A Letter

Dear Bob's Red Mill,

For the past 6 weeks my family has embarked upon the daunting and sometimes perilous journey of going Gluten-Free. My husband and possibly both of my children have Celiac disease. I am also a cook, and a baker. A pretty good one too. Especially the baking part. I was not raised or taught to use mixes in almost any scenario. We are from the make-it-from-scratch persuasion and this tradition has been passed down through several generations, as evidenced by my dog-eared and stained recipes from my grandmother. I'm sure you can imagine my dismay when faced with the task of continuing to bake good-for-you and more importantly good-tasting wheat-free cakes and cookies and the like for my family. Thus I have turned to mixes and relied heavily on them these past 6 weeks. As I learn to navigate the GF waters, buying specialty flours and ingredients to mix my own all-purpose flour, learning what ratio of xanthan gum to add to these flours and how to substitute these in my favorite recipes, mixes have become a crutch. A really good one to get us through these first few weeks. And for the most part, they have been surprisingly good. With 2 notable exceptions. Which brings me to my point:

First, it should be known- I am a bean lover. Across the board, I love beans. I even like lima beans! So it is not with an unfair bias against beans that I say to you, "Why in the name of all that is holy do you insist on making mixes, especially those meant for sweet treats like cake, with garbanzo bean flour?!?!? And fava beans?!" Now, I know you did not pioneer the use of these legume-derived flours, at least not to my knowledge. But when there are perfectly good, bland, and distinctly non-bean flours available, like rice, that you can easily slip in without notice, why would you rely on fava beans?! I made my favorite cookie recipe and they looked great. Held up wonderfully and could barely see a difference. Until I ate one and thought, "Hm. Beans." Have you ever had a bean cookie? No. And do you know why? Because they are disgusting. That is the reason you have not seen them featured behind the bakery glass or written up in Bon Appetit. People don't like beans in their cookies. Now, I used your all-purpose flour mix, so you could argue that maybe that particular flour would be best in a savory dish, in small quantities where it could go unnoticed. This is true. But then explain to me why you would create a chocolate cake mix, and then use the same garbanzo and fava beans flours?! It is specifically and obviously created to make a chocolate cake, and guess what? Not unlike the cookies, people don't like bean cake. And it's not subtle. I mixed it up, ignorantly, and it looked great. With anticipation, I licked the beater, as is a favorite pastime of mine. Immediately I shuddered and exclaimed "Beans!! Oh crap. Beans." And shuddered again.

Seriously, chocolate cake?

Garbanzo beans? 

They do not go together.

I implore you to use other milder flours such as rice, but until then I will be taking my business to Betty Crocker, who's mixes are decidedly unbeany. I can't believe that I have come to take a stance on mixes that is anything but opposition, but here we are.

At an impasse.

I finally mixed up my own blend, so I hope to leave your mixes on the shelf from now on. I will, however use your individual ingredients. One of which, by the way, is rice flour. 

Bothered by Beans,

Jessie

These Are the Times

...that I feel like a bad mother.
Fiona is supposed to be taking a nap but instead is crying tears of betrayal and anger in her crib.
Bella is having a tantrum in her room because I told her 'no' about something and I told her she needed to go into her room until she was ready to be happy again. Not in trouble, just needed to work it out and get a hold of herself. She walks away, sobbing, looking back at me and wailing as I count my threatening '1, 2...' I don't really care about whatever I said no to, I just want to change my mind and give in but that doesn't really do anyone any good in the long run.
And Fiona? She's 14 months old and she still cries every time I put her down, whether it be nap or bedtime. She still wakes up in the night, albeit for only a few moments that I largely ignore, but what is the deal? Why does she still cry every single time? We have nice bedtime routines- Doesn't she get it by now? Doesn't she see it coming? One time I was complaining to Timm about her sleeping habits. I said "I don't get it- I did everything with her the exact same way I did with Bella!" (who was a very good sleeper-) He replied "It's like they're two totally different people or something."
Hmph.

Same old, same old.

