Funny Pregnant Haiku

Pregnant nose is weird
I still smell yesterday’s farts
Damn, I want chili

Being 39 years old and a mother is not an indicator of maturity… I’m sorry, body function humor will always have its place (over-doing it does exist though).

But really, pregnant nose IS weird. I smell things sooner and for longer than my husband – and there’s plenty of things he doesn’t even notice that I do. The fact that pregnancy makes you gassy, then add my ice cream cravings and low-grade lactose intolerance and I’m plenty flatulent myself… then there’s my toddler that (probably my fault) thinks tooting is hilarious and makes sure I witness them by getting closer and/or pointing her butt my way, “Haha, ‘scuse me, Mommy. I tooted, ‘scuse me.” Finally, my dog is a Boston Terrier – a famously gassy breed – and ta-da… I’m catching wiffs all day.

And I really am in the mood for Chili, which will undoubtedly give me gas.

31 Weeks Pregnant and Almost 40 (years old)

This is me venting a bit… I’m sure most of my complaints are more pregnancy in general or baby number 2 specific.

Oof – I miss not living in fear of the surprise sneeze while sitting cross-legged. I suppose giving up the cross-legged pose at my age should be acceptable, but I still like doing it.

Sciatica is not nice. Working at a restaurant while pregnant with Deedee wound up a blessing because it kept me active (I am horrible about working out). The online college bit during this pregnancy means not only am I fatter, but the expected aches and pains and difficulty staying comfortable in bed is worse. Stretching around a baby bump is an interesting challenge, though it does provide fun bonding moments while Deedee climbs all over me and the hubby helps hold stretches and lightly rubs my back.

Like flipping a switch, third trimester hit and voila, stretch marks! Distinctive, dark stretch marks as though I had paint on just my fingers then grabbed the lower half of the baby bump. I was somehow spared them with my first baby… I sorta think it’s because I was already a little chubby. I did gain the allowed/expected 30 pounds, but no noticeable stretch marks joined the faded ones I picked up during my 13th year puberty explosion. I was still carrying Deedee baby fat when I conceived baby #2, so I guess my skin just doesn’t have any extra flexibility anymore.

I feel decidedly un-sexy. My low-simmering background depression was much more pronounced for a while so I’m sure that’s a contributing factor. But I drink water and moisturize all the time but still feel like an all dried out, wrinkly, itchy blah. I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been and though intellectually I know it’s allowed, all the disparaging remarks I heard in the Army and from my ex-husband about being even slightly overweight haunt me.

Third trimester fatigue kicked in at the same time as major nesting ambitions. It’s an annoying conundrum, but I’m proud to say I am still getting quite a bit of renovating and baby supply organization done… though I need multiple days to do what I could do at peak condition in one. Nesting might be a reason I believe my depression has been better recently. That, and drawing a hard line for myself about time spent on Facebook. Whoever coined the term “doom-scrolling” nailed it.

Time is strange. I’m about to graduate college and I don’t feel ready for that next step. Deedee is fast approaching her 3rd birthday and I can’t believe it – slow down, baby! Her and her sister’s bedroom renovation isn’t finished yet, but hubby and I wave our hands and say, “we’ve got time,” as we work on the rest of the house. As much as we aren’t ready, I feel like I’ve been pregnant forever and would love to stop feeling huge, tired, and peeing all day. I don’t feel almost 40 most of the time. Really, I believe I’m more like 30… marriage, first house, baby number 2, finishing college with no real career yet. Yes, I know those are societally structured landmarks for aging, but they’re pretty engrained within me. Not to mention a decade of my life (Army and ex-husband) does feel like it was a strange sort of side quest before I stepped back onto the path I had been anticipating for myself since my teenage years.

I really only feel old when I look in the mirror, the classic rock station plays something that came out when I was in high school, or getting off the floor or out of a chair with difficulty – though that is easily blamed on pregnancy. Kids keep you young and age you at the same time, right? I haven’t found any gray hairs yet, but looks like I’ll have to suffer through the crow’s feet.

