Left Unspoken

Sometime in the early months of Little Man’s life I stumbled across one of Fowl Language Comics parenting gems. I felt like I was literally dying just to keep this tiny human alive, and I loved him, desperately, but he was usually unhappy with me and saved his adoration for when Daddy was around. Since I was failing miserably at parenting his brothers and Daddy travels a lot, I had put all my hopes for [whatever human connection I thought would heal me] into this little person who saw me as nothing more than a food source. I texted the comic to my husband who thought it mildly amusing. I wanted to scream at him through the screen. Don’t you see? I’m dying here and he hates me. [Everyone hates me.] Why can’t he love me?

I didn’t actually scream, of course, that would have awoken the cries once more. Besides, this isn’t my first rodeo. I know that the thoughts I have in the year following childbirth can veer far from reality. I know what it is to think these are not normal thoughts but accepting the abnormality doesn’t change the thoughts. It just allows me to give them space but also give them boundaries. This isn’t permanent but right now I am totally alone.

I keep them to myself. Sharing them would be like taking a Picasso to a NeoClassical exhibit or preparing a 12-tone Schoenberg for a Mozart concert. Besides, I don’t know how to make space for my crazy in other people’s lives. Frankly I don’t even know how to make space for my normal in other people’s lives.

But we are supposed to talk about these things to end the stigma or whatever. So here I am. I won’t link this anywhere, I will never bring it up in conversation even though when I’m feeling off I secretly, desperately want someone to notice and to care for me. Acknowledgement is a powerful balm. And if the two of you who actually read this dusty old blog ever text or email or otherwise ask me about it I will probably minimize it and change the subject because that’s what I do. But after everything we go through to grow and birth another person, and then try to keep that human alive while neglecting everything that keeps you alive, it’s understandable that we often don’t have normal thoughts. And that’s okay. We need space for that, we’ve been through a lot. And someday we will come out the other side more compassionate toward each other, and we will have discovered along the way that our little ones do love us after all.
(The problem is that we don’t all make it through and while my abnormal thoughts have never taken me there, I can see how it can happen and my heart breaks for those who have visited the dark place, and for their loved ones left behind.)

The Democratic Republic of the Bedroom

The bedroom has seceded the union but remains a part of the Commonwealth. Red made better posters but Blue performed better in the debates. (Whereas his brother was satirizing politics, he was telling the audience exactly what we wanted to hear in a manner that was very convincing.)

With the write-in of a third party candidate leading to a tie between the two front runners, the winners decided against a coalition government and demanded a revote with no write-ins in which Blue won. 

However, unwilling to keep his campaign promises regarding an expedited bedtime, Blue stepped down from the post and Red graciously accepted his leadership role as President of the Democratic Republic of the Bedroom. It is as it should be, since it was all his idea in the first place. 

Health Is Relative

I made it to the gym! It was the first time since mid-pregnancy and I was pleased to see that the work I had been doing at home to regain some strength paid off and I wasn’t a total mess. Even better: this was the first time I had ever left Little Man and he did wonderfully!

In other news I have gained six pounds since February. So it turns out that eating to stay awake is not a fool-proof plan. 

Coup d’État

Inspired by a talk in church this morning the boys are staging a coup to overthrow the supposed “un-benevolent” monarchy. Elections for rule of the bedroom will be held tomorrow night during Family Home Evening. Campaign posters have already gone up around the house and speeches are being rehearsed. Reporting to you from behind enemy lines, I will do my best to keep you updated. 

The talk, in case you were wondering, was on keeping the sabbath day holy. 

Take Out Date Night

Have I told you this one yet? It’s my favourite thing since pajama parties (that date night swap we had going with two other friends in California.)

Step One: Feed the kids something fun like macaroni and give them iPad time so they are so happy they don’t notice you aren’t eating. 

Step Two: ON TIME BEDTIME. 

Step Three: Husband gets take out while wife puts kids to bed. 

Step Four: Enjoy restaurant meal without paying for a babysitter, juggling a baby, arbitrating a fight, or trying to explain why we don’t eat food off the floor. 

Why can you not hear the words I do not utter?

Family Governance

In a discussion this weekend on types of government the boys pointed out to their dismay that our family is not a democracy but a monarchy. 

“True,” I agreed. “But it’s a Benevolent Monarchy!”

They have spent the rest of the weekend telling me I am “anything but a benevolent monarch.”

You may all sleep well knowing that the most gracious, compassionate, smart, hilarious, and beautiful monarch is on the job.