Friday, November 23, 2012

Happy Thanksgiving, all your crap is busted.

It is Thanksgiving... well, actually it isn't anymore. It's is 12 a.m. on Friday, the day after Thanksgiving and I have no idea what the date is. Which is beside the point.
It's over.  It was nice because my Mother came up for a week but I think I have one too many kids to sneak upstairs and take a nap for 3 hours midday. Shit.
Anyway, all of that hoopla for it and then, boom. (so anti-climatic, it doesn't even deserve all cap's).
It was nice. I have nothing to complain about and everything to be thankful for but it seems a little amiss, as I miss my husband. And since it is officially past, I am not going to talk about it.
He isn't here and hasn't been for what can only be known as A REALLY FUCKING LONG TIME! Notice the cap's, this has climax. Heh heh heh...
When he returns on Christmas eve (yes. Christmas eve) he will have been home no more than 6 days in 15 weeks. Annnnnnnnd, that's a lot. (Oh and we have a baby that is 21 weeks old, so no big deal.
I miss him and I miss the whole family dynamic, I feel very much as though we are growing over him like skin would grow over a bb, embedded into your chest. Even though that is a gross thought, it is very much the way it feels and that sucks.
I worry. I worry that we may unintentionally take on our own lives and never be able to meet up again. Physically we will be in that place but mentally and emotionally, it seems very possible. There seems to be a growing trend in couples splitting up. Ones that have been together longer, ones that seemed way better matched (E and I are opposites down to the bone), I just wonder what happens? It is as if I am less scared about "it" happening and more afraid of "what"? Like, what happens? I am still very much in love and he me, so if we find ourselves in that spot do we like... get a memo? Is there an app for that?
I hate being honest in a blog but I was told recently that I should keep writing and because there are seemingly deeper issues going on in my head, it seems odd but then I'm like "fuck it". If you are going to do it, do it. So I'm doing it. Well, writing that is.
I am not leaving my husband, so ladies- settle the shit down. I am just stating that there comes a time in your life, when you are married to a rock n' roller, that you go- "oh." and then you sigh and hope to cuss he is thinking the same thing. It is a very big "oh" and more like an "ooooooooooooooooooh", like "I knew this or I should have and yet here we are, learning fucking chinese" but in a way it is comforting to know we are learning chinese together. Although he is a slack ass student and you know what I mean, guys are LAZY! They don't know what to do or say and they just pretend you will forget and blah..... I say stupid shit like "you need to do stuff" and he's like "ok, (image of a dumb, panting dog.... nnnnnnNOW!) like what?" and I'm all "I can't tellllllll you what to do, then I might as well do it for myself. You need to think of stuff and do it and mean it and..." and he says nothing but I am fluent in thought bubble, I can even read it over the phone- so I know he's like "... then why don't you just... do... it... yourself...?!!"
It's all the same. Don't matter if your man digs a ditch or signs CD's at 2 a.m. I know, I know. I am not special and I don't get treated special and that is fine by me but at least you get to sleep next to your stinkin', snorin', bed hoggin', ditch diggin' husband every night.

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Shit!

My iPhone has eaten 3000 pics!! I'm so sad, it seems they are gone... It did that photo library "cleaning" and left me w/ the first 327 pics only.
Gulp.

Thursday, September 20, 2012

IG killed FB

and that is fine by me.
There are few gadgetry things that I get hooked on.
I don't know where my ipod is but I do know it is the first generation mini. It's real old and it was loaded by my husband before he gave it to me as a gift (back when he got me gifts, ahem)
I am pretty big on FB but over the last 6 months I am less and less about chatting and just about posting pictures taken from my IG account. To those who don't use IG, you will not understand, to those that do- will.
I can't get enough.
At first I didn't really get it but it gave me a way to manipulate my pics of my kids, so I was into it.
Then I started to get followers. Then I started to follow. Then came the comments.
Something about someone telling you they hope your child feels better, when you've posted a pic of a sick babe, I don't know, it just feels like I am connected to the world. And the best part- not the whole world, just those who are genuinely interested in my world and more often than not, mine theirs.
It's cool to be a fly on the wall in their world. Looking through feeds of homeschoolers and their kids. Watching babies grow up. It's personal and yet narcissistic in the most perfect way. I blog so I know I like to hear myself "talk" but pictures... it's different. Sometimes it is hard to find the words, that is why so many blogs go unwatched. Actually that is why so many people don't have blogs, aren't writers and don't rely on post-its to guide them through their days. At times I'll get a quiet moment and come to the computer with a cup of tea and I just don't have it in me. It's either tough to put into words or there are so many words, my hands can't keep up, so I leave, curl up in my bed and take a nap.
Which to be honest, every time I am on the computer and the babies are sleeping, I think "you should go to sleep". I should and I will try but really I will just lay in bed, quietly and flip through IG.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Call the fuzz.

Really. I have to call, EVERYTIME I see them "drunk and disorderly"?
Well fuck it. I will.
I found out, thanks to my husband who did the digging, that the steps to take are as follows.
Step 1. See disgusting behavior.
Step 2. Call the 5-0.
Step 3. ABSO-FUCKING-NOTHING.
Step 4. Repeat.

So here goes. I am going to rotate through these ridiculous steps and see if I can't bug the shit out of someone. After all my husband is on tour, so I need to bug someone.

Remember when you were young, like before legal drinking age, and you'd walk around with your friends and drink your poison (5 O'Clock vodka for me... I shudder to think) and when one of them would get out of hand, you would actually be trying to get them to act right, get them home or at least tell them to shut up? I do. I remember being aware that I could, oh I don't know GET ARRESTED, so that kept me in line, somewhat.

Today I met a friend at said park and she had read my recent blog entry. Wouldn't you know it, we got a repeat. Although this time we were there first, we sat in the benches with a back and we didn't move when they rolled in with their filthy mouths and filthier clothes (Elvis, "what's that smell Mommy?" Me, "good question"). So they are there, not yet drunk enough to fist fight but there was some yelling and one guy laying on the bench actually rolled off into the bushes and yes, he stayed down. I couldn't help but think I am turning cold because I did not give a shit if he was dead. I was just glad he didn't get back up on the bench- more room for the parents that are daring (less and less) to bring their kids.
Let me say this real quick, cause I have to go, if you are in a park and this is happening, take a stand. Do something. I think I will detour in my car anytime I am driving in the hood and if they are there (who am I kidding, they LIVE THERE) I am going to call the Pigs. "drunk and disorderly on 58th and 22nd NW", if I WE call enough, they might just have to do something.

