<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352</id><updated>2025-11-02T12:55:49.857-08:00</updated><category term="love"/><category term="best friends"/><category term="lovers"/><category term="relationships"/><category term="work"/><category term="life"/><category term="boyfriend"/><category term="anxiety"/><category term="sex"/><category term="depression"/><category term="dreams"/><category term="weddings"/><category term="marriage"/><category term="pregnancy"/><category term="career"/><category term="emotions"/><category term="fiance"/><category term="Job"/><category 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term="slacking"/><category term="sleep"/><category term="surf"/><category term="sweets"/><category term="the net"/><category term="workforce"/><category term="working class"/><category term="A Lot Like Love"/><category term="Ashton Kutcher"/><category term="Big Mac"/><category term="California"/><category term="DUI"/><category term="Donuts"/><category term="Doughnuts"/><category term="ED"/><category term="Estates"/><category term="Job search"/><category term="Krispy Kreme"/><category term="LA Ink"/><category term="MIL"/><category term="Mansions"/><category term="OCD"/><category term="PMS"/><category term="Peeling"/><category term="Plan B"/><category term="SAHM"/><category term="Skin"/><category term="Spain"/><category term="Starbucks"/><category term="Sunburn"/><category term="Vacation"/><category term="WAHM"/><category term="Weird"/><category term="Winnie Cooper"/><category term="achieve"/><category term="acne"/><category term="adderall"/><category term="aderol"/><category 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term="latin"/><category term="lauren hill"/><category term="lay off"/><category term="lazy"/><category term="leader"/><category term="learning"/><category term="lesbian"/><category term="lies"/><category term="lipstick"/><category term="living situation"/><category term="loneliness"/><category term="luxury"/><category term="lyrics"/><category term="makeout"/><category term="marijuana"/><category term="masochist"/><category term="material things"/><category term="meaning"/><category term="meet the parents"/><category term="meeting"/><category term="mentor"/><category term="messages"/><category term="mistakes"/><category term="mom"/><category term="mood swings"/><category term="morning"/><category term="morning sickness"/><category term="motivation"/><category term="mourning"/><category term="mystery"/><category term="needs"/><category term="nerd"/><category term="new home"/><category term="news"/><category term="odd couple"/><category term="old"/><category term="organizer"/><category term="over"/><category term="paranoia"/><category term="parenthood"/><category term="past"/><category term="period"/><category term="photography"/><category term="pills"/><category term="pings"/><category term="planning"/><category term="politics"/><category term="poor"/><category term="postpartum"/><category term="pretty girl"/><category term="privacy"/><category term="productive"/><category term="provide"/><category term="psychology"/><category term="punk"/><category term="raise"/><category term="recap"/><category term="recpetions"/><category term="registering"/><category term="regret"/><category term="remembering"/><category term="remembrance"/><category term="resume"/><category term="retard"/><category term="reviews"/><category term="rights"/><category term="ritalin"/><category term="salary"/><category term="self"/><category term="self-destructive"/><category term="selfish"/><category term="simplicity"/><category term="sin"/><category term="single"/><category term="sister-in-law"/><category term="slow"/><category term="smothered"/><category term="soul"/><category term="soundtrack"/><category term="spacing out"/><category term="spoiled"/><category term="stars"/><category term="step-father"/><category term="success"/><category term="sugar"/><category term="sunshine"/><category term="surfing the net"/><category term="teach"/><category term="technorati"/><category term="teens"/><category term="therapy"/><category term="time"/><category term="to do"/><category term="together"/><category term="training"/><category term="truth"/><category term="turned on"/><category term="tv"/><category term="unemployment"/><category term="upper class"/><category term="veruca salt"/><category term="vintage"/><category term="visitors"/><category term="voting"/><category term="want"/><category term="wants"/><category term="web"/><category term="web-surfing"/><category term="weed"/><category term="wife"/><category term="women"/><category term="year"/><title type='text'>The Ups &amp;amp; Downs of Random Grrrl</title><subtitle type='html'>Music+Life+Art+Love</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>177</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-260544669264794031</id><published>2014-05-25T20:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2014-05-25T20:40:10.726-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="adulthood"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="change"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="drama"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fiancé"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="MIL"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mother-in-law"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="moving"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="parenthood"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="SAHM"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="WAHM"/><title type='text'>Leaving the nest</title><content type='html'>Well, it&#39;s been a long long time since I&#39;ve written a blog entry. &amp;nbsp;Needless to say, a lot has happened. &amp;nbsp;I&#39;ll backtrack later. &amp;nbsp;But for now, I just want to reflect in the peace and quiet while everyone else is sound asleep. &amp;nbsp;Despite the drama that inherently caused us to make the decision to move suddenly from FI&#39;s Mom&#39;s house to my Mom&#39;s house, 30 miles away from anything and everything in our daily lives because we need to escape but still can&#39;t afford to live on our own...I know in my heart that this is going to be good for us. &amp;nbsp;It may be difficult on all of us, some more than others. &amp;nbsp;It may be completely insane to just up and move in the matter of one weekend. &amp;nbsp;But I feel like I&#39;ll finally get the peace I&#39;ve been missing, and hopefully it will give us the push we&#39;ve been needing to get our shit together and finally grow up.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/260544669264794031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/260544669264794031' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/260544669264794031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/260544669264794031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2014/05/leaving-nest.html' title='Leaving the nest'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-3464086726904708712</id><published>2014-05-14T22:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2014-05-14T22:05:44.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Insomnia</title><content type='html'>I&#39;ve had the worst sleep all week.  Knots in my stomach &amp; restless, then weird random dreams.  During the day I&#39;m totally unmotivated and spend most of my time daydreaming.  I assume its anxiety, but for what? Excitement now that we&#39;re finally engaged and already talking about dates and venues after only a few days?  Am I just adjusting to DD (who is now 5) finally sleeping in her own bed starting this week? Then tonight I failed to attend a very important webinar for my home business. So I feel awful that I flaked out and let down my friend who worked so hard to be on that call with her mentor.  I&#39;m drinking tension tamer tea now. But I can&#39;t get the songs from Frozen out of my head.  They just keep getting louder.  I think tomorrow I need to workout to relieve some of this tension and get back on track.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/3464086726904708712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/3464086726904708712' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/3464086726904708712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/3464086726904708712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2014/05/insomnia.html' title='Insomnia'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-2557031991355759308</id><published>2011-07-28T09:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-28T10:06:20.455-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Your Turn to Go Get Her</title><content type='html'>Are you kidding me?  These are the moments that I just cannot understand; this is why I make fun of you to my friends saying &quot;he calls me after an hour of being alone with the baby, asking when I&#39;m going to be home.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&#39;ve been working all morning on a scholarship essay and trying to get ahold of admissions at the 2 colleges I&#39;m pursuing and when I go upstairs to ask BF is he can go pick up DD for me while I return a call to one of the admissions advisors instead of me going to pick her up, he gives me a grumpy face and gets all flustered.  So I ask what&#39;s wrong and he gets all whiny saying &quot;I really don&#39;t want to!  I just wanna chill and do nothing right now.  