motherhood – Sconnie Molly

Lots to chew on

Spring has sprung, I guess. A truly Wisconsin spring, which means a week of 80+ degrees and sunshine followed by temps plummeting to the 30s and the threat of snow in the air once more.

I ordered myself an Adirondack chair and of course it will be arriving the day of the aforementioned snow threat. We had those cheapie plastic Adirondack chairs from Target on the porch last summer, but they kept blowing away in the winds and landing like three houses down the street. I love me an Adirondack chair. Probably because I associate them with warm memories at Cedar Campus. Might need to paint mine a nice light blue…oh who am I kidding. That’s something I would talk about and research on Pinterest and then never ever do.

Two little birdies have made a nest on the spring wreath I put on our front door. The mama has laid her eggs already.

Work is calmer now than it has been at any point since I started last September. After the fall 2022 election, we pretty much segued right into research for the 2023 spring election, and that got a bit intense at times. If I didn’t have such wonderful coworkers, it could’ve gotten insanely stressful, but this is probably the ~healthiest~ work culture I’ve ever been a part of. Mental and physical health is prioritized in actions as well as words. People check up on each other and cover for each other. It’s just really really nice.

***

I guess at some point I just gave up on writing smooth segues and resorted to these silly stars to transition my rambling, and now it feels natural to structure my posts this way.

***

November through February was basically one long, wretched, inescapable household cold, for which I blame daycare entirely, and it’s been such a relief to be more consistently healthy these last few weeks. If you’ve known me for a long time, you are probably all too aware of the (foolish, unearned) pride I take in my immune system – or at least, I used to, before I had a child who attended daycare with a dozen other filthy germ-mongers three days a week. Now I get whatever Ashwin gets, just a couple days delayed usually, right after V picks it up. Terribly disappointing to realize my immune system is actually just regular, not special at all, susceptible to all the same bullshit as everyone else. I just had to have a kid so that my whole body could rearrange itself inside and out.

***

I still don’t quite know the degree to which I want to write publicly about Ashwin. It’s a little easier, or cleaner, when I’m more generally waxing poetic on my motherhood thoughts. Or when I’m making wry jokes about sleep training or breast pumping or some universal early-motherhood difficulty. But now my kid is three years old, has his own personality, his own struggles and victories and schedules and opinions. It feels different. Sometimes I’d like to get down in the actual details more, of what Ashwin is currently doing or going through and by extension what I am doing and going through. (Because being his mom takes up a really large portion of my brain space!) But I don’t know if that’s fair to him. This is one of the toughest parts about writing in general for me. My experiences are my experiences and I own them. But invariably those experiences involve other people, who invariably have feelings about the experiences we shared. It’s hard to know what’s mine to do with what I please and what doesn’t entirely belong to me. You know?

I do know this: my favorite writers are the ones who get all up in those details and talk about all of it, even the unseemly things or the embarrassing things, whether the topic is marriage or kids or careers or bodies or mental health or whatever. The more intimate the better. Do those writers get into trouble with their friends and family after publication? I wonder.

***

What I’m reading

A couple things! Primarily “Vagina Obscura“, a highly scientific look at half the world’s nether regions and how deeply they’ve been misunderstood/ignored/stigmatized for most of recorded history. It gets a little in the weeds sometimes for me, as a not very science-y person, but I’m sticking with it.

Also started “Dreaming in Spanish” by local Madison author/realtor/powerhouse Sara Alvarado!

What I’m watching

WELL. Let me tell you. Basically half of my coworkers are obsessed with Love is Blind, so now I am watching the current season of Love is Blind, because FOMO. Ya girl hates to feel left out! I’ve still got a few episodes to finish before the live reunion this weekend so the pressure is on. If Brett and Tiffany don’t make it, I might cry. I have zero faith in any of these other weirdos. But it’s been super fun catching beautiful glimpses of Seattle!

We also started watching Beef, which, wow. Lots going on in there, so much to chew on. Income inequality. Strained marriages. Class warfare. First generation problems. Sibling dynamics. Korean evangelical culture. Inter-Asian group dynamics. White-Asian relationships. Female friendships, male friendships. Ambition/entrepreneurial/girlboss/grind culture. Mental illness, probably, because these protagonists…

Obviously also watching and loving Succession. Barry starts again soon! It’s a rich time for prestige TV. And, I guess, trashy dating reality TV.

What I’m looking forward to

I’m taking my semi-annual solo weekend soon, this time to Chicago. My plans are basically to eat and shop and sleep.

My MIL will be coming to stay with us in May and I am always excited for her to come. A lot of people would say that sentence sarcastically, but not I! She’s the best.