Monday, September 17, 2012

This bums for you.

I like to think of myself as a pretty cool cucumber. When there is something to get mad about I like to think I do my best not to care. This is not to say I am mean or cold hearted. I am sensitive and caring and compationate. I buy the "Real Change" mag, I have "bum dollars" in my car to hand out at the random stop lights. I help wheelchair bound people reach high stuff in the market. I hold the door, let mergers in, I always let the guy on the right go around the "round abouts" and I would hand a dollar up to a man that dropped it. Shit, I would hand up $100 bill.
There are so many more examples. It's just been who knows how long since I have had time to write and now that I have a minute (like 4) I want to just get this off my chest.
Today as I was walking up to our local grassy knoll, splash park/benches galore, favorite hang out here in Ballard, I noticed something. 26 bums.
Bums (and if there was another word for them, I'd use it. Homeless, yes, but these guys, are b.u.m.s.).
It is not unlike this park to house a handful (okay, maybe 2) of these guys but today, it took my breath away- in the "go the fuck away!" kinda way. It pissed me off.
This is a splash park where little kids run half naked on hot days. It is where my son skateboards, it is where we have at least 3 outings to a week when the weather is nice. It is the American dream. We can walk there.
There have been more than one occasion of fights. Yelling matches and pot smoking. All of which I just go about my business. I am always of the mind that "they" need a place to hang out too. I have actually said this out load.
Today I had planned to go and nurse the baby on a bench, while my toddler... well, toddled in the water, chase birds- people watch but I couldn't get past the rage I had that every single bench was full. There are a ton. There are many, many places to sit and they were all taken. One was actually open, this is where I sat and right next to it a grocery cart full of what could only be the rotting carcass of an old, giant squid.
So what? What the fuck to do?
I am sick of these smoking (I actually don't mind the pot as much as the cigarettes), fall down drunk, screaming, swearing FILTHY fools. I am sick of it. I will not retreat to my home. I will not feel bad anymore that they don't have a place to go. GO TO THE FUCKING GRASS, OUT OF THE WAY OF THE KIDS RUNNING BY YOUR GODDAMN BEER CANS, STEPPING ON YOUR CIGARETTE BUTTS!
I am going to do something. I am not going to let this go. I am nice, but I'm not a dumb bitch. I know I have some goddamn rights here. There has got to be something said for all that is going on in the park and NOTHING happens and I got a ticket parking in front of MY HOME for facing the wrong way.
I fought that ticket and I won.
Imma' win this shit too.

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Meteor shower

So instead of crawling into bed, where I should be, Quattro and I are waiting up to see some meteors.
The guy on the news said between 12-3 a.m. is the best time... I was thinking it would be the "best time" to get some damn sleep...
I have to stay up and with him because I remember doing something similar for Halley's Comet, I was 10- he's 11. These things have always excited me. If I was smarter as a kid I would have gone into astrology or something but the books never came easy for me. It was always a challenge to just keep my ass from failing, but interest I had and have for this. In 8th grade I did a project on the moon and I got so into it. It was the fist time I had enjoyed anything that had to do with school since 3rd grade. That is when school was ruined for me. I had the worst teacher, Ms. Perkle. Could you just die over that name??
She was mean to me and made an example out of me from day one. I was new to the school and she fucked it all up for me. Hey thanks, bitch! Thanks for making me believe I was "incapable of learning anything" for so long. She told me that when I could not do my timed multiplication test after repeat attempts. I guess the whole class did it and I didn't so I was a big fuck up. I don't know why or how that bothered me for so long, it still bothers me. I mean, I am over actually thinking I am an idiot but for all of my schooling, I always heard her in the back of my mind, so I just stayed on the "fuck up track" for way too long.
I remember when my son was going through the timed math tests, I told him to just stick it out and pretty soon it would be over and he'd never have to do it again. And it's true, you don't.
So meteors... see any yet? We got an app so we can count them and send it to NASA. Pretty sweet.
JD
I can't get enough of these kids. Even though they have caused all my problems. Ha. I'm kidding

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Yes. Yes I did figure it out.

Cause I miss him.

I think I just figured out how to post pics from my phone to my blog.
God help you.

The zoo is wild.

First, I am not sure what the fuckity-fuck-fuck is going on with my blog but I can't seem to reply to anyone today. So luna, this is for you-



I'm feeling "okay". I do feel like I can find myself one some days or part of some days but for the majority of the time I am faking it. And I guess that will have to do. More than anything I am having anxiety like I never had before, which is strange. Maybe if I did have it before I was "normal" enough to combat it naturally and now that I am... abnormal? it's not so easy. So how do we Mom's get together with other Mom's without seeming ridiculous? I don't understand why it is SO hard.



Speaking of that. Today I was at the zoo (again!? might as well use that membership) and as soon as I walked in, with just Elvis and the baby I see a gal, my age, with an infant and a, roughly, 3 year old. I was laughing because she is the type of chick I would see and wonder if I was going to be brave enough to talk to or whatever and today I didn't really care and then I immediately thought it was so lame of me and THAT is probably why it is so hard to reach out. Lets face it, it is a little creepy. "Hi, I see you have some kids there. Want to hang out?". It's odd and we as Mothers are guarded enough and to get approached by a freak like me, I can just imagine it doesn't go over so well.
I have seen Moms talking to my daughter (who is ridiculously charming and easy on the eyes) and when I walk up they just walk away. I must scare them. They do not think I am as normal as them. And it's not even about the tattoos or the pink hair- it's a "thing" I have always had. My Mom always told me I was "different" a word I despised most of my life but now, I don't know, I kinda get it. I am different and we ALL are, in different ways.
If we are being honest here, (and let's just assume I would never lie to you) sometimes I will see a Mom and just judge them. Think they are stuck up or complete... nerds? I don't know what the equivalent to that is now that we are adults. But you know. Like their outfits are just like... "what?" and I'm like "huh?". I judge and I shouldn't. We are all leper's to someone and I am just feeding the enemy that is shameful. There's an invisible line that we can't seem to get across. It would be easier if we could just decide if we like the kids and accept the parents. Because really, if you can't take the kids- you aren't going to want to have weekly play dates, or whatever we are supposed to call them. I hate that term, it's like- lets cut the shit and just get together, ok? Ok.
God, I sound super bitchy tonight and I'm not. I am just tired of the loop hole. I'm tired of trying to figure out how to get together- again. Maybe I should start a FB page, "Babies in Ballard"...