I have so many things to write about, so many things I am behind on, things I never documented at the time, pictures waiting in reserve for their due appearance,expressions of gratitude, images I want to remember, experiences I want preserved- but I am not caching up on any of that today. Today I have to write about what is stressing me, what needs immediate release, if not resolution. Any guesses?
Money.
Of course.
I am trying to exercise a little restraint in the details of our finances which is somewhat foreign to me and just a bit hard to rein in. As much as I would like my blog to be completely honest and utterly devoid of content editing, I have made it public and people other than myself read it. I try to write with a complete disregard for my 'audience' since it is first and foremost my journal, but ultimately that is impossible since I know that others are reading it and the details of my life include other people, whether or not they have agreed to have their part published in a public forum. Thus when I want to vent or agonize over the minutea of a modern, domestic life it means that others agonize along with me. It also means that no matter how little finances mean to my self-worth, translated into complete and full disclosure over the details of said finances, others may not appreciate my lack of discretion. So, allow me if I may to speak somewhat cryptically in an attempt at semi-privacy. On a blog accessible to anyone on earth provided they have internet access.

Let me start by saying I don't want a lot of money. I have quickly adjusted to living on a very tight budget since getting married. I am creative in my frugality and even enjoy the challenge at times. In general I follow the adage to 'Use it up, wear it out, make it last or do without.' I make as many things as possible. I don't want to live ostentatiously. I try to avoid rampant consumerism. I don't like to accumulate too much stuff. I flee from extravagance.
But.
I would like to pay the mortgage with more than a $10 buffer, deposited on the day the mortgage is due to be withdrawn. i would like to be able to buy groceries so I can make actual meals without worrying about maxing the credit card. I would like to order the birthday present I picked out for Timm's 30th birthday next month. I would like to be able to go about my day, being productive, instead of feeling haunted with worry about paying the bills. Instead I am sitting on the couch blogging about it in the middle of the day when I have other things to do. I hate the feeling of want, I hate feeling ungrateful, I hate feeling like I can't do it myself, I hate not being able to find a solution, and I hate whining about it. I hate that I don't see an end in sight.
I hate it.
I know I'm not alone and I know that there are worse things on earth, worse problems to have, and that I still have more than a large portion of the world living with less than I have. Still, it's what's on my mind at 1 pm today, and much of the time. I'm off to the grocery store to see how little we can get by with until Timm gets paid n 2 weeks.

Results Are In

The good news: I am not pregnant.
The bad news: I am stupid. Really, really, stupid.

It had not even occurred to me that I might be pregnant-that's how stupid I am-but when Michelle mentioned it and my mom seconded it, I was a bit panic-stricken. Michelle said it reminded her of my well-publicized 'quarter debacle' of 2004. When I was pregnant with Lola I had a conversation with Timm in which I could not be convinced that 5 quarters did not make a dollar. I do really dumb things when I'm pregnant. Like, uncharacteristically dumb. So it did seem like a valid concern that I might be pregnant when I couldn't locate Molly's house, or even realize that it wasn't her house until the 7th obvious difference was noted. When I started to scrutinize, I could actually name a couple of physical symptoms that could coincide with pregnancy. I started to contemplate every possible scenario and script and practice my reactions to both possibilities. Whew.
Although now I face the fact that I am just really, really stupid.
Further evidence includes a letter I got back in the mail today. It was a picture Bella colored for Sebastian the day after they left for Texas. I promptly sent it, but apparently felt that a street address was not necessary. Just name, city, state, zip. Seriously, what? Early-onset dementia? Oh well, a 4th pregnancy would probably just worsen the condition.

What's Wrong With Me?

