Super Wa-waah Freak Out!

Good gravy - i was doing my usual blog reading this morning and i realised i havent posted for a week. Its not like i'm a daily poster or anything but a week is too long. I want to post more regularly, i really do.... its just lately i havent found myself with all that much time, and thats becoming a problem.

See- yesterday? I had a super huge hormonal freak out. I'd gone to bed a bit upset because for the umpteenth night in a row it seemed like Mick and i hadnt connected because one or the other of us has been " too tired ". I feel like he goes to work, comes home, he bathes Flynn while i cook; we eat together then i do paperwork while he washes dishes; then when i'm finished he does his stuff on the computer and then we go to bed. There isnt much connection - physical or verbal - going on and its been bothering me.

So Tuesday night i went to bed upset and yesterday morning its like i'd woken up a thousand times worse. I just barely kept myself together while Flynn and i ran errands down town; we had morning tea with my Mum where i barely uttered a word and fobbed her off with a " oh, i'm just tired "; and then when we came home and the first thing i saw was the books and the toys and the crap all over the floor... i lost it. I made Flynn his lunch through a blur of hiccupy tears. He looked at me a bit funny, like he wasnt quite sure what was going on, but he just sat and watched Sesame Street quietly. I sent my mum a text to apologise for being so glum and when she called a few minutes later to find me sobbing on the other end of the phone, that was that.

She rang my Dad who came round on his lunch break from work. We chatted politely until he finally cracked me and i got all my pent up "whatevers" off my chest. He called his work and arranged the rest of the afternoon off - then he packed up my son, told me to have a nap, that he and Flynn would hang out at his house and came back in a few hours ( which would give me enough time to do some of the backlog of end-of-month paperwork i had ), and that when they got back we'd all get stuck into tidying up. I protested because as much as i needed it i dislike being helped ( it makes me feel like i'd failed to do things by myself... ) however you dont argue with my dad - what he says kind of goes.
So i did as i was told. I slept for an hour then got stuck into my paperwork. I took a short drive to check our PO box and clear my head a bit and managed to finish up a few spreadsheets before they got back. Mick arrived at around the same time and with 4 adults ( me, Mick my mum and dad ) we managed to pack up books and toys, sweep out kitchen and bathroom, clear the dining table ( am i the only one who ends up with various odds and ends all over the dining table? ) and vacuum within half an hour. I still was on edge and tired and had developed a killer stress headache so we ended up having takeaway for tea, but by bedtime i felt better. About myself and my situation.

I knew it was going to be tough to be a pregnant woman with essentially two jobs, a toddler and a house to look after - i'm just glad to know i have such a great support team to fall back on when i do go off the rails!

Mothers Helper

I read a very interesting article in this months Madison magazine, about mothers using alcohol as a coping mechanism to make it through the day. It seemed, to the author, that there is a growing number of mums who use the reward of a glass of wine at the end of the day as a way to make through the muck and mire that can be day-to-day child-rearing.


Baby's screaming and the toddler is drawing on the walls? Its ok, i can have a wine soon. No-ones done any homework, dinner is nowhere near ready and 3 kids still need to have a bath? No worries, i can crack open a nice red as soon as they're asleep.

I guess what the question the article was posing is a) when did this become the stressed-out mummy norm? and b) is it really acceptable, and where do we draw the line?

I am not a big drinker at all - yes i got myself merrily sloshed at my recent wedding, and shared a bottle of wine with my new husband a few nights on our honeymoon, but before that the most i'd had to drink in over a year was 3 glasses of wine at my hens party. Despite doing the typical teenage thing and getting drunk at the pub of a weekend ( which i gave up pretty early on - kept up the clubbing, but spent my nights dancing with a can of Coke in my hand ), i've never really understood the compulsion to drink. Maybe its because i'm yet to find a bevvie that just really hits the palate so well that i MUST have it, but i dont "get" the need for a wine/beer/Breezer after a long day. Especially when this need becomes not one glass a few nights a week but 3 or 4 glasses EVERY night.

