Monthly Archives: December 2010

Merry Postpartum Christmas!

It was 2004 and my son Richie was just a few weeks old, it was dark, I was on the couch nursing, disheveled, sleep deprived, a leaky breast, a bowl of cheese-it’s in reach, and the glare of Little House reruns lighting my way as tears rolled down my face and wishes that sun would shine as Postpartum Depression was kicking my ass. And in flash I was back to 2010, seven years later, PPD was hovering over me once again and I did not like it one bit. I was actually terrified, because people PPD Sucks. SUCKS.BIG.TIME. What I was experiencing had nothing to do with just giving birth and my hormones being all out of whack. I was close to suffering from PPD again because Santa brought my soon-to-be seven year old a bearded dragon for Christmas, and because Santa is a busy dude he had to drop off this little lizard three days early. As soon as the thing, um lizard was in my home I had flashbacks to 2004.

The feelings of inadequacies on how to care for this lizard were just as overwhelming as it was seven years ago – when I had no clue on how to care for a little itty baby. It was like a wave crashing down on me, I couldn’t breathe, I was confused and just had to get up from being tossed around in a sea of confusion and the inability to function like a human being; all because of a three inch lizard. When my son was born, I had my sisters on speed dial with absolutely every crazy question I could come up with. I obsessed about poop, hiccups, breastfeeding and any other thought that popped into my mind at 2:00 a.m. I had a breastfeeding log that outlined what side the baby nursed on, the time of day, duration, and how he responded. I was INSANE. INSANE. Think I’m kidding? I remember calling the pediatrician’s emergency number so many times that my Doctor actually said to me “This number is for emergencies, the temperature of your home is not really an emergency”. I definitely had a red flag in my folder, a la Elaine Benes on Seinfeld. Insane, right? Not Convinced? How about the time I dragged my 65 year old mother out of bed, to shove a thermometer up my son’s ass because he hadn’t pooped in two days, now are ya convinced? I can go and on with all sorts of insanity.

And it was happening all over again, and I was not a happy camper. First, it was so difficult and extremely stressful to care for this lizard without my son noticing. I felt like I was on a CIA mission every time I escaped to the laundry room. I lied to my son countless times and told him I was doing laundry when in fact I was feeding this little guy (live crickets mind you), changing water, changing lights, and cleaning up poop. Ya see, just like a newborn! I called everyone and anyone I knew that had a bearded dragon; I asked so many questions, and became even more confused. I also googled that crap out of Bearded Dragons with searches like: “what does a bearded dragon eat?”, “should a bearded dragon poop every day”, “what does a bearded dragon poop look like”; “do I need to bathe a bearded dragon”; “How warm is too warm for a bearded dragon.” I actually contemplated breast feeding the fricking thing – cause the tossing and turning, and the sneak peeks at the clock in a drowsy gaze were frustrating enough, why not attach a three month old bearded dragon to my boobies? I mean, I was so fearful that the lizard wouldn’t make it through the night I would do anything. If I didn’t have to walk down two flights of stairs in my sleep with the strong possibility of me tripping and falling, I would have definitely checked to see if it was still breathing. Distance and sleep definitely won, I was not going to get out of a warm bed, and be sleep deprived for a lizard, Mama had some limits.

By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, I was so done with playing CIA agent, and just wanted to care for this little thing out in the open, it would make my life so much easier, and I knew my feelings of PPD would dissipate if I could but the onus on someone else, even if that meant my soon-to-be seven year old son may not even like the damn thing. When midnight finally struck, a huge sigh of relief came over me as we took the little lizard from his hiding spot and promptly displayed him in the living room. Although I was still nervous about him making it through the night, I was totally relieved that the secret was out in the open, the feelings of PPD disappeared as magically and as fast as they came rushing towards me. I could sleep, well, sort of, I did have a three year old leg in my side, but besides that fact I slept.

On Christmas morning we woke up to screams of “Santa brought me a lizard, Santa brought me a lizard, MOMMY, DADDY SANTA BROUGHT ME A LIZARD!” as my soon-to-be seven year old ran up the stairs and jumped on our bed in pure excitement, happiness and joy – this was worth in and of itself every sliver of doubt, inadequacy and moment of PPD that I ever had.

Score one for Santa!

Disclaimer:
You may be asking yourself why Santa would even think about a present like this when it causing Mrs. Claus so much stress. Well, my son is an animal lover, was dying for a pet, and his Christmas list consisted of: peacock, turtle, lizard, parrot, parakeet, a carabo and a frog for his brother. Since I certainly do not have enough room for a carabo or the strength to shovel carabo poo, Santa and Mrs. Clause opted for a lizard.