Rhetorical question- I don't have time to hear all of your answers.
On Sunday I was driving home from church, going through the light when Timm started yelling "You're lane! You're lane!!" I looked up, the light was green, there was nothing in front of me in my lane, I couldn't figure out what he was freaking out about. I switched lanes and a van passed me, honking. Apparently I drifted across the intersection into the other lane, cutting off the driver of the van. That's bad enough. The really bad part, was i could not understand it for the life of me. I was like, no- I was in the left lane. I saw it. I was here, and then there was a lane next to me, the right lane. Even though Timm corrected me, I could not for the life of me envision my mistake. I couldn't see what I did wrong. It disturbed me, like an indicator of dementia.
Then today I stopped by Molly's house. She selfishly left me to visit her family in Dallas for 3 weeks, leaving me with no friends. Friend. That combined with the rest of the women in my family convening in Denver without me left me as the Cheese, standing alone. Anyway, I went by her house to check on it. I pulled in the driveway, walked up to the porch. Hmm. Molly has a porch? There were 2 ceramic statues that had toppled over and had their heads knocked off. That doesn't seem like something Molly would have... I looked at her door. Hmm. That's kind of a tacky wreath. Not like Molly. At least it's springy. Oh look, a glass storm door. I didn't remember her having that. And red gravel instead of mulch or pine straw. Never noticed. I went to the side of her house where her trash can is kept and it wasn't there. My first thought was some hoodlum kids took off with their trash can! Why would they do that? Kids... Maybe a neighbor put it in her garage. Where'd their key pad go?? This is weird...Oh. Wait. Molly's house is next door. Okay, it wasn't until the 7th, the seventh difference that it occurred to me that it wasn't Molly's house. What the hell? And I go their house all the time-all the time.
The only thing that would top this is if I were to get Blue's Clues wrong again, for the third time in history. Good thing we're not watching that anymore.

No Need To Comment. (or even read...)

We are all created equal, but we know that we have different strengths and weaknesses, talents and challenges. So how does it all really add up equally? Does that mean that in theory I am equal to say, Martin Luther King Jr. or the current prophet of our church President Monson, or just that I have the capabilities, the hope, the choice of becoming as good?
We also know that where much is given, much is required. Some are given more. At least more of specific things. So is the same required of us? How much in life is subjective to who we are? How does what we are born with, inherent with, given, factor into what we are responsible to for? Do our challenges handicap us so that we are not as accountable for it, or accountable in the same way as others without that struggle?
I guess what I want to know is what is within us. What does 'equal' really mean? How does it balance, equate? Are each and every one of us really capable of the same greatness in this life and our earthly destinies are only determined by our choices? God knows what we will do, where we will go, and he allows us those choices, but even in the pre-mortal life we cannot have been truly equal. Some are simply better than others, right? I mean, if I have a friend that is truly kind-hearted, without guile, empathetic and compassionate, but a total moron working with her hands, whereas I have a talent for crafts, we're equal? Just a different balance of strengths and weaknesses? Doesn't sound right, does it?
I just wonder about all this sometimes, and then I'm afraid that it doesn't really matter. That I'm complicating things too much and I need to simply focus on doing my best. Why then, does my best seem so far short of other's? Or even short of other's mediocre attempts?
Depression for instance. It seems obvious to me that I have to try a lot harder than most people to be happy. I wish I was one of those people who just woke up with a smile on her face, had a lust for life, undying optimism and a can-do attitude. Unfortunately, I have to focus and work on being happy. It is achieved through conscious work, a cumulative effect of mental exercises and attempts at self-help. Because of my struggles with depression I occasionally do (or don't do) things that I would do differently if it were not for that struggle. Take depression out of the equation, and things would work a lot differently, and a lot better for that matter. So what allowances are made for me specifically because of my unique challenges and efforts?
I am not using my depression as a scapegoat. I promise I'm not, even if it sounds profoundly like I am. I am just a thinker, a wonderer, (a dreamer... sounds like Shel Silverstein-). I can't help but explore all these things and try to figure out the hows and whys of my brain, myself. However, I still know that we all make choices based upon the challenges and blessings we currently have or do not have.
This leads me to another question. How much can we change? I know that through the Atonement all change is possible, so even as soon as I asked the question it sounded stupid. But still, we have to be born with limitations as a mortal on earth, and these limitations will vary between us all, right? I guess we have no idea what those limitations are, or if they only exist in our minds so we have to continually strive for better and better regardless.
Sometimes I try and remember that I only have to do my best and try a little harder each day, but I can quickly become derailed and discouraged when I realize that my best seems a sorry excuse for an attempt. How do we know if it is our best? Why is our best sometimes so much less than others? How do ourselves really balance? I seem to struggle in so many areas it seems impossible that my successes, virtues, and talents can balance me with others and fill the void that is left by my deficiencies and failings.. What if my best is simply not as good as another's? Do I accept that and continue to try and do all that I can, hoping that my best, and I, will improve? It seems like certain things are just harder for some than others. Obviously there is another huge population that have things much worse than I, since I do know that I have it pretty good. I do recognize my vast blessings, which are mainly the gospel and the people in my life. I know that I am rich beyond measure and have more than I could ever want.
I just can't help but wonder.
Am I way too introspective? Should I just shut up and do?
Or tell myself, as Homer would say, "Shut up brain, or I'll stab you with a Q-Tip!" ?