I feel like I need to touch on my PPD a little. And that is a WEIRD thought, that someone out there cares but evidently they do and I am all about that. Lets face it. Anyone who has a blog is a narcissist and if they try to pretend they aren't, even in the slightest way- they are lying.
I like to write about my life because I think, sometimes, it is interesting, it's.. different. And I am aware that I am married to someone who has made a name for himself and I like to let those who want to know, a little about his world. I don't think I need to write about him a ton, this ain't his blog! but I do enjoy letting people know how things go down for the Daly's... errr, I mean the Spaghetti's.
Anyway... so I saw my doctor, my regular guy and he put me on Zoloft. I wasn't even the least bit hesitant to take it as I was pretty desperate. I guess it takes like a month to "kick in" and that is fine, I'm into it. I was not happy. Although getting the shit sort of felt like I was asking for bath salts, I do think that this guy cares. What sucks now is that I am plagued with anxiety. I am having these bouts of it where I feel nearly paralyzed with fear. Fear of something happening to, usually only, Elvis. Which is weird, you would think that it would be the baby. But it's not. I am terrified of something happening to her. Like I am going to get distracted and something terrible will happen. I was stopped in traffic in the tunnel last week and my mind gave me a flash of disaster and I could not decide who to leave if I had to leave one. If I could only take one out of their car seat... who would it be? Shit! See, I am totally twisted. I also have fear that when my husband is with our kids alone he will miss something and someone will get hurt and in my mind, when I think this stuff, it is always her.
Here's the thing. Nothing ever happens on my watch. I am the hawk that won't give up. I have a "Mom-dar" like no other. I once ran down the hallway of my old house and caught Quattro as he was rolling off the bed. I can hear the kids at their first, tiniest whimper when they wake up, I can feel them. I always know when they are sick, about 12 hours before they get sick. I can see it in their eyes and smell it on their breath. It's weird and sometimes a burden but it is this thing that I have and I am now full of doubt. I am feeling, not overwhelmed in the sense of "I can't do this" but I am doubting my focus. My ability to finish things is off as well. I am picking up and leaving off in an abnormal manner for me.... and I don't know, for the most part it is just a drag. I just want it to be over. I don't want to have to take anything, I just want to get through this crap and be myself.




Tuesday, August 7, 2012

She didn't call.

Or email, or whatever.
So here's to not caring that I probably seemed really weird and a little desperate, giving a stranger with a baby my information.
There has GOT to be a better way. I guess it is a little like dating, I just have to keep going to the "bar" or the produce section of the market... whatever the equivalent is... parks, or (gasp!) Gymboree??! Never. I may look desperate but I am not.
You would think by now with having 3 kids, it wouldn't be so hard to meet parents on the same page. I do have friends and some really great ones, but I still pine away at that friendship a lot of my friends have with their best friend, which is something I may have never truly had. The one that will come over when you are sick and call you for lunch when they are in the neighborhood.
When I was a kid we moved around a lot. Then when we settled down in AZ, we lived out in the country, pretending to be hillbillies I guess. So growing up it wasn't hard to make friends, it was hard to keep them.
As a teenager I was in so much trouble I had too many friends, all but a few, really bad news.
Then I moved around some more, becoming an adult and when I found myself smitten with my now husband of nearly 13 years, I traveled non-stop for the better part of 8 years. So really I didn't settle down but 4 years ago.... I guess that is why I missed out on my bf- they are all taken! Ha. I am not as sad as I sound, it is just nice to put it all together like that. I'm a nomad. WTF?

New normal.

I think I am finding my new normal. The groove. I'm finding my balance.
We forget what a huge process it is to have a baby, then to recover and manage to hold onto some grace,  which isn't always easy to come by.
I am really hard on myself sometimes. I want to be "back" I want things to work and I have learned, yet again, that sometimes time is in charge.
So I get it and I am cool with it and I am trying to be easier on myself. There's only one me and when my husband is on tour (if you haven't guessed by now, that is always) there is only one parent, so today I am going to try and remember that.

I just realized that there are 4 weeks left of summer vacation. 4 weeks before the backpack will be in the middle of the living room floor or sprawled on the kitchen table. 4 weeks before the flip flops will be put away and we will all have to find "real shoes" and lunches will need to be made the night before.
I guess a little part of me is excited. Elvis will have a birthday party to celebrate the lightening speed of the last three years.
Quattro is going into 6th grade, switching schools and walking there- so this is a big year for him.
My daughter will be 3, so she can officially take ballet lessons, even though I prefer her performances in the living room, she is ready for an organized class.
And then there's Zeke. He will be officially 2 months on Sunday. Which is hard to believe, but in a way you might not have guessed, I feel like I have known the kid forever.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Oh yeah, it was my birthday.

Yesterday was 36 years since I was born.
I always thought that the Mom would find more to celebrate in ones birthday than the actual person who is having the birthday. When my kids have a birthday, in the back of my head, I expect a gift.



He wrote me a letter.

And it went something like this.



