Thursday, February 25, 2010

So many things to talk about: Part Duex.

In case you came in late, and wanna catch up, here's Part One.

Ever feel like there are some ways you'll never be a grown up? I'm still the kid who gives her heart long before it's good for her. Making friends in person is hard. I alternate between bouts of painful shyness, which makes me appear to be a standoffish bitch, and moments of coming on too strong. Sometimes I'm gushing to the point of making myself cringe, sharing way too much too soon, and just generally behaving like that annoying kid on the playground who wants to be everybody's friend and can't understand why we can't all just get along.

I'm painfully honest...and expect/assume other people to be that way in return. I take people at face-value, trusting that what they say is what they mean. Which is why I've been burned so badly so many times in the past. (Especially now, with that horrible Hollywood mentality most of my new acquaintances here have.) I'd much rather you tell me that the friendship/acquaintancship isn't working out and why...than blow me off for weeks or months with promises to call or to catch up and not really mean it.

I guess that's why I've made so many of my closest friends through the internet. I can do all my initial spazzing out in the privacy of my own home. Taking those friendships from online to in person has always been cause for much angst. (You shoulda seen me, sitting way in the back of the airport shuttle, after having flown a bazillion miles to meet Alaskboy for the first time. I could see him standing outside, peering down the line of shuttles, anxiously craning his neck to spot me in the hordes of disembarking passengers, yet I ACTUALLY debated staying on that shuttle and returning to the airport; rather than facing the disappointment that he might not think as much of me as I did him.) You see, for me, even beginning friendships are almost like having a crush. Or even before we get to the meeting in person part, I worry about whether they're just being friendly or actually want to be my friend. I've mistaken friendliness for friendship before, and overstepped the mark in several embarrassing ways.

These days, I'm paranoid that I'll repeat the mistake. Consequently, I doubt myself and budding friendships even more. So, you can imagine how I reacted when this blogger, who I thought was pretty ace, and about whom I'd spent several long moments in the past wondering if I was pushing too much with the emails we'd sent back and forth, emailed me and said she wanted to spend time in person with ME! (Yes, Raina, I went through all of this as well before we met last year. I do it with every new potential In Person friend! Or even when moving to a new friendship level.) I spazzed out completely.

I just asked Alaskaboy to describe me when I'm in that moment. Apparently my usual response is to run around the house shrieking, "They like me, they really, really like me!" as though I'm shocked, stunned and disbelieving that I just won the friendship Oscar or something.

And now, this friend wanted to meet with me. OMG what if due to my extreme tiredness I didn't get a fair trial? I know I wasn't completely myself either time Raina was here, but we'd talked enough on the phone prior to her visits that she knew what my normal, happy, well-rested self looked like. Oh god, what if I was a completely negative, boring, dickhead while she was here! What if I blathered on in my excitement, not giving her time to talk about stuff she was interested in. Was I reading more into this than just a blogging meet up?

Over the course of a few more awkwardly phrased emails, where I tried SO hard not to reply to that initial query by flinging myself into saying, "spend ALL of your time in town with me so we can talk and talk and talk and get to know one another better", we went from meeting up for coffee or whatever, to all of a sudden having her stay overnight. {blink} Wait. She does actually want to get to know me better.

Cue more running around the house. This time with Muppet arms.

On the day she was due to come to our place, she was sick. I was gutted. All our lovely plans were evaporating like eucalyptus-scented steam from a humidifier. Undaunted, I called back and offered to come get her if by some miracle she was feeling better later in the day. I'd been promised a sleepover and my girly-girl heart wanted it, dammit!

Thankfully, she fortified herself with a nap, armed herself with cough lozenges, and bravely accepted the new offer. Even the God of Bus Tours smiled on us and we had the go-ahead for the following day. I'm ashamed to say I slept through a good deal of the tour. All that drumming rain outside and warm coziness on the inside make tired Kada go mumblemmphSNORE.

I'm also afraid I put her, and Raina, off the idea of ever having kids. I talk to Alaskagirl and both sets of parents a lot over the phone about it, but it was something about them actually being here that released some inner need. I think it was such a relief to have female company there in my loungeroom*, plus being fresh sets of ears that I hadn't already whined to a millions times over the past couple of months, that I'm afraid I let my guard down and babbled quite a bit about the horrors I'd been, and continued to go, through.

And like a shark sensing the merest trickle of blood in the water, my demons started to gather. I was still too exhausted to deal with that shit. So, I circled the wagons, stuck my fingers in my ears and shouted LALALALALA! I CAN'T HEAR YOU! An effective strategy which, like a diet, worked brilliantly for a little while.

Then last weekend, they made a concerted rush and broke through my defenses.

To Be Continued....

*Female company that was actually interested in me as a person too. Instead of what I've gotten used to over the last few years with local people: People that only give the appearance of being interested. Or invite you along because it's the polite or politic thing to do. Or you get together because the only thing you have in common is the country of your birth. Or...Or...Or....

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Wednesday, February 24, 2010

So many things to talk about: Part One.

