Worn Out

I have not heard from my friend yet, but she's one of these very disconnected people - no Facebook, no smart phone, very little texting, rarely uses email. So it wouldn't surprise me if she doesn't even get my email for several days. I figure it could go one of various ways - she could either apologize with a slight edge of defensiveness, not apologize and claim she did nothing wrong, or just flat out let me know she doesn't approve of my choices. I think the latter two are extremely unlikely, but you never know. I feel like I've been in a bit of a bubble here in my SMC life; since the announcement of the pregnancy I've had nothing but positivity sent my way, despite early fears to the contrary. I suppose something negative coming out of my choice to take this unusual path was bound to happen sooner or later.

Sometimes I feel so alone in this. I do wish I knew other SMCs (or even Single Mothers NOT By Choice - everyone I know is married, everyone). It dawned on me that I really should sign up with the local SMC group. At first I had balked at the membership fees, but I think it might be a good idea to connect with other women nearby who did what I did. Nobody else really gets it, you know?

Last night in a text conversation with my Mom Guru friend who gave me the referral to the baby sitter who didn't call back, I mentioned this to her, and she immediately texted the sitter who then called me horrified, saying she never got my message because she just switched phones and a bunch of information was lost from her old phone. We had a nice long chat and I will put her into the sitter rotation, although the bummer is a) she charges a little more than I'd hoped and b) isn't available at the right times for me to go to book club, get my hair done, or movie club (weeknights she's not available until 8:30 or so, and I need to leave the house by 5-7 for any of these things). So I am still screwed for the most regular things I need to do. However she can stay late, so she's ideal for gigs and if I want to go out dancing. I've been itching to get back to a Monday night venue that is a bar and so not at all baby friendly. It would be great to be able to head over there once a month or so. But the issue still remains of how to handle my groups and bi-monthly haircut and dinner. Meeting a third sitter tomorrow, so we'll see.

Everything has gone haywire in our family lately - between my friend issues and this, it's been a rash of hurt feelings, letters back and forth, and people needing a break from each other. Thanksgiving has gone all screwy. My sister and I now may go to see our uncle instead of the usual Massachusetts clan, or even go to Florida to see our cousin and his three small children I've never met. I vote for Florida, personally - I've never been and it would be a blast to be somewhere warm for the holidays for once. But suffice it to say there's been a lot of tension all week and I'm really worn out.

Here's a pic of Bumpus enjoying his new hand me down Jumperoo:

Ruminating and reacting

Despite some effort I've done nothing this weekend but obsess on what my friend said to me Friday night. At first I was kind of determined to not let it get me down, to not take it personally and move on, knowing she's my friend and would never intentionally hurt me. I mentioned it to a couple of my friends and my sister and everyone was horrified, in fact more than I had been in the moment, which said to me that this is serious and I shouldn't just let it slip by. I think most of the time things should just be let go - but occasionally you need to call people on their shit. I believe this is one of those times, because it has ramifications for our future. So this morning I sent her this email:

Dear X –

Thanks for having us over Friday night. I’m sure the bowls will be a big hit (well, they already are!).

I’ve been kind of disturbed this weekend about something you said and I think I need to talk about it. When your son asked who Robert’s father was and you told him that he left, was a bad guy, and very irresponsible, it really shocked and hurt me. I know we were both totally caught off guard and didn’t know what to do, and I know you just said the first thing that popped into your head, but why blatantly lie, and go so profoundly negative? I couldn’t then contradict you in front of your son and say, “that’s not true, I went to the doctor to have a baby” or whatever would be appropriate for an eight-year-old. In one sentence you turned this happy single mother by choice with her very much loved and wanted baby into an abandoned mother and her unwanted kid, like we’re some charity case. I don’t so much care about how it makes me look, but the very idea of someone thinking my cherished little baby was some kind of accident or mistake or burden makes my blood boil.

I know you love us and would never ever intentionally hurt us, but I feel very hurt and offended, and I feel you owe me an apology. I also think at some point you should explain to your son the truth about our situation, so we don’t have some ugly scenario someday where he tells my kid “oh yeah, and your dad didn’t even want you,” which to me is too hideous to even think about.

I didn't want to tell her what I really think, which is that her son is the most sullen, miserable looking kid I've ever seen who always makes it very apparent when I visit that I am NOT welcome, that they have a very fractured and sad relationship because of her anger, and that I think she's jealous of the happiness she sees with me and my boy. She went into the relationship with her son with a lot of mixed feelings, which I respected at the time - she was very upset about what the pregnancy did to her body, was very ambivalent about having another one because of this, and had (and has) a lot of anger that 90% of the childcare falls to her since her husband is basically never around because of work. So she does that thing that so many parents do today which is bribing the kid by buying him things, and consequently he's miserable. I think like so many homes that appear happy and ideal from the outside there's a lot of unhappiness, resentment, and anger brewing there. Friday night I couldn't wait to get back to my nice little home, rat poop and incontinent dog and all.

