probably before that.

This morning, Abby was trying on her winter hats, she kept telling me she was going skating. For a kid that hasn't even been walking a year, she's got big plans.

Wrapped this giftie up today for our Goddaughter who started school yesterday:

2 shirts, pants, sneaks and a hoodie. If this stuff was my size, I'd be keeping it.

Basement floor's getting done next week. More paint, too, my bedroom and the upstairs hall and stairway. In fact, when the painter is done early next week, this entire house will be painted according to my taste, short the 2 upstairs bathrooms, but who cares - that job would be more than paint and not necessary yet. If ever.

Wanna know what I got planned for 131 Charles?
Heeryago:
- new front door, with glass to allow more light.
- Slider installed in the basement
- add small bathroom with stall shower in the basement
- hardwood in Living Room (replacing nasty carpet); Area Rug
- New carpet throughout upstairs
- Get the windows cleaned professionally
- Tile countertops/backsplash in the kitchen
- paint Master & Hall/Stairs
- 2nd level deck around the pool with connector to rebuilt main deck off of kitchen
- seal the driveway
- Weedpaper and Decorative rock along the chimney side of the house
- new corner piece in LR
- accent furniture in K/DR/LR
- Tile Front entryway (replacing shitty linoleum)
- New light fixtures in Dining Room
- Paint fireplace doors to cover tacky brass

And all of this is for me, not for resale, but most of it will increase the value of my home, too. An added bonus.



Well, I think that's it for now... getting back into my Bloggin-Groove.

When I had Abby, we knew I was not going back to work. I knew - from the minute I found out I was pregnant - that I was going to be a stay-at-home-mom. I have always wanted to be the mom that has the good food, hears all the gossip, makes all the cupcakes, volunteers for all the field trips, and later for the dances... I am living my dream.
But first I had to get through post-partum depression.
Both times.

Both of my babies were delivered via c-section.
Both of my babies nursed exclusively for at least 6 months.
Both of my babies slept in my bed, got worn in a sling.
But they also both cried a lot. Both had colic (1 worse than the other), both kept us up for long stretches at all hours...
With one baby, the long, sleepless nights didn't seem to last very long. With the other baby, they lasted close to 6 months.
In both cases, we got off pretty easy, really. I have heard some horror stories.

Anyway - my point is this - my ppd came on differently with each baby, even though the circumstances were pretty much the same.

With Abby, I was fine through the first few months. Emotional? Yes. But not sad, I don't think. Stressed out and worried? Sure. But I was a brand new mother. I had never done this before, and I wasn't much of a "kid person" to begin with. I still talk to my nieces like they are just extensions of my sisters... not in an authoritative or "auntie" way. I am getting better. More patient. But I'm not a mooshy, "oh, it's ok" kinda person.

Then, Abby weened off the boob and my own little hell began.
From the outside, Abby was a delight. My life was easy, my baby was wonderful, my husband was adoring and supportive, my home was well-kept, my kitchen was warm and welcoming... but I was dying inside. I couldn't appreciate any of it. I thought everyone around me was judging me. I thought my entire family was whispering about me and telling each other how awful I looked, how ridiculous I was, how over-protective and over-sensitive and impossible I was. I read into everything my mother-in-law said to me. I mean - she could have said "wow, your hair looks great! did you just get it cut?". I heard "well, it's about time you washed your hair you ugly slut. if you hadn't given birth to my granddaughter, I would be helping my son plan your divorce."

Really. It was that bad.

I don't even know if my husband knew how bad it was. He knew a lot. But I wonder if anyone can understand how bad it feels if they haven't actually felt it.

I self-medicated by eating and shopping, my go-to therapies. I gained a lot of weight and spent a lot of money. {And for those of you who ever want to wonder why Steffie has meant so much to me, now you do - she was my true friend in a time of darkness.}

So, in January the baby was born, around July the cloud settled, by the time the air was crisp and the holidays were close, I woke up. I literally remember sitting in my kitchen one morning, looking around and feeling like I hadn't seen my house in ages. Hadn't felt my own peace, appreciated my own fortune - in ages. I literally felt like I had been asleep for months. I took a deep breath and decided that I felt better - and it was months, if not a year later, that I was able to look back and realize how very sad & alone I was.

Then, Wyatt was born. I was ready this time. I knew what PPD felt like. I knew what to look for, what to feel for, how to sense if my thoughts were going in a bad way. I knew I had to be my own saving grace and if I didn't know what was going on, no one could help me.

Wyatt was born in October. I felt like I would be ok this time because I love the holidays. Love, love, love them. I love Halloween, mostly because it kicks off Thanksgiving and Christmas. I love the weather, I love the decorating, I love the coziness of school and early darkness and warm homes with lamps on. So, I thought that I would get through without issue. And if I started to feel badly after the holidays, I would run, not walk, to the doc for some meds.

It wasn't even a month after Wyatt was out that I realized I couldn't stop crying and I was so hyper-sensitive that I couldn't even talk to Jay. I was afraid of what he would say.
If you know me, you know I am not afraid of what my husband will say. And if you know my husband, you know he would never be the husband to be afraid of. So, I went to the doctor.
I told her I was afraid to speak and that I had a hard time not-crying over every little thing. She gave me 2 medications, one for depression, one for anxiety. Maybe she would have given them to anyone who said what I said, but I suspect my puffy face and my non-stop tearing helped my case.

I didn't take the anxiety pill for 2 reasons - 1) it knocked me out, cold, and I feared I would not hear my babies if (really, when) they needed me in the middle of the night. and 2) I prefer wine. And you can't do both.
I did take the depression meds. She gave me 6 months worth, I took it for about 6 weeks. I weaned off (mostly because I would forget to take it, then remember, then forget) and felt fine.

And I am still fine. I am normal now, for the first time in 3 years or more. I am not pregnant, I am not post-partum, I am not nursing. Hell. Right now, I am not even PMS-ing.

I wanted to write this out because of a few things.
1. a friend of mine recently called me to tell me she thinks she has post-partum depression. She feels like she's falling apart and because I told her I had been there, she knew she could call on me to help her through it. That touched me. For once, my big fat mouth helped someone. :)
2. I have a few other friends who are within their first year of their first babies. Maybe my story can help one of them.
3. I want to remind myself of how hard it is to have a tiny baby. I have been thinking a lot about #3 lately and I have to remind myself that there are a lot of reasons to not have #3. And while I don't think I would ever regret having a third child (duh), I don't think I would ever stop having babies if it was just that simple.

For the record, here is a link to a pretty good site that talks about PPD - what it is, how you can tell, why you get it, how to treat it. If you are in the middle of it, you feel like you can't tell anyone - no one would possibly understand, so the web is a good place to look around. But, if you are in the middle of it, or feel it coming - I urge you to tell your doctor. It is hormonal. Nothing more or less. You're not crazy, you're not wrong, you're not bad. You gave birth. You grew a person inside your body. You are hormonal. And a pill can help you get through the rollercoaster part of it and then "you", as you know yourself, will be back. It feels like forever at the time, but it's not. And it's very normal.

Anyway...