TMI: Self-Indulgent Musings...

This is after all, my blog, my journal, and if you can't be self-indulgent in that forum, where can you? I suppose that is the very definition of a journal come to think of it...
What's with me? I'm feeling stuck.
This all seems so familiar somehow- Perhaps something I felt approximately 1,277 days ago, or when Bella was about the same age as Fiona is right now. When Bella was born, I was so afraid of post-partum depression. Considering the rigorous battle depression gives me on a regular basis, the addition of post-baby hormones and the stresses of new motherhood seemed an ominous combination. I was pleasantly surprised when I seemed to handle it better than I expected or thought capable. For a couple of months anyway. No that it was easy, not that I felt like I adjusted particularly well or adeptly, but still better than I thought I would. Then after a few months my progress seemed to slow, things started to pile up around the house, my to-do list remained stagnant, my patience grew thin, perhaps I gained a few pounds, and I left the house less and less. A familiar routine for me since all of these are common symptoms of depression. Why? What happened? I was doing so well, and then suddenly... I wasn't. Well the same seems to have happened this go 'round. Fi is 4 months old and my house is a disaster, laundry is in several piles around the house and hasn't actually been folded and put away in a couple of weeks. I went to my first Weight Watchers meeting last Friday but have yet to actually commit myself to it since I didn't plan accordingly. I have yet to assume making regular dinners for my family, resume a regular cleaning routine, maintain any sort of regular routine for that matter. Dishes are piled around the kitchen, my grocery shopping still on the kitchen table, my laundry spread around the living room with the ironing board hopefully set up. My bed is unmade, my coupons not completely clipped or organized. I am participating in a yard sale with some friends this weekend and have yet to even begin assembling or readying my goods. And yet with all this piled up around me, here I sit watching American Idol, blogging, waiting for Timm to come home from work with a milkshake for me.
Why now? Why do I feel like I'm giving up now after 4 months of comparable success? It starts to accumulate in my consciousness making me think along the lines of: 'What am I good at? What am I good for? Why am I the way I am? Why is everyone in my life better than me, deserve better than me? Why does anyone like me? Why can't I do anything? Why can't I sustain anything or any achievement? Why am I so much less than everyone else? Why am I so much less capable than others? What redeeming qualities do I even have? How does anyone put up with me? Why can't I get it together? When will I? Will I?
What is the point of me?
Hmm.

Life with Reflux (a mother's perspective).

I've already detailed the horrors of nighttime reflux-induced colic, but here's an account of the rest of the side effects it causes. Sometimes she seems absolutely fine, other times she seems to suffer every textbook side effect of the disease. (Except for poor weight gain- for some reason she's go that down like a champ.)

