Monthly Archives: May 2011
Ever since I was bitten by an evil camel, I have been reluctant to go anywhere that even remotely resembles a petting zoo. A real zoo? Sure. The likelihood of one of those animals escaping from it’s enclosure and trying to gnaw one of my hands off is incredibly small. Unfortunately, Lorelei is an animal lover and when my playgroup announced an outing to Grant’s Farm, I knew my avoidance had to come to an end.
Dearest daughter was obsessed with the goats. Although she was reluctant at first, we spent the better part of the two hours we were there standing in front of their pen. (And yes, Mom, I washed her hands afterwards.) We even tried to feed them but Lorelei kept thinking the bottle of milk was for her. I mean, that was really weird since she…uhh…never really took a bottle except for when she was really little and I have no idea why she would think it was for her but whatever. Here’s a picture of me feeding the goats:
Oh, wait. I was by myself and also wrangling an increasingly independent daughter. Here’s another picture of Lorelei and the goats instead:
And here is one of us on the tram:
What you can’t tell from looking at this picture is that I am also thinking about the bajillion things that I have to do before the little lady and I leave town for a two day drive to Texas. I should really start getting to work on all that stuff, but (HAHA) she refused to go down for a nap until almost 4 and the bulk of my preparations require her to be awake because I need to go to Target and pack up her clothes and toys and drag the Pack ‘n Play out of her closet…Hold me.
I am a walking advertisement for the Missouri Botanical Gardens. Really. I absolutely love this place and I really believe it is one of the greatest things about St Louis. This weekend was Chinese Culture Days, an event that I had been previously unaware of. Because the weather was so gorgeous and because I told my friend I would go with her and because Brian had to work, the little lady and I enjoyed a morning of wandering and eating good food and watching some pretty neat demonstrations.
Lorelei was nursing a runny nose yesterday morning – which has now turned into runny nose plus cough plus crankitude, OMG – so we skipped church to avoid infecting the other kids in daycare. Instead, we headed west to the Butterfly House.
We’ve been before, but this time Lorelei was oddly frightened of the flying creatures and clung to us whenever one started to come towards her.
It was lovely and warm, however, and a nice escape from the dreary weather that we’ve had to endure the last few days. Dear St Louis, It’s May. Warm the eff up. Love, Me.
After a typical Sunday morning of coffee and church and reheated lunch, we all (eventually) managed to get a nap. The husband and I watched some baseball and then, once the daughter woke up from her nap, we slathered on sunscreen and headed to the park. We watched Lorelei play on the slides and make friends with the little boy who had the red ball. We walked along a quiet, shaded path as Lorelei raced ahead of us.
To me, it was perfect. Better than going to a stuffy brunch. Better than getting a token gift. Those things aren’t really for me. I got my family and a glorious Spring day to enjoy.
To all the other mothers out there: I hope you got what you wanted. I hope you felt appreciated. I hope you feel appreciated the other 364 days of the year. You deserve it.
Until recently, Lorelei was afraid to go down stairs. She had no problem with climbing up them but she was actually terrified of going down and would stay far, far away from them. And then something must have clicked in her mind and she has figured it all out. Now, she will take my hand in one of her tiny ones and use the other one to grip the railing along the stairs. She’ll slide her toe tentatively off the edge and then sit down. Scoot, scoot goes her little bottom until she can get her other foot down and then the process begins again.
Some afternoons, that’s all the amusement she needs, learning to climb up and down the stairs. Sometimes she tries to climb slides:
I’m not going to be the one to tell her that’s not how it works. Are you?
It’s finally quiet. The inconsolable crying that has kept our entire household up for the last two hours has (mostly) died down. Brian is with her, trying to get her to sleep in her crib again.
I just can’t deal with it. What’s worse is how much I hate myself for not being able to deal with it.
I should be trying to sleep. That’s why Brian went in there. He’s trying to give me a break and help out. He knows I’m exhausted and burnt out. But I can’t. I’m wound up.
In the middle of the night like this, I feel the worst. During daylight hours, I mostly have my depression under control or, at least, I don’t let it control me. In the darkness, however, I feel it trying to get out. The thoughts that I can ignore (mostly) when the sun is shining and my daughter is happy and smiling, choose the late nights to come out an play around in my head, upsetting a very fragile balance.
I’m not good enough, they tell me. I’m a bad mother. I’ve done everything wrong so far. I’m a bad wife, for making my husband get up in the middle of the night and sleep on the nursery floor. I’m a bad wife because our house isn’t spotlessly clean. I’m a bad wife, I’m a bad mother, I’m a bad friend, I’m a bad person. It’s what I hear over an over in my head.
My depression tells me to not even bother writing this down. No one cares. No one reads this. I’m not important. My depression points to all the other people who have all these friends rushing to their aid whenever even the slightest thing is bothering them when no one notices me. No one cares, it says.
It’s supposed to get better, right? People say it gets better.
I’m not better.