Tin Nail-up Ceiling Tiles as a Kitchen Backsplash – did it myself

I’ve been living in my 30+ year old mobile home over a year now with a shit-ton of renovations in process or still needing to be started… the life of a do-it-yourselfer. This is not a DIY blog, a million of those exist (I follow those with admiration and envy). This is a random stay at home mom blog, and I stress that I’m not trying to be a tutorial because I cut costs and corners wherever I can. If anything, I’m happy to inspire you to not be afraid to try something with no experience or budget, learn from my mistakes and be encouraged to know settling for “it looks like a noob made it” isn’t always a bad thing.

My kitchen cabinets make an “L” shape, with only one side having a countertop. The sink is balanced on furring strips and planks wrapped in waterproof material make up the “counters” on either side of it. As annoying as this arrangement is, the hassle of installing a countertop is a procrastination we’re still ok with. Need to cut an 8 foot pre-fabricated counter down to 7 feet, unhook the sink from the plumbing to measure the hole for it – then cut the hole in the countertop, level and install the cabinets themselves, install the countertop, then finally re-hook up the sink. That’s an all day job you can’t just do on a whim.

With the old trailer, I wasn’t willing to go all-out on cosmetics. So the kitchen backsplash needed to be both frugal and practical for me to do with a toddler underfoot. I’m not an Amazon affiliate (although I should be… I spend enough of my own money there…), but I’ll go ahead and name-drop. Through browsing and other DIY blogs I found Facade vinyl tin-look ceiling and wall tiles. Excited, I got 2 sheets of their cheapest-per-foot, white, traditional farmhouse print. I hung one above/behind the oven. I like the vinyl, I really do, but further reading made me discount it as the counter’s backsplash because I own a countertop basket fryer. That kind of close heat would hurt the vinyl. More Amazon browsing and reviews led me to Metal Ceiling Express, which has a thin, real tin version of the very same pattern Facade did in vinyl.

One of the best things about the ceiling tiles is I could go 2 feet at a time as my daughter stayed distracted, shuffling around the things in the way because I was still using the kitchen rather than clearing it all and trying to install in one go. This really wouldn’t take an experienced DIY-er much time at all. I’m on day 2 and still not done, but not discouraged.

I started by taping together big sheets of art paper to make stencils of the wall. I only cut then tacked in place one tin piece at a time before continuing, in case measurements and/or cuts wound up wonky. My pattern seams aren’t perfect (my mistake isn’t pictured), but my husband didn’t notice until I pointed it out. I took that as reason enough to pretend it didn’t bother me.

Tin snips were more than capable of the job, just had to wear gloves, nibble slowly, and be cautious of creating ripples. Since I sucked so bad at cutting holes for outlets into drywall (OMG, I had to buy jumbo outlet covers everywhere else), I took this opportunity to redeem myself – started small and crept larger as needed.

I still have 1 panel to cut into shape and hang, then will add finishing nails to truly anchor the tiles. Hubby thinks they’re too shiny, so I’ll have to research ways to artistically dull them up. Until I manage to dull them – if I even do (tint-able clear glaze for faux finishes exist, but I’m loath to spend more money) I can’t clear caulk corners and seams yet… but it is very encouraging progress on the whole renovation project. Need to use up construction materials stored in the back bedroom before I can fix up said bedroom for my daughters. Deadline to birth of #2 is creeping ever closer!

There are 2 distinctly different “Karens,” can we re-name one?

When the entitled, customer service related “Karen” memes started, I immediately recognized “her,” and thought it was funny. Most of my working life has been within customer service and restaurant work. Actually, all of it because so much of my time as an Army medic was in an aid station which mirrored customer service. I had to treat all ranks with professionalism and courtesy even if they treated me poorly because they were sick, in pain, or thought they were better than me. So yeah, the “take me to your manager,” Karen was something I could laugh at and feel a solidarity with my fellow customer service representatives online.

While age, gender, and race of my firsthand experience with “Karens” has admittedly been mostly the appearing well-off, upper Generation X-through-Boomer, white female, that’s been nowhere near universal. Representatives of all walks of life would come into my restaurant(s) and behave as though it was a pre-meditated decision to harass the server until a perceived incompetence or insult happened and free food was then warranted. And of course, spew the many variations of, “I’m in charge as the customer.”

