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?

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.