As I sit here in some random hotel room somewhere in California on the eve of my beautiful wife's 36th birthday, I'm struck by how lucky I am. And how hard I have it. I'm lucky because I still get to do what I love - I still get to go out and make music for a living. That is a direct result of having the most amazing support system a guy could ever ask for. My wife. I can't even imagine doing what she does in a day, much less for the weeks, sometimes months at a time when I'm away. We now have three kids. We JUST had our third and she's already been home alone, with no family there to lean on for way too much time. That's the hard part. It's not getting any easier for me to be gone. You might think it would but it doesn't. Oh, sure, it's nice to be getting full, uninterrupted nights of sleep but that's about it. I miss my family. I miss my wonderful wife and our amazing kids. (And I'm not just throwing those adjectives out there randomly - these are AMAZING kids we have. All because of the efforts of their incredible mother...) 
Not being there to help right now pretty much sucks it. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the work and the chance I get to go out and do that work, but my wife... She's an adult living in a children's house. She could use a little grown up time now and then. Someone to run her a bath, fix her a cup of tea, pour her a glass of wine, dim the lights and put out some candles. Pick her some flowers... Simple stuff but important too. Stuff that can't be done over the phone or by using Skype or FaceTime or whatever other modern miracles of communication are available to us now.
So this goes out to my gorgeous, great and grossly under appreciated wife, Jessie on the day she was born, 7/17/76 - A day before Nadia Com─âneci became the first person in Olympic Games history to score a perfect 10 in gymnastics at the 1976 Summer Olympics. Two days before Deep Purple broke up and just three days before Hank Aaron hit his 755th & last home run off Angels Dick Drago. A good year for sure. It was a year that saw the release of Rocky and Star Wars but most importantly to me was the release of my wife, the beautiful and talented future Mrs. Daly, Jessika Summer, into a world that is a much better place because of her arrival into it. So take a minute to wish her a happy birthday and then go and grab that special someone in your life (if you're lucky enough to have one) and tell them that you dig what they do for you. They'll appreciate it and who knows? You might even get lucky!

~Eddie Spaghetti
 rock guy

I found this on Facebook.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Funny, weird, desperate, brave.

We should all just be brave.
I read that on something recently, probably products from that movie-
anyway, I like it.
Being brave is grossly underrated. People don't think about it enough.
When I sent my son to school for the very first time, I said "be brave". That was 6 years ago.
I am trying to listen to my own advice and today, I was brave.

When my son was a baby, whenever I would run into someone with a baby, I'd always want to see them again. Fantasize about being friends, meeting in the park with coffee, while our little babies slept in their strollers.
Someone to have barf on your shoulders with, someone wearing a 3 day old top knot, who hasn't showered in a week. But that never happened.
When I ran into someone that I liked, it was fleeting, like my peaceful time at the park. We'd chat and then part our separate ways- never to run into each other again.
I always thought, "why don't we exchange info" but I always felt funny about asking, so I never did.
When my daughter was born, I was at the park with my son, 8 and her so when I would meet a Mom with a baby it was easier to let them go. I still felt weird, I guess, about asking to "hook up" again. Some Mom's just look cool, or the way they talk to their babies seems cool. You see people and you just feel like you can relate somehow. It is judging a book by it's cover, absolutely, it's like dating that way, but when you are a Mom (first time or not) to a new baby- you are fucking desperate to have someone to talk to, whom is not only a Mother but a Mother of a newborn, or baby, or toddler- whatever stage you are in. That is what you want in your "Mommy date".
So today I was brave (see what I did there?). Today I was the awkward gal that meet someone who is, seemingly, on the same page as I and I did something about it.
I gave her my number. Gal at the zoo. Salisha, I believe.
She came over with her little newborn who was born 2 days before mine and as soon as she said her daughter was 5 weeks old, I thought "I have to do it, I have to give her my number".
So I did- well, I gave her my email. That is the equivalent of a number now...
Now like the day after meeting that hot guy, I wait...
I wonder if she'll "call"?

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Boobs vs. the floss

I took the kids to lunch in our old stomping grounds (West Seattle) the other day.
I've noticed we have become somewhat of a spectacle since the arrival of Zeke. Three kids, somehow, draws a lot of attention. 
Anyway, as we sat there eating lunch the baby, like clockwork, wanted to eat too.
I am a breastfeeding Mom- hardcore, 100%. Straight up boobies for my chickens.
A lady sitting across from us with her Grandson, who looked to be my age, leaned over to him and said "that's disgusting". I heard her because I have super powers, as in, I can hear everything.
I watched him as he turned around and looked at my table, on the sly (not at all sly and lets face it, it never is), he didn't seem to care.
I am just sharing this little piece, not because it upset me, if you have been reading at all lately, you know I have bigger fish to fry. 
I've BF two kids so far and I have heard it all. Even from people I know.
I have been told "put that away"- literally. Someone said that to me. 
But I see it like this-
as a mother it is my job to do the best I can do no matter what. 
If I had to break the law for my kids, for their greater good- I would. Absofuckinlutely.
So I am sharing this because maybe someone is reading and they are getting a bunch of shit for their choice to BF, if you are, stick with it. This old lady and anyone else who has a problem with it, is just not worth the sweat of going over and sticking up for myself.
Maybe some people do find it disgusting and maybe to them it is not right, but to me it is and that is all I really care about. It's a choice and not an easy one. Sometimes I wish I was handing my baby off with a bottle to someone else, boobs still covered but I'm not and I don't foresee that happening (not that there's anything wrong with that) because it is my hope to give them the best I can, while I can and send them on their way (eventually).
As I was leaving the restaurant, the lady's grandson was outside smoking and she was at the table flossing her teeth. Yep, you heard me- Grandma was flossing her teeth, at the table, in a restaurant.
As the kids and I passed her table I looked at her and smiled and said 
"that's disgusting".

Friday, July 13, 2012

Oh. You're reading this.

I always am shocked to hear that people read this thing. I am not a self loather, I mean, I think sometimes this is a "good read" but I'm no Jack Kerouac.
When someone mentions it, "I read your blog" for a split second I go, "my what?" in my head, but with all the other voices, it just blends in.
I'm KIDDING. There's only one voice in my head.

Thursday, July 12, 2012

On the fence... what to do?