Reflux babies must be fed on demand- no schedules allowed. That's fine by me since that's how I tend to feed anyway, except that because of the refulx, she needs to eat every 2 hours- sometimes sooner. During the day it is not uncommon for her to need to eat every hour and a half. There are two reasons for this frequent feeding: 1- they cannot or should not consume very much at each feeding. The amount they eat increases the likelihood of and the side effects themselves- namely spitting up and acid. 2- Feeding is a painful experience, and as they are reclined the acid comes up into their throats, burning as they try to eat. Swallowing is painful as well.
Besides being painful, feeding can be an extremely frustrating experience. She starts to feed ravenously and then pulls off either because she is choking, or because it is burning her throat. She pulls off in frustration, cries, realizes how hungry she is, attempts to feed again, repeat ad naseum. Eventually she gets so mad she is frantically searching but refuses to eat. In pain and hungry, we usually abandon that attempt and try again in a little while. Another reason for frequent feeding.
Of course there is the spitting up, but that has been significantly reduced by the Zantac she is on. Of course, she still 'ruins' my shirt several times a day and we can never be without a burp cloth when feeding. She no longer resists the incredibly vile Zantac which is a potent menthol suspended in alcohol. I tried it- it is truly heinous.
Sleeping is also difficult for the reflux baby, as laying down brings the acid up as well. They tend to sleep better on their stomachs, and it is sometimes recommended for severe cases of reflux. We alternate, depending on how she does and how much I need her to sleep. We still eat every 2-3 hours through the night. Sigh. At least she is mostly sleeping in her crib now! I wedge her in between the bumper pads and a boppy, so she feels secure. When she is particularly fussy she sleeps in bed with us, cradled in my arm so we can all get some much-needed sleep.
Another unfortunate side effect is congestion and wheezing. She has been really congested for about 4 or 5 weeks now. Constantly. We are frequently using the nasal aspirator to clear that out as much as possible. This also causing a lot of wheezing and the occasional cough.
Perhaps the worst symptom is gassiness- she is literally constantly gassy. Her stomach is hard and tight as she writhes around seeking relief, alternately pulling her legs p and flailing them about. I am frequently stretching and manipulating her legs, trying to help her. Even when she can pass gas, there seems to be little relief, as thre is always more that we cannot relieve.
So as you can probably tell, there is a lot of discomfort, pain, and frustration for everyone involved. Luckily she is usually at her worst when Bella is already in bed, so Bella doesn't have to stand by and hear the crying for hours, and I don't have to completely neglect her in order to fruitlessly try and soothe Fiona. Last night Fi started losing it right at Bella's bedtime which is a frequent occurrence. Timm was at work, so I had to put Bella down while trying to quiet Fi. The result is me rushing through the story and bedtime routine so I can get out of there and direct my full attention to the screamer. I'm glad that Bella's routine and attention is not any more disrupted than it is.
What I want to know is, why is colic worst at night? What difference does it make? Why do we have some days that go off without a hitch, and still more like alst night? What variables are there? None that I can tell.
I took her to an Ear, Nose and Throat (EMT) on Friday morning to rule out anatomical problems since her choking can be so severe. He scoped her and found nothing wrong there (her throat), but ordered us to go to the children's hospital on Monday morning to take some fils of her to chest. We need to rule out that there could be an anatomical problem causing her to aspirate into her lungs. Once that is clear, and I'm sure it will be, I will be referred to a pediatric Gastroenterologist (GI) who will diagnose reflux based on all of her symptoms. The only treatment we can really change is this case is to prescribe her a more proactive Prilosec instead of the mild Zantac. Colic sometimes improves at 3 or 4 months, but the cause and effects of reflux itself doesn't totally dissipate until their first year.
Oh deem, oh dee.
It's a good thing that I am experiencing this now because I have a better perspective after having Belle. I know that this time really is fleeting, just a stage, and i can only do my best. I am significantly calmer than I ever would have imagined, mostly because I have decided to be. She will scream no matter what, so I decide to be calm and collected. Why add to the misery by getting upset? I've yet to come to tears through through it all. We'll just keep on truckin'.
Incidentally I feel deliriously tired and keep nodding off while I am typing, resulting in almost intelligible writing. My fingers are not finding the proper keys or putting them in the right ordure of that matter so i better try and rest. Ha!
*edited to add* It is several hours later and I reread this post since I couldn't quite remember writing the whole thing, due to falling asleep during the process. I laughed my way through it, counting 16 blatant typos and leaving them all in place as evidence of my state of mind. You may find more...

