Once I got past yesterday's urge for the melodramatic, as captured in the previous post, I decided that, since my brain was fried for the day, I would accomplish something else productive: desserts. Working in slow-motion, I turned out a peach cobbler, a cashew-based dessert sauce, and some chocolate cake with vanilla frosting. Mmmmm. Then I went to bed early, planning to sleep in till 8am. Of course, I had also scheduled the grocery delivery for 7:30am, so that part didn't work as well as it could have. Still, I'm sure lots of delivery men are greeted at the door in the mornings by wild-haired women, barefoot and bathrobed, their faces still covered by pillow imprints. Yeah, yeah, it sorta sounds like a set-up for one of those "I never thought it would happen to me" letters, until you remember that I also hadn't brushed my teeth yet. Anyway, I tried not to breathe too hard on the poor man. And it was, for the record, the fastest delivery they've ever made.
And now, on with they day!
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Child ill. Slept almost not at all. Suspended night-weaning attempts, to help him get better faster. Oh. Oh oh oh. Ow. Cannot work today. Husband has taken wee one (thankfully much improved this morning) out and away, and I find myself wishing I were the kind of person who could nap. But napping makes me sick to my stomach and badly disoriented.
Two years of sleep deprivation. More, if you count the last few months of my pregnancy. What will the ultimate cost be? My cognition, speech, and memory are all impaired now, some days terribly so. The course I taught over the summer? I cringe when I remember some of my errors. But--on the positive?--my memory is so damaged, I can hardly recall the course now, anyway. One of my fears is that there will be lasting damage, even once the child finally learns to sleep longer than two hours at a time.
I do not dare have another child. I know my son is a high-needs kid, and that they are not all like that, but what if kid number two was the same? I cannot go through this again. I just don't have the strength, physical, mental, or psychological. I adore my little sweet pea, but I cannot lose another two years.
My mind is going. I can feel it. I can feel it.
Two years of sleep deprivation. More, if you count the last few months of my pregnancy. What will the ultimate cost be? My cognition, speech, and memory are all impaired now, some days terribly so. The course I taught over the summer? I cringe when I remember some of my errors. But--on the positive?--my memory is so damaged, I can hardly recall the course now, anyway. One of my fears is that there will be lasting damage, even once the child finally learns to sleep longer than two hours at a time.
I do not dare have another child. I know my son is a high-needs kid, and that they are not all like that, but what if kid number two was the same? I cannot go through this again. I just don't have the strength, physical, mental, or psychological. I adore my little sweet pea, but I cannot lose another two years.
My mind is going. I can feel it. I can feel it.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
May: Much writing. Gave talk. Rested for a few days; worn out.
June: Cleaned and reorganized entire apartment (OK, except for the big bedroom). Hosted many wonderful visitors. Began teaching intensive summer class.
July: Taught all month. More wonderful visitors. Son and husband had birthday (they share date and name, too--let the credit report confusions begin!) Health issues arise in last week of month.
August: Health issues resolved to my satisfaction (yay, it no longer feels like something is in my eye!), but not to that of my doctors (no no no, there must be something really, REALLY wrong with me). Tests are ordered. Then another test. Then more tests. Am currently looking at the fourth round of tests, which I expect will once again reveal that, although I have some physiological unusualness, I am in good health. Spirits not as good, what with all the worrying and aggravation, but have recently decided to cease caring about the doctorly wringing of hands and recommence normal life.
Today: research. Am working up prospectus for my dissertation proposal, and if I can ignore the woeful sounds emanating from two doctors and, soon, a third (especially since I have already decided I will refuse the lumbar puncture that I predict will shortly be demanded by third doc), I hope to have proposal done by late summer or early fall.
June: Cleaned and reorganized entire apartment (OK, except for the big bedroom). Hosted many wonderful visitors. Began teaching intensive summer class.
July: Taught all month. More wonderful visitors. Son and husband had birthday (they share date and name, too--let the credit report confusions begin!) Health issues arise in last week of month.
August: Health issues resolved to my satisfaction (yay, it no longer feels like something is in my eye!), but not to that of my doctors (no no no, there must be something really, REALLY wrong with me). Tests are ordered. Then another test. Then more tests. Am currently looking at the fourth round of tests, which I expect will once again reveal that, although I have some physiological unusualness, I am in good health. Spirits not as good, what with all the worrying and aggravation, but have recently decided to cease caring about the doctorly wringing of hands and recommence normal life.
