Thursday, November 18, 2010

Therapy. Also Known Less Kindly As Complaining.

At my ob/gyn's office they have these TV monitors in the exam rooms that endlessly loop through a Power Point presentation covering all possible female issues: UTI's, osteoperosis, STD's, PMS, pregnancy, preterm labor symptoms, and of course, post-partum depression. I have waited in those rooms so often that I pretty much have every screen shot burned into my brain. I could tell you exactly what to do if you experience a continuous trickle of fluid while pregnant, or what to take if you have vaginal burning and itching. Particularly, I have memorized the list of what to do to "manage" your stress. Exercise! Sleep! Don't eat crap! Hire a maid and a nanny so that you have time and energy to actually DO the above!

No, but seriously, one of the suggestions is actually a very good one, in my experience, and that is to write down every single thing that's currently frustrating you, rather than just letting random vexation to swirl around in your head all day. So um, here goes:

-MICE. Enough said. But I'll say more anyways. We've trapped three now, and it looks way more horrifying than I expected. Thank goodness Jim disposes of them and checks the traps. We also found one dazed and dying on the living room carpet, not even moving when Jim and the dog circled it. He had to carry it out and dispose of it while it was still half-alive. I feel just awful about all the death and poisoning and neck snapping and GAH, the poor little mouse MOMMIES whose babies are dying or who are leaving their babies orphans or whatever. But I couldn't find any of the humane kind of traps, and anyways, what's the point? Catch and release them so they can sneak back in next week? But it's still guilt inducing and also just downright grim. And I am so sick of feeling all nervous and jumpy in my own house. I basically live in the kitchen, den and bathroom right now, where thus far there has been no sign of mousal activity. Last night while (hastily and warily) changing clothes in my bedroom, I thought I felt a mouse dropping on my BED and just totally lost my shit. Jim went in to check it and found it to be a little wad of fruit snack, which he proceeded to EAT in front of me. And then I died, the end.

-Laundry. Oh my gosh, between Jamie's poo blowouts and Eli's constant accidents (yes, THAT'S still happening,) my washer is never free to do any of the regular stuff because I'm always rinsing and soaking someone's excrement or urine out of their rapidly fading clothing.

-The dog. The wily opportunist who runs away at every open door and free moment, refuses to even pee when on the leash, and likes to puke up violent green stomach acid at inopportune times which takes me a half hour to blot out of the rug. It's a fun new hobby.

-I was losing weight rapidly the first few weeks after Jamie was born, but I seem to have plateued and now, if it's possible, am getting fatter. Whatever happened to breastfeeding just MELTING away the fat?

-Eli. Is continuing to act out, some days worse than others. The last two have been just horrendous. In the last forty eight hours I've dealt with: approximately four pee accidents, five attempts to run away and hide while in various department stores, countless screaming and throwing himself on the floor fits (usually in public,) one setting off of the emergency exit alarm in Kohls, and more outfit changes than a Lady Gaga concert. Seriously, the kid is killing me with his passion for being either Spiderman, a "football guy," or a pirate, and he rotates between costumes all day long, until there are random clothing articles littering every floor. Sometimes I even think he wets his pants on purpose so he can change clothes again.

-Addy. Keeps hitting/physically bullying Eli, which is MADDENING to me.

-Odors. I swear between the dog, the diapers, and the constant wet laundry, the house smells funky no matter what I do.

But there are good things. The baby only woke up once last night, for instance, and is starting to coo and smile at us. I made a yummy lasagna AND pumpkin chocolate chip cookies yesterday, and both turned out well. Also, I just found out that a Cold Stone is coming to town soon. That's very good news, right there.


Michelle said...

Pumpkin chocolate chip cookies AND Coldstone?! Both fabulous things.

I am not looking forward to the laundry that comes with a newborn. I remember praying that our washer would hold up against the non-stop washing of those first few months.

d e v a n said...

Aw, big hugs. The regression. The mice. You definitely do deserve to have both Coldstone AND cookies.

Marie Green said...

Man, this does sound like a stressful list. Man, life is just not a glamorous as it is on tv.

Anonymous said...

Sarah ... The D-Con No View No Touch Mouse Traps are the best. 1. you never see the dead mouse. and 2 they really really work. I had a mouse in the garage that would snack on the poison left out for it but NEVER die - just kept getting BIGGER. Put out the No View No Touch and within one day NO MORE MICE

Jess said...

My mom keeps WARNING me that breastfeeding will not magically melt the weight off, at least not if I'm anything like her. Sigh. I have to call my surgeon and find out how soon after delivering I can have the fluid put back in my lap-band.

Sorry things are so stressful! Hopefully this is a stress peak and soon you will head back into a nice calm valley.

Saly said...

Breastfeeding was not a magical weightloss miracle for me either. I think it's because I'm always hungrier than I was being prengnant when I am breastfeeding.

I found a discarded handful of raisins in our bed the other day, and we don't have a mouse problem, and I still lost my

YAY for Coldstone!!

Saly said...

*pregnant, not prengnant.

Haunani said...

I LOVE that you vented! And that at the end there was great stuff to be happy lasagna and COLD STONE! It's good to know everyone has the same big things that annoy them everyday and the same little things that make them happy! Thanks for sharing.

Swistle said...

I definitely agree about the value of writing things down, especially because then we get to read them and your vents are funny.