While bitching about the Customer Service Karen with your coworkers is fun, and really the only way to cope with them immediately after the moment, I could also pity her. If a refused $3 coupon was enough to ruin her day, her life was probably not all the sunshine and roses her perfectly painted nails and name brand tags implied. Needing to power trip on a working-class employee only proves how powerless their life is elsewhere. I’m sorry this $3 coupon was the straw that broke the camel’s back today, Karen, but I don’t get paid enough to be your therapeutic punching bag and being mean to me won’t fix what’s wrong in your life.

So the racist “Karen” videos of late aren’t funny – they’re horrible and sad – and I truly feel they need a new title. Customer Service Karen’s racist cousin Susan, Barbra, or some other generational stereotype name… or how about Amy Cooper – yanno, let’s blast their real names if they’re known. Giving them a title waters down the reality of their nature into a caricature and lets them fade away anonymously, identify as the victim of a mean nickname, and make no lasting changes.  

Plus, I’ve been known to pull the Karen card when I KNOW I’m not being treated right by a customer service representative (It doesn’t happen often, I’m typically the one that sympathizes with and defends the busy server, the “OMG I’m new, what do I do now” employee, and the overworked cashier). When I do harness a Karen moment, I’ll own it, and I don’t like the idea of sharing that title with the likes of Amy Cooper and Patricia McCloskey.

Crochet Kismet (boy I’ve missed creating)

I love arts and crafts. All of them. If I had the money, I’d be handmaking anything and everything. I daydream about having a booth at the renaissance faire with all the handmade costume and décor pieces I can think of. Buuuut, I don’t have the time or money to devote ALL my time to crafts, and I wind up hoarding supplies and have a ton of works in progress stashed around the house.

On my 2nd deployment to Iraq in 2009, a charity care package came with a bunch of yarn, a crochet hook, and some knitting needles. As a girl, my Grandmother tried to teach me knit and crochet, but I didn’t have the attention span for it. Well, working 12-18 hour shifts at an aid station on an Iraqi airfield left me with a fair amount of idle time if you added up all the 10-30 minute stretches of nothing (hard to read or have many other pastimes in such little chunks). I claimed the care package yarn and used the Lion Brand website tutorials to resurrect and expand upon those childhood lessons. Turns out I preferred crochet to knit, and a new craft habit was born in yarn. I won’t even try to estimate how much money I spent on yarn while in Iraq and a few years later deployed to Afghanistan. A lot of that same yarn bought overseas I still have! I’ve moved so many times that boxes just retained balls and skeins of yarn as packing materials – and of course through me being unwilling to get rid of it because “it’s still good, I’ll use it someday, it was expensive.”

So I’ve now been crocheting on and off for over 10 years. I call myself a beginner/intermediate-level due to motivation/attention span restraints but have had success with advanced patterns (no garments beyond winter accessories and shrugs so far though) by grinding away at them over time. One afghan I can honestly say took more than 3 years because it was kinda hard and SUPER tedious to tie loose ends. Granted, it would have been done faster if I didn’t start – and finish – other projects while still working on it, but things get boring… (if you imagined that in a whiny voice, you’re right)

I haven’t been able to crochet much since my Deedee learned to walk 2 years ago and I’ve been kinda chomping at the bit to create lately. Facebook has been primarily doom-scrolling, which is wearing on me, so when I went looking for crochet artists to follow and pretty up my feed, I was thrilled to come across https://moralefiber.blog/. Her catchphrase “Until morale improves, the crocheting will continue,” plays into my current mood… my morale certainly needs improvement. It also hooked me (hahaha…. Unintentional) because I have nostalgia for the KMFDM song Free Your Hate which includes the lyric “the beatings will continue until morale improves,” and we Soldiers used variations of the phrase snarkily while commiserating. She also plays right into my love of the ren faire and so many of her posts that I’ve seen in just one day of browsing are things I’d love, love, love to make and wear. Sure, I’d have to give birth and lose another 30 pounds, but that’s motivation, right? Anyway… her most recent post is what inspired me… The Kismet Poncho. https://moralefiber.blog/2020/08/07/kismet-poncho/

It’s beautiful! Done in the round, which means I could put it down at random and not really lose my place when picking it back up. Important feature with a toddler. I did several rounds in admittedly the wrong yarn because it was easy to find – too bulky and more appropriate for a winter hat or more rugged blanket… But Deedee left me to it!! Excited, I took the time to dig my old yarn stash out of storage and immediately knew… some hoarded since Operation Iraqi Freedom 2009-11, that the has since been discontinued, finally had a purpose! Call it kismet.