How I’m adulting

New segment! I just had to share that last weekend, V and I bought a new dining room chandelier at Home Depot, and today an electrician came over and installed it, and the fact that that chandelier box didn’t just sit in a corner of my house for months on end, or in my goddamn car trunk, is something I am quite proud of.

(Chandelier is such an absurd word. What we actually bought is a very unfancy but functional and attractive light fixture. It’s metal. In my mind, chandeliers are delicate and crystal and shiny and belong in obscene palaces with Daddy Warbucks.)

(Okay but do you remember Annie, like 1982 Aileen Quinn Annie? That was my favorite movie as a kid. I had a brilliant idea last year that I would write about its 40th anniversary, to see if it holds up. Surprise! It does not! It’s crazy racist! Daddy Warbucks’s bodyguard is a turbaned Indian dude named Punjab, played by a Black man, who rarely speaks but regularly performs acts of mysterious eastern magic! It’s so much worse than I am poorly describing it! I’m pretty sure someone beat me to the “guess what, Annie doesn’t hold up super well” article while I was still in shock. Another dream dashed.)

Not too late for a 2022 recap, is it?

Hey, friend.

I missed the 2022 Nagappala Book Awards (NBAs) and I don’t have the energy to do it now. You can haunt my Goodreads if you’re really starving for my book opinions.

We can do a quick 2022 rundown though, I guess.

I didn’t travel as much in 2022 as I would’ve liked, for all the obvious reasons: it’s challenging to travel with a 2 year old, everything is wildly expensive, work schedules, and did I mention it’s really fucking challenging to travel with a 2 year old. We did have about 5 days in Boston in the spring for a family wedding, which was fantastic because V also has family in that area, so we both got to see cousins we love. But parenting in a different environment is not actually a vacation.

To scratch that itch as best we could, we continued our tradition of taking “solo weekends” – where one of us goes away for a few days, decompressing and doing whatever the fuck we want, and the other gets 1-on-1 time with Ashwin. If it’s feasible for you, as a parent, I cannot recommend doing this any more strongly. I have tended to stick pretty close to home for my trips, to maximize the relaxation and fun and minimize the tedious travel time, but I might branch out in 2023.

In 2023, V and I will have been married for 10 years and together for 15 (!). For a long time I’ve said I wanted to do a big trip for this anniversary and so we are, in early March, to a very warm and lovely place we’ve never been. Of course, this is only possible because my parents so generously agreed to take Ashwin off our hands for a week. I am honestly not trying to humble brag – I’m just endlessly, endlessly grateful for my mom and dad. I do not take them for granted.

I guess if 2022 had a theme, for me it might well be gratitude. All sorts of not-great things happened this year; I cried, argued, maybe slammed a door or two, rescheduled therapy appointments way too many times, definitely made far too many trips to Starbucks for strawberry acai lemonades, despite buying the ingredients to attempt making it at home (whoops, never did). Loved ones got covid (though thankfully all mostly recovered), the ex-president still isn’t in jail, and Ron Johnson still represents me in the Senate. But nothing truly calamitous happened and for that I can’t be anything but thankful.

I didn’t see my friends often enough, but I’d like to think we made it count when we did.

I’ve loved my new job. The only thing I don’t like about it is it leaves me pretty much no time to write and/or pitch – which I knew would happen, and it’s fine, but I do miss it. I suppose I still have this good ol’ blog that 5 people read, maybe that’s enough of an outlet.

I did some personal healing that was a long, long time coming and I’m now a lot more at peace because of it. Shan’t get into the gory details, but maybe 2023 is the year you confront your trauma? It’s better on the other side, I promise.

Even with the daily grind and stressors that life brings – parenting, household management, marriage, friendships, family, self-care, career – I’ve found myself feeling…pretty good. So much so that I’ve been considering a sloooow taper off of my meds. Longtime friends/readers may remember that I tried this in 2015, as I started trying to conceive, and it did.not.go.well to put it mildly. As scary as that prospect is, I want to try again, because minus that ~6 month experiment, I’ve been on some type of antidepressant/anti-anxiety medication my entire adult life. I think I’m more stable than I was in 2015 and I really want to see if I can do it. If I can’t cope, I can’t cope, and I’ll go back on them without an ounce of shame. I’m mostly including this here because if I do end up tapering, I may track it somewhat here on the blog. Would that actually be interesting to anyone? Unlikely! But that’s not why I write here, really, though I hope it’s at least mildly entertaining for whomever stops by.

What I’m Reading

I just started Screaming on the Inside, one in a new-ish genre of “hey, modern motherhood is kind of a fucking shitshow?” A lot of women are writing about that right now and I’d certainly like to be one of them.

