Exposed nerves.
You probably don't want to read this. I'm giving you a warning now -- just turn and walk away. This is nothing more than a rant by someone more tightly wound than a spring.
Still here? Well, you asked for it. Read at your own risk.
Caoimhe weaned herself last month. Apparently deciding the bottle was easier, she wanted nothing more to do with the breast. Enter the pump. Now the pump is a grand invention and would work, surely, if I'm given but 10 minutes of calm and quiet at a stretch when using it. This is not to be.
A typical attempt finds me, just home from work, on the floor in a corner of the dining room. Not quite a comfortable arrangement, but eminently practical. A teething baby clambers about me, mouthing and sometimes biting down if an arm isn't around her to let her know she's loved. Fussing more than occasionally follows as she's also a) gassy, b) hungry, c) thirsty, d) hot, e) cold, f) bored, g) wanting her big sister's toy/book/shoe, h) all of the above.
A 3-year-old, just back from school and grinning broadly in anticipation of monopolizing Mommy's attention for just a little while, approaches with a book saying "Come sit on Mommy's yap (lap)", and proceeds to position herself on top of my legs, leaning against me in any way she can.
A Boxer approaches to see if any food is to be had; placing her nose uncomfortably close to the equipment being used, she snorts, demanding to be fed, given water, let outside, be pet, or all of the above simultaneously. She's a cranky old fart.
Invariably, the girls become upset as there's 90 lbs. of dog hovering over them and snorting in their faces, I have only one free arm owing to the task at hand and both want it.
Jesse, extremely noise-sensitive, emerges from the shower in time to hear the cacophany of upset children and demanding dog and generously contributes by making well known his sentiments on our proceedings -- sometimes going so far as to sharply reprimand us, thus inadvertently prolonging the very noise he wishes to quiet.
The other dog, until now the only creature *not* adding to the stress of the moment, suddenly leaps from his snooze-fest, and in a frenzy of flying fur and bared teeth, lets us know quite vocally that a mail carrier is near. Naturally, my angel-man is delighted with this turn of events.
Around this time, I give in due to sheer necessity. Disconnecting and cleaning up, I cuddle a child in each arm, take care of the dogs' needs, and put as many as I can in a happy frame of mind again just before seeing my husband off to work. And this is on a quiet day.
----
A dear friend of mine had a crisis recently. Thankfully, many rallied and assisted in making sure she was amply cared for and properly supported over a period of several days. While she lay at home recovering in as much comfort as I could provide, I attempted to lighten the mood at home by encouraging Aria to call one of her grandmothers.
Then it was that I learned one of my grandmothers, one of my heroes, was starting a painful decline associated with age, no longer the acute mind that lacerated Chicago politics and shaped several generations of children. This cheering bit of news was followed with an update about my beautiful, precocious niece -- who'd been molested.
When I received a cryptic e-mail from a friend located across the country shortly after this, I responded with alarm, only to learn that he was highly upset as he'd had to bail his respectable, matronly, quiet mother out of jail as she'd lost her temper but good with a neighbor and damaged some of said neighbor's property. I have to admit, at this point, I was thankful it was nothing worse.
Next, a call came in from Caoimhe's nephrologist, confirming receipt of the (by now not-so-recent) ultrasound on disc. Instead of the phone consultation we'd been promised, we were ordered to set up an appointment for further testing on our baby's kidneys post haste, but given no explanation why.
And Daddy's dog was still recovering from an illness so severe that, but for ceaseless devotion to steam cleaning and cleaning in general, would have rendered our house far too close to a B-rated gore flick than is comfortable. Lucky for me that I'm a neat freak. Not so lucky for me that the dog's bladder issues during and after this time exacerbated my husband's equilibrium.
----
I've been a mobile bundle of nerves, albeit one quite capable of audibly declaring open war on insects and organizing my young children into a supporting marching/crawling band as I go on a cleaning rampage simply because I chanced to see a fly near the back door -- after all, who doesn't love to inject the most morbid situations with a bit of bizarre humour?
To tell you the truth, nothing in the world sounds better right now than seeing my children and dogs asleep after a long day of exhaustion; my husband at work after a long, restful sleep; a girlfriend or a book to visit with; a bottle (or two) of a good cabernet; and a cigarette or two--and I don't smoke.
Or an unchecked murderous rampage through an empty house to music so loud that tectonic plates shift in accordance with it.