I dont want you to think i'm passing judgment - unless this compulsion becomes full-blown alcoholism i dont see anything wrong with a tipple or two, i just dont "get " it. Kind of the same way my mum doesnt "get " blogging, or my brother doesnt understand my very real and deep love for " That 70's Show ".

Maybe i'm boring, but my preferred form of escapsim after a stressful day of Flynn-related craziness is to relax with a book, to escape into someone elses life for a half hour or so, and forget about the massive tantrum thats just been thrown or how many dirty nappies i've changed that day.

So is it just me - is a drink after the kids bedtime the best way to relax? Is there something i'm missing?

The Start Of A Journey

So - today is exactly 3 months until my wedding. 3 measly little months - but for all the little things i have to do in the meantime, it may aswell only be three days. But this post is not about wedding preparations... no, today i want to pose a question. Some of you may or may not be able to answer it, but it is really more about me getting things off my chest and out of my headspace.


So.... how long did it take you to fall pregnant after you stopped taking the Pill? Or more to the point - how long will it take me?

Pic from here

I've found myself really starting to think - and to worry - about trying to conceive this last week or so. I know this will sound petty to the beautiful few of you who have been TTC for years, and havent yet been blessed.... but i'm trying to figure out when to stop taking the Pill to give myself the best chance of conceiving by the end of the year.

There is the notion that it takes a month or two for the hormones in the Pill to leave your system, so maybe i should stop it now - but then there is the advice i read that says you only have to miss one single, solitary little pill for your body to start ovulating, which means you could fall pregnant straight away. I tend to believe the later. Why? I was ON the Pill when i fell pregnant with Flynn. From memory i think i missed two pills one weekend ( i had gone to stay at Micks and forgot to take them with me ) and though we were "careful " i managed to fall pregnant in those two days. ( I think that is partly what upset my ex-best friend so much - she had, unbeknownst to me, been trying hard for a while to have a child with no success, and i'd done it with no intention, and at the drop of a hat ).

But thats the thing - i acknowledge that it was incredibly against the odds for me to fall pregnant after being unintentionally off the Pill for two days. I was ( even though it wasnt planned ) extremely lucky. Surely i cant be that lucky again, second time round? I cant just assume that because my body adjusted itself so quickly that time, that it will be able to do so again. I'm hoping that i can, staying on the Pill, have a period the last week in October, get married the first weekend in November, and then fall pregnant on my honeymoon, or by Christmas at the latest. Thats the dream scenario - no period craziness for my wedding and honeymoon, and pregnant within a two month window.

Am i reaching for the stars here? Am i going to be beyond devastated if it doesnt all fall into place so easily? I've been wanting another child for months now, been getting clucky ( and jealous ) for every woman i know who's fallen pregnant while i wait to fit into my wedding dress. I've watched Flynn cuddle a 4 week old baby, i've watched him stroke the babys fluffy head, and say softly " aww, baby Mum...baby ", and i've wanted for it to be us - for it to be mine and Micks baby, for it to be a baby brother or sister for my Flynny.

I guess all i can do is wait - 3 months for the wedding day ( and night! ) and who knows how long til i get two blue lines on that little plastic stick....

Honesty Is The Best Policy

Dear Co-worker,

I want to thank you for taking a sickie today and leaving the rest of us in the lurch. Not that we were entirely run off our feet or anything like that, but rather its the manner in which your sickie has been taken that has got my goat.
I want you to repeat after me: Honesty is the best policy.
And try this one: Mental health days are nothing to be ashamed of.
Methinks the better idea - rather than chuckie a sly sickie whenever you feel a bit stressed, which you plan on doing on a fortnightly basis from now - is to be honest from the start. That way you wont be getting anyones nose out of joint, and neither will you look like a big, fat, dirty, sneaking liar when you get busted.
Busily yours,
Me

This may be the look i will give him from my desk tomorrow...