It reminded me a little of this bizarre scenario that happened when I was around seven or eight. My mother left me with neighbors in this big, artsy building we lived in in Boston at the time, probably to go to work in the evening. She left me with them because they had a daughter named Tiffany who was a little older (I'm thinking maybe twelve...?) who she probably thought was a friend of mine but who I was actually really afraid of. Anyway I remember being really uncomfortable there and repeatedly dialing our phone number to see if my mother was home yet, with that sort of panic and urgency only kids get. At some point Tiffany caught me doing this, took the receiver out of my hand, and smacked me across the face. It remains the only time I've ever been hit, and it was absolutely shocking. Suffice it to say eventually I did make it home and I didn't ever stay with them again - I don't think I told my mother or anyone; but I just remember the utter relief and sheer joy of getting out of that hell hole and getting to go home. That's how I felt Friday, after watching my friend drink two glasses of wine and start talking about which celebrities she thinks are "hot", while I sat there still internally processing the fact that she just told her son that my kid is, for lack of a better term, a bastard. 

Seduced and abandoned

Something really odd happened tonight. I was at my friend's house, the one with the video game addicted seven (actually, now eight) year old. With of course the baby.

This little boy is one of the most sullen little kids I've ever known. I don't know if this is a phase all kids (especially boys) go through and I'm just ignorant, or if he's just shy and it comes across as sullen. But he always speaks to his mother with this "tone" like she's a pain in the ass (something I would never tolerate, not ever), and she told me again how he's find of saying "I hate you" when he doesn't get his way and calling her a "mean mommy". Again maybe all kids are like this and I'm just a Pollyanna...but Jesus Christ.

So anyway out of nowhere this kid asks his mother, "who is Robert's father?" Before I can step in, she says that we don't know him. Then he says, "yeah, but where is he?" Then she says, "He left. He was a bad guy. Very irresponsible." And just like that, I was seduced and abandoned. No longer am I the awesome independent single chick who never compromised and instead did this incredibly ballsy thing and had my own baby - now I'm the idiot who had unprotected sex with some lowlife, and my beautiful, wanted and planned son is some mistake that was left behind.

I was pretty horrified, but there was no fixing it - I couldn't contradict her and say how a doctor helped me make a baby; I don't even know if this kid knows the birds and the bees yet. Later after he went to bed she brought it up again and said "kids pick up on things" and I said I wish he didn't now think I was some loser that some guy left in the lurch. But now that I think about it, I think he must have heard the parents talking about it or something - I mean, why would this kid out of nowhere ask something like that, and keep pushing it?

In the end do I care what a sullen eight-year-old thinks of me? No. But something about the very idea of it - looking at sweet, innocent little Bumpus, and the idea of someone not wanting him, or someone, anyone, even thinking someone didn't want him, hurts me so deeply that I find myself very disturbed as I write this. It feels like a knife in my gut.

It probably doesn't help that just last night I watched a Downton Abbey episode in which this very scenario occurs and the woman and her adorable baby are treated like pariahs, and it hurt my feelings just watching that.

I know my friend meant no harm and was just flustered and tried to make it a "teachable moment" for her son, so I don't really hold it against her...but I think this is going to be my last visit over there for a while.

Reaching

During our trip east, Bumpus developed the skill of reaching for things. As with all new skills, he started out slowly, but now does it nearly all of the time (when he's interested, that is). This is what got us in trouble with the dog, since she had never experienced him show any interest in her before, and it freaked her out. I am starting work with a dog trainer next week, at great expense. But I feel like I did with the breastfeeding - I feel like I at least need to try. I need to see if our relationship can be fixed before giving in to just keeping her locked up in a room all day.

But back to reaching. So I love that this is an expression of his burgeoning personality - what he's really into, what he's not. I love that when I hold him on my lap facing me he immediately reaches out to touch my face. I love that when I present him with a toy, he grabs it. It's kind of like our first rudimentary conversation.

I am having to seek out new child care arrangements, as my two friends who had stepped in for me for the first few months of Bumpus' life now have very heavy work schedules. I'm extremely grateful for the time they were able to give me, however. I am trying out an acquaintance from the dance world who baby sits preemie twins with lots of special needs, but would like to have a couple more people on the call list. My walking buddy today says she may have someone for me, and I put in a call to my Mom Guru friend's favorite sitter (although I'm a little bugged that she hasn't returned my call yet). The drop-in place will cover some circumstances, but not all.