I don&#39;t even want her here.&quot;  Really??  That&#39;s how you feel?  I&#39;m with her 24-7 and hardly ever get a break and now when I have something important to do, you&#39;re going to be a bitch about it?  I could tell he realized what he was doing and so he says, &quot;Alright, I&#39;ll go...dammit.&quot;  I tried to just tell him to forget about it and then he got all huffy again and said, &quot;now I feel bad.  I love our daughter, I really do!&quot; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just could not grasp his attitude whatsoever.  I didn&#39;t even know what to say.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/2557031991355759308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/2557031991355759308' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/2557031991355759308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/2557031991355759308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2011/07/your-turn-to-go-get-her.html' title='Your Turn to Go Get Her'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-8889017088669284640</id><published>2011-07-25T08:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-25T08:15:42.677-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Period Letdown</title><content type='html'>Is it wrong that I get secretly excited when my period is late? Or that I&#39;m actually kind of disappointed when my period does get here? I guess part of me would love to have another baby even if it&#39;s not the right time. It must be that primal instinct to carry on the species that pushes us to do things we know weren&#39;t entirely pleasant the first time around. To reproduce even when we can&#39;t fully handle the child we have now. Or maybe it&#39;s just the fact that I can&#39;t justify the PMS symptoms I get. Nausea, mood swings, fatigue, back pain, etc...are just not necessary every month! When will they figure out a way to skip all those things? They probably have for all I know, but I&#39;m not really into birth control so I guess I&#39;ll never know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/8889017088669284640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/8889017088669284640' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/8889017088669284640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/8889017088669284640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2011/07/period-letdown.html' title='Period Letdown'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-3237099308117397060</id><published>2011-06-21T21:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-21T21:12:56.971-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spending Spree Anxiety</title><content type='html'>Overall, I&#39;ve been feeling really good lately. But now I&#39;m starting to get anxiety. There&#39;s just way too much going on right now.  We&#39;ve been living here 2 years and made no plan or progress toward getting out. I saved some money over the winter but as soon as Spring came, I started spending like crazy. I just keep finding things I need or want. I tried to be smart about it by looking at garage sales every week, but I just end up buying more crap when I can&#39;t find what I really want. Then I get fed up with trying to be frugal and live within my means. So, I go out &amp; spend more money and try to justify it because I got it at an outlet or discount store. Today I spent $200 on sheets &amp; a quilt because the comforter we got last year is too hot in the Summer. I just wanted a quilt, but of course I couldn&#39;t buy that without the rest to match. A lot of this comes from the fact that 4th of July is in 2 weeks and we&#39;re having people over. So of course, being the hostess that I am, I&#39;m feeling rushed to get the house &amp; yard in order before the party. All the things we&#39;ve put off for so long, we&#39;re now just throwing money at to get them done. What&#39;s worse is that MIL just lost her job, so now we she has to file for unemployment, which means the fact that I&#39;m on it comes up way more often. She&#39;s asking me questions about it and I get paranoid and anxious thinking about what she and her parents might be saying about the whole situation. And her parents are the ones we were going to be asking for money to get the yard done, but now they have to help her. So they&#39;re suggesting she clear out some space to store her brothers crap instead of him keeping it in a storage locker because they&#39;d rather see the money go to her than the storage unit. I don&#39;t see why any of them think that&#39;s going to work. We have no space &amp; she&#39;s already a hoarder!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TBC...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/3237099308117397060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/3237099308117397060' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/3237099308117397060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/3237099308117397060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2011/06/spending-spree-anxiety.html' title='Spending Spree Anxiety'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-7323033898434392952</id><published>2011-04-16T13:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-16T13:54:38.244-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blame it all on your parents</title><content type='html'>I&#39;m reading &quot;What to Expect; the Toddler Years&quot; and there&#39;s a section on how much praise to give a child.  It says, &quot;some believe that constantly telling a child they&#39;re the best can turn out a paralyzed perfectionist who is so afraid of not being able to live up to overblown parental expectations that they stop trying.&quot; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm...I wonder if that&#39;s where some of my perfectionism anxiety comes from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/7323033898434392952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/7323033898434392952' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/7323033898434392952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/7323033898434392952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2011/04/blame-it-all-on-your-parents.html' title='Blame it all on your parents'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-5834455731909757335</id><published>2011-04-11T19:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-11T19:26:54.098-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Only Watch Kids Movies Now</title><content type='html'>Seeing BF try so hard to enjoy watching Finding Neverland, a movie you really have to pay attention to, with our wound up toddler running around, making noise and pausing it each time she interrupts us gives me major anxiety. I don&#39;t know why he isn&#39;t able to accept the fact that we have to sacrifice a lot of things we want to do for the sake of DD. It&#39;s been that way for 2 years now. Sure, I get upset about it too, but what else are we going to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/5834455731909757335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/5834455731909757335' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/5834455731909757335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/5834455731909757335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2011/04/we-only-watch-kids-movies-now.html' title='We Only Watch Kids Movies Now'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-791380189178001118</id><published>2011-04-08T21:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-08T21:53:15.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Raising So Much More Than a Child</title><content type='html'>I&#39;m on a trial pass at the fitness center because I&#39;ve realized that working out really makes me feel good. So as much as I love this Gym, it&#39;s giving me anxiety. Not just about my own social status, feeling like I need to dress and look a certain way to belong. But about DDs status because they offer daycare and she&#39;s never been in anything like that before. I keep questioning.  Is she being judged? Do the other kids think she&#39;s weird? Will they pick on her for using her pacifier or sign language? Does she look okay? I intentionally picked out a really cute outfit for her this morning and put a barrette in her hair so she wouldn&#39;t look like a ragamuffin. We did a trial run this morning. I went in with her for 10 minutes and then sat outside the door to see how long she&#39;d be ok. About 4 minutes later they waved me back in. One of the advisors was sitting on the ground holding her while she cried her eyes out saying, &quot;Mama! Mama!&quot; with all the other kids standing around her, staring. For the rest of the day all I could think was that it&#39;s my fault for being an attachment parent and not socializing her sooner.  That I did her a disservice by being with her so much and doing everything I can to make her happy and let her do things at her own speed.  That my parenting in these first 2 years will lead her to be the outcast, she&#39;ll be made fun of in school, she&#39;ll have a hard time making friends, she won&#39;t succeed in anything, she won&#39;t have a date to the prom...  Should I change my parenting style?   Should I force her into daycare like everyone else seems to do so easily? Should I accept the cry-it-out method as a tool for preparing your child for the real world? Should I...