Riptides of emotion are drowning me

Is it the winter blahs? the baby blues? a touch of post-partum depression? or just being completely overwhelmed by trying to juggle my life?

I don't know -- but there is something seriously wrong with me. I've started this post a dozen times and each time I opted not to write it..... wasn't really sure what the reception would be and I'm in no frame of mind to argue with anonymous nit-wits (this means you so keep your rude comments to yourself bucko), but I write what's on my mind, so here it goes.

I'm a basket-case -- half the time..... the rest of the time, I'm just a very tired version of my old self. I'm not an excessively emotional person.... but these days I cry (I mean uncontrollable blubbering, crying and sobbing) over the littlest things... or nothing at all. Poor Mr Big Dubya doesn't know what to do with me.... he asks "Are you okay?" and I snap at him for asking that question too often. But, if he goes a few hours without asking.... well then I yell at him for not caring enough about me -- oh yeah, I'm a real treat to be around these days.

Our neighbor stopped by last week -- she has an 8 month old and was very candid with us about suffering post-partum depression after his very difficult birth. She described her experience and swears that a prescription was what saved her and enabled her to enjoy the first few months of motherhood rather than getting lost in a deep state of depression (Tom Cruise fans.... zip it -- I don't want to hear it). Listening to her made me wonder if maybe I have a mild case of post-partum depression myself. The Big Dubya jumped on the happy-pill-bus immediately, encouraging me to get to the doctor's office for an RX -- I'm not sure I'm there yet, but...... we'll see.

I used to wonder if Post Partum was a real thing? Of course I don't mean the Andrea Yates brand of the affliction, I just mean the plain-old-ordinary-run-of-the-mill baby blues -- I don't wonder anymore.

In my case p.p.d. might not be the problem at all -- it may just be that I've just got a lot of shit going on at the moment -- two babies under two, a house (currently under renovation), a full-time job in a demanding field.... and with my family living so far away, my only support system is my husband. Add all that to the fact that I've been breastfeeding my daughter and am now facing some serious supply issues...... which, as irrational as it may sound, makes me feel like I'm failing her..... maybe I'm just suffering from good-old-fashioned exhaustion.

So earlier this week, I broke down and called the lactation consultant. I'd been hesitant to do this because I just assumed that she was going to tell me that I need to pump more, work less and make sure my baby never, ever gets formula. Some of these people (which I am convinced is a cult) make you feel like feeding your baby formula is the equivalent of child abuse and that if you don't breast-feed 100% you are a slacker.

I was wrong -- she was so kind and understanding and reasonable -- she told me to stop beating myself up, and more importantly stop stressing --- the stress was probably doing more harm to my milk supply than anything else. She said that setting my alarm to pump in the middle of the night in an effort to increase my supply and meet the baby's demand was CRAZY (yes, this is what I was doing) -- staying asleep and getting some much needed rest would do more.

I felt so much better after our conversation -- breastfeeding mothers are awesome, but they can be so judgemental -- especially if breastfeeding wasn't a struggle for them. They often don't understand and just assume that you either stop or supplement with formula because you are lazy or not committed -- this is not always true. Sometimes (like in my case) you need to supplement with formula because your baby isn't gaining enough weight with breast milk alone (who knew my milk was skim?) sometimes you just can't pump enough to keep up with their demand. The consultant told me about a woman who was literally starving her baby because the la leche league told her formula was unacceptable. I guess like with everything else, a little common sense goes a long way.

Anyway, I haven't turned to the happy pills yet, but......

Overheard at the Dubya House

The Morning after St Patrick's Day:
Mrs Big Dubya: Honey, Did you really drink 5 Guinness last night? I bought 8 and there are only 3 left....
Mr Big Dubya: (Sheepishly) No, I had an accident with one
Mrs Big Dubya: (Incredulously) Accident? What kind of accident?
Mr Big Dubya: Well, I put a couple in the freezer to chill and, well...
Mrs Big Dubya: Exploded, huh?
Mr Big Dubya: No, I left them in too long and the widget...... it didn't.... it didn't..... it didn't widgetize.... so it tasted like shit
Mrs Big Dubya: Widgetize?
Mr Big Dubya: Yeah, you know that chip in the can..... it really does make a difference

After a new neighbor stopped by:
Mrs Big Dubya: I really like her
Mr Big Dubya: Still think she's crazy?
Mrs Big Dubya: Oh, absolutely -- but she's our kind of crazy
Mr Big Dubya: Yeah, she is, isn't she?..... poor thing.

Happy Weekend Everybody!

They like me, they really like me!

For months.... years even, the Big Dubya's been coming home constantly telling me about this one or that one with real literary cred reading his blog or his posts on DadCentric and commenting on how smart, charming and/or witty he was...... yeah, yeah, yeah.... I know, you are awesome...... WHATEVAH!

