In forty-six hours I will be in Seattle, in MY apartment. Okay, so we’ll be packing and clearing out of the place, but I’d rather be packing instead of cramped in this damn trailer one more day. In case you couldn’t tell, I’m excited about our new place. The move, no, but the apartment once we’re moved in, totally. ‘Cause I’m not quite sure I can handle hearing John’s parents farting in the toilet one more time.

I took a moment to read over what I wrote yesterday and woah. Apparently I had some things on my mind. But I slept well, afterwards, so letting the mind go was obviously the thing to do.

Both my babes are sleeping soundly, and of course I’m wide awake. Luckily, Ashleigh will sleep at least six and a half hours (her average these days). John, on the other hand, has about five minutes until I disturb him so we can pull the stupid, uncomfortable sleeper couch out.

Oh, before I go, does anyone else’s baby just HATE clothes? Ashleigh is the happiest baby in the world if she’s just chilling in the Pampers. If she’s fussy, that’s one of the most effective things to calm her…stripping her out of any piece of clothing possible. Sounds just like her momma, the one that leaves a trail of clothes once she get’s home. Funny, how quirky we are from the beginning.

I’m tired, but I’m unable to sleep.

I wish I could express my feelings without crying like a nut or raising my voice.

After all these years, I’ve realized I’m more like my dad than I’ve ever been.
I’ve learned a lot from my dad: how to yell, how to get mad, how to overreact, and how to say things I don’t mean.
Not only did I inherit my dad’s big, pouty bottom lip, I also share the same ability to make people not want to be around me.
I have little respect for my dad.
John had to go for a walk earlier and all I could do was pat Ashleigh’s back and cry.
Why can’t us women get a fucking break after nine months of pregnancy and NOT have a period for at least another nine months?
I’m cranky.
No, I’m downright bitchy today.
I am so annoyed and pained with the thought of sleeping on the pull-out couch tonight I’ve considered snuggling up on the recliner, and even pulling on my sweat pants and sleeping in our truck bed (it’s padded hardcore).
When I’m holding Ashleigh and her cries don’t stop after two seconds, John’s parents just look at me.
What can I do to become invisible?
I am not spoiling my baby.
I am not starving my baby.
Do not offer advice to me regarding my child unless I ASK for it.
Mother know’s best. Not grandmother, not sister, not stranger.
If one more stranger asks me if I’m breastfeeding I believe I’ll ask them if they douche.
Sometimes a mom just wants to hear “awww, how cute, how precious” instead of hearing about how your child once did the same thing.
Don’t tell me not to get frustrated. That frustrates me.
I’m afraid of driving the UHaul down to California.
It’s been over two years since I’ve driven a vehicle.
Why can’t I just walk around as two giant breasts?
Love is a wonderful thing when you know where to go with it.
Love sucks squirrel buttcracks when you’re lonely.
I know I’m too depressed when I don’t even want to snuggle with Ashleigh and watch ABC Soaps.
I feel like an old helpless woman when the joints start aching and the hands freeze up.
What woman doesn’t dream of being the bestest mom to the bestest child with the bestest husband making the bestest family in the whole world?
I wonder what would have happened if I’d given John the choice.
In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve become slightly angry and bitter lately.
I just want a day without tears.
I wish he’d believe me when I say he snores.
Don’t hate me or frown apon me because I want the best for my daughter.
I need a haircut.
Maybe even a pedicure, since I’m in Cali and it’s 75 degrees in February.
Those Progresso Soup commercials piss me off. Get off your high horse lady. Maybe I like my “just broth and noodles”.
Everyday I think of so many things I wish to tell all my readers but when I get online all I do is abscentmindedly flip from daily read to daily read without taking anything in.
Here are the thoughts of the last twenty minutes.
Yeah, just like that journal excercise in Mr. Barker’s ninth grade English class.

Okay, here’s a question for all the stay at home moms out there, and well, any stay at home dads, too. When your partner is working during the day and you’re taking care of your child(ren) how do you work out the situation once they’re home? I mean, obviously you need a break sometime, but the other person has been working all day, so it’s not an easy thing to work out I imagine.