So (blows hair out of face) . . . anyone else?
Told you to walk away.
Still here? Well, you asked for it. Read at your own risk.
Caoimhe weaned herself last month. Apparently deciding the bottle was easier, she wanted nothing more to do with the breast. Enter the pump. Now the pump is a grand invention and would work, surely, if I'm given but 10 minutes of calm and quiet at a stretch when using it. This is not to be.
A typical attempt finds me, just home from work, on the floor in a corner of the dining room. Not quite a comfortable arrangement, but eminently practical. A teething baby clambers about me, mouthing and sometimes biting down if an arm isn't around her to let her know she's loved. Fussing more than occasionally follows as she's also a) gassy, b) hungry, c) thirsty, d) hot, e) cold, f) bored, g) wanting her big sister's toy/book/shoe, h) all of the above.
A 3-year-old, just back from school and grinning broadly in anticipation of monopolizing Mommy's attention for just a little while, approaches with a book saying "Come sit on Mommy's yap (lap)", and proceeds to position herself on top of my legs, leaning against me in any way she can.
A Boxer approaches to see if any food is to be had; placing her nose uncomfortably close to the equipment being used, she snorts, demanding to be fed, given water, let outside, be pet, or all of the above simultaneously. She's a cranky old fart.
Invariably, the girls become upset as there's 90 lbs. of dog hovering over them and snorting in their faces, I have only one free arm owing to the task at hand and both want it.
Jesse, extremely noise-sensitive, emerges from the shower in time to hear the cacophany of upset children and demanding dog and generously contributes by making well known his sentiments on our proceedings -- sometimes going so far as to sharply reprimand us, thus inadvertently prolonging the very noise he wishes to quiet.
The other dog, until now the only creature *not* adding to the stress of the moment, suddenly leaps from his snooze-fest, and in a frenzy of flying fur and bared teeth, lets us know quite vocally that a mail carrier is near. Naturally, my angel-man is delighted with this turn of events.
Around this time, I give in due to sheer necessity. Disconnecting and cleaning up, I cuddle a child in each arm, take care of the dogs' needs, and put as many as I can in a happy frame of mind again just before seeing my husband off to work. And this is on a quiet day.
----
A dear friend of mine had a crisis recently. Thankfully, many rallied and assisted in making sure she was amply cared for and properly supported over a period of several days. While she lay at home recovering in as much comfort as I could provide, I attempted to lighten the mood at home by encouraging Aria to call one of her grandmothers.
Then it was that I learned one of my grandmothers, one of my heroes, was starting a painful decline associated with age, no longer the acute mind that lacerated Chicago politics and shaped several generations of children. This cheering bit of news was followed with an update about my beautiful, precocious niece -- who'd been molested.
When I received a cryptic e-mail from a friend located across the country shortly after this, I responded with alarm, only to learn that he was highly upset as he'd had to bail his respectable, matronly, quiet mother out of jail as she'd lost her temper but good with a neighbor and damaged some of said neighbor's property. I have to admit, at this point, I was thankful it was nothing worse.
Next, a call came in from Caoimhe's nephrologist, confirming receipt of the (by now not-so-recent) ultrasound on disc. Instead of the phone consultation we'd been promised, we were ordered to set up an appointment for further testing on our baby's kidneys post haste, but given no explanation why.
And Daddy's dog was still recovering from an illness so severe that, but for ceaseless devotion to steam cleaning and cleaning in general, would have rendered our house far too close to a B-rated gore flick than is comfortable. Lucky for me that I'm a neat freak. Not so lucky for me that the dog's bladder issues during and after this time exacerbated my husband's equilibrium.
----
I've been a mobile bundle of nerves, albeit one quite capable of audibly declaring open war on insects and organizing my young children into a supporting marching/crawling band as I go on a cleaning rampage simply because I chanced to see a fly near the back door -- after all, who doesn't love to inject the most morbid situations with a bit of bizarre humour?
To tell you the truth, nothing in the world sounds better right now than seeing my children and dogs asleep after a long day of exhaustion; my husband at work after a long, restful sleep; a girlfriend or a book to visit with; a bottle (or two) of a good cabernet; and a cigarette or two--and I don't smoke.
Or an unchecked murderous rampage through an empty house to music so loud that tectonic plates shift in accordance with it.
So (blows hair out of face) . . . anyone else?
Told you to walk away.
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