Posted in christmas, deanna, lizard, post partum, ppd, That's Life, The Little Buggers

I Know This Much Is True

1) Mr. & Mrs. Clause did great this year, they finally got it right! Thank goodness, I was beginning to wonder if the dynamic duo even knew my kids, or anything they liked.

2) The snow sucks, I don’t like anything about it. Nothing.

3) I see how easy it is to get off track with my food and exercise, especially during the holidays and when you are snowed in under 18 inches. Snow…people! Get your minds out of the gutter! I am craving a vegetable and a run.

4) My Keurig one cupis awesome. I.LOVE.IT.

5) I was completely, and pleasantly surprised by my children’s behavior on Christmas morning, Christmas day and dinner, we’ll that’s another story, baby steps!

Posted in deanna, Mangia Mia Fitness Pia, That's Life, The Little Buggers

Joy To The F#@&*ing World

I volunteered in my son’s class this week to help him build his gingerbread house. I was very excited to go into his class; I got to peak into his world, see his surroundings, and basically spy on the little bugger. The supplies included frosting, small milk cartons, graham crackers, and whatever candy you wanted, basically the contents of the candy aisle exploded in this first grade classroom. The creation of the gingerbread house was fun; it was neat to see the little bugger act as an architect. He was incredibly precise with the construction of the house – so much so that he made sure that the graham crackers were “cracked” evenly by lining them up, and “cracking” them at the same exact spot, than he made sure they were heavily but evenly frosted. Like a surgeon he took his “knife” and carefully applied a coat of frosting on each cracker, so carefully you would of thought that he was performing open heart surgery. This boy took his time, and put everything he had into this gingerbread house. And truth be told it really looked awesome, probably the best in the class, and yes I am absolutely 100% bragging about my sons three inch high gingerbread home, take a look:

Nevertheless, after we completed our gingerbread mansions (c’mon, look at the craftsmanship on that beauty, it’s not a house, it’s a mansion!), I couldn’t of praised my son more, and he was beaming, it was like he constructed the Leaning Tower of Piza. He must of showed every Mom, Dad or Grandma his creation, told his friends about the moat he built that were blocking out the sharks, and he went up to Emily, the girl he has a crush on and showed her that one Gingerbread man was “taking a tan” on the roof. Eventually he made it to his Teacher, and after he walked her through his entire home she wrapped up the house in beautiful cellophane. I had the responsibility of safely carting the mansion home. As I walked out of the classroom I noticed that the roof was sliding down, I immediately tried to fix it, I mumbled “Shit Mother Fucker, he’s going to flip when he sees this” just loud enough that another Mom chuckled as we exited the school. When I got to the car I made the executive decision to just leave it alone I didn’t want to make it worse, my thinking was that the cold will set it and all will be good in the world.

Hours, and hours passed, when I finally got home after work, and my Holiday party, I was greeted at the door by my son. This little man couldn’t wait to get his hands on his mansion; he wanted to show off his fine craftsmanship. I presented him with his work and a flipped switched, I actually saw the flip switch, like literally saw his eyes go from ocean blue to blood red. He noticed. He saw the roof. He saw that the roof slipped. I muttered “Oh fuck” to myself and literally saw him go ape-shit ballistic, think of Danny DeVito in War of The Roses. The screams started quickly, he threw himself on the couch and screamed as if I was beating him with a mallet “YOU ARE THE ABSOLUTE WORSE MOMMY IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE” about five times, I am sure all the neighbors could hear, as well as those in China. After the screams of murder, I tried to explain to him that I didn’t wreck his creation but he wasn’t convinced. I just started to cry (definitely a combo of a long day and sangria), when my son saw that I was crying, he didn’t stop his tirade, he actually screamed even louder and then he took his fist to the gingerbread mansion and beat the shit out of it – he pounded the top of the house like a gorilla pounding it’s chest. I was stunned. STUNNED. I had no idea what to do. I just stared at him in disbelief. My husband quickly jumped in reprimanded him, spoke with him and punished him and in like two seconds he flipped back. Still in the state of shock, I mumbled to the hubby that we just witnessed insanity. I also witnessed myself. I can get very angry when my buttons are pushed, and that rage, ooh, is pure Deanna. Wonder why I run a lot?

When I drove my son to swimming later that I night I said to him that we both have to try and not get so excited and try to control our anger. I made him laugh and said if we were in the forest and I was wildebeest and he was a lion I would have run as fast as I could. He replied “Mom, wildebeest and lions don’t live in the forest, they live in the open woodlands of Africa, specifically the Serengeti Plains, and their main predators are lions, but also Cheetah’s, Hyena’s, Leopards and Crocs blah, blah blah blah”.

Mother Fucker had me speechless again.

Posted in christmas, deanna, first grade class, ginger bread house, That's Life, The Little Buggers, volunteer