Colic

We have it.
Or maybe I should say "colic", since the word is very loosely thrown around.
About 3 weeks ago Fiona started acting fussy, albeit not very fussy, but a definite change in personality for her nonetheless. My first instinct was that it was due to more milk in my diet, since I could logically link the two and the timing fit. With Bella I didn't change a thing about my diet except to eliminate caffeine, and I naively assumed I would have the same good fortune this time. She got very,very gassy, a hard and tight abdomen, spitting up, etc. Then as it persisted I came to the conclusion that it was reflux as she exhibits every symptom. Bella had reflux, but only suffered the profuse spitting up and none of the discomfort. I went to the family doctor, he agreed it sounded like reflux and prescribed Zantac. I was happy if only because it meant I didn't have to deprive myself of any delicious dairy products, and hopefully her discomfort would soon be alleviated. Now I'm not so sure. With the wonders of the internet I found that 2 other 'conditions' seem to aptly describe this as well. So I'm looking at reflux (or GERD), an intolerance to dairy products, or overactive letdown reflex. Hmm. Let's review.

Overactive Letdown Reflex

A baby who gets too much milk too quickly, may become very fussy, very irritable at the breast and may be considered "colicky". Typically, the baby is gaining very well. Typically, also, the baby starts nursing, and after a few seconds or minutes, starts to cough, choke or struggle at the breast. He may come off, and often, the mother's milk will spray. After this, the baby frequently returns to the breast, but may be fussy and repeat the performance. He may be unhappy with the rapid flow, and impatient when the flow slows. This can be a very trying time for everyone. On rare occasions, a baby may even start refusing to take the breast after several weeks, typically around three months of age.

Summary:

Gets milk too quickly: check.

Very irritable at the breast: check.

Coughing, choking, struggling: check.

Because of all of the struggling, it usually results in gulping and swallowing air, resulting in the gassiness and fussiness. Another thing to consider is that she eats better from a bottle, which would seem to support the overactive letdown reflex.

Foreign Proteins in the mother's milk

It has been shown that some proteins present in the mother's diet may be excreted into her milk and may affect the baby. It would seem that the most common of these is cow's milk protein. Other proteins have also been shown to be excreted into some mothers' milk. The fact that these proteins and other substances appear in the mother's milk is not necessarily a bad thing. Indeed, it is good.

Thus, in the treatment of the colicky breastfed baby, one step would be for the mother to stop taking dairy products. These includes milk, cheese, yogurt, ice cream and anything else which may contain milk. When the milk protein has been changed (denatured), as in cooking for example, there should be no problem.

Breastfed babies who are sensitive to dairy in mom's diet are sensitive to specific cow's milk antibodies, in the form of proteins (not lactose), which pass into the mother's milk. Cow's milk (either in the mother's diet or engineered into formula) is a common source of food sensitivity in babies. Cow's milk sensitivity or allergy can cause colic-like symptoms, eczema, wheezing, vomiting, diarrhea (including bloody diarrhea), constipation, hives, and/or a stuffy, itchy nose.

Summary:

It can cause all of the same gastrointestinal discomfort, causing the 'colicky' behavior. Other symptoms I have read about include a rash,congestion and mucus, all of which she has.

So...the symptoms fit for 3 different conditions. Since I have a hunch about the dairy I am first trying to eliminate it from my diet. Oh dee. I'm on day 2. I'm also going to include chocolate in my abstinence because I'm worried about that too. Double dee.

My primary concern is for her comfort, because she is obviously in pain, but I cannot deny how frustrating it is to deal with a colicky baby. 24/7. It is not confined to nighttime fussiness, although it seems at it's peak then. Last night I only slept when I took her into bed with us. Today she was only happy while being held. It is not seeming to lift either...

Not helping the situation is that with my hands constantly unavailable, nothing is getting done around here. Since I'm also potty training (yay!) I haven't left the house in 3 days. I haven't gotten ready in 3 days. I have no social outlet or break from the girls. When Timm gets home, he is great to help as much as possible, but that still leaves me with the entire day, all night long while everyone else is asleep, and much of the evening. The house is a mess, laundry is all over the house, I haven't eaten real food in days, I smell like sour milk... As of tonight I am officially frustrated. My inability to be productive while being cooped up in the house that is in disarray due to my non-productivity is getting me down. When will I be able to get anything done? When will my house be comfortably clean again? When will I get a full night's rest? When will she stop crying and be happy and healthy again?