What I’m Watching

After a very, very long period of refusal, I’ve started watching the most recent season of Stranger Things with V. I don’t exactly remember why I tried to boycott; I think at the time it premiered, a school shooting had just happened and I couldn’t deal with violence of any kind. Still don’t love it, but am looking away when I need to. I’d rather be watching Bridgerton, tbh. (Kind of joking kind of not?)

What I’m Looking Forward To

Uh, most definitely our vacation in March. Only 51 days to go!! (I have a countdown app, of course)

What I’m Fuming About

This fucking idiot.

~Transitions~

My last post mentioned the importance of perseverance, and how I was trying to persevere in my job hunt despite the rejections and/or other obstacles I was facing. And surprise! Persevering worked. I got a job. And not just any job…a *good* job that feels like a genuinely *good* fit, albeit <2 weeks in.

The timing couldn’t have been better. I interviewed in late July, got an offer in early August, and was able to plan my start date for the same week that Ashwin started daycare. Literally zero weird in-between period where he was gone and I had nothing to do. The job is highly interesting and the people I’m working with have been lovely and welcoming. It feels right, it actually feels really right and I’m so thankful.

Daycare…is another beast. I mean, I do still think it’s good for him, but the transition has obviously not been smooth, nor did I expect it to be considering he’s spent his entire life in the care of either his parents or his grandparents. Daycare is a really foreign new thing, and even though it’s a fantastic facility with sweet and skilled teachers whom I trust, it’s been hard on all of us. We’re talking full-on dropoff meltdowns with his teachers having to pry him off my body. I don’t recommend starting your workday that way. BUT, when we picked him up yesterday afternoon, he WASN’T CRYING for the first time and seeing a smile on his face just…warmed me all over. I’m hoping we’re past the worst of it, but because he only goes two days a week, it’s anyone’s guess how he’ll react next week when it’s time to go again.

Kids, man. Who knew we’d be like this.

***

In other news, I continue my never-ending quest to make mom friends. I may have embarrassed myself a bit doing so a couple weeks ago. Ashwin and I were out walking the neighborhood, as we did pretty much every day, and happened upon a neighbor family hanging out on their lawn. We chatted, and it turned out that the couple had a little boy almost exactly Ashwin’s age. They sort of played alongside each other like toddlers do for awhile, and I chatted some more with the boy’s mom while her husband did yard work. She seemed about my age, maybe a little younger, and frankly those two factors – child close to Ashwin’s age, mom close-ish to my age – are all the compatibility I need to get started on trying to make a friend these days. As we talked, I think I probably came across a little desperate. I shared some things that most people probably would not share until they’d hung out with someone more than once. I was acting, let’s just say it, pretty thirsty.

The whole interaction was probably less than 30 minutes. I’m trying not to shame myself about it too much, because I don’t think anything I said was *too* terribly cringe and also because…this is kind of the best way I know how to make friends. And it works with some people, but not others. Vulnerability is not the only way to get to know people, but it has in my experience proved itself to be the fastest. But if I could do this particular interaction over again, I’d probably button myself up a little more and act like I’d spoken to another adult woman before.

***

What I’m Reading

I finished Dirtbag, Massachusetts which was okay but honestly over-hyped. I blame the Buzzfeed Industrial Complex.

What I’m Watching

Reservation Dogs. Every episode is so different, even though you’re following all the same characters in mostly the same setting. Also MasterChef: Back To Win because MasterChef is something V and I have watched together for years and years and we both really love Gordon Ramsay. Tonight, of course, brings the NFL back into our lives and we’re both in two different fantasy leagues, so that’s about to take over our Sundays.

What I’m Listening To

Until yesterday, a hell of a lot more FM radio than I’d like, because I was having major cell phone issues for a few weeks and couldn’t listen to my own music or podcasts in the car. I learned that the “oldies” station in our area now plays the ’70s, ’80s, and ’90s, which means there’s plenty of song material from *my* childhood and not *my parents’* childhood as I am used to hearing from that station. The passage of time, ah, et cetera. In actuality most of what they played was ’80s, and they were really overplaying “Walk Like An Egyptian”.

What I’m Looking Forward To

…Do I even need to say it?

So to that end I’ve been trying to “decorate the house for fall” which I put in quotes only because it’s not something I’ve ever really done before and I have no idea what I’m doing other than trying *desperately*…**DESPERATELY**…to avoid this genre of aesthetics and decor:

…with little luck so far. If you have any tips for non-Christian Girl Autumn decor, you know how to reach me.