Jump!
Seriously.
I saw my doctor today.
Here's the thing.
They always say "let us know" as to say we, as patients, need to keep them informed of how we are as people. I mean, of course! right? that is their job. We "hire" them to take care of us. So I've got a big "wtf?" for my OBGYN's office when I told them I wanted to be seen for a "follow up" on my PPD or baby blues, or whatever the fuck we are suppose to call it and they gave me a phone number to a shrink that can see me in (wait for it) 6 weeks!!
I'm no fucking genius but I'd lean on the side of "that's not going to cut it".
I'm depressed NOW. Or whatever.
I have a hard time saying the word because it's not like I feel terrible. I just feel... "blah". I know what depression is. It's not pretty. But now I am fully aware that it can come in all shapes and sizes. My "choose to be happy" bullshit just isn't working. Am I a full on depressed "I hate my life" victim, err.. I mean person? No. I don't think so, but there's something wrong with my brain. The part I can usually control with music or something I really love- I just have no control over.
I went shopping a couple evenings ago (shoe shopping! Alone!!) and I bought practically nothing. I just felt, well ya, I just felt blah. And those exclamation points I just used... they mock me because I have none of feeling behind their meaning. Sad really.
So back to my ridiculous doctor drama.
I called the office back to inform them that as far as what I read online, waiting 6 weeks was probably the worst idea ever for what I was going through. I explained I thought I needed more immediate attention because- well, I had no good reason, I just kept saying "because" I should have said "because I deserve it".
They asked if I felt homicidal and I said "just with the office lady that said they would see me, a PPD patient, who just had a baby, in 6 weeks" and she didn't get my humor (hey bitch, at least I am trying).
She then told me she wasn't sure what else to do as the office would not necessarily prescribe me anti depressants without therapy... I hung up.
I sat there for like 20 minutes and asked myself what to do.
"WTF now?" I was thinking. Seriously. Wtf now?
I could totally stick this thing out and let the garbage run it's course. I know this is fleeting and I know that I am not suicidal or homicidal. I DO NOT feel like I am failing to bond with my newborn. I don't feel like life is too much or hopeless. I just wake up everyday and have to fight till I'm emotionally bloodied to have a decent day as myself and that is not normal. I find that I am not hungry and I am not interested in conversation with people. I sat in the livingroom the other day, while my 2 little ones were sleeping and I just sat there. I didn't do anything. I just sat there. But days prior I had a fabulous afternoon reading and I enjoyed myself- but it's not most of the time that that happens. It's seldom and I think that is a problem.
Listen, I have three kids. By choice. I know my limits, I don't feel in over my head. It is not even about them. This could be the depression talking but even when there's crying and spilled milk- I really don't feel my "blah" thing at those times. That's when I feel most alive, like when shit is getting rowdy, I can handle that. It's all the times in between. The times to myself, I just feel less than myself. I feel like I can see that person and she's just not here. She is not present and to know me even a little is to know that I have to be present. I am quick. I am here, I live for that- knowing, seeing, hearing, speaking everything right now... that's gone in a way.
I'm writing all of this as a way to seek therapy. I guess waiting 6 weeks for a god damn professional is not something I am choosing to do. I don't have 6 weeks to hold it all in. In 6 weeks I am not even going to be here, I will be better. I will be happy. I will be "her". Again.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Beer and cereal

Seriously, that is what I had for dinner... or going to have. I'm having the beer now and will take the bowl of cereal to bed. Where I will eat it with a newborn on my lap, no doubt spilling milk on his head. It's okay, he barely notices me anyway.
Newborns are funny. They sleep all the time and they could give two shits who is feeding them. I guess it is all survival. If someone fed him coconut milk out of a can, he would probably just suck it down and pass out.
I read somewhere that newborns smile "reflex" is thought to be a survival thing. Making them so cute, cute enough to keep them safe. I thought that was 1. totally fucking adorable and second, pretty damn depressing.
Ugh. It's in the air for me. I just can't shake it. I have moments of clarity where I feel like I have my shit together and things are good, then I just get caught up I guess. It's so hard to explain.
Especially to your spouse. You know, the one you are suppose to be able to talk to .
My husband told me he thought it was too bad there were no roller coasters in Seattle- I couldn't for the life of me think of why those words would be strung together like that and then he said "so you could have something fun to do!". If it had not been via text and say, over the phone. I would have hung up.
In person- slap.
He also suggested I "go have a cupcake or something".
I told him it wasn't that simple... I really wanted to say something else, but I was trying to be nice.
He just brushed it off like "ya, how could I ever know what you are going through?".
I suggested he go read a fucking book about it.
See. Nice.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Okay. Now what?

That is sort of what it feels like after you have a baby.
I went to the hospital today to get the lamest blood test- the PKU, on the baby. They poke and squeeze the shit out of their heel, dabbing blood on a piece of paper. I read there is a urine test that "we" don't do- I'm guessing because it is more fun to poke an infants heel and watch them scream.
Anyway, I am losing my train of thought- the newest member of my day to day...
I walked into the hospital and instantly felt like I could cry. It is all over.
The hubbub, the awesome chaos that is pregnancy. The whirlwind, the importance of what your doing, what you are holding in your abdomen. It's all over.
Now it's just me, walking in with a stroller.
What is that?
It's not like I wish I was still pregnant. I really don't. I just have this feeling of being dissatisfied.
In life?
Not really.
In my being a Mother?
Not at all.
It's just this low lying feeling, in the pit of my stomach that makes me ask "now what?".
I'm not sure.
I have three kids and a great husband, so it is not like I am missing anything.
I have a thought that maybe while being pregnant I was actively doing something that came to an end and now my mind is wishing, (needing?) something to put into the future to "work towards"?
Could be.
I feel like my first child saved my life. He absolutely did- and that is another blog entry for another day.
My second changed the game. Completely. She turned us upside down in the best way. We would not be who we are today without her.
And my last... hard to say. I feel like he is giving me a purpose in a way. He has forced me to write about this. He has given me a reason to tap into what plagues a lot of us, with the "baby blues" or PPD- there are so many levels or stages... maybe it's not that serious and maybe it could get that way. Either way, for me this is my therapy. I can afford it, I have time for it and maybe it will work.

This is our guy. 

Somewhere between postpartum and "WTF now?"