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fear there is SO much more to raising a child than just loving her. You&#39;re not caring for a puppy. You&#39;re molding a human being. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/791380189178001118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/791380189178001118' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/791380189178001118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/791380189178001118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2011/04/raising-so-much-more-than-child.html' title='Raising So Much More Than a Child'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-6099654419098205089</id><published>2011-04-03T08:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T08:51:43.505-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Test</title><content type='html'>Trying out my new iPhone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/6099654419098205089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/6099654419098205089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/6099654419098205089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/6099654419098205089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2011/04/test.html' title='Test'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-1790972504540693147</id><published>2011-02-18T19:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T19:23:39.051-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Flipmode</title><content type='html'>I was so productive last week, feeling great about myself and then this week totally lulled.  Can&#39;t get myself motivated to do anything but yet I have this uncomfortable obsession with looking at wedding stuff online.  I can&#39;t stop.  It&#39;s not normal.  I feel an anxiety in my body that is compelling me to get back on the computer and waste more time on this subject.  It&#39;s really bothering me.  I&#39;m mad at myself for being so unproductive and sluggish this week and feel crazy for being suddenly being so obsessed with wedding stuff.  Could it be the incredible valentines day I had?  Could the sudden overdose of romance, sex, and spontaneity after a very long dry spell have pushed my hormones into overload and flipped some kind of switch in my brain that said &quot;Start planning!&quot;?  I don&#39;t like this feeling at all.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/1790972504540693147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/1790972504540693147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/1790972504540693147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/1790972504540693147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2011/02/flipmode.html' title='Flipmode'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-3621520080903705131</id><published>2010-12-07T13:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T14:51:11.422-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="antique"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="clutter"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hoarders"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hoarding"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mother-in-law"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vintage"/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don&#39;t know what&#39;s wrong with me today.  It&#39;s really hard to describe.  I&#39;m tired, lethargic, anxious, and I feel really weird physically.  Almost like I&#39;m going to pass out at times.  I&#39;ve eaten breakfast and lunch so I don&#39;t think it&#39;s lack of food.  I&#39;m not sure if it has anything to do with the emotions that have surfaced as we&#39;ve been trying to declutter and organize the house this weekend, but I feel like I&#39;m having some kind of inner battle about that.  MIL is somewhat of a hoarder so in this 3 bedroom split level house, w&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj93gJQ7nIViDvANgZxyD1NqgMgzyS8LvjkwEstF_cQ4Wn-y471AxJn6O7KM9pjJagCv9pdaw9zkHkoxKTBMMo2XW-ffqV729C6emFqeMVU5gWaOY8iflBnDaw6FWrdpqm6CQCQ6Pzr-vM/s1600/hoarding-episode-3-martin-before.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 225px;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj93gJQ7nIViDvANgZxyD1NqgMgzyS8LvjkwEstF_cQ4Wn-y471AxJn6O7KM9pjJagCv9pdaw9zkHkoxKTBMMo2XW-ffqV729C6emFqeMVU5gWaOY8iflBnDaw6FWrdpqm6CQCQ6Pzr-vM/s320/hoarding-episode-3-martin-before.jpg&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548064692024197250&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;e (me, BF, and DD with our King size bed,  crib, changing table, couch, coffee table, TV, mini fridge and boxes of clothes because we have no dresser) all live in the 1 room basement level, which was probably designed to be a family room, while MIL has her bedroom upstairs and the other 2 bedrooms up there are full of boxes of crap and clutter (much like the picture to the right from an episode of &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.aetv.com/hoarders/index.jsp&quot;&gt;Hoarders&lt;/a&gt;).  It has driven me insane to know that we have no where to store any of our things and no bedroom for our daughter because MIL can&#39;t find time to go through and part with all of her junk.  So, as much as possible we&#39;ve been trying to amend this situation.  Last week we helped her clear out one of the rooms completely.  We moved everything into the living room (which was quite a sight to see; I took pictures) and then she moved it all into the other bedroom with the stuff that was already in there.  She actually did make some progress in getting rid of some stuff as she went through to put it all away and we were able to claim one of the bedrooms for ourselves so that we have somewhere to keep our stuff too.  Then this weekend, we cleaned out the garage and made a huge pile of old board games, sports balls, etc. to donate.  The garage looks great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem is, as we go through all of this stuff part of me wants to say throw it all away!  But none of it is mine, so I really have no say in that.  Then there&#39;s a part of me that is starting to see the value in all of this saved stuff.  We&#39;ve found odds &amp;amp; ends that she&#39;s saved thinking they&#39;d be a good craft project: calendar photos from years past to be turned into placemats, curio cabinets to hang and display souvenirs, garage sale finds to give as gifts for friends&#39; birthdays.  We&#39;ve found toys and games from BF &amp;amp; MIL&#39;s childhoods which are not only sentimental but also considered vintage and possibly worth money.  We found Barbie sets from the 50s which are so cool, but in terrible condition.  Then there&#39;s stuff like the football shaped toy chest that was full of old basketballs in the garage.  BF was willing to part with it if he had to, but MIL said what she always says, &quot;Don&#39;t you have a friend who could use that?  I&#39;d hate to just get rid of it.&quot;  For some reason she has a problem with donating things that she thinks are worth money.  As if people who get these things from Goodwill or whatever other charity that collects donations aren&#39;t worthy of something that&#39;s in good condition or has any value to it.  So, MIL looked up the football online and found out it&#39;s going for $75 on Ebay.  Well, that made me think it&#39;s something we should save whether we end up using it ourselves one day or selling it on Ebay.  But then I want to kick myself because selling things on Ebay is not easy, so there&#39;s little chance we&#39;ll do that and when are we ever really going to use it ourselves?  It would be cool as a beer cooler for game day, but we have a crappy TV in our living room.  There&#39;s no chance we&#39;re having football parties here, so really when are we going to use it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See...there&#39;s that internal struggle I&#39;m having.  Back and forth about wanting to declutter my life, but then at the same time starting to collect stuff for our future together.  My tastes seem to be changing too.  Before, I always liked more modern contemporary furniture and interior design, or at least the typical suburban house look with everything new.  But now all of a sudden I&#39;m liking a more vintage look.  I find myself drawn to things that are old and have character or could be used to make something else.  Maybe &lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhksnC7-Z0c4yTwxQFC7jumsDj2sOVKmIcqZ4YBwpJtSz-bjiu3hpt81OWawh_ikhD1GN_2lPzoow7Y_bIVOjOxKwSsQYoccZBMXYfYDZkXkJekuEW191QCur0YfkyDNRfhI_PrWVwk1xw/s1600/images.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 197px;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhksnC7-Z0c4yTwxQFC7jumsDj2sOVKmIcqZ4YBwpJtSz-bjiu3hpt81OWawh_ikhD1GN_2lPzoow7Y_bIVOjOxKwSsQYoccZBMXYfYDZkXkJekuEW191QCur0YfkyDNRfhI_PrWVwk1xw/s320/images.jpg&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548076450678017186&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;it&#39;s the whole &quot;Reuse, Recycle, Refurbish&quot; craze that&#39;s going around with shows like &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.history.com/shows/american-pickers&quot;&gt;American Pickers&lt;/a&gt; digging up antiques and design shows always coming up with a new way to use old things, making it look so appealing.  What freaks me out the most is that all of this makes me feel like I&#39;m turning into my MIL.  