There is a catch – 10 years ago I pre-wound several skeins into balls of two strands together to make it thicker because at the time, I wasn’t comfortable using DK weight yarn… my skill level found itself discouraged by anything that was smaller than a J/6mm hook. Because of its kinky nature, this DK yarn (which typically calls for a smaller hook) seems to be performing just fine with the pattern’s recommended I/5.5mm, and I’m working on multiple squares at once while unrolling the double-wound balls. The potential tedium of unwinding balls is a testament to how inspired I am. Here’s hoping that motivation holds and Deedee doesn’t change her mind about letting Mom crochet. I’ll keep you posted!

Discontinued Knit Picks brand yarn on its way to becoming a flowing, lightweight poncho.

The Evil Genius of Children’s Programming

So I started a post with one show in mind and realized that I could crank out a whole series of blogs about what my Deedee watches basically forever since what I let her watch and what she wants to watch evolves over time. Whether that series happens or not, I’m definitely capable of lump-summing certain things together.

I’m trying not to be a stuffy adult that blanket judges kids’ shows. Plenty of the stuff I loved as a kid is full of plot holes, question marks, and vague unbelievable-even-for-fantasy backstories (Rainbow Brite, Mighty Max, TMNT, the list goes on…). Granted, I have no real memory of what I watched at 3… I just know what my mom tells me and what I assume based on what my little sister watched at 3 – Sesame Street and Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. But really, PBS was basically it for toddlers in the late 80’s on antenna TV. When I tell friends I didn’t have cable until I moved out at 20, they’re still surprised to learn that meant no Disney Channel, Nickelodeon, or Cartoon Network either. To be fair, I will mention most of my friends are 10 years younger than me and their concept of “no cable” seems to translate to “no paid channels like HBO or Cinemax.”

So nowadays there’s a plethora of media platforms. To create a show in such a way that parents feel comfortable letting their kids watch and inspires kids to bug their parents into letting them watch and subsequently buy merchandise, these program writers and directors sure know what they’re doing. As Deedee gets older, I’ve been ok with less outright educational or nursery rhyme shows. Netflix has several exclusive titles we watch, and they’ve been picking up more and more from NickJr, making it easier for my late waking household to watch them.

My observed children’s programming formula:

1. Introduce a challenge (Blue’s Clues takes this literally) and/or lesson for the main characters. Recurring lessons I’ve noticed include “share,” “teamwork,” “ask for help,” “your friend’s new friend isn’t replacing you,” and the like.

2. (Not ALL episodes, in some the challenge is enough) Introduce conflict with antagonist(s). Commonly a villain or thoughtless/selfish person that creates a problem. Sometimes it’s a mistake, misunderstanding or not even a “who,” but a force of nature that requires a response. Doc McStuffins does this step with injured/ill toys.

3. Now is a “call to action” sequence with heroes donning their uniforms and/or getting their equipment. Seems to always come with a short song or catch phrase(s) for the young audience to memorize. This is an evil genius step because my Deedee knows all the Paw Patrol’s little catch phrases despite seeing the show so rarely (it’s on a little early and isn’t on any of the streaming platforms I have). PJ Masks and True and the Magic Kingdom are examples of identical visuals recycled (almost) every episode.

4. Next usually involves three stages to reach a conclusion. Some episodes have two failed attempts before the success, others just have three steps to take. Many shows also have sets of 3 within the 3 stages even – Dora the Explorer is a prime example of that. If there was a lesson to learn, it will be a required realization before solving the big picture.

5. The optional resolution song and/or “punchline.” This doesn’t seem to include recycled visuals, but just a song each episode that plays over a “heroes wrapping things up” montage. A punchline can be an endearing “oh, you,” regarding a character’s quirk, a “gotcha” pun directed at the villain, or the obvious statement of the moral made notorious by GI Joe’s “now you know.”