This doesn't paint the clearest picture, because I have actually been feeling very good since Fiona's birth. I am adjusting much better than I thought I was capable of and have been very proud of my state of mind and stress management. That is all a post I have been meaning to articulate for some time, and still will. But right now, I'm repeating "It's only a phase.... an indefinite phase, but a phase all the same."

Dirty Begging little... Dirty Cats.

These cats. They're like squatters. Covered in their own filth, leaving evidence of it wherever they go and constantly begging off of me, be it food or attention. With every little meow or titter from their mouths I am instantly resentful. What do you want from me?!
What's a girl to do.
Back in the day, we jokingly used to say that those dirty spots had merely been 'Smegelized.'
It's not funny anymore.
Every time I walk by the bathroom and get a whiff of the litter box, even if it's clean, makes me alternately hang my head or throw it back in indignation.
Sigh...

Worse than I thought

Timm called me from work today to tell me that I had to go get gas. I've been in the habit of not running errands since they inevitably leave me battered and hurting afterwards, but he was afraid that they were going to run out again. Because of Hurricane Ike many gas stations in the southeast have been tapped of their gas supply, the prices spiking, and the one on the corner had already run out of all but Unleaded.
I've never had to wait in line for gas before- it was a little disconcerting. I have to stop myself before I get carried away with thoughts of Armageddon and other signs of impending doom. It just seems like a sign of the times or something, especially combined with the current financial ruin on Wall Street. They are certainly events that I have never experienced in my lifetime.

(For the record, for posterity's sake, regular gas was $3.89 yesterday.)

But then this.

Gas shortages, financial uncertainty and panic 'round the nation, political upheaval in one of the most important elections of our time, and then this: a National Meal Worm Shortage!!!
What is the world coming to?!

Ramblings on Laziness

I'm afraid this might be the only real fun Bella's had all week. On Tuesday we had our friends Molly, Sebastian and Mia over to accompany me and Bella, respectively, in her little pool. It's so simple- you'd think I'd take advantage of this every day! She is thrilled to play in her plastic pool with little or no interaction with me. Add the hose for a while, multiple objects for to fill, dump, and refill, and it's sheer bliss.
It's under this little tent-like gazebo thing that is kind of an eyesore, but provides ample and necessary shade, so I don't even need to bother with sunscreen! (Okay, this is sounding better and better as I continue...)
Molly just laid Mia down on a towel on the deck and she remained asleep amid splashing and loud children! Bella never would have have done that as a baby- Maybe I will have such luck with Fiona!
Sebastian is a favorite of our friends. He's very cute, calm, funny, and not the spastic kind of boy that seems so common and made me fear having boys of my own! He's good propaganda for boys.
So I seem to have zero motivation or energy. I hope that I can blame it all on pregnancy or I'm in trouble. Usually that is the first sign of descending depression, but I've been pretty good in that arena lately. Of course the day goes better if I can just get myself going, then I at least have a little steam to carry me through until 'quiet time.' Then each and every day, we proceed with the quiet time routine, me growing ever more sleepy, then praying that 'if it be thy will, please bless her to go to sleep!' And then... nothin'. I mean, the last nap was last Friday, one week ago. That at least gives me hope that one might occur soon(ish.) So I read for a few minutes and fall asleep, only to be awakened moments later by my timer or her calls to see if quiet time is over. This inevitably leaves me cranky, as I feel like I barely fell asleep and I still have half the day to fill. The last few days there has been an over abundance of tv, and I am fighting feelings of guilt and neglect. It seems I am either sleepy tired and wishing for a chance to lie down, or lazy tired and uninspired to do anything that involves moving from the depression I fear that I've left on the couch. I try to think of productive tasks that can be done from the comfort of that cushy spot, but there seems to be little to none. I try and assuage my feelings of guilt and laziness by thinking, 'Oh, it's just the last few weeks of pregnancy. (less than 5 to go) Of course you're tired. Give yourself a break. An excess of tv won't hurt Bella for this short period of time, and besides- she's happy and doesn't seem bothered in the least. So just give yourself a break.' But then I think of every other woman in the world who has managed to have two children or more and am fairly convinced that most of them did not sit and lead an entirely sedentary life for weeks on end, unless they were placed on bedrest, against their will. I am always thinking of myself in direct opposition to who I term 'normal people' and that everything I think, do, or say is also in direct opposition to them. Also, I am going to be far more tired when I have a newborn, and that transition will last far longer than 5 weeks, so what am I going to do in that period? Rely on tv as a constant babysitter as well? At this rate, this could really continue for quite a while... So for today I am going to go get in the shower. (While Bella stays distracted with a show, of course-) A shower is always a good start to the day and usually precedes an actual getting ready routine, which is the only way possible that I might leave the house, or the couch for that matter. So off to the shower I go.

