theloftyladybug.com

I have been trying to write this for ages… it seems. Really, it’s just been a month, but that is a long time to hold onto so much information. I actually sat down and wrote this a few times… somehow each time ended in one misfortune or another. So tonight, I make the attempt to at least construct the outline of a post and save it before my computer explodes.

After Jerrick left, I went to Orlando to see my mom and sister for a bit. I’m not really sure I came to think about Juliette Lewis a few months back. I have loved her as an actress since I was a wee lass. That’s a bit of an insider as she told a story where she referred to herself as a “wee lass.” Anyway, so I didn’t plan to be in Orlando or to go to a Juliette Lewis show, but somehow it happened! It was the very first thing I have done by myself. I have never been to a movie alone or dined alone or any of those things that people say are character building. I don’t know why, but it was an opportunity that I didn’t want to pass up.

So, as stated in the earlier entry, I was having a not so great day. BUT, I was not going to miss the chance to be in the same room with Juliette Lewis. I started the day out donning my usual first day outfit of mourning, but I figured that I would have plenty of time to change before I went to the show. Blah blah blah, one thing led to another and here I am at the Outlet mall thinking that I have 15 minutes to get to the show! Panic! OMG. So, my mom, the kids, and I jumped in my rental and headed to the venue. I managed to have a baby wipe bath in the midst of traffic so at least I smelled… acceptable. I won’t lie and say I was flowery. I hadn’t even brushed my hair yet. I just threw on a bandana. So now, here I am rushing through downtown Orlando, in my black on black ensemble that is covered in kid prints and the smells of the day, with my hair wrapped in a bandana… oh, and did I mention that I had planned to shower and shave when I went home to change? I had been wandering around Orlando in a tank top with at least 3 day stumble working in my pits. That’s how PMSy I was… I so didn’t care… when we were out with the tourists. But I totally cared whether I met JL with hairy pits. GREAT. Okay, whatever… I was going.

Well, it turns out that I’m an idiot… who’s surprised by this revelation? The doors opened at 7, the first band was on at 8, but JL didn’t come on stage until almost 10… I very easily could have gone home, showered, shaved, put on clean clothes, and still made it for the bands. Yes, it’s been that long since I went to a show. I forgot that the headliner is always like 2 hours into the event. Whatever. It rocked. The first band had a bluesy/jazz feel that was very cool. After they played there was a bit of an intermission. It was during this time that I met my new best friend.

In the fray of the day, my mouth had gotten rather dry and toxic smelling. Here I was, in the midst of a crowd, and I felt like I couldn’t open my mouth for fear it would knock out my neighbor… and perhaps the whole room.  I looked around to see if I could find anyone that looked like they were chewing gum.  I didn’t want to give up my awesome spot that was almost in arms reach of the stage.  I glanced to my right and was relieved to see that the lady right next to me was chewing.  I asked her very nicely for a stick.  Not only did she give me one, she was funny and interesting when she did.  Then a larger lady and her tall, skinny guy friend showed up in front of me.  Of course, the guy decided that standing in front of someone that is almost a foot shorter is the perfect place to be.  I couldn’t see worth crap.

The next band, Dearly Beloved, took the stage.  They were pretty good, and even though I had never heard of them, I was rocking out to their music.  I still couldn’t see, but whatever.  Well, apparently, this wasn’t acceptable to my new friend.  She leaned over and told me to work my way ahead of some people who had gotten squished into my space.  Before I could say anything, she PUSHED me through the crowd.  It was awesome!  I suddenly had a very clear view of the stage and enjoyed the rest of their set.

When it was time for JL, the crowd got squishy again… and I was again behind the super tall guy.  Great.  I stood on my tippy-toes and watched for a clue that JL was coming out.  Then they started playing the YMCA.  It was hilarious.  Everyone started doing the dance and singing… and it was a great ruse.  The JL band slipped out almost undetected and before I knew it, it was time to rock!  Except… that damned tall guy was still in front of me… and now he had his camera out.  At least before I could see over his shoulder.  Now all I could see was the screen of his camera.  I came all the way here to watch the show through a screen?!  Ugh.  I even asked him very nicely to switch spots with his shorter friend.  Not move farther away or let me stand next to him even.  I asked if he would move two feet to the left.  He ignored me.  What. a. douche.