I suppose I'll continually be revisiting the question of "should I really try to keep up with all my activities, or just let them go?" It is an expensive proposition to get child care for things that are "just for fun" like seeing movies, book club, etc. But somehow the alternative - literally never interacting with another adult, and being trapped at home with a baby 24/7 for months on end, does not sound healthy for me, or even Bumpus. Last time I picked him up at the drop-in place, he was in a swing literally screaming with delight as one of the workers dangled a toy for him. He didn't even look at me when I picked him up, ha ha! So I think the drop-in place is a hit. Just wish they were open a hair later!

Slacker

When I read all the cute/fun things you gals do with/for your babies, I feel like a total slacker mom. Now that my event has been over for a month, you'd think I would make time to a) knit or sew something cute for Bumpus, b) start reading to him, or at least c) keep the freakin' house clean for him. Nope.

Here is a list of things I feel guilty about not doing:

Singing. Oh, don't get me wrong, I sing all day long, but mostly just variations on our two hit singles - "Breastasiz" (the breast feeding song), and "Baby Boogies" (the stuffed-up nose baby song). But my high-falootin' ideas of learning and using awesome vintage lullabies has yet to be realized.

Reading. As noted, I have not started reading to the baby yet. He does, however, appear to enjoy watching The Real Housewives with me.

Bathing. In Bumpus' nearly six months on the outside, I have given him a total of two sponge baths and two real baths - one that involved him screaming like he was being murdered in the kitchen sink, and one in the actual bathtub with mommy that went slightly better.

Tummy time. I have completely ignored the amazing tummy mat thingee with all the cute suspended marine-themed items designed to stimulate the Bumpus and help his brain develop, preferring instead to put him on a thin blanket on the hard floor where he can roll into the sharp locks on my steamer trunk or slowly back into the fireplace.

Cute outfits. I have bought Bumpus no clothes. He is still wearing his newborn onesies, many of which barely snap anymore, and nearly all of which are riddled with cute little shit stains. He has worn one pair of socks.

I have not filled in his baby book. I'm not even sure where it is, to be honest.

I have not gotten any prints from my maternity shoot.

Still, he gets his loving mama kissing him and squeezing him all day until his head nearly explodes, who loves to play with him, comfort him, and make him smile. Hopefully all of this will make up for my other shortcomings.

I am going to get us into baby swim classes next week, so I'm not a total slacker!

A day at the beach

Try to remember...

September is here, and it makes me awash with memories and at the same time hope for the future. Personally I can't wait until September means "back to school". That's going to be so much fun! Will the other kids tease him if he brings my 1970's Peanuts lunch box to school...?

This time last year, other than being pleased I was pregnant and staying pregnant, was a torment for me. Dodging suspicious friends, missing my aunt's memorial and a chance to tell my whole family about the pregnancy in person, and not to mention the horrible crushing nausea. Boy am I glad it's this year and not last year!

Recently I had a discussion with a friend with one child about the benefits of one child. While we both admitted to still being somewhat conflicted about pursuing another pregnancy, our conversation reminded me of the old "I'm glad I have no kids, kids ruin your life" conversations I used to have with my other bitter single friends. It's how every conversation sounds when you're trying to talk yourself into not doing something that you want to do, yet you know is not in your best interests.

More and more I feel like Bumpus is enough, that I don't want my attention split among two children. And whenever I think about never enduring another pregnancy and birth, I can literally feel my uterus celebrating, shaking my aged ovaries like little maracas, the dried up eggs rattling like black beans. "Yes! The factory's closed!" (they seem to say).

Talking with my Mom Guru friend last night, who is expecting baby #3 and planning a home birth this time, brought up all kinds of memories of my craptastic birth experience. The NSTs. The bullying. The random high risk ob telling me "we see no point in continuing this pregnancy." People telling me "well, at least you'll get to meet your beautiful baby boy" as I sobbed in terror in the days before the induction, and wanting to strangle them. Watching "The Cranemakers" episode of Cheers on the phone the night before the induction for a little laugh so I could sleep. But also what a champ he was - never a lick of trouble, from the very beginning. Just good natured and easy and relaxed, all the time. If I didn't know better, I'd question his maternity!

I so often tell people, "I'm so glad I did this...ONCE." And that really is the most honest way to say it - I am SO GLAD I faced my fears about pregnancy and birth and made this amazing human being who has already enriched all of our lives. But this is likely a one time deal. If I know what's good for me (and him).

In shifting around and cleaning out the nursery (somewhat), I moved my ancient crib into the bedroom to see if I could maybe get Bumpus to sleep in it. I nursed him and then put him down and he slept soundly - for maybe three hours, at which point I had to lift him out to feed again, and maneuvering him back into the crib only woke him up, so he stayed in the bed the rest of the night. It's a process. At least he seems to like hanging out in there, and I don't have to worry about him rolling off the bed if I take my eye off him for half a second. Today he did a massive, guttural, 57-year-old alcoholic projectile vomit in the crib. Kind of glad he wasn't in my bed at the time, I won't lie.