Here I sit, benefitting from a month's worth of halfway decent sleep and my mind is overflowing with words, topics, feelings, discoveries and STUFF! I can't fit it all in the one post!

I'm having trouble remembering how tired I was a mere four weeks ago. Logically I knew I was bone weary, but through my sleep-deprived fog I didn't know just how exhausted I had truly become, nor how little I thought about anything else than when I'd get my next nap.

Realising that I had sleep apnea, back in August 2009, was the first step to getting more quality sleep. My dad introduced me to Breathe Right Strips and I went back to sleeping with two additional pillows, one under my arm and one under my uppermost leg just like when I was pregnant. All of a sudden my sleep apnea episodes diminished considerably.

But I was still tired.

Soon enough, another step. I started wearing incontinence pads day and night. Again, a slight improvement, but still not enough. Consumed with trying to keep the house as clean as possible*, getting all the Christmas paraphernalia organised, and making sure Kiddlywink's needs were met, while trying to find time to have more than a five minute conversation with Alaskaboy who was working some weird hours, I figured the pads worked Good Enough and left well enough alone.

Plus I had a bridesmaid's dress to fit into. Sometimes there was exercising happening instead of naps.

When my parents-in-law arrived for their Christmas holiday, I figured I'd get more sleep. AHAHAHAHA! This time I was capable of cooking more, actually socialising, and with them here I also had time to catch up with my internet buddies. Speaking of, Raina came to visit too. And I slept even less. In my own bed that is. Adding together my multiple trips to the bathroom, I was spending hours slumped over on the toilet every night because I was so exhausted I'd fall asleep as soon as I sat down. Not a recipe for good quality sleep in anybody's book.

It all came to head one night after a How I Met Your Mother marathon. I'd hurt myself in several different ways recently, mainly to being so tired and overdoing everything, but this took the cake. One measly hour after going to bed, I needed to pee. Upon being struck by a wave of nausea I had to think fast about how I would puke if need be. Due to my post-cesarean limitations and newly strained abs I was unable to kneel down on the floor and heave up whatever it was I'd overeaten that night. Since all the laundry tubs were full of soaking baby clothes and bibs, I got back up off the toilet and went in search of a folding chair to position in front of the loo.

And promptly had a micro nap while standing up.

There was no graceful keeling over to land on a discreetly placed mat like when someone topples over in the movies. I went down like a sack of spuds; collapsing downward like a demolition team had placed their explosives in all the right places. In one way I'm lucky I wasn't thinner or the hallway wider--I'd grappled with the walls trying to stop my fall--else when my left buttock landed squarely on my calf muscle, my belly wouldn't have prevented my teeth and my other kneecap meeting at full steam ahead.

So there I lay, face down in the hallway. Naked. Thank God my in-law's had gone home the previous night, and Raina was out like a light! Alaskaboy had heard my weird, hoarse cry of fear (I'm not a screamer, more like a HWOOOAARRRGerer) and came bustling out to see what was wrong. I proceeded to have a sobbing fit/temper tantrum, complete with slamming my fists against the floor and snot bubbles coming out of my nose.

I was furious with myself, life, the universe and everything. 42 may be the answer, but I was still looking for a better one. By the time Raina's short, but delightful, visit was over, I still hadn't found it.

One of the ways I kept hurting myself was by FLINGing myself out of bed every time I needed to go to the bathroom. Because, to be blunt, the incontinence pads weren't sufficient to the task. A few days after Raina left, I was at my wit's end. I no longer remember how we came to the lightbulb moment, but eventually we got there.

For bedtime? Nappies. Diapers. Of the adult variety.

"Why didn't we think of this sooner?" I sobbed to Alaskaboy. Apparently we had, and me asking him that question reminded him that our initial plan had been to see if the incontinence pads worked for both night and day time use, and if not, to switch to the big guns. But in all the subsequent excitement...we'd forgotten.

My first test run was an afternoon nap. I was to stay in bed and sleep myself out. Even if I awoke feeling the need to get up and pee, I was to stay in bed and put the product to good use. Lo, I had four hours uninterrupted sleep for the first time in months, and verily I say unto thee, it was FUCKING AWESOME!

Cue another light bulb. I've had the usual New Parent Lack Of Sleep. I've been having the Sleep Apnea Lack Of Sleep. Added to both of those? Since Kiddlywink was born, I haven't been settling into a deep sleep out of fear that I wouldn't wake up in time to prevent myself from peeing the bed. No WONDER I was exhausted and my body was taking forever to heal. You need good quality sleep to heal properly.

As the days passed and we figured out how many times I could get the urge before needing to change, the hard part became remembering which number urge I was on. There were a few accidents, but we've learned to leave plastic between the mattress pads and the mattress. Also? A hair dryer on high speed and heat, with the tip inserted underneath the sheet, allows for a speedy drying out of the wet spot. We can then take the sheets off in the morning and wash..instead of changing the sheets once or multiple times a night.

We were in the middle of this learning process, when an internet friend I'd never had the pleasure of meeting emailed to say she'd be in town for two days only, and did we want to meet up?

To Be Continued...