Let me explain - one of my co-workers has decided that from now on he wants to take weekly/fortnightly sick leave days. His counsellor has recommended it, and is willing to write him a doctors certificate for every mental health day he takes. This has really got my back up - not because i dont believe in mental health days ( as a person who has lived through depression and still struggles with depressive episodes, i very much appreciate a day off in the name of keeping sane ) - but rather its the way he's chosen to go about having these sick days thats got me all cranky. He is, for lack of a better term, lying about them, and expecting us to do the same ( and just accept that thats what he's doing ). Instead of going to our regional manager and saying " Hey , here's the situation, i'm stressed and a health professional has recommended time off " and organising a functional way of taking some time off, this co-worker is just going to ring in sick from time to time, and expect one of us to say he has a stomach ache/migraine/diarrhea. And when our managment very quickly get suspicious of all these random sickies - not only will he have to tell them the truth anyway, but then he'll look a selfish little whinger who's only looking out for himself.

Part of his stress has to do with the fact that we are very short-staffed around here - but rather than do things honestly, admit that he's having a problem, and hopefully have some alternative arrangments made... well, he's just leaving us in the lurch. Leaving us more short-staffed than we already are. Doing the same thing to us which is stressing him so badly. I'm all for looking after yourself but i'll be frank - what he's doing is rude. And disrespectful. ( Especially in light of the fact that another staff member was told by her doctor to take time off and she declined because she didnt want to leave this guy in the position he has left her ). This guy doesnt have a good work ethic at the best of times, so this whole " I'll just have sickies whenever i want, the rest of you be damned " attitude has only served to further raise my hackles...

What do you think? Should employees be upfront about their need for "mental health days " ( as advised by a medical professional ) or is it ok to just chuck a sickie and expect the rest of your office to shoulder the load?

Its Only One - Right?!?

I'm a little alarmed - do you know what happened? Do you want to know what i found this morning? What i saw, while i stood in my underwear in front of the bathroom mirror and brushed my hair? Do you know what was gleaming out at me from amid my luscious chocolate brown?


A grey hair.

One grey hair - next stop? Full Arctic Fox!

I'm only 27 - you dont get grey hair when your 27! But no, here it was, a shiny silver strand sticking out like a sore thumb. I was going to try and pass it off as blonde but no, there's no lying about it... it was grey. And, just like a mice, we know where there is one, there are at least half a dozen. ( none of which i could see on closer inspection.) I had half a mind to put in a plastic sandwich bag and bring it to work to show my workmates - " See what the stress is doing to me!?! ". But then i realised not only would i have grey hair, but i'd also be accused of being completely mental. ( Which may or may not be true, we dont need to discuss that right now ).

But in all seriousness - a grey hair? Am i going prematurely silver? Or is it just a physical manifestation of all the stress and worry that caused last weeks super-meltdown?

I'm going to blame the months of concealed emotions - apparently not only do they eventually cause a tear-streaked, snotty meltdown, they also come sprouting out the top of your head....

Going Under

So it turns out last Sunday was no mere emotional hiccup.

Sadly, i've spent the majority of the past weekend in a funk, at one minute on the verge of tears and at the next finding myself easily irritated by the smallest of things. I pity poor Mick - i would have been no fun to be around.

And, yet, i find i still cant talk about " it ", whatever it is. The " it " that is the anxious, bitter feeling of emptiness, of not feeling " good enough ", of being worried about the little things that are out of my control. The " it " that is determined to bring me undone, the subtle creep of depression.Lets face it - i know these feelings for what they are, and what they are are the precursors to a depressive episode. You dont come out the other side of depression without knowing what it feels like to slip under its murky darkness...

But i wont let myself this time. I know what triggered the feelings, and i know that situation is so much beyond my realm of control that its not even worth dwelling on. Yet i do - and all that worry, and jealousy, and sadness spreads into other thoughts until it blankets everything i think and feel. And so, because i know that, because i FEEL that ( while i'm still able to feel anything other emptiness ), i'm going to swim against that tide for all i'm worth.

And if that means i have to talk about " it " to Mick than thats what i'll do. If it means i have to cry and sob and shake and smear myself with snot in front of him, if means baring the weakest parts of me, if it means letting the usual happy/funny/strong facade slip a little - if thats what it takes to escape the darkness this time, than thats what i'll do. It may be all i can do...