I love love LOVE live music.  And beyond the awesomeness of live music, JL is such a good performer.  Her music was good and she was very engaging of the audience.  It reminded me why I like to go to small shows.  I enjoyed seeing people play in the big arenas, but it was so thrilling to be RIGHT there by the stage.  When Jerrick gets home, I want to start seeing more bands again.

Anyway, so the show was AWESOME.  After it was said and done, I realized that I didn’t have anything to get signed or a decent camera for pictures.  Again, it had been SO long since I went to a show that it didn’t even occur to me that I would get the chance to MEET JL.  I looked in my purse.  The only sheet of paper I had was a letter the kids and I had started to Jerrick while we were eating dinner the day he left.  It was crazy in that line.  People were pushing and cutting… but some of us stayed civilized.  There was a guy that cut in front of me.  When I told him that I was in front of him, he said he just wanted to get a quick picture.  I saw the opportunity for a bargain.  Long story short, he got to cut me in line and I got him to take a picture of me with JL… but we’ll talk about that in a second.  Did I mention it was crazy?  Two friends were standing next to me and got separated.  One of them was up with JL and the other was standing behind me even though she was there before me.  I kept telling her to go ahead, but she said she was okay to wait.  I eventually got her to trade spots with her friend so that they got to meet JL about the same time.  And then I waited… and waited.  Then the lady that I had helped get up there yelled (to get over the crowd, not in anger) for JL to let me through.  She said something about me being so patient and nice… AWW…  “Hello there, little girl.”  *blank*  JL called me a little girl.  She said I was cute and petite.  *blank*  I couldn’t think.  I mumbled something about signing the letter I was sending to Jerrick (which was the only thing I saw her write more than just her name on)… then the guy with the camera was saying he wanted to get a picture of us… *blank* I was literally star struck.  The whole thing is a blur.  I don’t think that my brain turned back on for another 30 minutes.

When I got back to my mom’s villa, I got an email from the camera guy.  He was so nice to send me the picture straight away.  I opened it up.  OMG.  I looked ridiculous.  Let’s break it down. 

There I was, taking a picture with JULIETTE LEWIS who was putting her arm around me!  All the other people had gotten close and friendly looking in their pictures.  All the other girls made awesome faces with JL.  Me?  No.  I was so dumbfounded by the event and worried that I would scrape her with my armpit hair, that I stood stiff as a board… yeah, way to blow it.

So that was my first lesson in meeting a celebrity.  Next time, I’ll be prepared and look like less of an idiot…. maybe.

I’m home!  My mom and various other family by marriage had planned an Orlando vacation that just happened to fall on Jerrick’s window of deployment.  I wasn’t going to go because it was too close to him leaving and I wasn’t sure how to plan.  Well, it just so happened that my mom was still in the states when Jerrick left.  So, we got a train ticket and high-tailed it to Orlando.  At first, it looked like we weren’t going to be able to go at all.  I couldn’t find a decently priced plane ticket, the car isn’t in top shape for driving, and there were no seats left on the train.  I called Amtrak to see if there was anything that could be done… and behold!  There was a sleeper car available!  After much deliberation, I decided to take it and see how it went.  I am SO glad that I did!  I must recommend that those with small children travel long distances this way.  The kids were confined to an area where they could play and be a bit noisy… and I was able to sit back and really enjoy the trip… that is, until I realized that I had left my van parked in a no parking zone!!!  OMG! OMG!  When I arrived at the station, there was a train arriving.  Because of this, there were a lot of people waiting to pick up arriving passengers.  I couldn’t find a parking spot, and I was in jeopardy of missing my baggage check-in time.  So, I parked in a no parking zone with the intention of moving the van once everything was checked-in.  Well… one thing led to another, and before I knew it I was in a train leaving Raleigh thinking that my car was likely about to be towed.  Luckily, the people working at Amtrak are SUPER helpful… and I am stupidly trusting of strangers.  I gave my key to the conductor who promised to get it to the station in Raleigh so that someone could move my car… then I crossed my fingers.