Today: research. Am working up prospectus for my dissertation proposal, and if I can ignore the woeful sounds emanating from two doctors and, soon, a third (especially since I have already decided I will refuse the lumbar puncture that I predict will shortly be demanded by third doc), I hope to have proposal done by late summer or early fall.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
I heart my writing class. I frickin' heart it, you know? (Yes, I'm taking a writing class.) Suddenly, outlining makes sense again. I had reached a point where the complexity of my thoughts and arguments overwhelmed the dinky little outlining strategies I'd learned in high school. Now it's as though I've been issued outlining version 2.0--an update long overdue.
So, anyway, I'm going to sit here drinking my bowl of coffee--accidental excess of coffee brewed today--and contemplate my satisfaction with my current writing projects and, y'know, life in general.
Smug. It tastes great!
So, anyway, I'm going to sit here drinking my bowl of coffee--accidental excess of coffee brewed today--and contemplate my satisfaction with my current writing projects and, y'know, life in general.
Smug. It tastes great!
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Sleepy today after another long night with toddler son. Kid just wants to nurse, nurse, nurse. The more I put my foot down and try to nurse him less at night, the more time he wants to spend nursing by day. If I put my foot down there, too, I wind up with a kid who spends a huge amount of his time, day and night, whining and crying and clinging. And lately, as I continue to steamroll him with my desire to move towards weaning, his cries have started to sound less loud and annoyed (as had been typical for him), and more soft and oh-so-sad.
I spent some time over lunch (cornmeal-breaded tofu, roasted sweet-potato wedges, kale, garlicy barbeque sauce, then frosted banana cake) researching the matter. I am relieved to find he is really quite normal. He simply isn't ready to wean, and I am making things harder not only on him but on myself by trying to force him to wean early. His sleeping pattern (waking about every 3 hours to nurse) is also completely normal for a breastfeeding, co-sleeping toddler (which is to say, most of the toddlers on planet earth).
The problem really isn't him. It isn't even feeling tired--honestly, most of my missed sleep at night comes when I argue with the kid over nursing and periodically send him to timeout for yelling too much. The problem is the normal one of comparison and fear of failure. No one else that I am personally acquainted with has a kid who behaves like this. And when the differences would come up in conversation, other people reacted in horror to my situation ("you still sleep with him? you still nurse him every few hours at night?"), thereby causing it to become an Issue in my own mind.
The rest has followed from that.
So tonight I am going to go back to following my own instincts, and cuddle and nurse the kid freely throughout the night, whenever he wants. I'm not going to argue with him over how long or how often. I'm not going to scold him for fussing. I want that soft, whimpery, forlorn cry to stop. And I'll bet I find myself a lot more rested and productive, too.
Full disclosure: I was pretty much ready to give in anyway, before I did the research that validated the normality of his behavior. Last night, after a huge blow-out over nursing ("no more till morning. night is for sleeping, not nursing or tantrums."), complete with timeouts and everything, the little one settled down in silence, only demanding that I rub his belly. After a little bit, I thought he was asleep and withdrew my hand. He reached out and pulled my hand back to his little belly. This repeated a time or two, until he lay still and quiet and didn't try to take my hand back again. I lifted myself a little to look at him (I love to watch him sleep), only to discover him lying there with his eyes wide open, a very stoic expression on his little face. Of course, I melted, wrapped my arms around him, nestled him against my body and nursed him. He was fast asleep, for really and truly, a few minutes later. Poor, sweet little guy.
Parenting far and away trumps dissertation-writing in difficulty and high stakes.
I spent some time over lunch (cornmeal-breaded tofu, roasted sweet-potato wedges, kale, garlicy barbeque sauce, then frosted banana cake) researching the matter. I am relieved to find he is really quite normal. He simply isn't ready to wean, and I am making things harder not only on him but on myself by trying to force him to wean early. His sleeping pattern (waking about every 3 hours to nurse) is also completely normal for a breastfeeding, co-sleeping toddler (which is to say, most of the toddlers on planet earth).
The problem really isn't him. It isn't even feeling tired--honestly, most of my missed sleep at night comes when I argue with the kid over nursing and periodically send him to timeout for yelling too much. The problem is the normal one of comparison and fear of failure. No one else that I am personally acquainted with has a kid who behaves like this. And when the differences would come up in conversation, other people reacted in horror to my situation ("you still sleep with him? you still nurse him every few hours at night?"), thereby causing it to become an Issue in my own mind.
The rest has followed from that.