That's where I am and I guess unless you have been here before you are thinking I am some kind of crazy.
This blog is about to get a little less lighthearted, so if you aren't into it- I bid you farewell.
Two weeks ago I had our third child and every ounce of the experience felt like the first.
It was just as exciting, we had the time of our lives. He is amazing, I am recovering from surgery well- all seems fantastic. Really- well, it should be.
A week to the day, my Grandfather passes. This is news I knew was coming. It hung like an unfortunate mistletoe... I thought of him everyday and my last wish was that he could meet the one who will pass on his name.
We named our son Zeke Ole Wild Daly.
Ole is my beloved Grandfather- he was so much more to me. To everyone who knew him and that was many.
My last wish wasn't granted, and you know that is just par for the course for me.
My Grandfather was very predictable, this is something I didn't inherit. I am not- neither are my wishes.
Maybe I wish for the wrong thing. I should've wished for a cure for Parkinson's Disease?
A week has passed since we lost him and I have felt Ole with me more so than at any other point in my life.
I can't stop crying.
I am not a crier. Something I did inherit from my Grandfather. I never once saw him cry.
I am sad that my daughter will never remember him, through her own memories.
It devastated me to have to tell my 11 year old son, who will remember that day forever.
It's not fair that my Grandmother is now alone, although I am sure there is a weight lifted, she will hopefully be able to enjoy that at some point, when all the madness ends.
I am also missing my husband, who has just called to tell me he has landed safely in Sydney. He and my son left yesterday, the boy to visit Grandparents in Arkansas.
Initially I had thought it would be okay to have them both gone, as my Mother would be here with me and the little ones. She is a great nurse, housekeeper and all around Grandmother- but with the passing of her Father, she had to go home- leaving me and the babies, reluctantly but I of course, insisted.
Now I am sort of regretting the trips I said were okay to take, although being forced back into reality is a good thing. A blessing in a way- it is going to happen eventually. I guess I go kicking and screaming, but I go.
I'm at a crossroads of sorts. I feel abandoned and tired and irritated and happy. I miss my friends, yet I don't want to see anyone.
I want my husband.
Which is interesting in itself. I am feeling for the first time in a long time (ever?) that he is now the backbone of this house. Maybe all this time, he is the one who actually makes it run best.
I don't give him enough credit.
I am somewhat bossy and a know-it-all at times. I feel like doing it all gave me that right and for some reason, right now, that seems so stupid, I can't put it into words.
So where do you go when you are in between PPD and WTFN?
I don't know.
Write, I guess.
I am going to write about it, incessantly. It is dripping out of me and I never have the time to talk about it and you know I am not sure what talking about it would do. If I talk about my Grandfather, I can't stop crying and so that's sort of "off limits" but the whole feeling of PPD is vague- I am not depressed. I don't need to be hospitalized but I am feeling the let down, the "can I do this?", the "what the fuck now?".

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Zeke Ole Wild Daly

He's here. We did it.
We have successfully brought another awesome human into this world.
Looking at this kid, I just melt like he was my first. I can't help but want to hold him every second and squeeze my other two that much harder every day.
I am seriously the luckiest Mom. I have fantastic kids, a rad husband... I am floating.
Happy birthday Zeke. You are so loved.
We named him after our favorite band. My Grandfather, Ole and Wild is because he is wild at heart. I can just tell.

6.12.12
8 lb 11 oz
18 3/4"
9:31 a.m.

Monday, June 4, 2012

Dude.

I'm tired.
Like, I pulled into the Target parking lot and Elvis was content watching... what was she watching?
and I actually drifted off. It was most likely for a minute or two but it scared me. I am really fucking tired.
Wow.
Right now I should be doing this or that and all I can do is sit here in the office, where I just made a bed for E's "dolly-dolls" and now I am typing just to pass the time.
No offense.
If I sit on the couch, I will fall asleep.
If I go upstairs, I will fall asleep.
Shit, if I go for a drive, I will most likely fall asleep.
You would not believe that I am typing with my eyes closed. But I am.
What do I do? What does one do? It's dinner time, I have no back up- if I order pizza one more time I will kill myself.
I'm complaining. I shouldn't. I should just go strangle my doctor and tell him if he doesn't give me something to sleep I will be his worst fucking nightmare next week when he delivers me.
If I don't get some sleep soon, I am going to start crying publicly, whenever I get a chance.

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Maybe it's been too long...

I haven't written in what feels like years. There has been so much going on in my life, not "busy work" but real "take every ounce of your energy" work- that and I have a family to run.
I could bore you with what has been going on and that would be one of the last blog posts you would read, I'm sure. If I even have any readers left. Either way, life is pretty fucking good.
I am due to give birth, to what will most likely be my last child. Up until the last week or so, I have been totally fine with that concept. That reality. But now, I makes me sad.
I don't want to have more kids, just the knowing that this is the last time I will experience all of this, is a little heavy.
A lot of things are heavy right now.
My son is ending his elementary school years in no less than 3 weeks. It's weird to be there the first day of Kindergarten and every day since- now he is done. Middle school. Soon, high school, college... it IS happening at break neck speedy-speed. I love it. I am SO proud, he is an amazing child but I am really afraid I will lose my shit come "graduation day". I quote that because my husband insists he is not graduating, he is simply moving from the 5th to the 6th grade... we'll see how tough he is when our nearly 5' tall baby walks across the stage and they call his name- in that second I know he (as well as I will see a flash of our boy, a mere 5 year old with missing teeth and dimples for god damn miles. It will hit him. And if it doesn't- I will.
I am so sentimental. I am weepy. It sucks.
I am a hard shell. No one cried in my family. They all did and still do it in private and I can't stand it, never could but as an adult, I just don't have a lot to cry about. I am not sad a lot. Depression is something I keep far away from myself (also runs in the family) by just choosing to BE HAPPY. That's it. That is my big fucking secret. I just choose it.
I wake up every day, like everyone else and whether I had a bad night or foresee a bad day- I just decided in that moment to be happy.
And not every day does it work out so peachy. I do have my days, I am not a robot. But most days, that's all it takes. I have a lot to be happy about.
Like this new baby!
HOLY SHIT! I am going to have another baby... I am still wrapping my head around it. I am going to go in on the 12th (if all goes according to plan) and have myself a baby.
The fears are there, like with the other two. You worry- is he okay? Will I be okay?
I am having surgery and as much as I don't like that idea, the idea of having my child fall limp in my arms again (Quattro was rushed to the NICU for 24 hours because he stopped breathing about 10 minutes after birth... I shudder to think) I have to.
People are weird about c-sections. I mean, I realize it is ridiculous to just "want" one but when I say I am having one, people sometimes say "Oh don't do that- you will be sorry". Sorry is not something you tell someone who is going to be cut in half to have a healthy baby. Sorry is what they would be if I had the energy to knock them out. Why do people assume to know your business?
Speaking of energy, I am being hit with the fact that I have none left.
I have a week to go, Eddie is on tour- life is slightly stressful knowing that I could go into labor at any time. I am full term. This is a wild ride.
I "okayed" this tour just knowing that it's the little things that sometimes make life exciting but now that I am here, sitting on 6 days with no husband... I am a little freaked. I'm not going to lie.
But I have the most amazing friends. My friend Matt said "we have a pretty good village" the other day, as he was letting me know him and his family had my back while E is gone and you know- he is absolutely right. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have the most amazing friends that would absolutely do anything for me and my family- and us to them.
If you are missing that in your life and you have kids- my advice. Volunteer at school. Find your "life partners" parent partners. They are priceless (and worth the grueling PTA meetings).
Ciao

Monday, April 2, 2012

Been too long.

