Life with a 2 1/2 month old.

A friend asked me, "How's life with a 2 1/2 month old?

I replied, " It's great! She's wonderful!"

And it is, and she is. I love being a mom. I love having her in my life. She's a joy.

That said, its NOT always great and she's sometimes less than wonderful.
Let's face it, I could easily have answered that question just as honestly, but completely differently.

I COULD have said...

I get screamed at every day, despite my best effort to make her happy.

I never get enough sleep anymore.

My boobs are in a constant state of flux...somewhere between large and uncomfortably full to saggy and comfortably empty. Neither is attractive.

I can seldom sit and eat anymore. Instead, I'm usually standing at the sink and eating everything like it is a bologna sandwich....without emotion, because it is less about what I'm eating, than the simple fact that I am eating and therefore can feed my child.

I sometimes think...I'm tired of wearing the Mom Hat. I need a damn break!

I've not left the house, except for two walks around the neighborhood, since LAST TUESDAY. Seriously.

My idea of a good time is a hot shower without the baby fussing.

My husband can't console the baby to the point that he can't even give me a break, because she cries harder and that just makes me more stressed and more likely to take the baby back for a little peace and quiet rather than alone time where I'm just anxious about her screaming.

I worry more about what my husband is feeling pertaining to the baby than he worries about how I feel pertaining to the baby. He never asks me how I feel...he never says, "Let me watch her for a while and you get out for a while."

I get so exhausted all I want to do is cry.

I do all the baby care and if he changes a fucking diaper, it is like everyone thinks he's fabulous and deserving of a medal. Really?

I'm beginning to feel resentful toward him because he still has a separate identity from "dad," but I don't want to put my baby in daycare in order to get my separate identity back. Also...the fact that at night he hears her cry twice and has the balls to act tired in the morning, when all he had to do was roll back over and go to sleep.

Dads have it made.

I'm tired.
I'm bored much of the time.
I hardly have time to eat or clean house.
I have practically no time to do what I enjoy.
My nipples hurt, because Kathryn has taken to comfort nursing again for whatever reason.

Yes, I love my daughter. I love being a mom. That said, I miss my other life and I wish my husband was more supportive and took the initiative.

Another thing that aggravates me is I was up all fucking night last night and when he was leaving, he kissed me and made the "I want to see you smile" face. Why do I have to smile? I don't feel like fucking smiling.

I actually said I'd like to get a job...but really? I do everything with the baby and I don't see the benefit of getting another full-time job. That's what I'd be doing, working 2 full-time jobs. I'm pretty damned sure nothing would change around here.

What does it all add up to? I work my ass off 24/7. I'd like a fucking break. It's not K really. I'm just pissed at themoment, that's all. I'm allowed to be pissed on occasion.

This rant, while just as honest as my actual response to her, would not be appropriate for an expectant mom with worries and fears already tucked away inside her heart.

If my mom read this, she'd swear I wasn't happy with my life, but I am. She has this idealized view of marriage when it comes to her daughters. If we aren't smiling all the time and praising our men, we are suddenly miserable. I'm not miserable...I'm just having a rough patch.

Parenting is hard.
I envy those with outside jobs to escape to.

***later***
After posting this, Kathryn and I were upstairs. I was trying to get her to go to sleep. I spun her frog mobile and he bumped into the grasshopper with a "clink," and she gave the biggest belly laugh! This was her first REAL laugh. She has given little giggles, but nothing like this!

It was so cute and made me laugh. I needed that.