I keep finding more and more things that we have in common, despite the fact that we are so different, and it scares the shit out of me.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/3621520080903705131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/3621520080903705131' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/3621520080903705131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/3621520080903705131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-dont-know-whats-wrong-with-me-today.html' title=''/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj93gJQ7nIViDvANgZxyD1NqgMgzyS8LvjkwEstF_cQ4Wn-y471AxJn6O7KM9pjJagCv9pdaw9zkHkoxKTBMMo2XW-ffqV729C6emFqeMVU5gWaOY8iflBnDaw6FWrdpqm6CQCQ6Pzr-vM/s72-c/hoarding-episode-3-martin-before.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-423218922062631350</id><published>2010-12-03T14:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-03T14:19:39.318-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hormones"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="medication"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="menstrual"/><title type='text'>On the Up?</title><content type='html'>So for the last week or so--I think it was since the Saturday after Thanksgiving--I seem to be feeling surprisingly normal.  I haven&#39;t felt overly depressed or anxious.  I haven&#39;t been freaking out about anything.  I&#39;ve been getting things done when I want to, I&#39;ve been fairly patient and even nice to MIL.  It almost feels weird.  But it&#39;s one of those things that makes me question if I really need to go back on meds or if I was just dealing with some hormonal changes as I wean DD.  I have an appointment with a psychiatrist next week and I think I will still get the prescription because I&#39;ve been struggling so much over the last couple months and one week of normalcy isn&#39;t really going to make that big of a difference.  Even weirder, I got my period today which would usually mean that this last week would&#39;ve been all about PMS, but it was in fact the opposite.  Strange.  I guess just another thing to point out to my doctor.  Right now I am really tired.  I think I&#39;ll lie down.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/423218922062631350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/423218922062631350' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/423218922062631350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/423218922062631350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2010/12/on-up.html' title='On the Up?'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-3989546202747327040</id><published>2010-11-25T21:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-25T21:46:34.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving Recap</title><content type='html'>Earlier today I was questioning myself, &quot;What&#39;s going on here?  Am I manic today?&quot;  I woke up at 8:30am, when I usually can&#39;t get up before 10am lately, started my day by doing dishes, washing MIL&#39;s new set of cookware for her so she could use it to cook Thanksgiving dinner tonight, and then straightening up the living room and dusting.  I woke up feeling like I had to do something productive today or I&#39;d go crazy.  I wasn&#39;t going anywhere for the holiday, like I usually do, but I wasn&#39;t hosting either.  I was just at home with no sense of responsibility.  To most people this might be a great thing.  To me it was not.  Once we brought in the bigger dinner table and started arranging things the way they needed to be for dinner, I started to get crazy anxiety.  I was freaking out in my head about how MIL has no clue what she&#39;s doing and takes way too long to make a decision about things.  I just wanted to be like &quot;The table seats 8, we&#39;re having 6.  Put it this way and it will work fine!&quot;  Then she didn&#39;t have a table cloth and didn&#39;t want to buy one because they&#39;re too expensive.  Um, hello?  You don&#39;t need a cloth one.  Just get a disposable from the grocery store.  It beats eating on a plain (dirty) fold out table.  She just didn&#39;t seem to get the idea of how to host a holiday.  I&#39;ll admit, I&#39;ve never done it myself.  But I was raised by the Hostess With the Mostess and I pride myself on being the same.  So, it just drove me nuts to see how MIL works.  I explained to to BF this way, &quot;You know when you see a picture hanging just a little bit crooked, and you can&#39;t think straight until you straighten it?  Well, that&#39;s how this is for me.  She&#39;s the crooked picture.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I went to the store and got a tablecloth.  Then after a buildup of anxiety while showering and getting ready, I realized I was starving.  2:30 is really the stupidest time to have Thanksgiving dinner.  You end up skipping lunch and then being hungry way before anything is ready, especially with MIL who is always late at everything.  Of course, this is even worse for me because when I get hungry I start to lose it.  Maybe it&#39;s a low blood sugar thing.  I don&#39;t know, but it is just not good.  So, as our 1 guest arrived, I made some cheese and crackers and sat down to socialize.  It was like I put on a mask.  Cheese &amp;amp; crackers out, hostess hat on, ready to go.  I had a smile on my face and you never would&#39;ve guessed I was about to lose it any second. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not long after that we opened the wine and the rest of the day was great.  Yes, I realize I&#39;m self medicating.  But honestly, it is the only thing I have for my anxiety these days.  Anyway, we had a wonderful dinner.  Everything tasted great, we had a nice time, played some games after dinner and laughed a lot.  And that is what I&#39;m thankful for this year, that I got through thanksgiving and was able to enjoy it.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/3989546202747327040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/3989546202747327040' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/3989546202747327040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/3989546202747327040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2010/11/thanksgiving-recap.html' title='Thanksgiving Recap'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-5950339281913505568</id><published>2010-11-24T19:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T20:13:24.824-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anxiety"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="depression"/><title type='text'>When it hurts so bad</title><content type='html'>I&#39;m so lost right now.  I&#39;ve run through so many emotions in the past few hours that I am just exhausted.  I was depressed all day and then finally decided to get out of the house to go get a Big Mac and Oberweis.  It seems all I can do to fight my anxiety and depression this week is eat those 2 things.  I had them 3 times this week!  It&#39;s ridiculous.  And now they have large size shakes at Oberweiss so that makes it even worse.   I&#39;m going to be 200 lbs before I&#39;m able to get out of this slump.  I&#39;m alone all day long with no one to interact with except a MIL who makes me completely insane.  All day I&#39;m trying to conjure up the energy and patience to deal with my 18 month old and try to somehow wean her off of nursing because it is killing me.  Then BF works late and comes home for 5 minutes only to leave to go hang out with the neighbors.  I mean, I can&#39;t completely blame him for that because we had sort of planned to go there together tonight and bring DD with us.  But when I told him I was having such a bad day I kind of hoped he&#39;d stay home with me.  Especially after I said I didn&#39;t want to go, then I said I would, then got anxiety so bad that I started crying.  He said he felt guilty and asked me if he should stay home but really, what&#39;s the point?  Nothing he says makes me feel better.  It just makes me feel more alone.  He told me once when we first started dating, while I was feeling really depressed from my engagement, &quot;you&#39;ll never have to feel alone again when you&#39;re with me&quot;.  Well, he was more wrong than ever.  At least back then I had him as my best friend to comfort me.  Now I can&#39;t talk to him at all and I don&#39;t want him near me because I&#39;m so touched out from nursing that I can&#39;t stand to have anyone touch me at all.  I feel like everything is just driving me deeper and deeper into a downward spiral.  It hurts so bad.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/5950339281913505568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/5950339281913505568' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/5950339281913505568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/5950339281913505568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2010/11/when-it-hurts-so-bad.html' title='When it hurts so bad'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-838381484037210494</id><published>2010-11-19T20:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-19T21:15:41.308-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="depression"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="regret"/><title type='text'>Realizations/Confessions</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I&#39;ve made so many bad life choices.