It all seems an easy formula, found in picture-books and even cartoons directed at older audiences. I want to be an author and I honestly struggle with this formula because I get bogged down with wanting a fleshed out setting and character backstory – both things kids’ shows just go with the flow about and the audience takes for granted. Of course children have super powers, non-existent parental supervision, and can pilot highly technological vehicles! Some animals talk but not all, toys come to life but not in front of everyone. Some worlds have only a few humans that happen to be children – makes perfect sense everyone else can be a cute blob or transforming monster truck. As deceptively simple as this formula is, there really is a talent to creating a setting that makes it effective, and an evil genius to make it both memorable and marketable.

Knowing all this doesn’t make the young kids’ shows any less potentially annoying to me (especially in the “play it again, Mom” mood)… it might even make it worse because their predictability, repetitiveness, and plot holes make me dissect them, all while being a little bitter and jealous that I haven’t come up with my own kids’ series cash cow, ha! I still plan on trying, I’ll keep you posted.

Baby #2 Due This Fall

Oops, I never announced my pregnancy! In my first few posts I know I mentioned trying to conceive, then recently I just casually mentioned I was pregnant, so here’s that story. Ok, well, everyone reading this knows how babies are made sooo not that part…

My Deedee (my actual nick name for her, I think it’s a cute coincidence that I see DD used in blogs as “dear daughter”) is kindof unintentionally being raised a bit “attachment parenting” style. As a SAHM in online college, I was able to run life more on her schedule because I didn’t have to schedule feedings and naps around work and daycare drop-offs. Certain routines did form naturally, but as she got older, sleep and hunger schedules easily evolved with her changing needs. Something I was hoping could happen on my terms was weaning. I knew breastfeeding interfered with fertility hormones, so when hubby and I were ready for baby number 2… Deedee wasn’t ready to let us have our best chance at that. I would even comically complain that it appeared Deedee didn’t want a sibling.

Scouring the internet for advice that I could take without internalizing shame or guilt is hard. I know these people mean well and I’m just sensitive, but parenting advice tends to come from people whose personal experience comes from a more-financially-privileged-than-I perspective and/or they’ve established a strict routine due to personal preference or daycare necessity so further schedule modification is easier. In the wrong mindset, I read parenting blogs, bristle and get defensive (must be nice to not worry about money) and/or feel bad about myself (if I were a better person/mom, we’d have this figured out by now).

What I did pick up from pro-nursing, fertility, and conception websites was that even if I didn’t completely wean, I should shorten each nursing session to help my fertility improve. I doubled my efforts to encourage solid food and tried to keep the nipple down to a comfort thing rather than her main source of nutrition.

Deedee was funny about solid food for a long time. I started introducing solids as soon as her pediatrician said to, and with WIC’s help I never worried about having to skimp, save, or compromise about keeping a variety of flavors and textures for her available. I felt like I was wasting baby food a long time though… labels say not to save an open container more than a day, but Deedee only accepted a few spoons per feeding for months, so even a 2oz jar wouldn’t empty in a day. Some textures or flavors she rejected immediately, and every time I thought we found a favorite, she changed her mind within a week. Happy to report that at nearly 3, she’s a good eater. Still has an occasional spell of only wanting chicken nuggets or hot dogs, but will eat typically thought of as adult foods hubby brings home from his restaurant fairly often.

