Whine and Cheese Go Together
Maaann (insert whine) is it Sunday already? Today kind of evaporated for me. I didn't even remember to weigh in this morning. For some reason it just didn't feel like a Sunday for me. Yep, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it! I'm not even going to grace this entry with a Sunday Weigh-In header or pic link. Just the thought of a scale pisses me off right now. Does that mean that this blog topic is counter-productive? I have been extremely unmotivated lately. I haven't been sticking to my dance-around-the-house-like-a-crazy-person routine. I've just felt too blah and achy lately.
He Ain't Heavy, He's My Husband
Part of the other problem has been Hubby's herniated disk flared up on him. I think it might be a result of the pressure he's under to take these damn 12 credit courses for NCLB. It's been putting a strain on our whole little family but we're doing the best we can to be supportive because that's what marriage and family is all about. So, I've had 2 boys to take care of. Not that Hubby can't take care of himself, but he's usually a real team player when it comes to keeping the house from total chaos to the point where I can't handle it, but with him being down and out this past week, the house kept throwing up on itself and I felt like it would never look livable again. Today we kicked some butt getting the kitchen cleaned, floors vacuumed and laundry put away. Yay for us! Such an accomplishment. Hubby is slowly getting back to being more functional but it's slow going and frustrating for everyone — especially him. He still can't drive so I'll have to take him to work and pick him up, but maybe it will get my ass out of the house. I wish I had more patience for him and it makes me even more frustrated that I don't because he has endless patience. I wish I could take care of him the way he's taken care of me.
The thing that really gets me down is that it all just shouldn't be so much of a challenge to keep the house in order or to want to care for my ailing husband more than I do. I just feel so tapped out lately. I should be able to do this all on my own without asking for help.
I should be able to vacuum wearing a plastic pearl necklace and high heels from Payless™ at the very least!
It just seems like it's a never ending vicious cycle and sometimes I just feel like I'd rather hide from the housecleaning and veg out on the computer every chance I get. Which is basically what I did last week. I just said to hell with the house, but after a while, I got sick of washing dirty dishes one at a time on an as needed basis. It also didn't help that the kitchen sink drain was clogged for 2 days and we couldn't run the dishwasher either. I was soooo tempted to use paper plates but I'm married to a science teacher, remember? That would not have been a very environmentally- nor economically-friendly decision now would it?
600 Pound Gorilla in Stirrups
I've been very anxious and angry lately. I went in for my yearly "lady checkup" need I say more. Well, that just made things worse. I was seen by a nurse practitioner whom I hadn't been seen by before. The one I really like was booked on the day I scheduled the appointment, but at the time I didn't care because you know, once you've had a baby, lady parts are lady parts and so many people (nurses, doctors, janitors, drummers — oh wait, that was back in high school) have seen them I don't care much anymore who does my annual exam.
Gimme a 3-foot long Q-tip and a banana clip and I'll do it myself, I don't care.
Anyway, so I discuss my various questions with the nurse, blah blah blah and we get to the part where I discuss with her my feelings of anxiety and my problems with insomnia. I kind of expected to hear, oh, it's all a normal part of adjusting to life as a stay at home mom and being a new mother, you're fine, do this, do that, maybe go back on the Zoloft at half the dosage.
(I don't know why, but the voice I hear in my head when I write quotes about someone saying something is many times Edie McClurg. Does that happen to anyone else or is it just me?)
I guess that was asking too much. Long story short, I walked out of there feeling pretty crappy about myself. It turns out I'm not only fat, I'm also crazy too. It was recommended to me that I "seek counseling" and that my problems are "beyond normal separation anxiety" and this is "something else and you need to see someone about it."
Oh, and she didn't call me "fat" — of course a nurse wouldn't use that term. No, she said — in reference to me discussing some other issues — "well, when you're heavy, sometimes..."
Heavy. There's a new word. I've been overweight and big-boned, but never, never heavy. That stung. And then, just to lay the icing on the rich and creamy chocolate frosted cake I would so love to shove my fat face into right now, I asked about staying on prenatal vitamins and if there were any disadvantages to doing so because my husband and I would like to start trying for another baby in October. First, she said, as she was checking my breasts for anything unusual, "no, the prenatal vitamins are good, stay on them, there's no danger in staying on them" and then in her next breath she raised her eyebrows at me and in a condescending voice said "but I really don't think you're ready to have another baby, not after what you just told me, it doesn't sound like you're ready."
My heart sank. It's bad enough I beat myself up about whether or not I'm ready for another baby - after the horrible and horrifying experiences I had with my first pregnancy and delivery, I really do not need any help in adding to that self doubt and fear.
But, there it was, the bonus of this particular office visit. As if the generous amounts of lube and scraping of my cervix weren't enough. It seemed like the gift that just kept on giving. I felt like the the dejected loser walking away from a game of Wheel of Fortune Teller where that announcer guy tells you about the prizes you get to take with you for playing.
Drink more Ovaltine? WTF?
So, I think you get the point. I feel shitty and I'm sorry this blog post is so depressing. I'm sure I'll find some way to bounce back. I usually do. I am considering going to see a counselor, but I'm not sure what good it will do. I've been in therapy before when I was a teen. I know which way the revolving door swings. (That there was in the voice of Eeyore, just so you know.)
I dread making an appointment because due to our lovely health care system, I can't just look in the phone book for Quacks-r-Us pick up the phone and make an appointment. First I have to pick a primary care provider which I haven't done in the 4 years I've lived here because I procrastinated (shocking, I know) and when I was pregnant, my OBGYN was my PCP. Next, I have to make an appointment as a new patient and probably get a physical. And, just who is going to watch my kid while this happens? Then, that doc will have to write me a referral to a psychiatrist or "therapist" and then I'll have to make an appointment to talk to that person. Probably repeatedly where I'll have to talk about my mother. And what a friggin joy THAT will be. Then I'll need regression therapy. Again, I ask, who will watch my kid while this takes place? Oh and how much is it going to cost in co-pays and prescriptions each month?
Where is that damn whine I asked for? Maybe I should drink some and watch Dr. Phil. Better yet, maybe I should click on the phishing links the spammers send me about free medication! Yeah! That's it!
Send me some Viagra. I would so much rather have priapism than this right now.
Well, hopefully my next post will be something more interesting. I'll try posting next about my adventures in converting an AOL Contact List into an Apple Address Book! That will be fun!