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I should have tried to fix myself and my own financial problems before getting involved in someone else&#39;s.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I&#39;m sick of paying both AT&amp;amp;T bills, bailing BF out on his car payments, and having to pay for airplane tickets to his family reunion after we agreed he would pay for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I&#39;m 30 years old.  I should not be living in my own mother&#39;s house, much less anyone else&#39;s mother&#39;s house.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I subconsciously would rather complain about not having any room for any of my belongings here instead of making room and moving my stuff in, because I&#39;m in denial about the fact that I live here.  I don&#39;t want to make any moves that would establish this as a permanent or even semi-permanent residence.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I should have so much accomplished by now and I have nothing.  Not even the ambition to find my dreams or get a simple job anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I miss my apartment SO much.  I miss my freedom.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I don&#39;t know who I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/838381484037210494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/838381484037210494' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/838381484037210494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/838381484037210494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2010/11/realizationsconfessions.html' title='Realizations/Confessions'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-160394656740831622</id><published>2010-11-19T20:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-19T20:56:13.441-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anxiety"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="depression"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="therapy"/><title type='text'>Snuggle Therapy</title><content type='html'>Took DD to the Dr. yesterday for her 18 month checkup.  They loaded her up with vaccines because I always seem to miss an appointment here and there so she needed to catch up.  They also informed me that her right ear looks infected.  I had no clue anything was wrong with her, but once they mentioned it I did recall her rubbing her finger in her ear a few times.  I had thought it was just because she was tired.  Something inside me questioned whether this downward spiral I&#39;ve been in has got me so distracted that I wasn&#39;t able to notice her cues.  Maybe all the whining she&#39;s done lately that I hear as a nagging, annoying noise she won&#39;t stop doing was really a cry of discomfort.  It&#39;s these questions that leave me doubting the job I do as a mother.  Today I spent all day snuggling, cuddling, and paying as much attention as I could to her, trying to ease her discomfort from the ear ache and very sore, stiff legs after getting the shots.  Maybe it was the fact that I didn&#39;t have any other worries than loving my babygirl today that made me feel a little better.  I seem to be much less anxious.  Just calm, easy going, and not dwelling on being depressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps it was the visit with my Mom last night.  After the Dr. we made the long drive to Grandma&#39;s house to escape having dinner with BF&#39;s mom at home while he was working late.  I had a lot to get off my chest and it was good to cry and talk with my Mom.  She also worked on my back--it&#39;s been really tight and sore lately--which may have had a therapeutic effect on me.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/160394656740831622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/160394656740831622' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/160394656740831622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/160394656740831622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2010/11/snuggle-therapy.html' title='Snuggle Therapy'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-1189233771829706581</id><published>2010-11-17T14:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2014-05-14T22:08:10.618-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Darkness</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was bad.  It&#39;s been gloomy outside lately and it feels gloomy in my head, too.  I slept till 10am and then took a 2 hour nap later in the day when DD napped. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/1189233771829706581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/1189233771829706581' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/1189233771829706581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/1189233771829706581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2010/11/darkness.html' title='Darkness'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-5305793932656478447</id><published>2010-11-12T18:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-19T21:18:47.767-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anxiety"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="depression"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="postpartum"/><title type='text'>Belated Postpartum Depression</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_rZb_6SHKuvz0be6nXQ4MkmEVW-ayzExjF-uadtCnQcucmnkmBE9xbS4yFEfykU8AEN8m41587rZjv6-9ERZ1yZ-C-TIc2DUK9-BxgsivopwgrWA_DrY9yZ8eLf4rFcx3mOe32ekrIi0/s1600/images1.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 272px; height: 185px;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_rZb_6SHKuvz0be6nXQ4MkmEVW-ayzExjF-uadtCnQcucmnkmBE9xbS4yFEfykU8AEN8m41587rZjv6-9ERZ1yZ-C-TIc2DUK9-BxgsivopwgrWA_DrY9yZ8eLf4rFcx3mOe32ekrIi0/s320/images1.jpg&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538867114791755266&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;18 months after my daughter&#39;s birth, I&#39;ve finally broke down and decided to get some help.  I kept thinking I was ok, that I could handle this on my own, that my mood swings were just normal female behavior that I needed to learn to cope better with.  But that&#39;s not entirely true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&#39;m depressed, tired, full of anxiety, bored, and just plain sick of it all.  I have no patience for anything.  When BF calls me from work I&#39;m annoyed and short with him.  We have no sex life whatsoever and I can&#39;t stand to hear him joke about it anymore.  The whining sounds DD makes grind at me right away.  It&#39;s all piling up and I can do nothing but stare off into space with my mind racing.  I often have trouble sleeping, lying awake until 2 or 3 in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I spoke with a postpartum counselor yesterday.  She stopped into my room in L&amp;amp;D right after I had the baby to talk to me about my high risk and give me her card.  I&#39;m glad I kept it.  We met for an hour and she gave me some insight on what might help me as well as some referrals to a therapist and a psychiatrist who take my insurance, since we&#39;re now on Public Aid.  I&#39;m hoping to get back on Wellbutrin as it seemed to be the miracle worker for me before I got pregnant.   I know this won&#39;t be an instant transformation, but taking these first steps makes me feel a little better for the moment.  At least I can believe there&#39;s a light at the end of the tunnel.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/5305793932656478447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/5305793932656478447' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/5305793932656478447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/5305793932656478447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2010/11/belated-postpartum-depression.html' title='Belated Postpartum Depression'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_rZb_6SHKuvz0be6nXQ4MkmEVW-ayzExjF-uadtCnQcucmnkmBE9xbS4yFEfykU8AEN8m41587rZjv6-9ERZ1yZ-C-TIc2DUK9-BxgsivopwgrWA_DrY9yZ8eLf4rFcx3mOe32ekrIi0/s72-c/images1.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-97627365604555322</id><published>2010-08-23T17:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-23T18:54:37.638-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anxiety"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mother"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mother-in-law"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sister-in-law"/><title type='text'>I&#39;m Going Crazy Because...</title><content type='html'>I feel like I can&#39;t sit still without getting depressed or anxious...sometimes to the point where my body aches.  I&#39;ve been trying to cope by writing out nightly schedules for the next day and weekly menus for dinner.  It helps me to stay focused and keep busy so that I don&#39;t have a lot of downtime.  It can be hard when I have no idea what to do next and my mind just floods with thoughts of all the things that are bothering me.  I can&#39;t stand my roommate (a.k.a &quot;Mother in Law&quot;): the way she lives her life, the things she does, the sound of her voice all get under my skin.  I can&#39;t talk to any of the people I&#39;d usually talk to because I have issues with all of them right now (all 3 that is).  I can&#39;t talk to my BF because most of my problem is with his mom so he doesn&#39;t want to hear it.  