Missing the small stakes

I ended my social media sabbatical after about a week, but I’m still actively avoiding the news and depressing media of all sorts. We saw Hannah Gadsby two nights ago and I gotta say, it wasn’t that great, but I don’t know if it’s her or me. I have trouble laughing at the “everything has gone to shit” genre of jokes, even though I sometimes make them myself. The apocalypse is nigh, hahaha. The world is a dumpster fire, hahaha. All that goes through my head is that auto-tuned Madonna refrain from “Sorry“…”I’ve heard it all before, I’ve heard it all before, I’ve heard it all before.”

*me + jen + this album in 2005-06 = thick as thieves*

Like…I 1000% understand joking to cope with hard things. It’s what I did with our ~*infertility journey~* (Jesus Christ is there another way to name the 5 years I tried unsuccessfully to get pregnant? because that phrase is the woooorst) and what I still sometimes do with depression. So I absolutely get the impulse. But if that’s all we’re doing, how is any of this supposed to get better? At some point, don’t we have to move past the jokes and get to actual concrete strategies?

How is any parent supposed to be okay? How are we supposed to drop our children off at daycare and elementary school and middle school and high school and just…leave? I’d feel that way a little bit even if there was no such thing as mass shootings. But reading the emergency protocol for “intruders” in your 2 year old’s daycare really ratchets things up, and by “things” I mean the knot in my stomach.

He’s two. He’s TWO. He’s growing in every way every day and it’s so amazing to watch. I know he needs to be among his peers, and I do think daycare will really be good for him. The thing about mass shootings is that they are terrorism – the goal, outside of killing whomever is on that shooter’s particular menu, is to terrorize. I know intellectually that the probability of some psycho shooting up my son’s daycare is truly incredibly small. But it could happen, and I know that because I’ve seen it happen, so I can’t stop visualizing it as though it will happen. The terrorists have won, in my mind anyway.

What are my options? Keep my son in daycare as planned, tolerate the massive increase in daily anxiety, and just pray for the best? Keep him home, likely stunting his social and mental growth, until…college? Uproot us all and move to another country where this shit doesn’t happen and literally no one has to worry about it, but where I’ll know no one and probably not speak the language or be able to get a job?

I don’t know how every single person in this country isn’t straight up immobilized by grief on a daily basis.

***

I got rejected from another job today. A state job, but a communications position that I genuinely thought I’d be good at. I know that the answer here is perseverance. Michael Jordan got cut from his junior high basketball team, etc etc etc. But let’s just acknowledge that perseverance is very, very hard, yeah? By definition, obviously, it takes a toll. Rejections take a toll, especially when you don’t really know what you’re doing wrong. Maybe you’re not doing anything wrong – there are a million reasons why you might not get hired for any particular position that have nothing to do with your qualifications or resume. But maybe you are…

***

What I’m Reading

Primarily “Beautiful World, Where Are You” by Sally Rooney, though I’ve got a few books going on right now. I liked Sally Rooney’s previous books; the very specific (yet universal-feeling) world of Irish millennials loving and leaving one another while musing about capitalism, religion, and politics just does it for me, I guess. This one seems slower, less “plot-focused” – which is to say, not much is actually happening – than the others but I’m still enjoying it.

What I’m Watching

The Bear, and season 2 of Only Murders in the Building, both on Hulu. Re: the latter, You really can’t go wrong with Steve Martin and Martin Short. As for the former, it’s unlike any other show I’ve seen somehow. Compelling as fuck, but also borderline breaking my “no depressing media” rule. OMITB is my current palate cleanser, I guess.

We’re also watching Ms. Marvel, of course, and the South Asian representation is so exciting. I’ve *never* seen Partition depicted or even discussed in American TV or movies – so many people don’t even know it happened – and that was really powerful. It’s a superhero show, obviously, so it’s not exactly the Indian-American sitcom of my dreams…but Never Have I Ever still exists, after all (and is returning in August)!

What I’m Looking Forward To

Visiting our Lacrosse besties in a week and a half. Mulaney, still. Fall.

What I’m Fuming About

I got pulled over while driving home from Milwaukee about a month ago. I had been going ~12mph over the limit, but the cop actually wanted to ticket me for non-registration. Turns out our tags had expired, um…10 months ago? Oops? So whatever, you got me, Jefferson County. I paid the ticket. Today I get a letter in the mail informing me that I still owe the County of Jefferson $2.00. The ticket had been for $175.30, and for some reason I wrote my check (YES, a PAPER CHECK, because the county charges you exorbitant fees to pay online) for $173.30. So now I have to write them another goddamn check, for 2 goddamn dollars, and I am just salty about it.