It was super awesome to hang out with my sistor, Mom, and the Grandmare.  I was able to really take a break for once.  They cooked and cleaned and fed the kids.  Mark, Paul, and Martin played with the kids as well as the kids all playing with Mark’s nieces.  My stress was pretty low… and yet I still felt a bit tense and edgy.  *TMI part skip to next paragraph to avoid  My mom and sister were all talking about when their periods were because Mom’s started on the trip.  I mentioned how mine had been early lately and that I would be severly upset if all the hormones jumped mine into action.  Well, guess who started their period EIGHT days early. Thanks, Mom. It’s a good thing that I packed black leggings and a black tank top so that I could don my typical first AF day attire.  Not only does black hide the bloating but it also helps me mourn the loss of any chance that I may be enjoying life for a few days.

That same day was the day that I had originally planned to go home, but that was before I decided to go see Juliette Lewis play. I had to change my train ticket ($48) and rent a car ($100), but it was TOTALLY worth it.  There is way more to that story, but I plan to write a separate entry on it.  It is definitely deserving of it’s own.

Thursday was such a blur.  Mom and her clan left that morning.  Liz and I hung out at the house for too long… then hung out at various other places too long… failed to plan travel time appropriately… failed to plan taking a wrong exit and getting stuck in almost unmoving traffic… and somehow managed to make it to the train station ONE minute before it was too late to check in.  Needless to say, by the time I boarded that train, I was less than relaxed.  The kids and I were all on edge.  Once we got moving, we went to the diner for dinner (that’s fun to say), and the wrestling began.  Lulla was SO not feeling like being quiet or staying in one seat.  She clawed, scratched, yelled, resisted every attempt I made to quietly entertain her, and was just downright frustrating.  The boys were playing with their silverware rather noisily and just generally being… well, children.  I was really ready for bed.  So, we went back to the room where I proceeded to separate everyone into appropriate corners of the room for personal quiet time.  I am so glad that it went well because otherwise, you might be reading about the mom who pulled the emergency window out and ran away screaming.

Now, I’m home… and it was so nice to come into a cleanish house.  I think that’s the first time my house has stayed that clean for so long… and I’m totally counting it even though we were here!  I have a mountainous list of things to do which doesn’t upset me.  It’s my attempt to keep busy and pass the days.  I think right now I am in the denial stage but little things are reminding me that it will soon be over.  So far it’s just like Jerrick is at work… but in a few days, it will hit that he is not coming home any time soon.  I can’t put off getting my eyebrows done until Jerrick has an early day.  I can’t look forward to the weekend when I’ll have someone else around the house to help with round up.  Let me clarify: I am 100% capable of handling the things I need to do… but I would much prefer to have my husband here to help.  I got to see him on Skype tonight, and it was such an uplifting moment.  Just seeing him made me feel 10x more relaxed.  Having watched a lot of PBS and Discovery specials, I am sure that it’s from the oxytoxin and seratonin that my releases from seeing him. 

So, it’s good to be home, but it sure does feel empty without the idea that another person lives here…

I have seen so many cars with stickers that say, “Half My Heart is in Afghanistan.” They’re everywhere on military installations. Maybe I have been desensitized but I have a hard time feeling much when I see them.

Last night, I slept next to my husband for the last time for the next six months. I am crushed at the thought of being without him for so long. I wish half my heart was going with him. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel so much.

I have just found out that Jerrick will be deploying much sooner than I thought. I feel like I can’t breathe. I want to run away and pretend this isn’t happening. I don’t want to hear about all of the spouses before me that have survived deployment. I want to feel sorry for myself for a few minutes. I want to wallow in my tears for a bit. I want to nestle in next to my husband and feel secure for a while… and pretend that it will be like this forever.

So August is officially kicked off! The entire month is National Breastfeeding Month, but what better way to set the mood than starting it all off with World Breastfeeding Week. For me, it has been even more special. I am so happy to finally be an accredited La Leche League Leader! How awesome it is that I get that honor on no other than World Breastfeeding Week. My spirits were greatly lifted.  I am so excited to start this part of my life and hope that I always feel this passionate about helping mothers learn their ability to BE mothers. I have learned so much through LLL, and I can’t wait to give some of that to the people that I meet in my life.