But.....now, it's happened to me too! well, okay us.... but not just him, me too!

Jenn from Dad said Mom said asked us to join their couples blog -- it's a parenting point/counter-point for parents like us -- just trying to figure out how to deal with these little people we've got living with us.... and not ALWAYS agreeing on the best approach 'cause let's face it -- the Cunninghams we ain't.

I'm very excited -- the couples take turns posting (new posts go up each Friday) and we are now officially in the rotation.

Of course I've got the usual amount of performance anxiety.... what if our post isn't good.... or witty... or insightful..... what if they regret asking us.....

Anyway, we need a topic for our debut-- feel free to make suggestions!

I'm the not-so proud owner of a nifty new gas can

Been so busy the past few days, weeks, months..... I've been a bit of a slacker when it comes to posts here in MrsBigDubya-land. Here in CT, we've had our first 70-degree day and we've gotten a foot of snow all in the same three-day span!

My good friend CapeBuffalo checked in to say that she and the baby Buffalo are alive and well and living the good life in Paris..... she was also kind enough to tag me for a meme, and although this is not profound..... here goes nothin'

Real mothers know how to entertain their kids indefinitely

with nothing more than the contents of their purse

So, here's a quick story about how my 'lil world's been turnin' lately.

Last Thursday I had an 8:00am meeting with all the Big Cheeses in my department. As such, the Big Dubya graciously agreed to swap drop-off/pick-up duties with me so I wouldn't risk being tardy. The meeting went fine.... just what you'd expect.... the big thinkers talking about their big thoughts. After the meeting I decided I should go down to the health center to pump before my day got too busy, or my boobs got too full. Well, I got down their to discover that I was missing two key components to my pump UGH!!!!. Little things like this happened to me all day -- none of which on their own would have bothered me, but compounded by the fact that I had two cantaloupes sitting on my chest..... I was very unhappy, stressed out and emotional.

I finally had enough and decided to bail a couple hours early -- not too many people look for me in the afternoon -- so I could just login and wrap up some stuff from home. On my way, I realized that I needed gas -- but figured I could make it (mistake #1). I got almost all the way to the daycare and stopped off at the cheap-gas gas station and got in line.... and waited.... and waited.... and waited. I finally got fed up and left -- there's another station a mile down the road (mistake #2). A bit down the road, there was an accident -- leaving us all parked on this road.... and that's when the car began to chug and eventually stall-out because it was out of gas.

I allowed the car to coast down the hill just enough for me to turn onto a small side street. At this point I knew this was my own damn fault and I got out of the car to walk down to the gas station which was still about a ½ mile away. The man at the gas station had no sympathy and proceeded to rob me by charging me $13.99 for a gas can (not including the gas) that should cost $3 or $4. On my way back to the car it started to rain (of course it did) and this all stopped being even kind of funny. I had asked the man to show me how to use the gas can's nozzle, he chuckled and told me it was easy -- well, it wasn't. I assembled it as the sticker instructed but no gas would come out -- and the "spill-proof" valve was spilling all over me and the street.

At this point I was standing in a puddle of gas and I was just totally pissed off -- I remembered there was a Poland Springs bottle in the pocket of the passenger side door so I spilled out the water and began to fill the tiny plastic bottle with gas -- yep, more gas on the ground and on my feet... I got two bottles full into the car and thought that should be enough to get the car started and me to the gas station -- it wasn't.

This is where I gave in and started to cry, and not the kind of sniffing cry -- this was an all out blubbering -- I was soaking wet from the rain, I smelled like gas, I was going to be late to pick up my kids, my boobs were like two big bowling balls and my car wouldn't start.

I called the Big Dubya and just blubbered -- the poor guy, he had to deal with me on the other end of the phone. He asked if he should call AAA for me -- I was too embarrassed -- how could I explain all the gas on the ground and the Poland Springs bottle.... not to mention my latest fragrance au de gasoline. I told him I'd just see him at home -- and asked him to pick up the babies.

After I got off the phone I did what I could to compose myself and remembered that there was a bottle of apple juice in the stroller. The apple juice bottle had a wider mouth than the Poland Springs bottle and should be easier to get the gas into -- sure enough it was. I put another bottle of gas in the car and got it to start -- and it was running...barely. I rolled down the hill to the gas station and filled my tank.

When I finally got home I had a beer and a really long shower.

Don't Hate Me Because I'm a Republican

All too often conversations like the following occur in the Dubya house:

Mrs Big Dubya: I'm not going to read so-and-so's blog anymore
Mr Big Dubya: Why? They're as funny as all hell
Mrs Big Dubya: They are mean to Republicans -- he/she hurt my feelings with a post today
Mr Big Dubya: Well, then you're gonna run out of blogs to read
Mrs Big Dubya: Yeah, I know

My name is Mrs Big Dubya and I'm a Conservative -- That's right..... the Big Dubya and I are registered Republicans. We're outcasts here in the Liberal Blogsphere..... and my feelings get hurt on a regular basis by my fellow bloggers, as they constantly paint us with a broad and unfair brush of stereotypes and generalities.