Oh, it’s…December? huh

Ashwin has been sick for the last 36 hours or so. We took him to the ER last night because he was so incredibly lethargic and refusing all food/water and throwing up and had a fever. All of the things. I don’t know if I’d ever been in an ER before, and had heard horror stories of people being turned away during the pandemic (aka currently) for lack of beds and/or staff to treat folks. Fortunately that didn’t happen to us, and didn’t appear to be happening to anybody else there. He was eventually given an anti-nausea medicine and soon was acting like his old active self so we were discharged – but then this morning, it was back to Lethargy Town. He napped for 3+ hours and woke up much better, so basically it’s just seesawing and I’m really not a fan of this rollercoaster. I don’t want him to be sick when he wakes up again.

Seeing your kid – your baby – like that is levels of shitty that I was not prepared for. Anyone who has met Ashwin, or even seen him on social media, knows that he’s an active, engaging, curious, giggly dude. Yesterday and this morning he was exactly the opposite. Not interested in a damn thing besides being held, which of course V and I were happy to oblige, but it’s hard to enjoy those cuddles when you don’t know what’s making him act so out of character.

I know it’s only a stomach bug. It’s not the end of the world. He will be fine. All of that. I think both V and I experienced some Seattle NICU flashbacks waiting in that ER, so remembering how tiny and fragile he was then just made the whole night more emotional. But he’s come a long way, my boy.

***

Momming in general has me thinking lately about innocence. As a kid/teenager I thought “innocence” was such a crock, so overrated. Like please just leave me the fuck alone and let me learn things for myself. Of course, from the parent perspective, it’s about protection and not wanting any harm to come your kid’s way…literally the most understandable impulse in the universe. I skim Twitter and dread the day when I have to start explaining to Ashwin what anti-vaxxers are, who Brett Kavanaugh is, why the bad orange man fucked the country for decades to come, and where exactly all those people without homes at Reindahl Park are supposed to go. And that’s just barely scratching the surface. It’s a horrible goddamn world, and I know that really there is nothing new under the sun, but it sure feels like things are unprecedently bad right now.

I know there is a ton of beauty in the world; I know there are tons and tons of good people. I have seen it and I know them. I know they tend not to make the headlines and the headlines are a big part of what’s making me crazy and being on Twitter and the internet as a whole less often would probably improve my situation. But try as I might, I can never stay away for too long.

***

Our house-hunting journey ended up being much shorter than anticipated. We got an accepted offer less than a month after first meeting with our realtor (the esteemed and beloved Kelda Roys) and we close in a couple of weeks. At every turn, the sellers have been really accommodating and reasonable and it’s been miraculously different from the current standard real estate narrative of cash offers, paying way way over asking price, not getting an inspection, etc. And while we’re not exactly in the part of town I hoped to be in, we are in the city of Madison, and that was a big deal to me.

Sometimes I think this whole blog is basically just me saying over and over “something kinda shitty happened, but it’s not THAT bad, I’m actually super lucky, so you know what never mind!!!!!!! Here’s an ironic meme, byeeee” Not sure if that’s more or less annoying than just complaining all the time or just nonstop cooing about how fortunate I am. *shrug emoji* Guess we’ll never know!!!

***

What I’m Reading:

God, I’ve got like six books going right now and can’t seem to make headway with any of them. But I most recently finished The Laziness Lie, which I absolutely insist you read if you’ve ever felt exhausted and burned out by life. So yeah, 100% of us. It’s short, you’ll love it, it was a balm to my soul and I will probably buy it and loan it out to whoever will listen to me.

What I’m Watching:

Obviously Succession, which just keeps getting better and better. Also the Dexter revival, which…is a bit hackneyed so far but I’m willing to go with it and see what happens. Also Hawkeye, a true holiday delight, and when I get the chance, SELLING muthafuckin SUNSET. Maybe this is my version of watching the Kardashians. I can live with that. I eat that luxury real estate/incredibly petty drama/plastic surgery overload shit up.

What I’m Looking Forward To:

Closing on the house and moving in, which probably won’t happen until the new year, but that will give us time to do some painting and clean the carpets and yada yada yada.

Also I must admit that I’m very curiously and sentimentally awaiting “And Just Like That…“. Will it be actually good? I mean, maybe? Will it be schmaltzy? For sure I think. Part of me would prefer to keep Carrie et al forever in their 30s, where I am comfortable, and doesn’t really want to see the aging and the changing and the ~*mid-life discoveries*~ that seem inevitable and scary and very un-fun.

What I’m Fuming About:

I can’t read too much about this cynical partisan buffoonery that is incredibly harmful for democracy or I will really and truly lose my mind. Any news in this general category raises my rage meter like very little else, because it’s something I actually have intimate knowledge of and I used to deal with these people and I know just how much of an obscene clown show it all is.

What I’m Listening To:

The Phineas and Ferb theme song occasionally alternating with the Bluey theme song. I will spare your brain and not link to them.