Let’s try to get back to the point here… hubby and I were at 9 months of actively trying to conceive when I buckled and bought a fertility tea. A few months prior I had my annual OB check-up and my ancient (seriously, this dude should have retired decades ago) doctor wasn’t concerned about no new baby and wouldn’t prescribe anything. He said to just keep trying and I’d complicate my life further soon enough… I forgave him the rude joke because of his age and it being the veteran’s hospital. My health coverage was earned through my military service, this guy probably had his residency when women were still being committed for “hysteria” (so he was actually treating me pretty well. Sarcasm? Yes, but those older generations have some wildly different ingrained ideas. Ever see some of those How To Be a Good Wife articles printed as recently as the 60’s?), and veterans have the stereotype of being gruff, inappropriate, and thick skinned. While that stereotype sorta fits me most of the time (ok, not the thick skinned part), his crass dismissal still bugged me. I wanted another baby before I turned 40. Fertility tea seemed a little “old-wives-tale” to me, but herbology laid the foundation of modern pharmacology so I also believe some of it can and does work. I won’t advertise what I bought because I didn’t follow directions to the letter and Deedee was finally cooperating with less nursing so I’m reluctant to give the tea too much credit. But yeah, 9 months of trying during nearly-regular periods then month 10 it was very late… ta da! Pregnant… just in time to start seeing Facebook memes about oops Valentine’s Day and Quarantine babies. Sigh. Oh well. We know it was on purpose. It’s a girl, she’s due a week after I turn 40, but I won’t hold that against her.

Oh – and Deedee officially weaned shortly after we conceived! Totally on her own since I stopped trying so hard now that I was pregnant. Toilet training is my next stubborn-daughter hurdle. She is happy, healthy, smart, and oh so… so loved. But doesn’t do anything unless she believes it’s her idea.

My Version of Nosy Neighbor Entertainment (keeping tabs on the strays)

If you recall from an earlier post, my trailer is located in a relatively private spot of the neighborhood. I couldn’t sneakily spy on my neighbors if I wanted to, so it’s a good thing I don’t want to. The stray/outdoor cats that roam around are enough of a distraction for this stay at home mom. Like is Cake finally pregnant or did a kind neighbor spring for her spaying before I moved in? Because I’ve looked it up, cats are prolific breeders, so in the year I’ve known Cake she could have had 2 litters. I have chased Tom away from her a few times upon overhearing the cat-fight style howls… only time will tell.

And how is Tom? He still vanishes for days at a time on occasion, but he wanders less frequently lately. Maybe he’s happy with my yard and family since I more often than not look out my window and see him lounging on my patio furniture. Unfortunately, I think he’s been losing weight, but for all I know he was just poofy with a cold-weather coat and shed it for the summer. But whatever scraps he’s been getting into have been worse… he must be getting old and his territory challenged by more and/or stronger cats. Even Cake, who is half his length, bops him sometimes, but with them I think it’s more of a family thing.

Tom is really chill, almost aloof about us petting him (unless we’re opening a can of wet cat food in his presence because then he’s super lovey-dovey rubbing our legs), but I don’t want to test that by poking any wounds. The morbidly fascinated by that sort of thing/Army Medic/mom in me does check as closely as I dare to see if anything ever looks infected – I’m only assuming it would look similar to an infected human injury.  My Deedee understands boo-boos and the concept of being gentle with them, so it’s really sweet to see her squat and peer at him closely without touching, and saying “Aww, boo-boo-ouchie. Mommy, big cat has boo-boo-ouchie.” I’m actually really, really proud of that. She’s a sensitive girl anyway – which manifests as drama queen now and again, but if I ever say “ouch,” she’ll be right there asking if I need a kiss.

I do worry about Tom, clearly, I’m emotionally attached. On one of the hottest days we had recently, I freaked out seeing him sprawled out in the shade, thinking he was dead. I guess that was just a comfortable way to deal with the heat, I don’t know. I emailed a nearby vet’s clinic to see what a workup on a stray would be. Just the once-over would cost $60, then any treatment beyond that, like immunizations, antibiotics, sedation and wound cleaning would be figured out as needed. That’s actually a lot to ask of me right now, especially when I couldn’t bring him inside to keep him safe while things heal. I am allergic to cats, my dog Miller would freak out, and I’m not so sure Tom himself would even appreciate it. He’s spent his life outside, only as tame as he needs to be to keep we humans treating him well. I’ll have to settle for feeling good about being the one giving him tick and flea treatments, fresh water, and the occasional can of wet food.