In some ways I feel bad asking John to help with Ashleigh when he gets home from work, but I’m also about ready to go nuts and cry out of frustration, if I haven’t already. So, PLEASE, help me with any suggestions on this matter and what may have worked for you.

Melly, I got your email. I’ll give you a ringy ding tonight on our stupid “night-time” minutes and hopefully I’ll have some actual time to talk. If not, at least once we’re back and moved into our Cali apartment (which, btw, we FINALLY got approved for today).

Breathe in, breathe out, right?

If you know anyone who is thinking about having children, and you don’t think they should…good suggestion…send them to all us “mommy” pages and I think we’ll do a good job of scaring them away from kids, at least for the moment.

The past week Ashleigh has been sleeping through the night (six to seven hours), which meant mommy and daddy slept through the night. Yet, for a reason only Ashleigh knows, I received little sleep last night. I’m pretty sure it had to do with it being the first night in a long time that I was completely on my own since John needed to sleep for his first day of work today. So, of COURSE, Ashleigh’s a fussbutt all night. Isn’t it just wonderful how that works? Ah, gotta love children’s sense of humour. UGH.

But John is working, yeah! We weren’t sure if he’d be able to start this week, or the week after we move. Luckily he’s working now so we’ll have some extra money come March. Woo hoo!

Oh, lovely, she just pulled her trick on me again…falling asleep in her swing and waking up just ten minutes later. I was just glancing at her to see if her head was ok, not all kinked, and lookie there, wide-open eyes. Oh, and a pout and now wail. Wonderful. Off to pamper the new boss.

I’ve been having a tough time staying positive these days. John is off doing something job related and Ashleigh is sleeping with her Pampers butt in the air. And yet I sit at the computer trying to really believe “everything will work out” like John says. I should be taking a nap while the little drama queen snoozes, but my mind is so wired, unable to stop thinking about the uncontrollable.

I realize others would probably think I’m going through postpartum depression, but I know it’s my bipolar pleasantries haunting me. So, I know I need my Lithium, but I also wish to breastfeed Ashleigh, something I can’t do while on the drug. But then again, maybe a lot of what’s going on in my head is just normal.

I find myself comparing Ashleigh to other babies, and also myself with other parents. There are moments when I swear I’m the worst mom in the world though luckily the thought eventually passes. The worst is when Ashleigh is hungry and I don’t have enough milk in me. I don’t have a problem giving her formula, but when I can’t even pump more than a couple ounces I just want to give it up completely. Unfortunately, it’s not an option since formula is so damn expensive.

I think what set me off into this downward thinking was the other night when we were hanging out with John’s brother and sister and their families. It was way after dinner and we had all been hanging out in the family room talking about anything and everything. Ashleigh got hungry and fed off of one boob and I burped her. She wouldn’t take the other one and became quite fussy. Before I knew it, John’s sister-in-law had snatched Ashleigh out of my arms and was babbling on and on about how she must have gas. I felt so helpless. And I felt like she was saying I didn’t know how to take care of my own child. I knew Ashleigh was just frustrated and preoccupied like I was, with all the people around. Plus, she was tired, and those together don’t make for an easy feeding. So here this lady was, holding my baby, and patting her so lightly on her back that even if she was gassy she wasn’t getting anything out.

I was pissed. But whenever I tried taking Ashleigh back she’d say “oh, it’s ok, take a break, I’ve got her”. And, since I get so freaking emotional, all I could do was just back off and let her be, because if I tried to say anything I would’ve started crying. It took all I could to keep calm through the next thirty minutes or so. As soon as we started heading home I just cried. Because even though I really know what’s going on with my girl, the doubt she’d put in my mind was just killing me.

This doubt has spread to other areas of my life and I have to fight it off everyday. The most difficult is when I’m in the gym. I’d been doing cardio on the elliptical machine for forty to forty-five minutes and then working the Nitro machines for resistance training. Well, now, every time I make it in to the gym it’s a struggle just to make it to twenty minutes, let alone thirty. I feel like it’s impossible, and I want to quit. Sometimes I make it and others I do quit. Then I get mad at myself and once that happens I get so frustrated I’m unable to concentrate on anything.