*I know that whenever my insides get cluttered up with feelings or needs that I can't express yet, the house gets messier and messier. And the more obsessed I get with trying to keep that mess under control. The more I feel the need to rid my house of excess crap. And the more I rant and rave about things Alaskaboy needs to improve on or throw out also. Like shit to a fan, misery loves to fling itself indiscriminately around!

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Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Don't You Hate Becoming A Sterotype?

I hate getting too low in any essential item, especially formula, in case we have to run out and do one of those stupid late night trips just for one item. Four days ago we'd gotten down to the bottom third of the last can of formula, and we deliberately went out and bought three new cans. (Our regular formula-purchasing stores were completely out and we had to purchase it from one we'd only used for other types of purchases.)

We noticed that the formula looked a little different, more like very fine sand than powder, but assumed it had settled funny in transit. They're small cans and only take Kiddlywink three and a half days to get through. Over the last two days she was even fartier than usual, but that was the only difference. This afternoon her poo was a little runnier, and then this evening after drinking her late night bottle, she promptly vomited at least half of it up.

Despite getting called into work after only four hours sleep last night, and having an early start again this morning, Alaskaboy got up and washed Kiddlywink off, while I started to clean up the vomit. Then we traded off while he used the wet vac to clean the carpet and I dried and dressed her. (It takes two for this kind of adventure at the moment, due to my physical limitations. There're just certain things I cannot do at all; or do in addition to other tasks.)

Kiddlywink indicated that she was still hungry afterwards, so we chucked the remainder of the can, and opened another...it too had the sand-like consistency, as did the third can. {sigh} (Yes, we'll be complaining about all three cans to the company.)

And there we were in the very situation we'd tried to prevent. I gave Kiddlywink an ounce of Pedialyte, in case she was merely thirsty, and to help flush through whatever she'd drunk of the milk this evening. But it really wasn't satisfying--nor was the sleeve she sucked half to death--and she just wouldn't settle to sleep.

I wasn't feeling confident enough to drive with period cramps plus still feeling a little washed out after the gastro attack, so, we all piled into the car. Thus entering parental stereotype mode! We intended to go to our regular grocery store in the hopes that they'd have some in, but luckily we tried the closest pharmacy on the off chance they'd have some in stock. They did. And Alaskaboy opened on can then and there, to see if it was any good. It was. And there was much rejoicing when we got home and Kiddlywink could get her mitts on her top up bottle. And Alaskaboy could go back to bed.

Why am I typing this when I'm so tired? Was starving so had a slice of bread and didn't want to go to bed straight after. May as well fill in the time writing this now than later tomorrow when Kiddlywink will prefer me to help her walk many laps of the apartment. I have to pause for a rest at various strategic points along the way. My poor stomach muscles! Assisting a two foot tall person to walk about is a great ab workout! Especially when you can't walk about on your knees to even the height difference a little.

Ack! Still lots to talk about with what's been going on recently, both with Kiddlywink and myself, but I'm about to do something akin to this...
...except into my keyboard.
Goodnight!

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Monday, February 22, 2010

So frustrated!

Back when I was dieting I'd have been gleeful about the thought of getting gastro/the stomach flu in the week leading up to my monthly weigh-in. This week? I'm frustrated almost to the point of tears.

Wait! Lemme fill you in a bit about what's been going on.

I've been working slowly to recover my physical fitness after Kiddlywink's birth. I've also been playing a fine balancing game. One I've never played before!
- Dr Kay is getting married next month.
- I'll be one of her bridesmaids. (If all of her bridesmaids are already married, does that make us bridesmatrons?)
- I bought the largest size available, 23/24, in the style of dress she wants us to wear.
- When I purchased it, at the start of November, I had Alaskaboy's help trying it on. He started the zipper up in the back...and we realised about 1/4 of the way up that even though he could have gotten it all the way closed, it would have strained the seams. Since it was the only one of that size in the store, we played it careful and never zipped it fully.

Fast forward to last week. I've gained muscle tone, my clothes are fitting better, even wearing some I haven't worn since early in my pregnancy, and I've lost 8lbs on the scale. This week, a month to go before the wedding I was going to try the dress on; and then every week after that. (I didn't try it on sooner because that'd be crazy making, since I'm losing slowly and sensibly, and also too far out from the date to give me an accurate picture.) I want to fit into the dress--especially since it's a strapless gown!--without it being too tight OR too loose.

And now, with this stupid stomach bug, I've lost several pounds/inches of water weight in two days. Double whammy! I won't get a fair try on for the dress. PLUS! It's like I've done one of those stupid crash diets! My body is going to rebound from this by making it harder for me to lose weight until it regains what it lost. And possibly some extra, just for good measure, like after a real crash diet.

RRROOAAAR! If I wasn't feeling so washed out, I'd be sobbing about now.

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Tuesday, February 09, 2010

Food Blog

After reading Kepa's post yesterday, wherein he pimps his girlfriend Mary's food blog, I realised, I should show you my food photo blog too. I know there'll be some of you interested, so here's the address: http://kadanoms.blogspot.com/

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