One life

Mental health is a tough thing. Are people sicker these days than they used to be or is it just that we're more aware?

I think that we're all feeling a bit worse. We're isolated from nature and from each other. And when we try to communicate it's often using technology instead of sitting face to face, where we can read each others bodies as well as hear our words.

I'm miscommunicating with people these days. I'm making people cry. I'm crying a lot. This is a hard time for me. Harder than anything I've ever experienced. And when I have perspective I know that my life is grand, it's beautiful. My healthy, thriving babe, my supportive, kind and infinitely loving husband (not possible? yes, it is). I don't have cancer. My baby isn't dying from a horrific genetic disease (knock, knock, knock on wood). I have two loving parents and a great circle of friends and family. But this sleep thing in conjunction with mental health issues that I have never really dealt with almost has me beat. I am struggling. Not all of the time, but for moments, minutes, hours every day I feel like there is no way out, no way to get better. I know that there is. I know this. But sometimes it is so hard - and this isn't because I'm lazy or ungrateful or weak. I need to get through this getting Olive to sleep better thing, get myself some sleep, and then I need to make a real committment to my mental health. Because I love my husband, and I love my Olive, and I need to really love me so that we can all truly experience, relish, cherish this life together. Because this is all there is. Just this one life.

June Callwood died on Saturday (watch this link - please do). I wish that I had known her. Ah, the wisdom. We can only hope.

What's good

Check out Olive's bonnet! Bonnet's rule!

Other good things today:
- Olive had 2 decent naps
- Doug brought me gifts of Purdy's & vino (ah, he knows me so well)
- Olive got checked up at the doc & something I was worried about is a-okay
- I have time to make us up a batch of our favourite granola from the best cookbook of all time
- I finally rented the electric breastpump from the hospital so that we can have a supply of milk on hand so I can
- Go out tonight for an evening of vino & clothes swapping with my Mother's Unfolding group
- We are doing our research into changing Olive's sleep routine in a gentle, loving way
- My best friend & her sweet daughter are coming home on Monday. Hooray! We miss you Yaun!

Runaway

We ran away this weekend. On the spur of the moment I lost it and decided that I needed my mama, so we loaded the monkey into the car and drove up to K-town. And I almost fell asleep driving. Can I say that passing semis doing 120 on a highway without lines while fighting sleep with my precious baby and husband in the back seat FREAKED ME OUT?

Then Doug and my mum staged a sleep intervention. Like for an alcoholic or addict, but instead for me, a sleep deprived mummy who believes that the only way to be a good mama is to gut oneself to the point of complete physical and emotional destruction. Let's just say that there was weeping and angst and little bit of tough love, but I'm feeling better and ready to commit to change.

So, we're going to teach Olive how to put herself back to sleep. We're not going to make her cry it out, but there will probably be some tears on both our parts (while being cuddled, loved and patted). And we'll have to stop most of our co-sleeping. And I'll have to give up all of that precious cuddly baby time (but hey, we'll do more during the day!). I feel like my brain and body are dying. Hopefully, I'll get some sleep soon, because I'm worth it.

For now she is getting her two top teeth, so I'm still on constant boob patrol and so tired, so very very tired, that I can't manage to do much of anything beyond cuddling my baby or trolling the internet. Thank God for husbands who cook and clean.

Off to lie down with a cup of sleepy tea. I'll post photos again one day.

Thanks

I just wanted to say thank you to the folks (all four of you!) who post comments, especially the ones about my good mother post. I think that I was a little freaked out when I first realized that people were actually reading this. Even people I don't know. And people I do know. Maybe even my family sometimes. I know, I know, it's a blog, it's out there for planetary consumption.

And I had to ask myself, why am I writing this? And the answer is, it helps me. It helps me think about this journey that I'm on and to gain some perspective, and it's putting me in touch with some of my creative juices again. And it brings me pleasure. So if somebody wants to read what often amounts to a list of complaints, then hey, thanks everybody. I really appreciate it.
It's also helping me recognize the difference between my fantasy of life (super crafty mummy, getting everything done around the house, crafting, and nourishing Olive on every level, yet still the sassy bitch who's good-time-fun) and reality. Which isn't that. So, letting go of expectations, yada yada yada. We're talkin' 'bout a revolution gang.

Sweet sweet solitude

Olive is now beginning the evening in her own room on her special futon. And for the first time in 8.5 months I can read a book and drink a cup of tea whilst lying in bed.

Ecstasy.

Now I need some trashier novels, a big chocolate stash and a baby who sleeps 5 hours in a row, and I'll be set.

Olive's first day of school. We visited her daddy's class today, and Olive's wee eyes bugged out of her head. She really enjoys a room full of 11 year olds.

Funny

Okay, so we're nursing to sleep at naptime and Olive is nodding off, eyes rolled back in her head, well on her way to dream land, when boom! she pikes, pulls off the boob while sucking in a rattling Vader breath, which she then expels with an "eye-yeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" topped with a giant raspberry, a grin, and a return to the boob.

I tell you, this kid, she is funny.

My yarn is ready! My yarn is ready! Picture tap dancing mice traipsing across my heart. Yee. haw.

This is what I call funny, yo. In a grown up way.

Recipe for unyummy mummy

Separation Anxiety + Sleep Reversion + Nap Avoidance + Ability to Whine Without Cessation for Long Periods of Time - Mummy Getting Sleep = Frozen Pizza, Carrot Sticks & Beer for Supper.

I. feel. like. death. Why can't she be a sleeper? And now I have sleep anxiety. Oh, if only I could drink myself into stupor, then sleep for 20 hours straight.

I told Doug that I was going to run away from home for the weekend and check into a hotel where I would sleep and sleep. His response? "Just leave some milk." What a guy. He'd really do it too. Gotta love him.