Friday, August 29, 2014

Head to toe

Things have been a bit out of hand in the Land of Adventure.

First was the Portland road trip, which was probably the shittiest trip I've had in a very long time.  Hamburglar was great.  He is still my favorite road trip companion.  In fact, we had so much fun in the car on Mama Baby Road Trip 2.0, we went for a 3.0.  But more on that later.

We were staying with a friend in Portland who has always been a bit like a second mother or an older sister or something.  But she's getting divorced and has gone kind of crazy.  We were going to stay four nights with her, but we stayed two because neither of us were getting any sleep.  So we decided to go to the beach and get a hotel.  Silly me didn't think about the fact that it was the second to last weekend before school started, so we drove from seaside to Astoria while Mr. Adventure, back at home, called every hotel in the world.  They were all booked.  We ended up driving to Longview and got the last hotel room in town.  Mr. Adventure said it was called the "Town Shallot."  It was the Town Chalet and it was GROSS.  And creepy.  And room 13 was the only room available.

We then had to go back to Portland to get my Boba out of the friend's dining room, then we went to brunch with another friend.  On the way back home, we stopped for the night in The Dalles.  We had a swim in the pool, a shower, some food and Sophie the Giraffe and I shared a Lemon Drop.

The best part of the trip was stopping at the Bonneville Dam on the way down.  Though, there was a van full of a family of people that looked pretty imbred that parked two spaces away from me, where I was sitting in the back of the car breastfeeding the baby.  The dad walked around to where I was sitting in my car and stared through the window at me while he walked by and I gave him the finger and his kids and grandma all hung out at the back of the car.  When one of them leaned on it, I may or may not have yelled, "Get off my fucking car you cunt!"  They were all wearing matching orange shirts.  Except grandma.  But I bought Chumbercules his first pocket knife from the gift shop!  It even had his name on it.  Well, the abbreviated, casual version of his name, but I wasn't expecting to find a pocket knife that actually said "Chumbercules."  And what 11 month old doesn't need a pocket knife?

Last weekend, my best-friend from college came out to visit Chumby and I.  We went to the Farmer's Market and wandered around downtown a bunch and she bought a fancy new belt and buckle.  Sophie the Giraffe and I shared a beer.  I think she might be a lush.  But this Kolsch from Ninkasi was pretty good.

And Hamburglar started walking on Monday!  He's getting better and better at it every day.  If I want a good laugh, I just put a pair of shoes on him and watch him walk around.  I read that 3 out of 4 babies are walking by 12 months.

Then, on Tuesday, I was making dinner and my dad called because my stepmom was out of town and he needed a ride to the ER.  He has a brain tumor behind his right eye.  We all (me, stepmom, Hamburglar, local brother) drove him down to Salt Lake to see the Neurosurgery specialist guy at University of Utah hospital.  My oldest brother and favorite sister-in-law got into town that night, so they're staying with my stepmom and my dad is scheduled for surgery on Tuesday.  They are hoping they can pull it out through his nose.  I guess we will see.  People keep asking if I'm okay, and I'm fine.  Worrying won't help anything.  And, statistically, people that have family and friends with them before surgery have a more positive outcome.  I think I'm going to fly back down to SLC on Tuesday because, right now, I kind of never want to be in my car again.  Keep your fingers crossed that it isn't cancer.

In non-brain-tumor news: Chumby is going to Dog Park Baby's first birthday party tomorrow!  And I'm picking up Little Miss Adventure from school today and am excited to hear about her first week of first grade.

And that's about it.  Like I said, it's been kind of crazy around here.  Hopefully they get dad's brain all sorted out and my favorite baby continues to do awesome and amazing new things.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Late bloomer

Hamburglar isn't walking on his own, yet.  but that's okay because I guess I'm a bit of a late bloomer, too.

I didn't realize it, but it seems I was coming down with a case of the crazies.  I remember around 6 months postpartum, I thought that I might have a delayed postpartum depression or something, so I googled it to see if it's a thing (it is) and then I pushed the idea out of mind.

Not sleeping for about a year, combined with anxiety and worry about the baby and everyone's well-being and not taking care of myself... I was becoming unbearable to be around and I didn't even realize it.  I wasn't feeling as bonded to Hamburglar as I had earlier on, I was really short with Mr. Adventure and Little Miss Adventure.  Apparently it got bad enough that Mr. Adventure was done.  He called me on my shit and we had a super serious conversation.  I Hadn't realized that most of our conversations had been reduced to exchanging information about when Chumbercules last napped/ate/whether he'd pooped that day...

So, after our conversation, I found a local postpartum support group.  I said I need sleep.  Mr. Adventure said he needs to not be micromanaged when he's caring for our son and that just because I'm mom doesn't make me right.  He made me let him help me.  The first night he cared for the baby through the night so I could sleep, I left the baby monitor on and I didn't sleep well because I was worried.  And that's when I really and truly realized that I can't live like that.  I need to take care of myself and let some stuff go.  I went to the postpartum support group and I was the only one who showed up, so I got a counselor all to myself for a little bit before I headed back to work.  She told me everything I already know - take care of myself, get rest, take time for myself and my partner, no one likes to be micromanaged - but it was good hearing it from a third party.

I re-read "To My Post-Partum Self: Things I wish I'd Known" and then I thought, "Hey!  This lady says things I need to hear more often."  So I googled her and found her website and her post "Self-Care for Moms."  And you know what she wrote in there?  She wrote this:
I’m teaching my kids—in the purest way possible, by modeling—that self-care is a priority. I can’t help but think this is a gift we’re giving them: You deserve care. You deserve time. You deserve health."
And I needed to read that.  It's so true.  What better way to teach my son to value and take care of himself than his father and I valuing and taking care of ourselves?  And my favorite 6 year old is going to be a teenager before we know it and I think we all know what can happen to a young lady who doesn't value and care for herself.

So I slept.  Mr. Adventure let me sleep.  I went to the chiropractor and got adjusted.  I spoke with that postpartum counselor, who is also a survivor of postpartum depression.  I went to the salon and paid someone to cut and color my hair.  And it looks amazing.  I'm also going on a five day Mama-baby road trip this weekend to spend time with my tribe.  Some of the most amazing strongest ladies I know live in the Portland area and I get to see them.  Chumbercules and I are going to hit the beach while we are out west, too.  It should be good.  And it will give Mr. Adventure time with his daughter, just the two of them, before they both have to go back to school.

And I've realized this week that I have to take care of me.  Because doing that makes me a better mom, a better step-mom and a better partner.  And probably a better dog-mom, too.

In other news:
Hamburglar used the word 'down' in context!  And he is taking two running steps, here and there, typically careening between the coffee table and the couch (or me).  And he has been invited to Dog Park Baby's 1st birthday party at the end of the month!  I mean, he's so handsome, who wouldn't want him at their party?