My SIL is going through a quarter life crisis, so I feel bad calling with my own issues and I want to help but I don&#39;t know what to say or do for her and my own anxiety is making her personality a little annoying right now.  My mom is pissed at me because I said we were going on an outing near her house Sunday and invited her along but then we changed our minds and went somewhere else without telling her until the last minute, so now I&#39;m afraid to talk to her.  She&#39;s been FBing me and texting me with &quot;I miss you&quot;, &quot;I miss my girls&quot;, &quot;I want to see my kids&quot;....for weeks now and I haven&#39;t done anything about it.  But she works and goes to school 6 days a week and lives 45 minutes away, so it&#39;s not like I can just pop on over for a short visit.   I feel like it&#39;s not my fault that she fills her time up with work and school and lives so far, so she can&#39;t get mad at me for not seeing us.  I&#39;m just sick of everyone wanting me to bring the baby here or there to visit with them.  Sometimes I just want to move away where no one can guilt trip me about not visiting.  If they want to visit, they can come to us.  Besides, I had mixed feelings about my last visit with my mom because she spent the whole time oggling the baby and I felt neglected because I could barely have a conversation the way I used to have with her.  I feel like now that the baby&#39;s a little older I should just drop her off at people&#39;s houses and go do something else because no one wants to see me anymore anyway.  They just want to spend time with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, as for the roommate/MIL issue.  We&#39;re both home all day long because I don&#39;t work and she works evenings.  I can&#39;t even be in the same room with her without wanting to punch something.  I try to get up and out of the house for the day before she wakes up, so I don&#39;t have to see her because she just drives me insane.  She&#39;s 47 years old, parties all night and sleeps till noon, then gets up all bitchy and wants to complain about the night she had or the customers not tipping, or her STUPID FUCKING VOLLEYBALL.  The woman is obsessed...I mean OBSESSED with her volleyball league.  She&#39;s not only a player, but she &quot;runs&quot; the season...you would think that this year when she found out the company had hired professionals to run it and that she wasn&#39;t getting paid, that she would&#39;ve just dropped it.  Oh no....she implanted herself so far into it that they ended up firing the professionals and agreeing to pay her and another team mate to coordinate the rest of the season.  My guess is they probably just wanted to get her off their backs.  She cannot speak without complaining about something, she spends most of her day doing volleyball bullshit while trying to accomplish other household tasks and running errands, but she is incapable of multi-tasking.  Every single day she says she&#39;s going to pool and then she never gets there because her days go a little like this...She&#39;ll fill the sink with dishes, then go outside to water the garden, come back in and do half the dishes, then go back to making phone calls.  She&#39;ll start making breakfast (at 2:00pm), remember she has to get to the bank before their deposit cutoff, leave the eggs half cooked on the stove and run out the door to get to the bank, get sidetracked going to Walgreens and get back just in time to finish breakfast (4:00pm), more volleyballs calls,  take a shower and leave for work....dirty pans on the stove, milk left out, never finishing the dishes.  When she does finish the dishes, half the time I have to rewash them because they&#39;re all covered in grease from being left soaking in cold water all day and then quickly rinsed to get it done before she has to go.  Then today she says to me &quot;tell me again why you wash dishes that can go in the dishwasher, because I&#39;ve read it uses less water to run the dishwasher than to actually wash them.&quot;  So, I said, &quot;because I&#39;m already washing dishes to begin with and the dishwasher was full.&quot;  How the hell can she ask me why I wash dishes if she&#39;s the crazy person who insists that not everything can go in the dishwasher?  There&#39;s a &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;pots and pans&lt;/span&gt; button on the machine for a reason!!  And you wonder why I throw a couple plates and glasses in the sink with my load of dishes that you say can&#39;t go in the dishwasher??  What fucking planet are you from?!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing is, she has apparently stopped buying groceries...at least groceries for the whole house.  She&#39;ll go to the store and get her personal items and mention that she was craving fruit or a green vegetable, but did she remember to get a gallon of milk?  No.  She bought beer, English muffins, eggs, 1 orange, and ONE banana.  ONE!  The baby eats a banana almost every morning and BF takes one to work a lot, so when he called her out on it and said, &quot;Who buys 1 banana?&quot;  She says, &quot;well I didn&#39;t have any money and I needed some fruit.&quot;  What about all the fruit I buy for the house that she is welcome to eat any time?  What about the 2 gallons of milk I buy every week that we always seem to run out of?  I understand you&#39;re a waitress and your income depends on how well business is going and business hasn&#39;t been good, so you&#39;re broke.  But I&#39;m unemployed and on food stamps, so who are you to bitch?  I haven&#39;t even told her about the food stamps because I feel like she&#39;ll figure &quot;well, you&#39;ve got government money.  You go ahead and buy ALL the groceries.&quot;  Even though I feel like that&#39;s already what&#39;s happening.  And what about the meals I make 4 times a week and the leftovers you hardly ever eat?  Honestly, I&#39;m a little insulted that she never eats what I cook.   I&#39;m not a bad cook.  I&#39;m actually getting pretty good with all this practice.  Any time she&#39;s cooked in the past I always eat it, no matter if it&#39;s something I think I&#39;ll like or not.  She actually turned me onto fish which I would never eat before. But when I made fish and offered her some she made a face and asked, &quot;is it fishy?&quot;  and when BF cooks something he knows she likes and we offer to make enough for her to join us, she&#39;ll turn up her nose and ask, &quot;What&#39;s the vegetable?&quot;  Then she&#39;ll run out and buy a fresh veggie, cook it, and eat it with the leftovers that night but not sit down and eat with us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH...and don&#39;t get me started on anything she does involving my daughter.  Ok, so here goes... she knows we have no space in this house yet she randomly buys things from garage sales that we can&#39;t even use yet because their too old for the baby.  She and I both buy books at garage sales and then she just decides about the ones I bought that &quot;she&#39;s not ready for those yet.  They&#39;re too wordy&quot; and puts them away in another room without even telling me until I ask her what happened to them.  She doesn&#39;t hold back in telling her &quot;Grandma&#39;s &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;hangin&lt;/span&gt;&quot; when she&#39;s hungover from the night before, or &quot;Grandma&#39;s buzzed&quot; when her friends drop her off early from a night of drinking.  Excuse me, but my 15 month old daughter does not need to hear that bullshit--EVER.  She constantly asks the baby if she wants to go swimming or wants to do this or that, then says, &quot;Grandma wants to take you&quot; or &quot;Grandma&#39;s going to take you&quot; but then never delivers.  She said to me the other day, &quot;I promised myself I&#39;d go to the pool for my birthday because &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;it&#39;s my birthday and I need to do what I want&lt;/span&gt;.  Volleyball can wait.  So, I don&#39;t know what you guys are doing that day but maybe you&#39;d like to go over to the pool for a little while.  I&#39;d love to see the baby swim.&quot;  I&#39;ve offered several times for her to take the baby swimming without me, but she&#39;s never asked me to do that.  I guess she didn&#39;t want the responsibility of taking her swimming herself.  So, I figured that it&#39;s her birthday so I should try to make it happen.  I asked her ahead of time if she knew when she might want to go to the pool.  She said, &quot;well it won&#39;t be first thing in the morning because I plan to stay out for my birthday the night before.&quot;  So, I sat around all day waiting for her to get her drunk ass out of bed and by the time she did and I came up with a plan to get my errands done while still fitting in her pool time, it was 3:30pm and she says to me, &quot;Oh, I&#39;m not going.  There&#39;s no time, I gotta go to work.&quot; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, bitch.  Thanks for making my life miserable.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/97627365604555322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/97627365604555322' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/97627365604555322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/97627365604555322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2010/08/im-going-crazy-because.html' title='I&#39;m Going Crazy Because...'