Limbo

I’m writing this from my phone, because my laptop is with the goddamn movers, so excuse any bad formatting. I won’t bore you with an entire blog bitching and moaning about our second horrible experience with a professional moving company. Instead I’ll bore you with my body issues, doesn’t that sound better?!

I saw postpartum depression/anxiety coming. I knew I’d deal with it. I am dealing with it. It’s fine.

But I kind of didn’t anticipate how much I would hate my postpartum body. More specifically, my post-pumping body, because for as long as I continued pumping, my weight was actually *under* my pre-pregnancy weight and ohh, did I feel good and smug about that.

But I only lasted 3 months pumping, because I am not built to live my entire life in 3-hour segments around the clock. That shit was brutal, so stopping when I did was the right call and I have zero regrets. I knew the weight probably would not be as easy to keep off once I stopped. It’s not even really so much about the numbers as it is about the… distribution. I’ve gained a muffin top that would make Jenna Maroney jealous. (You may or may not get that reference but I can’t link to the song from the 30 Rock episode because YouTube doesn’t have it and if there’s another way, I’m too lazy to find it.)

Clothes just don’t fit, man! If it were as simple as going up a size, I could handle it, it’s not like that’s never happened before. But even up a size (or two) nothing LOOKS quite right. Because my body isn’t right. It’s expanded in all the wrong places. I don’t recognize it. I look in the mirror and all I can think is uggghhhh.

I know, I KNOW, that it is wildly unrealistic to expect my body to look the same as it did before I incubated and birthed a human. That’s an unfair, sexist expectation borne of our massively misogynistic culture and designed to keep me in a constant loop of dieting, self-hating, weighing, falling off the wagon, and dieting some more.

It’s not actually very fashionable to say you’re “on a diet” anymore, in fact it sounds super ’90s/Kirstie Alley for Jenny Craig to my ears, but the focus on “healthy lifestyles” and “wellness” that we have now is really no different. It all means the same thing: thin. We might act like it means something more holistic, more enlightened, less rigid, but 99.9% of the time it still comes down to how good you look in a swimsuit or yoga pants or whatever. Nobody likes a mom bod. And it’s so dumb because mom bods are fucking HEROIC. If there was any justice in this world mom bods would be celebrated as the most desirable and the most impressive and the most coveted of all bods. This badass woman on Instagram said it better than I can.

Looking at my Facebook memories recently, I noticed a post I made several years ago as Kate Middleton was about to have her first baby. I was warily anticipating the usual “Check out how she lost the baby weight!” tabloid stories (“just portion control and lots of water!!!” Another 30 Rock reference for you) and I said something like new moms have 16,000 other things to worry about besides weight, how about we cut them some slack. And here I am, a new mom, worrying about at least 16,000 other things…but totally unable to cut myself even the slightest slack. I’ve always been terrible at taking my own advice.

***

What I’m reading:
“Party of Two” by Jasmine Guillory. Honestly, it’s like a cool drink of water on a 100 degree day. I don’t read a lot of this genre – and what to call it? Romance? I mean, I guess, because we’re sure as shit over my dead body not calling it ~chick lit~. But it’s pretty substantive romance, and it’s exactly what I needed.

What I’m watching:
Very little, because I’m at my parents’, and I just don’t tend to watch much TV or movies there because I prefer the comfort of my own streaming service profiles + a good Chromecast. But V and I have watched the first 4 episodes of Indian Matchmaking, and lord…I don’t know if I hate Aparna or want to be her best friend. Vyasar is adorable and deserves the best partner that horoscopes and numerology and Sima aunty can find. Nadia as well. I am kind of loving seeing Indian culture get the reality TV treatment. But it exposes (and doesn’t comment on one way or the other) several of the uglier elements, like the hardcore colorism, insistence on brides being “flexible” (by which they basically mean submissive), and the insularity of certain communities/castes.

What I’m listening to:
Well, I have heard the first few songs on Taylor Swift’s new album “folklore” and I…don’t hate it, but people are talking about it like it’s Album of the Year or something which is just hilarious in a 2020 where Fetch The Bolt Cutters also exists.

What I am seething about:
As I said…the goddamn movers are late. Like really late. We still don’t know how late. And I’ve said it before and I will say it again, I AM A CANCER, and Cancers need their own homes and comfortable spaces! I am nothing if not a slave to hygge.

