Dancer in the Dark

I've alluded to post partum depression in past posts, (say that five times fast) but I won't link you because

a) I'm anxious that I link past-posts too much and it's annoying.

b) The mentions are minor and in passing where I basically call it the PPD fairy which makes it sound all sorta swell and almost charming and not the insidious mother fawker that it is. Yes I'm afraid of balls out swearing, dontcha know my grandmother reads this blog? The one with the abs of steel, ya, that one. Damnit! I just did it again. I have no self control.

Oh crap, fine. Here are the PPD ones. Here. And here.

But whatev's. We're all here now right? And let's get to the problem.

That charming little insidious beeyatch fairy is back. She's flying by dropping her thought bombs including these hits: 'Oh you're wasting your time on this planet and worse everyone else's' and 'This poor child will never survive with you as the Mother' or 'Darkdarkdark thoughts that one does not write out loud or certainly not put on the interweb'.

I know it's been documented and thank god for the Brooke Shields of the worlds who make talking about this dark-ass shit somehow okay but it's hard to come clean about it. Especially so publicly. I mean seriously god bless her, she admitted that she herself was suicidal and even wanted to hurt her child and sure that sounds freakin' nuts - but I get it. It got that bad for me on two separate occasions and it scared the living keerap out of me.

Today I didn't have to go all the way there, just enough into the darkness to remember what there felt like. It's a strange phenomenon that I will try to describe. I know this movie is damn old, but has anyone seen The Blob? Here's the trailer. Try to subtract the campiness of the movie and imagine what it might be like to actually get eaten alive by the blob. As if the worst feeling you've ever had came over you and enveloped you intending to kill you. You can't shake it, because it's slimy and stuck and worse of all, it's spreading. This is a great time for a panic attack, so you have one. Hopefully your Mom or sister in law or someone is there to hold the tiny helpless baby so you can go shake in the shower.

I find that the most insidious aspect is the mental discussion that insists that I'm at fault...especially now. 'What hormones? Comon' it's been six months...GET OVER YERSELF' kinda dealio. So that's where I've been these last few days. The only thing that's cheering me up is the gorgeous soaking that the LA basin is getting. At this very moment I hear rolling thunder (no wait, that's someone taking the trash). Damn. But it's raining buckets which is just the sound of hope, renewal and a tiny dream of green for our burned forests. Photo credit.
 
I think BHB is aware of the shift in me, which makes me feel even worse. He's still a laughing-banchee-screaming-guy with a ready smile but he no longer has any interest in going to sleep at night. Yep, we've resorted back to the three hour 'go-to-sleep-baybee' opera. I guess the bragging up here came back to kick me in the ass. Karma is a bitch.

And if you're wondering how I treat the PPD, back then I used acupuncture and homeopathics. Please email me if you want more info, I am so happy to share the 411. Today I used the Haagen-Daz cure which will only make it worse because sugar is evil dontcha know but sometimes you just gotta.

About a Boy

Okay! This is the best of them so far, don't y'all think? My obsession with naming my posts movie titles has sent me into the dark abyss of writer's block a few times. However, clearly this one is a total winner if I do say so myself...

So let's talk boy:

1) He's a laughing machine.

For some reason we've seen an odd yet delicious little joy spurt right before bedtime the last few nights. Anything, and I mean ANYTHING we do is freakin' hilarious. As a once comedian I can tell you workin' for an audience that easy is noteworthy. It's like being the 4th comedian out of 10, everyone is 1.5 cocktails in and you're hi-freakin-larious. Your teeth are white and your jokes are hitting. Which is why, I love this guy.

2) He's a sweetheart.

I wonder if you can really tell what you've got in the way of a new family member when he's only in the 6th month of a life? I must say thanks to the gathered evidence, I'm feeling uber hopeful. I recently talked to someone who commented on his sweet spirit and I said something like 'Oh yea, we'll see' and she gave me a little head tilt like 'You're odd' but then said reassuringly. "You know who he is, you do." It was a little poke of poignancy actually. So what I do know is that he's a sweetie-pie-lovey-faced angel-breath-of-a-boy. Totally. Which is another reason why, I love that guy.

3) He has no intention of crawling anytime soon.

Or so I think. Is it wrong to hope for this trend to continue? I meet a super cute family tonight with a stoopid cute kid who is 15 months old. They told me that he didn't walk until about a month ago (quick math, 8 more months of no walking? Oohhh, sounds good...) AND he apparently didn't crawl until a week before he walked. For my money they hit the jackpot, and I told BHB so. I whispered into his wispy little blonde hair-do 'Walking is whatev's. Crawling is creepy. Let's stay here in the banchee scream and roll around on the rug phase for a long, long time'. Karma says I'm going to be reporting on his walking status in a month. Praying for a Not on that one. But he's taking his time now, which is another reason why, I truly love this guy.

4) He's ready to eat solid food.

And this won't surprise you, I'm not ready for him to. Either I am one lazy chic or I'm terrified of change or fill in the blank with your own judgmental thought here. ______________
Whichever one we go with I'm going to just have to get over it and serve up some mush. I have been waiting for him to hit every single marker which is:

a.. Sits up. (He almost does, but not without something to lean on or a faceplant follows in short order)
b. Doubled his birth weight. (Done and Done - we're 3 + pounds up from there)
c. Looks interested in food. (He's watching me eat as rabidly as my dog does. Between the two of them I feel like the star of a reality show while just trying to eat a damn sandwich)
d. Losing the extrusion reflex. (Well, I don't really know about this because I'll have to put something in that little mouth to see if he pushes it right back out. But seeing as how excited he gets to eat the little teething tablets that I ply him with I'm guessing he's down for some swallow action.)

Thankfully I know a super fabulous and sweet Momma who is damn savvy about food mushing and I'm going to take a class from her soon to gain some confidence and skillz. Plus I shouldn't be afraid because that milestone will provide some awesome comedy and fantatic photo opps. Which is why, I will still love that guy, even when he's eating and flinging veggie mush.

I'm sure there's more numbers of things I can say about a boy. As you've likely noticed, he's pretty a magical little guy. By the way, I get that this is such a 'Girlfriend needs a baby book' post but thanks for staying with me. Sure do love you for coming by.