So tonight I am going to go back to following my own instincts, and cuddle and nurse the kid freely throughout the night, whenever he wants. I'm not going to argue with him over how long or how often. I'm not going to scold him for fussing. I want that soft, whimpery, forlorn cry to stop. And I'll bet I find myself a lot more rested and productive, too.
Full disclosure: I was pretty much ready to give in anyway, before I did the research that validated the normality of his behavior. Last night, after a huge blow-out over nursing ("no more till morning. night is for sleeping, not nursing or tantrums."), complete with timeouts and everything, the little one settled down in silence, only demanding that I rub his belly. After a little bit, I thought he was asleep and withdrew my hand. He reached out and pulled my hand back to his little belly. This repeated a time or two, until he lay still and quiet and didn't try to take my hand back again. I lifted myself a little to look at him (I love to watch him sleep), only to discover him lying there with his eyes wide open, a very stoic expression on his little face. Of course, I melted, wrapped my arms around him, nestled him against my body and nursed him. He was fast asleep, for really and truly, a few minutes later. Poor, sweet little guy.
Parenting far and away trumps dissertation-writing in difficulty and high stakes.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Success! No, not on the computer-battery front, not yet. We couldn't get an appointment during times when we were free. But I have traction on my conference paper--at last!
My work the past few days has mostly consisted of tweaking my outline, jotting (and deleting) a few lines of text, and doing way more research than is called for. This is a normal loss of nerve that I get when the deadline starts to loom, and I plan my schedule accordingly. Yesterday, I took a pad of paper to a cafe--just a pad of paper and a pen, no outline, no computer, and no access to endless research materials. And there, with nothing else to distract me, I blazed through about a third of the paper. Huzzah!
Today there are plans afoot to go shopping, as my wardrobe is woefully lacking in clothes that are both conference-worthy and which fit me. I continue to lose pregnancy weight at a, well, snail's pace, requiring me to buy all new clothes every few months. It is annoying. I even tried to eat lots of really rich things this month, in the hopes of bumping my weight back up into my previous set of dressy clothes, but no luck. Fats signal the body to feel full, and I would uit eating after smaller portions, so it didn't help raise my total calorie intake enough (the only thing that really matters in weight loss or gain, contrary to all the crap dieting products on the market--seriously, want to lose weight? don't eat any pasta, white rice, potatoes, white bread, or other things made with white flour; these are the most common calorie-dense foods--not to mention, they have very little nutritional value, unlike their unrefined counterparts.) (Fun at parties? Oh, ho, this Snail is just a blast!) I think all I did was slow my weight loss enough to stick me between sizes, which isn't the most convenient outcome.
However, none of that might matter anyway, since the weather is today of the Wrath of the Gods variety. Maybe I can quickly craft something fashion-forward out of, let's see, some sheets, towels, and my son's outgrown baby clothes? Yeah, I'll let you know how that turns out.
My work the past few days has mostly consisted of tweaking my outline, jotting (and deleting) a few lines of text, and doing way more research than is called for. This is a normal loss of nerve that I get when the deadline starts to loom, and I plan my schedule accordingly. Yesterday, I took a pad of paper to a cafe--just a pad of paper and a pen, no outline, no computer, and no access to endless research materials. And there, with nothing else to distract me, I blazed through about a third of the paper. Huzzah!
Today there are plans afoot to go shopping, as my wardrobe is woefully lacking in clothes that are both conference-worthy and which fit me. I continue to lose pregnancy weight at a, well, snail's pace, requiring me to buy all new clothes every few months. It is annoying. I even tried to eat lots of really rich things this month, in the hopes of bumping my weight back up into my previous set of dressy clothes, but no luck. Fats signal the body to feel full, and I would uit eating after smaller portions, so it didn't help raise my total calorie intake enough (the only thing that really matters in weight loss or gain, contrary to all the crap dieting products on the market--seriously, want to lose weight? don't eat any pasta, white rice, potatoes, white bread, or other things made with white flour; these are the most common calorie-dense foods--not to mention, they have very little nutritional value, unlike their unrefined counterparts.) (Fun at parties? Oh, ho, this Snail is just a blast!) I think all I did was slow my weight loss enough to stick me between sizes, which isn't the most convenient outcome.
However, none of that might matter anyway, since the weather is today of the Wrath of the Gods variety. Maybe I can quickly craft something fashion-forward out of, let's see, some sheets, towels, and my son's outgrown baby clothes? Yeah, I'll let you know how that turns out.
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