Some of my closest friends are on the opposite side of the political spectrum -- but we manage to acknowledge the fact neither of us came to our position lightly -- we just believe in taking different approaches to solving some very complex issues. I learn so much from discussions with my liberal friends -- in some cases they can sway me more toward the middle and in some cases they help me reaffirm my position -- but I'm more informed because of the discussion -- I hope they are too. This seems more constructive than implying that conservatives dislike gays, women, the elderly, the sick, the poor and just about every other group.

Rather than stop reading some of my favorite blogs, I thought I might try to dispel some conservative myths

We don't hate charity -- as was implied by a fellow blogger recently.
We don't hate women
We don't love war
We don't hate illegal aliens -- we just want people to come to our country legally -- like we all learned in kindergarten -- take your turn... if it's worth having, it's worth waiting for.
We don't hate the poor -- or the sick for that matter.
We don't dislike gays or lesbians
We don't hate teachers or want to leave children behind without the ability to read

I won't pretend there aren't some nut-job republicans... of course there are, but there are embarrassments in every group.

Now, if you'll excuse me -- I'm going to go eat some kittens for dinner.

It's Friday and it's Cocktail Time

*** Warning to readers who don't approve of cocktailing..... this post includes adult beverage recommendations ***

So, a week or so ago I was watching the Foodnetwork and this woman (who I generally can't stand) was on and she made this yummy looking concoction -- I figured, what the heck, I'll give it a whirl and YUMMMMMM!!!

Now, her recipe is as follows:

2 shots coffee drink (recommended: Starbucks Frappuccino)
1 shot vodka

Fill a martini shaker with ice cubes.
Add coffee drink and vodka.
Shake vigorously.
Strain into a martini glass. Top glass with remaining foam from shaker.

I used the Starbucks Mocha Frappuccio and ratio of 2:1 was a bit strong for me (give me a break, I've spent 20 of the last 30 months pregnant), so I made it with a half a shot (Stoli Vanil) instead and it was still delicious.....



Enjoy

I was not an English major

I was not an English major..... I was a Psych major, and now I work in investment tax -- I'll explain all that some other day.

Today, I'm going to complain about the mis-use of a beautiful thing called the English language.

Mrs Big Dubya's Language Pet Peeves:

1. Irrespective is a word.... Regardless is a word.... Irregardless IS NOT a word!

2. Wholenuther.... what is that? Whole other is fine..... Fluffernutter is fine..... Wholenuther..... not-so-much.

3. If you are going to pay $5 for it and wait 10 minutes for them to make it for you-- learn what it's called Espresso -- not Expresso

Anybody got some to add?

Paying the price of technology

My parents are from Ireland -- they both grew up in small (and fairly remote) villages. Growing up, I had the good fortune of going to Ireland in the summers. The village my Dad grew up in was very quiet -- beautiful, secluded and quiet. It sounds like a dream, doesn't it? I mean -- we'd wake up in the morning to the sound of sheep -- our days were filled with long walks and paddling around the lake in a small boat. Today, this sound like heaven to me -- to an eleven year old me, well...... after the first day it was pretty boring. We wouldn't have dreamed of complaining though, instead -- we devoured books and played never-ending games of Uno and solitaire.

I was eleven, when my grandfather taught me to play solitaire -- it's probably the only thing that he ever taught me. The cards were well worn -- they were soft and buttery, they were browning around the edges -- my grandparents never threw anything out -- new cards would never even be considered. I remember setting the cards up and spending an eternity looking for that next move...... Even now, I think of my grandfather when I play solitaire -- he would never approve of me cheating, even though I'd want to -- it was a far more attractive alternative to shuffling and setting up a new game.

I can't remember the last time I played solitaire with an actual deck of cards. Now, like most people, I play on a computer or on my pda (it passes the time while I pump). The electronic version doesn't let you cheat -- so, that's no longer a temptation -- but, it's so easy to give up and deal a new game -- so much of the strategy and deliberation is gone... if a game isn't going well, you can start over with a click of the mouse.

Technology has changed so many of the good old fashioned pass-times. TV, video games, computers...... they've really stolen the thunder of card games, board games and good books. I'm not sure we have a deck of cards...... but if we don't, I think I'm going to pick one up.

I pulled out the 'lil man's Bumbo chair today

I pulled out the 'lil man's Bumbo chair today because I needed someplace to put her



While I dealt with this....



Happy Weekend!