Vonnegut was right, man

I’m not sure if it’s a consequence of parenthood, or the quarantine, or both – but I’ve noticed that I am appreciating certain things a lot more now than I ever did. Like right now, everybody in the apartment is asleep except for me, and it’s deliciously quiet, just me and the dishwasher humming along. I know it won’t last terribly long so I am really savoring it. I don’t really have “empty” time anymore, and I used to have a lot of it, especially when I was pregnant, and *especially* when I was pregnant and not doing any Wag walks. “Do nothing but fuck around on your phone” kind of empty time, doing that endless Facebook-Instagram-Twitter loop. When I have free time now, it’s so precious that I actually take a minute or two and literally think about how pleasant the moment is and how nice the quiet is, and that’s something I never really did before. Maybe this is what they call mindfulness? I don’t love that word, but it is truly beneficial to my mental health to spend time actually noticing when I’m happy…if that makes sense…and I think I’ve gotten better at noticing it while still in the moment. It’s like that Kurt Vonnegut quote:

“And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is’.”

Example two: last night I was holding Ashwin, trying to put him to sleep, which he of course was resisting with all his little might, and V came in and enveloped both of us in a big hug as we rocked back and forth. Lullaby music was playing from the bassinet and it was just a beautiful “we’re a family” Hallmark kind of moment. He and I were our own family before we had a baby, but now that we share this monumental and awesome task of raising a little human, I feel even more like we are a team, our own unit.

I’m hardly on Twitter at all anymore and God, is it glorious. I don’t know why it took a global pandemic for me to realize that the never-ending doom-scrolling was taking a legit toll on my mind. Twitter has its uses but for now, for me, the negatives far outweigh the positives.

It’s also been pleasant to spend time thinking about our eventual return to Wisconsin. I’m sure if we were planning on staying in Seattle long-term, I could gradually form some sort of community here, but back in Madison I have not only my existing support network, but a greater capacity to find “mom friends” through the friends and connections I already have. It’s just next to impossible to do virtually (even though there are lots of online support groups, etc).

What I’m reading:

Last finished “Good Moms Have Scary Thoughts” and definitely enjoyed the reassurances and normalizing of the postpartum period not being the happiest time of life. For some people I guess it really is magnificent and blissful but for others – I’d argue perhaps the majority – it’s fucking hard and full of doubt, uncertainty, and even rage. Any and every even slightly less-than-blissful new mom should read it.

What I’m watching:

Little Fires Everywhere is phenomenal. Reese Witherspoon really plays the same character that she plays in Big Little Lies, just set in the ’90s and wearing more skirt suits. She may definitely play a certain type, but no one can say she doesn’t do it masterfully.
The Last Dance. It’s like a gift from the NBA gods, who saw us suffering in the absence of basketball and delivered a documentary on my childhood heroes. Allow me a short digression…
- As a kid (like, elementary and middle school) I loved basketball and I specifically loved the Chicago Bulls. The Milwaukee Bucks at the time weren’t anything to write home about and besides, the Bulls had Michael goddamn Jordan. I loved him. I watched every game I could on WGN and ESPN, often with my dad, who was deeply chagrined by my less ardent, but still significant fondness for Dennis Rodman. In 1997, I begged my dad to get a subscription to Sports Illustrated because they were running a promotion where you not only got a gift of this DVD along with a new subscription order, but you also got this SWEET ASS watch. I had to have them both and my wonderful daddy obliged. You guys, I still have that DVD. I don’t have the watch because the band eventually broke but you best believe I wore it to death while it lasted. So the point of this story is that I loved Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls more than any 11-year-old white girl from Wisconsin reasonably should and therefore, I am incredibly excited about The Last Dance and the first two episodes have not disappointed that 11-year-old girl who lives inside me.
Still watching a couple episodes a day of Lost with V and the MIL. It’s funny how little I remember from the other TWO TIMES I’ve watched the entire series. V has a mind like a goddamn steel trap for TV shows and movies but with me, it’s like I forget it as soon as it’s over. Except 30 Rock. I’m never not watching 30 Rock long enough to forget any of it.

What I’m listening to:

You can probably guess. OMGTHENEWFIONAAPPLEISFUCKINGAMAZING. Fetch the Bolt Cutters is a goddamn masterpiece and I’m obsessed with it. My favorite songs are the title track, Shameika, Under the Table, and Ladies. At least those are the ones that get stuck in my head the most. Bless Fiona for releasing this beautiful music while we are all cooped up and in need of joy. Granted, “joy” and “Fiona Apple” aren’t words that normally go together but if you’re as big a fan as I am, you get it.

What I’m ~~cooking~~ baking:

Oatmeal Raisinet cookies. Oats are allegedly supposed to increase breastmilk production, so I suppose we can pretend that’s why I made a double batch this week and probably will again in a few days. Hot tip: don’t use actual Raisinets. Use dark chocolate covered raisins from Trader Joe’s. WAY better.

What I’m annoyed about:

Covidiots. and the people who feed their idiocy.

