First Swim

SwimmingWe’re on vacation this week and Punky went swimming for the first time.  He liked it!

There was a small pool specifically designated for babies, but it was cold and very shallow with sharp points on the bottom.  He didn’t care too much for this pool because, apparently, sitting in my lap was boring 🙂

Punky preferred the indoor, heated pool where he could float in his baby floatie device.  I liked it because the indoor pool gave us a break from the sun.

He splashed and puzzled at his wrinkled fingers – he was so adorable as he processed this new experience.

Sibling Bias

Punky is 7 months old and it is too early to start thinking about whether or not he’ll get a sibling.  I’m a sane person – I know this.  But it took us 2 years to get pregnant with Punky and I’m older now. It seems like  we have to think about this now, or, if we take our time and then decide we want another child, it just won’t be possible.

Would I be WILLING to do the early morning fertility doctor appointments and inject daily drugs for a year, while trying to work full time and take care of Punky?  The fertility doctor machine is a big commitment of time and mental focus, and I feel like I already don’t give enough of either to Punky.  I’m on vacation this week with family and I see the other examples – moms who stay at home and focus on their kids’ development and happiness.  Moms who work, but who are able to leave their kids with grandparents who focus on the kids’ development and happiness.  My kid, Punky, doesn’t have either of those things – he has day care and a mom who is exhausted.  At 7 months old, he’s started crying when I walk away from him.  I feel so much guilt for not devoting enough time to being with him because I feel like he needs more.

Would I be ABLE to raise two kids?  I know my limits and this might be one.  Let’s say I get past the daily early morning appointments and we are, by some miracle, able to have a second child – that’s less time devoted to Punky by a parent who is concerned for his development and happiness.  I know enough to be aware that daycare just isn’t the same.  The women at daycare are caring and conscientious, but they are not the same caregiver that a parent or grandparent would be.

Sometimes I’m angry at the universe, or God, or whomever decides the circumstances around our lives.  I wish Punky could stay with someone who loves him all day.  I see the bonds among the family where parent and grandparent caregivers are possible and I’m jealous.  My son deserves the best that life can offer.  He is smart and handsome and quick to smile, and he comes home from day care with sinus congestion, hand foot mouth disease, thrush, mystery scrapes, etc. and, sometimes, bleach stains on his clothes (day cares clean with bleach because they are cesspools of germs and disease).

A second kid would probably take away from what he has, which already doesn’t seem like enough.

And what if his sibling hates him?  My sister hates me – I don’t know why and it has been an enormous source of anxiety, pain, and frustration for me for the past 30 years.  I wouldn’t wish that on Punky, or anyone.  What if I take some of the time and focus I’ve reserved for Punky and devote it to another child, and then that other child replaces that time and focus with anger and bitterness?  I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.

A decision needs to be made.  Maybe next month.

George Costanza Nap

I am day dreaming about curling up under my desk and taking a George Costanza nap.

I’m not all that tired.  Punkie has been sleeping well.  We were forced to resort to “sleep training,” which sounds ridiculous to me and I suppose that’s a whole other post, but I think he is on the right path now.

I am stressed out.  So many things are weighing on me today, and I don’t have time for distractions.  I have 100 things to do before the end of the work day and I have my annual performance review this afternoon.  For me, stress is a parasite – it sucks the energy from me.  Stress makes me want a George Costanza nap.

First, the worry.  Raise your hand if you’ve ever heard of Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease.  Nobody?  Me either, until yesterday.  Apparently, it’s going around the kids in Punkie’s room at day care.  Two kids are out today, and Punkie is just not himself.  I’m on the look out for SORES in his mouth and BLISTERS on his adorable dimpled hands and feet.  Sores and blisters.  On my baby. What the hell?!  I called his pediatrician’s office and they said it’s common and benign and I shouldn’t worry.  But…SORES AND BLISTERS ON MY BABY.  I’m going to find some time this afternoon to visit Punkie, before my performance review, and see how he’s doing.

Second, the emotion. Today is Maggie’s birthday.  Maggie was my best friend for 16 years – a yellow lab who held my heart in her paws.  She died last August and not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about her.  Today is her birthday and obviously, for the first time on 16 years, I’m not going to be getting her the usual birthday cheeseburger.  I know, I know…she’s a dog.  But she was incredibly important to me.  We went through a lot together – law school, bar exam, first job as a lawyer, moving, getting married, divorced, moving, getting married, and on and on.  She was my rock.

Third, the drama.  I am drama adverse – it freaks me the hell out.  Don’t run to me with your office politics and your “I dreamed you were mad at me” bullshit.  But, like so many other people, I have drama in my life that follows me wherever I go, without fail.  I don’t get along very well with my immediate family and that is the source of 98% of the drama in my life.  And today I am obsessing about it.  I’m not going to go into a lot of detail here, but will say that we’re having a big family get-together this weekend with my immediate family and my husband’s parents and that this has the potential to be a source of incredible drama.  By “incredible drama,” I mean a hydrogen bomb of drama dropped directly on my head.  But now I have a child and I don’t want him to grow up thinking that this is how things should be, or that his mother is a punching bag.   And I don’t want my husband’s family dragged into this stuff.  In addition to the feelings of drama dread, I am resentful that this is ruining my otherwise enjoyable long weekend.  I’ve been looking forward to this damn long weekend for months and now I am dreading it like a root canal.  And before you suggest that I find someone to work through this all with, please note that my therapist recently retired.

So, in summary:  Stress = parasite = no energy = George Castanza nap.