On the other side of this coin, August means that my husband will be gone soon. This is our last month together before he deploys. This weighs very heavily on me. I am capable of surviving without him, but when he is gone, it feels like a piece of me is missing. It’s amazing how empty the house feels when a person leaves and you know that they won’t be coming back for a long time. My husband is my best friend. No lie. I am horrible at being a military wife. I hate when he’s gone. I get all mushy about him coming home. I sit by the phone… Err… Keep my cell on me ALL the time. I send 3-4 emails a day with every little detail of every minute.

I am really dreading this… And I am so tired of hearing about how I can do it. Of course I can do it. What choice do I have if I want to stay in this marriage. We always have choices, but sometimes the choice is just in how we decide to look at a situation. My husband is leaving. I have no choice in that. I have to be without him. The choice is whether I hole up in the house, go to stay with family, or try to emerge myself in something to help pass the time. I plan to do all of the above. I’m sure there will be times when the ache to have my husband home is so debilitating that the kids and I lock ourselves in the TV room for a few days eating PB&J’s and watching Netflix until our brains turn to mush. I also have some trips planned to visit with family that I haven’t seen in a while. Mostly I think that I will try to stay busy with RDC and LLL while I’m home. I also have a new curriculum coming in for JD and lots of activities that they will be participating in.  I’m hoping that with this plan, I can stay sane long enough to survive while Jerrick’s away…

So here’s to August and making the best of it!

My 2¢ Tuesday posts have fallen to the wayside a bit. I have been busy trying to learn how to juggle my new list of responsibilities and blogging is falling to the bottom of my priorities. I have really been trying to get the Cloth for a Cause forum to work and take off. I have a feeling that it is going to be a long and possibly fruitless road. I’m okay with that. I’m never happy until I have taken something to the very edge of too far… and beaten the life back into it to drag it just a few steps beyond too far.

My neighbor just had a baby. It’s been hard for me to watch their pregnancy. I have been stuck in baby fever for months. I am happy for them, don’t get me wrong… But I am also green with envy.

Now that the baby is here, it’s even harder. Our bedroom walls are so thin that I can hear her (the baby, that is) crying. I know that this should make me feel thankful because my house is quiet at night now… But some how it makes it even worse. I am reminded that my baby days are over. The only cries I hear now are the wild, untamed screams that accompany territorial battles over blankets and Hot Wheels cars.

So what? I mean, I have 3 beautiful kids. Why shouldn’t I be happy with that? There is NO logical explanation. I cannot find one. But what I do know is that I love being a mother. I love meeting my children and learning about them and letting them teach me. I love to watch them learn together and build the social skills they will use to be happy in life. I love having a family. An honest to goodness family. Nothing disfunctional. Not that we are perfect, but all that ridiculous Jerry Springer mess doesn’t fly here.

I feel that I have room in my heart for another child. I know that sounds corny, but I can’t explain it any other way. I feel so much love for my family that I need to spread it. I need another little person to give some of that love to so that it doesn’t consume me.

I am also angry. Angry that my last baby days were spent in such a fog. We wanted to have this baby. Why weren’t we happier? Why didn’t we have that warm, attached baby? I spent almost a year trying to connect with my baby. For almost a year, I went through the motions feeling like a robot. She was SO intensely magnetic. I was drawn to her. Yet, she did not have the characteristics that help with bonding. Her constant, inconsolable screaming made it nearly impossible to feel that calm, relaxed sensation. I never had the rush of hormones that instantly made me feel peaceful and drowsy while nursing. I remember having these with Nevan. I longed to experience that again. With Nevan, nursing was my chance to take a break from the chaos and recharge my positive energy. That wasn’t the case with Lulla. She wouldn’t even nurse to sleep. No matter what I did, she cried herself to sleep almost every single nap for months. I made sure it was in my arms though. I was sure that whatever she must be struggling with would surely feel less of a burden in the comfort of her mother. Some nights… Err, mornings? Whatever 3 AM is considered, when I could take no more touching, I would put her in the stroller facing me and walk around the neighborhood with my headphones on and cry. I would look down at my screaming baby and just feel so totally helpless.