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-6925501832948147366</id><published>2010-02-04T12:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T13:12:38.531-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="aggravation"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="coupons"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mother-in-law"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="privacy"/><title type='text'>Coupon Nazi</title><content type='html'>WTH?  This woman--my not-quite-MIL--is insane.  She absolutely cannot give us our mail without looking at the return address and either announcing who it&#39;s from, guessing what it is, or getting involved somehow--especially if it&#39;s a recurring bill.  On the Sunday&#39;s when I bring the newspaper in, I clip the coupons I want and put it all back together to give to her because otherwise she piles them up for months until she finds time to go through them, and by then they&#39;re usually expired.  I even asked once if she could pass them onto me when she was done and I never saw them again.   One day when I was going to the store to get a few things she says, &quot;I was just about to get you some coupons from the paper and look! (holds up coupon pages) They&#39;re gone!&quot;  I&#39;m like, &quot;Yeah, I already got them yesterday.&quot;  She exclaims, &quot;Oh!!  I thought the mailman was stealing my coupons!!&quot;  .....really?  You actually thought the mailman chose our house out of all the others, opens up the paper and cuts the coupons before delivering the paper?  Yeah, sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday she was going through them again.  She had 6 piles going on the table and then had to leave for work.  So, as I&#39;m clearing off the table for dinner I moved them all into one pile, staggering so she could separate them where she had them.  Then today she gets this tone and says, &quot;now...do you know which pile was where because I had them sorted by (blah blah blah)...and the ones I was done with I put in a trash pile.&quot;  Yeah, obviously you had them sorted by something, but I didn&#39;t know that ahead of time so I couldn&#39;t do much with it other than what I did.  She says, &quot;well, I guess I&#39;ll just start over.  I should be able to figure it out.&quot;  Ok, so then I say to her a little later in the day, &quot;I was thinking, when you&#39;re done, don&#39;t throw out your trash pile.  I&#39;ll go through it and see if there&#39;s any more I could use in there.&quot;  Now, instead of just saying &quot;Ok.&quot;  She says, &quot;Well, see the trash pile is mostly expired and I&#39;ve already taken out any of the ones &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;thought you guys would use...like I keep all the baby ones and I kept one for your sour cream...&quot; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don&#39;t even know what to say to that and I&#39;ve never seen a single baby coupon from her, so where she puts these ones that she thinks I&#39;ll use, I don&#39;t know.  But my real questions is... how hard is it to just let us decide for ourselves what we want to keep?  A lot of times I don&#39;t buy stuff until I notice a coupon for it and that will make me think, &quot;Oh I&#39;ve been wanting to try that!&quot;  So, how would she know that I don&#39;t want a coupon for something just because she&#39;s never seen it in the house?  She does the same thing with our mail!  If she thinks its junk mail she&#39;ll throw it out before even giving it to us.  How does she know what &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;our&lt;/span&gt; junk mail looks like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugghhhhh!  She is making me crazy!  God, I wish we could just win the lottery and move out of here now instead of waiting until we&#39;re ready and able.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/6925501832948147366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/6925501832948147366' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/6925501832948147366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/6925501832948147366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2010/02/coupon-nazi.html' title='Coupon Nazi'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-1604740346729481638</id><published>2009-09-10T13:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T13:29:55.669-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="baby"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="grandma"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="marijuana"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="weed"/><title type='text'>Grandma&#39;s Hitting the Pipe</title><content type='html'>BF asked me to pick up lawn bags today so he and his mom could team up and cut the extra long grass we have outside due to the recent onslaught of rain.  She would do half during the day and he will do the rest when he gets home from work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got home from the grocery store.  Baby&#39;s fussy and doesn&#39;t want to stay in car seat or be put down while I put the groceries away.  So, I have her on one hip and groceries on the other as I walk upstairs to put the perishables in the fridge.  It straight smells like reefer up here.  &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;Obviously &lt;/span&gt;&quot;MIL&quot; and her loser boyfriend are getting tons accomplished on the living room today.  When I put the lawn bags down she says, &quot;Oh shit I totally forgot about the lawn!&quot;  (Well, yeah I could&#39;ve predicted that one yesterday when you said you&#39;d add it to your schedule...not to mention the fact that you just got done smoking a bowl.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, part of me is pissed that Grandma is upstairs smoking pot because I just carried my baby through that air.  But its kind of hypocritical to be mad because I let BF sneak off to take a hit here and there and he comes back in with a faint smell of pot on him.  Besides, they probably smoked while we were still at the grocery store and it&#39;s just a lingering smell that I noticed once I got home.  I&#39;m sure I wasn&#39;t actually walking through a cloud of THC when I went up there.  Its just one more of those things to add fuel to the fire I guess.  At least this time I can keep my cool about it.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/1604740346729481638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/1604740346729481638' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/1604740346729481638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/1604740346729481638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2009/09/grandmas-hitting-pipe.html' title='Grandma&#39;s Hitting the Pipe'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-5426573025373098579</id><published>2009-08-29T12:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-29T12:42:05.481-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="alcoholism"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="living situation"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mother-in-law"/><title type='text'>Its the Principle</title><content type='html'>Most of the time I try to be cool about my living situation.  Fact is, most things that bother me really aren&#39;t a big deal so I try not to make them into one.  But everything just adds up and gets under my skin.  Well this week just happened to be one of those weeks.  The house has been a construction zone for weeks because they&#39;re painting the walls and putting in new carpet upstairs. So, we&#39;ve managed to work around that most of the time with making pretty easy dinners, but we can&#39;t even eat at the dinner table.  We have to eat downstairs in our bedroom which I hate because it means I&#39;m eating while sitting on the super low couch, hunched over the coffee table.  Then we have BF&#39;s mom and her loser boyfriend coming and going all the time trying to get work done in between running errands and going out partying at night.  Its taken her 3 days to finish the dishes that they made the other night and they are still sitting in the sink.  How long does it take to do one dinner&#39;s worth of dishes?  The other night I heard them come home at 12:30 and I couldn&#39;t get back to sleep until they&#39;d quieted down.  It sounded like they&#39;d finally stopped messing around in the kitchen and gone to bed around 3:30a.m.  Then her boyfriend was up at 9:30am hanging out in the living room and making coffee for hours before &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;she &lt;/span&gt;even woke up.... Then, this morning I woke and the bitch drank my Bacardi.  She had a full case of beer in the fridge, why did she have to drink the rest of my Bacardi?  Then when she finally wakes up today at 2:00pm she comes into the kitchen with that alcoholic hangover voice that people get, picks up the bottle and says, &quot;I don&#39;t know whose this was but I drank it.  I&#39;ll buy more.&quot;  So I said, &quot;Yeah, it was mine and it was a mix of 3 different flavors that someone gave me.  I don&#39;t even know which ones they were.&quot; and I walked downstairs.  So, she goes and calls BF and says she doesn&#39;t appreciate the snippiness from me, and then I have to talk to him about it too!  WTF.  