It's been so long I forgot why I was writing a blog. 
I'm still not sure but I have a minute and I ended up here, so I am going to type.
Shits been crazy lately. There's no room for error, there's no time for sex- life is full on... full on.
I gotta say though, I really love it. I get off on it almost. I think of the days where nothing is going on and I just wonder "what the hell did I do??".
Not that I am against those days. I do like to lay in bed till 2 p.m. and hide out from the world but that's just not what's doin' lately and I'm into it.
This week is my son's last elementary school talent show. It means so much to me, I love every minute of watching him come up with songs and practice them over and over and over. I know there will be more talent shows, but this one is special. It's the last with this crew that we have grown up with since 1st grade. 
Middle school is rough. This whole getting ready to part ways has been a tough pill for him to swallow. I think he is going to be fine but it is hard to tell. He is sensitive and although he adapts well to change, he is a creature of comfort too- we'll see.


Saturday, February 11, 2012

Pregnancy makes me cry,

HARD.
I remember when I was at the end of my pregnancy with Quattro, Eddie and I were watching some relatively dumb movie. I mean, maybe it wasn't but I feel like it was an "eh" movie-
anyway there was this scene at the end or near the end when the lady loses her baby. It was "She's Having a Baby" or something 80's cheesy like that...
Up until that moment, in my then 23 years of life, I had never felt what I felt. As the scene was happening I felt my body get hot and my chin start to shake-  I was kinda scared, I wasn't sure what was going on. Labor? It was very primal. I had never done "primal".
I walked to the bathroom and burst into tears. Like BURST! I was out of control sad. It was this feeling I can only equate with like seeing someone die in front of you.  Someone that you loved desperately. 
I was fucked.
I didn't know what was going on. I was hiding from my husband. I was trying to hide from myself. I just couldn't stop crying, inside my head was like this speeding loop of my life. It was fucking ridiculous.
But now, 12 years later I know all about that feeling. It doesn't only happen from a scene in a movie but for some reason, that does tend to set it off. I think the quiet, "in your head" space you are physically and mentally in while you are watching a movie makes it easier to target you. You are vulnerable when you are watching movies. You don't even have to be watching a good one.
It makes me feel bad for men. I mean, maybe they disagree but I don't think you can have that rush, that feeling- there are no describing words to give you even a remotely good idea of what I mean. Unless you have had a child, I really do not think you can go "there". And maybe that is good, I mean, it is a crazy place. Only for a second, but it's pure insanity.
It dies down when you are not pregnant but once you carry that little thing, once you have a life develop- it's on like Donkey Kong. It's got you.
And maybe I'm wrong. Maybe anyone can go there. Maybe adopted Mothers have it. Hell, maybe Fathers have it too. I don't know. I'm not judging. I had never felt anything like it and now that I am a Mother of, well, basically 3 I can see it all connected.
The "Mom-dar" that I have, it is so strong and drives me crazy sometimes- but it's there. It's part of this primal notion that I am forever on the edge of my seat. I will never again have it be just me. There is no "just me" and that is a really crazy thing. There are no moments in my life that are just mine. And I am absolutely good with that.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Your son is gifted...

but not that gifted.
Here is my appeal letter. One I never had a thought I'd write until I found out my son doesn't have a chance in hell of getting into a program that will best suit his learning abilities. I am sending it out into the abyss that is this blog because that shit makes me feel better and because I'm a writer and I haven't had anything to write about in ages. 
This morning after I got off the phone with the very blunt Enrollment center lady, I was sitting at the table with the news that my son had tested into a gifted program but not quite the one he needed to get into to get a leg up. So why test? Why have this hang over my head? Why have 2 groups of smart kids? Why not just one. The gifted and the not. 
I am in the "not" category (I had to spell check the word "category", no shit) but my son is- why are you telling me he needs to apply like every other Joe, even though you asked him to take a test to state he isn't "Joe"? Hmm? I ask you "why?" On second thought- never mind.


My name is Jessika D and I am writing to appeal for my son Edward D #....

I feel like getting the letter stating he tested high on the MSP was a win for us. He’s a smart kid. In the original letter it said we should think about having him tested in the CogAT, a test I knew nothing about.

Having a child in the public school system has been good to us. We have fought for him when we weren’t happy with a direction (changing schools after kindergarten) and let him rise to the top, by himself, on all the rest.

When I received the letter with his results that he was “eligible as a student who is academically gifted and qualified to enroll in the Spectrum Program”, I was beyond thrilled, I thought he would be on his way to bigger and better things than what a traditional learning school could offer him.

I don’t have any fancy testing to give you. I have never called any group to have my genius son tested, nor have I ever asked him to be a part of a test that would result in such accolades. I do not believe he is a genius. I do believe, however, that he is a child that would not only benefit from such a program as APP but I think he would give that program something back.

My son is not socially delayed, as described in a APP description on the Seattle Schools website. I knew so little about these programs, I did my research. I read every word. I didn’t want him to end up in the unknown, I needed to know where he was headed, if he did in fact receive scores 98% or higher on his CogAT.

He did not, but he came close.

He was accepted into the Spectrum program but after some lengthy phone calls to Enrollment and Adv Learning, I have learned that he is not even guaranteed a spot in his area school, let alone the school we would like for him, which is not our area school. This to me is a waste of great potential.

I am appealing because his scores were good. They were really good. In reading his MAP is a 95 and MSP was 94. In Math he received a 96 on his MAP test. For APP he needed a 95% or higher. On his CogAT, his high was 93.