Her screaming became a part of our everyday lives. The boys had to listen to her cry through school time, play time, bath time, and story time. I felt worse because of that. I had tried so hard to make sure that they still felt cared for and nurtured. Poor Nevan got the worst if it. He was still a baby himself. I was so frazzled by the feelings of failure with Lu that I barely had the patience for him. I lost my temper and yelled more times than I care to admit. I felt like I was in a constant struggle to find a toehold. My marriage hadn’t been this rocky in years, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it would survive. Less than a year ago, we had been in the midst of the perfect relationship. We had disagreements and all, but we were together. We were on the same team. Suddenly, it felt like we were changing and dividing into something else. I felt little more than loyalty to my husband for a while. That’s really hard to admit but I’m sure it was pretty apparent. One night, Jerrick told me his friend had asked him, “Does your wife even like you?” The truth was that I really wasn’t that fond of him. We had little in common anymore and the family had become almost solely my responsibility.

I’m not sure how everything started to iron out, but when the smoke cleared, I was left feeling punch drunk. It was so confusing how we could go from being a family of 4 that was happy and excited to be expanding to a family of 5 that was miserable and the verge of falling apart. It was very humbling, for sure. What I’m sure of is that breastfeeding helped me maintain even the smallest shred of attachment and helped my Lulla get through her struggle of assimilating into the outside world.

I’ve been writing too long and digging up too many emotions. I need to take a step back and digest this all now.

Here is a the link for the flyer for our next enrichment meeting.

I have been slacking a bit on my Tuesday posts. In fact, I have finished zero on Tuesday. They are all done after midnight and re-dated because I rarely have the time during the day. For me, the day doesn’t end until I sleep, so I still consider these valid. But, thanks to my handy new Blackerry WordPress app, maybe I can find the snippets throughout the day to work on it.

/digression

I have been contemplating the whole blogging movement lately. It seems like everyone has a blog… Obviously, even me. When I created this site to peddle my wares, which I no longer do, I wasn’t sure if I would ever use the blog.  What would I say?  I didn’t want to post a public diary… that’s what my Deadjournal was for!  I was still relatively timid about giving out my information, so it wouldn’t really serve a purpose for informing customers about what to look forward to or reasons why an order was late… I didn’t have any customers, lol.  I just kind of let my blog sit and collect dust for the longest time.   I have come out of my “new” baby fog now that Lulla is starting to sleep and is relatively content for extended periods of time.  I am starting to get active with the local La Leche League, and I have started the Real Diaper Circle of Wayne County through the Real Diaper Association.  I talk to expectant parents in the Parenting Your Newborn class taught by the Seymour Johnson New Parent Support Program.  The (as in there is only one) lactation consultant here knows my name… and I’ve never met her!  That was a big moment for me, somehow.

Well, the point is that I am meeting people and giving out my cards for real now.  My blog has potential to reach someone.  Notice that I didn’t say people.  I am most interested in that someone.  I doubt that swarms of people will read my blog and be super inspired and it will rocket me into Internet famedom.  That’s for blogs like The Feminist Breeder and PhD in Parenting who very often put into words the thoughts many of us can’t seem to find a way to express in a logical and legible media.  I am hoping that I can reach just one or two people that really need a lifeline.  So, now I am making the effort to blog more often.  I really am trying to do it weekly, but some weeks, I just don’t have an interest.  I don’t want to turn it into a chore.  I want to sit down and pour my thoughts out here… and then maybe come back tomorrow and edit them a bit.

Why would what I say influence or change or have any importance at all??  I used to think this way.  I would see/hear about people blogging and think they were smug and pretentious or attention-seeking.  But I am on a path of growth.  A journey that is leading me to be not only open minded but confident.  I have come to see blogging as a very powerful tool.  Instead of saying, “Who am I to help other people,” I have started saying, “Who am I to not help other people?”  We all have a voice.  Blogging has given so many people the chance to get their thoughts out and inspire people.  I talk specifically about mothering blogs because that’s mostly what I read, but there are blogs on everything.   

So this is why I have started using my blog.  Not because I think I’m amazing and people should listen to me, but because I think there may be one flitting, fleeting thought skipping inside my head that may help someone.  An idea that may be heard and translated into something very useful.  Because we are all valuable.  Every one of us has something of worth to contribute to another person.  Every single person.