Single-Parenting Depair

This time away from Timm has been so hard. For several reasons, but mostly because Bella has chosen this time to be particularly difficult, presenting some brand-new challenges. There is a marked increase in tantrums, tears, and defiance, which I know comes with the territory of 3. (So far- I do NOT like 3.) But perhaps most challenging are the new sleep issues. Sleep issues are the worst because it occurs at the only time you can hope to count on for some peace and quiet and alone recuperation time. We've been pretty lucky with her as she's always been a fairly reliable sleeper. There was a time, just a few weeks ago, that every single night when I put her down, that was it. I never heard from her again. Just the way I like it. Now it's a total crap shoot every night. She's not napping anymore except maybe 1 or 2 times a week. I continue with our same nurturing and non-rushed bedtime routine, if just a little earlier since she's not napping. She's fine until the very end when she loses it over something ridiculous, I try to calm her down to no avail, and finally tell her I'm leaving. I'm trying to be more consistent because I always used to say 'I'm not coming back in here.' only to return some time later to see what she wanted or to calm her down. No more. I go in one time after I put her down, then when I say I'm not coming back, I mean it. Otherwise she would pander relentlessly for drinks, tickles, more stories, laying down with her, etc. Tonight she chose that moment to start bawling that she was hungry, even though she'd just finished her dinner less than 45 minutes before. I tried to explain that she already had dinner and she couldn't have anything else until morning. I tried to talk to her, it was fruitless, so I left for the last time. I heard her crying and screaming for about 10 minutes, during which time I called timm for support and distraction. Then quiet. I assumed she fell asleep. About 45 minutes later she's at it again. I listen at her door and she's pathetically whimpering 'please, please...'. So I am racked with guilt and a dilemma I don't know how to solve. Stick to my guns and let her learn to fall asleep on her own again? Go in there, risking starting it all over again when she begs me to stay and satisfy her demands and I leave again? So I chose to stick to my guns. The problem is, I'm not accustomed to these sleep issues and the question of whether to let her cry it out. I have no yet become immune to her crying and pathetic whimpers. Conversely, I internalize it so that I feel it too, so I am wracked with guilt and uncertainty. I don't even know if I'm doing the right thing. I just want to be consistent and do what is best for her in the long run. That would be much easier to do if I was assured that what I was doing was the right thing. So here I am alone, these 2 weeks trying to weather and understand these challenging new turns in her personality and habits. I hate it. Parenting is hard enough without having to try and figure it out yourself, or having no one to commiserate with and lean on. I call Timm with all my frustrations and ask for advice, but it's not like having someone here, on your side, to help you figure it out. Will motherhood always be this way? Guilt? Fear that I'm damaging her in some way? Uncertainty that I'm even doing right by her? Frustrated, irritated and challenged by her more often than I enjoy her? I'm tormented, and these last weeks with her have often left me in tears and desperation. I don't know what to do with this girl. I don't know what's going on with her, I don't know how to help her or to remain sane through it. I want to say it's just a stage, or a phase, but is it? Do I just ride it out, knowing it will pass in time and that it is perfectly normal? Or am I ignoring some need she has and until it is met this could continue interminably? Motherhood is fraught with questions and uncertainty. How am I going to do this again? How does anyone ever do it again?