I don’t really know what’s going on, but I think as soon as we can afford to feed Ashleigh formula full-time, I’m heading into the docs. I miss my ole’ self, the way I was just even a month ago. Yes, Ashleigh brightens up my day like nothing ever has before. I just wish the feeling would last these days.

Maybe I should just talk about Ashleigh and how’s she’s growing and changing to get myself preoccupied. She spent part of this morning sitting in a chair cooing and smiling at me, and staring in awe at the lights. She inhales her rice cereal that we’ve been feeding her for a week. In fact, she inhales her formula or breast milk we give her too. She looks at me as if to say “momma, can’t you feed me any faster?”

Ashleigh will lay on our chests or shoulders and lifting her head up and staring around at anything and everything. Everyday I’m amazed at how strong her neck is, even though she’s been holding her head up for a month already. Her clothes, she’s grown out of nearly all her 0-3 months outfits. Hopefully the few things we have that still fit her will last until we’re able to buy some more in a month or so.

I haven’t caught a picture of it yet, but when she’s lying down or sitting up, she loves to interlock her two hands together. To a mom, this is such an incredible thing.

Ashleigh was two months old yesterday. As crazy as some nights and hectic as some days are, the past two months have flown by. Whereas I miss the eight hour nights, at least we’re up to six and a half hour nights already. And even though I get frustrated with John because he doesn’t change a diaper or feed her exactly how I do, I know he’s the best daddy in the world for Ashleigh. I may have my unhappy moments, but this is the best time of my life.

Before I forget or for those that don’t want to read through this whole thing, here’s a link to some new Ashleigh snapshots. The last two are John and myselves favorites because they definitely show her personality.

So it’s been a while, but believe me, we’re not exactly living our ideal situation at the moment. It’s me, Ashleigh, John and his parents…in a 36 foot fifth wheel. Beyond any comfortable situation, period. Only temporary, and really, the only option down here in Cali while John looks for a job. February 26th…the countdown until we fly back to Seattle began days ago. Because a person (especially one like me who can’t keep her damn mouth shut) can only handle the funk of older people, and the inability to walk around naked whenever ya want for so long.

I’m very grateful I met Amy and Sam when I did (that’s the picture you’re seeing now) because it looks like we’ll be moving down to California on March 1st. John seems to have a job and as soon as our refund arrives in the next couple days, we’re applying for an apartment. The place is a two bedroom, but the rooms are huge and will give John and I a room for our computers. Finally, a place without a computer in the bedroom or dining room. Maybe I’ll start feeling like we actually have a home.

I noticed when we were hopping from rental office to rental office how much different it is looking for an apartment when you have a child. Previously, if a bedroom had a door to a deck, or if it was on the first floor, it wasn’t a big deal. Now, the paranoid mom syndrome kicks in and all these things run through my brain like it’s the most harmful thing to Ashleigh in the world. I imagine someone sneaking into my girl’s room and snatching her away from us. I imagine total devastation. It doesn’t help that a seven year old girl was supposedly kidnapped from her bedroom over a week ago, just minutes from where we are currently. And I’m sure all the FBI Files and New Detectives shows on Discovery which we suck up like druggie just out of rehab don’t help, either. Oh yes, and the fact that I have a extremely over reactive imagination when it comes to ANYthing, including when I was little and I had to go downstairs to get something in the middle of the night. You’d laugh if you knew all the glowing eyes and monstrous capabilities I SWORE my dad had while he was sleeping on the couch during those hours. Heh, I never once made it back to my bedroom with out sprinting up the stairs.

Needless to say, it’s a whole new thing with this little one. It should be interesting when we’re back in Seattle packing for two days, as well as the road trip down the coast. But we’ll make it somehow. I keep telling myself it’s all for Ashleigh and knowing that makes it bearable.