I&#39;m sick of talking about it or thinking about it, but basically its just the principle of it....and the fact that all my other annoyances have been adding up.  That&#39;s all.  I don&#39;t know what else to say about it.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/5426573025373098579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/5426573025373098579' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/5426573025373098579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/5426573025373098579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2009/08/its-principle.html' title='Its the Principle'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-4157689480986263218</id><published>2009-06-20T14:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T15:05:20.960-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="baby"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="society"/><title type='text'>Re-Entering the Real World</title><content type='html'>I did it!  I made it through my first post-pregnancy social event.  I had a bridal shower to go to and it was the first time I&#39;ve left Baby alone with anyone for more than an hour.  I started having anxiety last night while thinking about the things I had to do to get ready and leave the house for the shower.  And after freaking out the last time I was supposed to have plans to go somewhere, I thought for sure I was going to back out at the last minute.  This morning when I woke up I started doing what I had to do, I ran into a poop detour, but once I set my mind to get in the shower and get ready I was ok.  I&#39;m so happy that I did it.  It sounds so dumb, but it was an obstacle.  I was really starting to think that I&#39;d become institutionalized by being at home with Baby all the time...like I couldn&#39;t function in the real world, having to be in a certain place at a certain time.  Now I feel much better about it though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing is that its hard to leave your baby for the first time, especially after you&#39;ve been with her 24-7 for the past 7 weeks.  I&#39;m sure any mother would agree with that.  I wasn&#39;t even leaving her with a baby sitter.  It was with her own Dad!  But even that was hard.  He&#39;s never been alone with her for more than 45 minutes.  I was afraid she&#39;d cry and he wouldn&#39;t know what to do and that can be so frustrating and tiring.  Not only that but it was also her first time drinking from a bottle.  I&#39;ve been breastfeeding exclusively this whole time.  Its important to me that she only drinks breastmilk so I had to pump, and that was a first as well.  (And an experience I am not fond of at all!)  Yesterday was the only chance I had to try pumping and I didn&#39;t even have a chance to try feeding her the bottle.  We were just hoping she would take it today.  Luckily she had no problem with it.  We were pretty confident about that one though.  We figured once she started sucking and realized there was milk coming out, she wouldn&#39;t refuse.  She&#39;s such a good baby.  We&#39;re really lucky.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/4157689480986263218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/4157689480986263218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/4157689480986263218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/4157689480986263218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2009/06/re-entering-real-world.html' title='Re-Entering the Real World'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-6493489084274324225</id><published>2009-06-13T19:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T19:19:57.781-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="baby"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="visitors"/><title type='text'>Baby Hogging</title><content type='html'>I feel like I&#39;m being burdened by both sides of this situation.  On the one hand, I&#39;m frustrated that I have no freedom anymore.  Everything I do is such a drawn out process and has to be planned well in advance and around baby&#39;s eating schedules.  I can&#39;t just run out to the store.  I have to make sure its after she&#39;s fed but not too close to when she&#39;ll eat again so that she doesn&#39;t get upset while I&#39;m out with her.  Or I have to make sure I let Daddy know that I need to go out so he can take her right after I feed her and I can leave right away.  And if I say I want to go to the store he has to ask me where and why.  I can&#39;t just go to the store because I want to buy something?  You have to decide if its something I need to get right now first?  Maybe I just want a break or an escape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then on the other hand, it&#39;s nice that everyone wants to be part of the baby&#39;s life.  But now that she&#39;s here we get so many visitors that we can&#39;t have a single weekend to ourselves.  You would think that being with her 24-7 during the week would make me want people to come over and take her for a while so I could just be here with Daddy and not have to worry about her because I know she&#39;s just in the other room in good hands.  But it doesn&#39;t.  It just makes me tired and frustrated because nobody knows her cues like I do, so she cries so much more when other people are around.  Nobody bothers to check her diaper, they think she just has gas or wants to be rocked.  NO, what she wants is a clean diaper and to be put down for a while so she can have some time to herself to chill.  Yes, I hold her all the time but she doesn&#39;t want to be held every second.  From my point of view, it seems like she gets sick of other people and just wants to get back to her time with Mommy.  My family seems to think that they are all going to have some huge part in raising her.  They&#39;re always saying stuff about how they plan to influence her and it just makes me so mad.  They can raise their own kids when they have them.  I just want to be like, &quot;Everyone leave us the hell alone!  She&#39;s my baby and I don&#39;t want to share her!!&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/6493489084274324225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/6493489084274324225' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/6493489084274324225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/6493489084274324225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2009/06/baby-hogging.html' title='Baby Hogging'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911388847491138352.post-7451600942400745525</id><published>2009-05-20T16:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T16:48:06.618-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="babies"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="birth"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="delivery"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="labor"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pregnancy"/><title type='text'>That&#39;s a Punctual Baby!</title><content type='html'>So, it turns out that I went into labor the morning of my due date.  Can you believe that?  Cleaning and nesting for a few days, then an emotional breakdown because the father of my baby was drunk the night before the due date, then lo and behold it actually happens on time!  Well, sort of....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up in the morning with signs of labor, went to the Dr and was told it would happen &quot;tonight&quot;, ate a light lunch and walked for an hour, then checked into the hospital around noon Saturday.  Labor progressed slowly for the first 12 hours.  Then around 1:00am the contractions got worse and I started dilating about a centimeter an hour until I got stuck at 6-7cm for a long time.  As time passed, I was exhausted and hungry because they wouldn&#39;t let me eat the whole time I was there.  My exhaustion didn&#39;t help me deal with the pain.  The Dr wanted to speed things up since I&#39;d been there at least 24 hours already, so she suggested breaking my water bag.  I got more and more scared about what was yet to come.  I started crying more frequently and thinking about getting the epidural even though I&#39;d planned to go as natural as possible.  I was upset that I was even considering the epidural even though I knew in my heart that it was ok for me to get it.   Finally I decided to let them break the water and see how it went.  After my water was broken the contractions got much more intense and after 30 hours of labor I decided to get the epidural.  At hour 32 the anesthesiologist came in and numbed me up....an hour later my baby girl was born! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dude... I&#39;m a mom.  Crazy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And by the way, BF was amazing during the whole thing.  He&#39;s the best Dad ever!!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/feeds/7451600942400745525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/2911388847491138352/7451600942400745525' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/7451600942400745525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2911388847491138352/posts/default/7451600942400745525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://up-n-downdom.blogspot.com/2009/05/thats-punctual-baby.html' title='That&#39;s a Punctual Baby!'/><author><name>Random Grrrl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195321693403632409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>