I’ll just keep watching him and believe he’s living a full life on his terms, and when he goes it’s the circle of life. I remind myself of Linda Belcher (of the animated sitcom Bob’s Burgers) and the way she treats the racoons in the alley like her own live action soap opera. I don’t have creative names for all the cats (yet), the other ones I see eating from the neighbor’s outside dish get called things like brindle-grey, cow-spots, the one with the collar, the GIANT opossum (seriously, the dude is probably the size of my 25 pound Boston Terrier)… haha. But Cake and Tom are “mine,” I love seeing them when I look out my window and when I walk Miller. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll wind up like the old neighbor lady that leaves a food dish outside at all times… unable to justify taking in all the strays, but unwilling to wonder if any are going hungry.

“Mom’s Heart”

I’ve become a mom
The new boundaries of my heart…
Immeasurable

Written shortly after the birth of my first. With the increased strength and activity in utero of my second daughter, I’m realizing that “immeasurable” is still true, and yet is still able to feel like those boundaries are expanding.

I know traditional haiku follows content rules, not only the structured 5-7-5 syllables, but when I’ve got so much going on in my brain that makes it feel too overwhelming to get anything out, I’ll write something in haiku structure to force me to focus.

This Mom is Not Okay (a venting session about 2020-induced stress)

So yeah, doubt and guilt are part and parcel of being a parent, but man, 2020 just keeps making everything worse! Being a stay at home mom has its unique challenges anyway, and I’d be lying if I said I never missed the scheduled distraction a job could give me right now… not to mention the money. I am grateful to be able to raise my daughter myself, but shielding her from seeing the stresses I’m under gets hard.

The world is a mess, and I’ve wondered if bringing new life into it was even a good idea. Like is it fair to my first and her yet-to-be-born sister? Do I need to raise them to be scientists to justify their existence to society? Try to push them to save the world from pollution and disease? Was my desire for children an irresponsible, selfish, instinct-driven thing?

I’m thankful I’m not in the damned if you do, damned if you don’t position parents with school-aged children are facing right now… this Covid-19 situation is no joke! My Facebook is full of parents venting frustrations and fears about their school districts decisions or continued state of limbo. There is no good choice, and there are plenty of parents with essentially no choice. Why does the US seem willing to cut off its nose to spite its face rather than learn a few lessons from other countries, or listen to the doctors that have dedicated their lives to learning about stuff like this?

Then there’s all the human trafficking and pedophilia in the news and social media right now and I am terrified for my girls! I know I’m biased, but my Deedee is absolutely beautiful. And it is with optimism that I believe the next combination of me and my husband’s genes will make our next daughter just as lovely. Someday yes, I’ll worry about the high school relationships that may break their hearts… then I’ll worry about them in bars, hope they choose good spouses etc… a parent will always worry. But the whole being kidnapped and victimized while incredibly young is a pretty intense kind of fear. Every headline I casually come across on a related topic gets me stuck stressing about it for hours. I am not okay. I’m even prepared to discuss pregnancy safe depression treatments at my next checkup. I remember my old psychologist telling me the spiraling obsessive thought process I get stuck in frequently is a symptom of depression. I weaned off antidepressants when hubby and I first started trying to make what would become Deedee. The wonderfully secure place my husband helped create with me, and the dream come true of motherhood has kept my depression manageable without meds ever since. But I think I need help again. I’d rather it not be pills until my next princess baby weans, but we’ll see. Postpartum for me, if the state of the world doesn’t drastically improve, seems a foregone conclusion.

I can’t believe I used to binge watch crime shows and not have even the remotest glimmer of the nightmares and intruding negative thoughts and fears as I do now. I’ve never particularly enjoyed the horror genre as a form of entertainment, but things that aren’t quite “horror” but are more suspense or fantastical used to make the cut.

Okay, so yeah, I’m not okay… but I’m not worried about doing anything drastic or tragic or completely crawling into a hole and hiding from the world… I’m still getting A’s in college, my marriage is great, my extended family is amazing – wish we all lived closer together though, our bills are getting paid (stressing about losing my Post 9-11 GI Bill stipend after graduation is another story), and most days I am legitimately fine. But I wish I could be as happy now as I was when Deedee was first making her presence known on the outside the way PB is now. But it’s an entirely different world just a short 3 years later. The stress is palpable. And Deedee has hit me with some late-onset terrible 2’s… but that’ll be its own post.

Bleghhh so yeah, vent session over. Thanks, hope I didn’t ruin anyone’s day with all that.

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