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sanity

kids inc

Sleep is for the weak

Sleep is for the weak

I forgot how fun it is to take care of a newborn. I’ve gotten so used to Tru that I’ve taken it for granted that he sleeps peacefully through the night in his own room, feeds without fussing and does all kinds of cute stuff to cheer me up.

Is it bad that every moment of every day, I wish Kirsten will grow up sooner? It’s just been a week into her birth and I’m exhibiting all the signs of a sleep-deprived wreck.

My days and nights have been broken into 2.5 hour cycles of struggling to breastfeed (45 mins), bottle-feeding (30 mins), expressing milk (30 mins) and 45 mins to do whatever else need to be done at home. And there’s the insomnia. I’d try to lie down to catch forty winks intermittently through the day, but it usually takes me a good 30 mins to fall asleep. Then before I know it, Kirsten is screaming again.

When I’m awake, I hardly have the time or energy to spend quality moments with Tru and I feel awful about that too. He’s been a real trooper, entertaining himself and being real cooperative. Sometimes he would take a toy to me, indicating that he wants to play while I’m feeding Kirsten, and I’d be all frazzled like “Later, Tru, Mommy’s busy right now”. And right after, I would feel so bad that I’ll spend the next 15 mins bawling my eyes out. Even though he’s right there, I really miss my boy. I hope he doesn’t feel like I’m neglecting him.

Just last night, I slept a total of 90 mins because Kirsten was having a blast pooping on me and fussing and refusing to latch on again. Every feed its like a game of roulette, I have no idea if she’s going to latch on or suckle for 30 seconds before screaming or just start wailing the moment she touches my breast.

Now that the milk is in, I have no idea what else to do to make her feed direct from the breast. I’ll probably give myself till next Mon to keep trying. Its just too insane having to take so any extra steps expressing and formula-feeding and having to force her to latch on.

The depression is also causing me to lose all appetite, which is probably a good thing in the weigh-loss department. But I’ve gotta eat if I want to breastfeed, so I’m forcing down food even though I feel like throwing up half the time.

I need to sleep, but the end is nowhere in sight. I’m starting to hallucinate and become incoherent. Sometimes I wonder if I’m crazy to have 2 kids back to back. It seemed like such a good idea back then, and I was so sure I’d be able to handle it. But I’m up to my eyeballs as it is, and sooner or later, something’s gotta give. I just hope its not my sanity.

kids inc

Strike 3, you’re out!

Tru had a bad case of the runs all of yesterday. Two packs of poop a day is standard fare for him (a huge one after his morning milk feed and a mid-sized one during, yes DURING his lunch) considering how much food and non-food items go into his system.

But yesterday, he gave mama 4 packs of funky poop to spice up my otherwise boring Monday.

I put him down for his afternoon nap after getting him all fed and bathed (2 packs of poop – check) and as usual, he was performing his daily battle cry in his cot for a good 20 minutes. I didn’t think much of it, having drowned out his shrieks as ambient sound, but this time, the shrieks got increasingly loud until until it started sounding like a siren.

When I went in to check on him, I honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or bawl. The little guy got his thighs stuck between the poles of his wooden cot and his legs were sticking out, flailing wildly. (note: he’s been eating TOO MUCH FOOD!) And thanks to his incessant wriggling, his diaper had gotten loose so the crap was smeared all over his mattress and there he was, looking all helpless sitting in a pile of poop.

It probably sounds hilarious now, but right there, I felt like I had utterly failed as a mother. I would have taken a photo, but it would break your heart, and I might get hauled off to prison for child abuse.

So I cleaned him up and hugged him real tight and apologized like a million times. I felt so bad that his poor thighs were all red and sore, but he started giggling and held my face, which made me feel even worse cos he was such a sweetie-pie for consoling me after I left him stranded.

Strike 1 for mommy.

Then in the evening, I was at the library tutoring my student so Superdad had to take over the night duties. 10 minutes in, I got a call saying that Tru was SCREAMING uncontrollably, and he refused to drink his milk (IMPOSSIBLE) and could not be pacified at all. Apparently Superdad lost some of his powers and also his sanity, and my two boys were in a frenzy of panic together.

Great, a mother’s worst nightmare.

I wrapped up my tutoring session and flew back as fast as I could, beating 3 red lights on the way back (I’m a totally safe and law-abiding driver, serious).

Anyway, back home, Tru was alternating between kneeling down and squatting on the bed wailing so Superdad had a stroke of genius. It’s probably his ass that hurt. When he opened up his diaper, the poor boy’s bum was all red and swollen like a baboon’s bottom. Actually it was covered with brownish-green poop, so he couldn’t really tell at first, but my little trooper who has a bum of steel was screaming for dear life, so it was pretty obvious he was in real pain.

A quick wash, a generous dollop of diaper cream and a lot of hugging later, he finally fell asleep.

Strike 2 for mommy.

All in all, not the best of days.

love bites, milestones & musings, motherhood, pregnancy

Mommy time is good for me

Photo from www.images.frontdoor.com

Photo from media.sheknows.com

Being alone is awfully therapeutic. Walking around with headphones plugged in, blasting angsty music and looking all cool and sullen, without the shackles of motherhood. It totally brings me back to the days when I was in fact a troubled teen.

Except that my alone time used to be out of necessity, since nobody liked being around an ornery person all the time. To make my time-outs more bearable, I perfected this apathetic, don’t-give-a-crap-about-anything look that I thought was so cool back then. Man, I miss those days. Can’t wait till my kids are old enough to pull that stunt on me.

But now that I’m a mom, I’ve come to relish all the little breaks I like to call “Mommy time”. I get to go for walks, go shopping, do my hair, grab a cuppa and actually read a nice book that is not parenting related. An afternoon off alone can do wonders for my sanity. Not that I hate being around my kid, but when he’s around, everything seems to revolve around him. It’s feeding time, then play time, then nursery rhyme time. Even meal time becomes a frenzy of shrieking and hang-banging.

Tru has a policy when it comes to food. No one else can eat unless he gets a share. Even after he’s had a full meal with 2 rounds of dessert, he’ll still scream for more food the moment he sees us eating. So I either have to hide in a corner and gobble down my food or feed him with more stuff. I should start bringing out celery sticks to feed him, so he doesn’t end up obese.

Anyway, yesterday, I had some time off to check out the Crocs warehouse sale and grab a cuppa while Tru went home with Daddy for the afternoon. I was like a death-row inmate who just got out on parole – I did my trademark victory jig and skipped (ok, it was more like a lumber) all the way there and back. I didn’t have to lug around a kid, a stroller and a whopping diaper bag. Just me and well, that it. It was awesome. Seriously.

I came back with a truckload of stuff (RETAIL THERAPY WORKS!) and enough gumption to last me through the week.