I had trouble with this app before. Seeing if it works now…

We had our meeting about nutrition and weaning at LLL last night. I have been thinking a lot about weaning lately. Lulla is 18 months old, and we won’t be having any more children. When she weans, my breastfeeding days are over. That’s a hard pill to swallow. Breastfeeding has been such an amazing journey, and I am reluctant to leave behind such a major part of my life. I feel like once I am done breastfeeding, my biological role as a woman is over.  I have successfully procreated and nourished children.  My distinct role as a woman is over.  I will become a parent which is something either man or woman can do.  That’s not to say that I don’t find differences in the way that a child is fathered and mothered… I’m getting off on a tangent though.

At last night’s meeting, we didn’t really cover much about weaning.  I know that there are mostly moms who are first time breastfeeders in the group and anxious to know how they will wean when it’s time… but last night, we were very focused on nutrition which is their focus at this minute.  I wish that we had talked about weaning so that I could share a bit of what I have been digesting on the subject.  I don’t think that it profound, but that to me is what makes it so important to share.  I have found that the most useful things I have taken from other mothers are their little simple truths.

Weaning is a gradual process, and in fact, I believe by definition it would be to end something by slowly decreasing the frequency or quantity of something.  When Nevan weaned, nursing had become a very small portion of our day.  It had transferred into other activities… and slowly, it become such a sweet treat for us both.  Then, one day, he didn’t ask for milk, and he never did again.  That to me is weaning.  When it becomes such a small part of your routine that you don’t realize how much of your life is without nursing.  It seems like just yesterday that I was complaining of the ridiculous engorgement that was torturing me.  I’m not even sure when we cut out certain nursing sessions.  They just dwindled away, and before I know it, they’ll all be gone.  I mean, literally.  I won’t know that the last time I’m nursing will be the last.  I doubt Lu will look at me and say, “All right, Mom.  This is our last dance.  Let’s make it count.”

I would be lying if I said that there wasn’t a part of me that wanted to wean.  Lulla has taken to violently picking at my face and trying out as many positions as she can while she nurses.  It’s not the same as the “good ol’ days” when we would curl up on the couch and cuddle.  I think that being a bit frustrated and annoyed with your breastfeeding relationship is normal and actually very useful.  It let’s you know that you won’t be nursing forever.  Totally normal.  You are a person with rights, too.  Your baby is learning about the give and take of relationships through you.  If you make a baby abruptly quit nursing, that is disrespectful to a baby’s need to be nourished, comforted, and supported.  They don’t understand lectures about needing space or feeling overstimulated.  On the other hand, if you force yourself to continue to breastfeed beyond the point where it is comfortable for you, you’re not respecting yourself.  A large part of breastfeeding is the nurturing of it.  I completely agree with Best for Babes in that we should call it nurturing instead of nursing.  If you are resentful, you’re likely to be angry… which means that you are likely to take it out on your child.  I’m not saying that you are guaranteed to shake your baby or anything.  What I’m saying is that there is a good chance that this anger will come out at your child in a passive aggressive way that you may not even be aware.  If you’re not nurturing your child at the breast anymore, it may be time to work out a compromise.  How can you respect the needs of your child as well as your own needs?  I think this is a very important question when considering weaning.  If it’s traumatic, then it isn’t weaning.  If it’s exhausting, it isn’t weaning… and it’s likely to cause the same resent.  Keep looking for the solution that works for you.  Don’t feel trapped.  All things come to a conclusion.

Just to clarify, I am not talking about weaning an infant.  If breastfeeding your infant is causing resent, I feel that the problem isn’t breastfeeding.  For instance, you feel like you are tied down to the baby and want to get some space.  Breastfeeding is the only thing that only you can do.  All that breastfeeding requires is that you be within a close range of your baby to quickly meet feeding needs.  A supportive partner, friend, or relative can totally help you out with the other things.  I see it like this.  You’re baby is only a baby for so long.  Fill those baby needs while they exist.  This is not permanent.  As they get older, they need you less.  One day, you will *most likely* have raised a person who will set out to discover life without you.