I will leave you with an Isis photo, because Ashwin gets all the social media love these days, and my girl still has the cutest bleps around.

img_20200422_215052 — *please allow my adorable blep to distract from the fact that i have gnawed off all my stomach fur*

Update #1 from Quarantine-ville

Well this sucks, doesn’t it?

Never did I imagine that I’d be spending my son’s first weeks of post-NICU life under quarantine. Neither did I imagine that he would be born 7 weeks early. 2020 is just chock full of twists and turns and frankly I am well over it at this point.

Ashwin was discharged on March 7, 5 weeks after he was born. We had gotten into a pretty good routine with the NICU – visit him from around 11am until 5 or 6pm, go home and rest, repeat. It was very much part-time parenting, which made the transition from NICU to home quite…jarring. We’d had way more preparation for it than non-preemie parents get, which is the huge upside to being in the NICU: constant help and resources right at your fingertips, plus (in our case), you get to go home and get actual sleep!

So yeah, those first few days of full cohabitation were rough. My mom left on the 9th, and V’s mom arrived on the 10th; the 24 hours in between were REALLY rough. My MIL got here just in time, thank God, before travel from Europe was banned and before we were under quarantine.

I want to tell you a little bit about that really rough 24 hours, even though I don’t want to and I’m genuinely afraid of judgment, because I hope it will help another new mom or dad feel less alone or less like something is wrong with them.

I had anticipated postpartum depression. I saw it coming like that acquaintance you see in the grocery store that you don’t want to talk to, so you hide out and hope they won’t see you so you can continue about your day. I hoped PPD wouldn’t see me, but it did, and as hard as the NICU was, the full force of the depression didn’t hit me until we brought Ash home. I couldn’t have prepared for the crying, the screaming, the constant anxiety and uncertainty, the lack of sleep. It hit me like a ton of bricks and honestly, I had some pretty dark thoughts that night, questioning everything – why had we done this? Why did we try so hard for this? What the hell did we sign up for? How can I be expected to function under these conditions? How does anyone do this?

Please understand how embarrassing/shameful it is for me to admit that, as someone who tried for five years to get pregnant. All the blood (so much blood), sweat (eh, not so much?), and tears (you better believe it) it took to get us here and now I feel…anything less than jubilant?? Like how fucking dare I? I tell myself that this is a hard stage, some people say THE hardest stage, and it will get better, and I know that that’s true. I think if will even start getting a little better as soon as he starts interacting with us more. It boggles my mind that people volunteer for this two, three, four, five times. I never ever thought I’d want just one kid, but now it feels like a real possibility. I don’t know. And I haven’t even touched on breast milk vs. formula.

And for all this to be happening during coronavirus…it’s just…a LOT. I’m truly at levels of anxiety I have never experienced. I just want to know when it will be over. I have an appointment with a perinatal psychiatrist on Monday and I hope there is something that can be done with my medications, like hopefully introducing a new one, because the two I’m on now are already at their maximum dosages. It’s scary playing around with different anxiety and depression drugs, though, so I really really hope whatever we do is helpful on the first try.

What I’m reading: Well, not much honestly. When I’m pumping in the middle of the night I’m too exhausted to read, and during the day there just isn’t a lot of time. When I have picked up a book, it’s been Daniel Lavery’s “Something That May Shock and Discredit You“, which tbh is a disappointment! I hate saying that because I absolutely love Dear Prudence and just like Danny as a person in general, but the book has a lot of highbrow literary/antiquity references that I simply do not get and therefore have skipped. I may not finish it. I’ve also been reading “Cribsheet” by Emily Oster, which is subtitled “A data-driven guide to better, more relaxed parenting from birth to preschool”. You can probably guess which word sold me on the book.

What I’m watching: V has The Office on whenever he’s feeding Ashwin, so there’s been a whole lot of that. But I’ve also checked out “Babies” on Netflix and am rewatching some Schitt’s Creek with my MIL who seems to enjoy it.

What I’m annoyed about: oh, where to begin. Well it definitely is annoying having to learn all these dumb little things that baby requires: how to properly strap him into the car seat, how to assemble the baby carrier, which of his cries means he’s hungry vs. he’s cold vs. he’s pooped himself. My brain feels very antagonistic toward learning anything right now, for some reason.

What I’m looking forward to: obviously, more than anything, for the pandemic to subside and normalcy to resume. I don’t know if that will be in weeks or months, and as much as I want it to happen, I don’t want it to happen too soon and have even more people get infected. Specifically, I am looking forward to getting my nails done, going to the library, taking walks without fear of accidental human contact, going out to eat, getting a massage…etc.

Please be careful and stay well. Please don’t go anywhere you don’t absolutely need to. Please send me strength and resolve and peace.