I would never send my child into something I think he’d fail at. Not because I’m afraid for him to fail, but I do believe in fighting for him and this is what I hope I am doing. I believe wherever he ends up will be where he is destined to be but I also believe that sometimes you need to be given a chance. Destiny and testing can only get you so far.

I know someone will have to give him a chance to let him be accepted into this program. I realize his scores did not qualify him but this test can’t tell you the amount of drive and capacity this child has. He is a sponge. He is smart and unique and will no doubt become a more successful person if given a chance to run with this crowd.

Thank you for reading my appeal.

Jessika D mother of Edward D

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

"Romance reinvents itself after kids."

That's what I heard once. 
I guess I believe it. I had no reason to think that the crazy, stupid, love I had at the beginning of my marriage would last through kids or time or anything. Like a lot of couples, it was intense, in some ways it still is. 
My husband is not a romantic. He wishes he was but he's not and that is okay. I was always attracted to heavy romance, I am chocolate and flowers, seems as though I don't attract that though. I'm not sure I ever had a romantic boyfriend- I can't really remember any of them. I have been married for 100 years and thankfully- happily so.
When I got married, I figured I would end up divorced. I actually thought it was another wild thing I was doing. I was good with wild, I did wild. Divorce didn't scare me. I didn't want to be headed for failure, I just assumed I was on a wild ride and at some point it would end. He was a rock guy in a band. I was a dancer. It was way too cliche.
Don't get me wrong, I wanted to marry him, I just thought it may end up not working out. Like so many of them, like so many people told me. I didn't hope for failure but I am the kind of person that isn't surprised by failure. Like wild, I did failure too. 
12 years later and closing in on 3 kids, I realize that this marriage may just last forever. We are both shocked and amazed by that. We both feel lucky to have made it past the "hump" if you haven't gotten to yours- brace yourselves. There is a hump and it's a fucking doozy. Ours came at 7 years. So lame but we are just regular people, we are not immune to hard times. 
We made it though and maybe, just maybe that was our way of reinventing romance. 

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Being broke, motivates.

When I was young, like 18-20, when I had no money, I was depressed. I would not find energy or drive. I would find $4 and buy vodka. It's weird how time changes you. Every year after the holidays, we go into a spending freeze and it is good for me. It lets me gather my thoughts, think of new projects and to just step away from the stores. All of them. Even the craft stores and the market. I just stop, make it work with what we've got. It's nice.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

My Grandfather is dying.
I usually am not one to blog about serious stuff. I mean, the birth of my daughter (with an insanely graphic, amazing, beautiful picture included) sure, but some things are just best not to share. There are  a lot of things I choose not to share and that is why I go weeks without writing. Sometimes life is just fucked. It's too deep.
Now is that time but I am choosing to let myself off the hook. 
Death is something I have not had to deal with much. I have not been spared this incredibly desperate tragedy but it is not something that has plagued my life. I'm lucky, I think. 
Right now though... I am feeling every bit the pain and agony that surrounds this part of everyone's life. No matter how much or how little we have to deal with death, I am firm believer that it sucks all the same.
So he's dying and I can't do anything about it. He is old, but not old enough. He will be leaving behind my Grandmother and I worry about her. Where will she go? Who will she love? And- can she die of a broken heart?
I will. I will absolutely lose a huge part of myself when he dies. I will never recover, I will never ever be the same. He was the father I never had and the Grandfather everyone wanted. He spent quality time with my son, who absolutely thinks of him as a Grandfather- not a Great Grandfather. He showed him how to work on cars and told him stories. He played butterflies with my daughter, she read him stories. He held her when she was a baby and was proud I named her after his beautiful wife of over 60 years. I am so glad I had children early in life. In a lot of ways I believe my life played out like it did so I could share him with them, they are better people because of it. My husband never met his Grandparents, mine were happy to take him in. The fact that my children got to spend even part of their youth knowing and loving the two of them- I will always feel proud of that. 
He was there for everything, he has seen and done so much. The world and every part of my being will never be the same. Holidays will have a physical hole in them. December 22 (his birthday) will be sad for an eternity.
I am sure we will all be able to stomach the loss at some part of our lives. I guess that is part of the process but I'm skeptical at best. I can't prepare. I have no idea when the call will come and truthfully I could get that call about anyone in my life but it is Ole that I have a heavy heart for every night, every afternoon and every morning. 

Monday, January 2, 2012

What to expect?

Today I found my very old copy of the great "What To Expect When You're Expecting".
It was kinda funny that I still had it. I throw out everything but I guess I learned- not everything.
After we had Quattro, I was pretty sure we wouldn't have any more. I was trying to want to have another one right after, you know, the 2-3 year age gap but I just couldn't. I was traveling all around and when at home, I was a single mom, so it just didn't seem like something I could do. And to be honest, I couldn't have. 
I am the person who got married and decided to have a baby to change the course of my life. I wanted a baby but not until I met my husband. I had friends with kids but it never seemed like something I would be good at, or want to get good at. After I met and married Eddie, we were both just there. We just appeared at that moment together. He may or may have not always wanted to have kids, I don't know. I met and wed him in under 100 days, I have no idea who he was before then- nor did I care. Still don't.
Anyway, we just did it. We talked about it one day and then 3 months later is was so. It came at the right time, we were party animals. We were rockers I guess. Yes, he is in a band and yes I was traveling with him, so yes, we were getting into a lot of trouble. I told him we should write a book about it. The night we got thrown out of the Showbox or the night (okay, it was morning) we woke up laying in the median on Las Vegas Blvd. that was, by the way, our first morning as a married couple.
I'm not sure what this all has to do with "What to expect" I guess it's me saying you really can't expect anything. Or you should just expect everything and then you are prepared for it all.
I'm getting there. I am preparing right now. Blogging, eating chocolate while my two children are sleeping and my husband is at our friends watching the Rose Bowl, preparing to enjoy a football game which he never really watches at home because he is a hands on Dad when he's here. I'm preparing for my third and maybe final child. Maybe. I am preparing to have a very fat ass, where to put the bassinet and what to do with my tits that are suddenly spilling out of my bra. I'm currently not wearing a bra and I like it.