A Private Room...

in which I can scream at the top of my lungs and no one can hear.

That's what I want.

I love my child more every day. I still don't understand how I am capable of such love, and how I will be able to love baby boy as much as I do Ansley.

But that doesn't change the fact that on nights like tonight, I sometimes wish I didn't have kids. She.was.awful.

I know it was primarily because she was so tired, and she doesn't understand that certain things have to happen so she can go to sleep. But, seriously.

How in the world am I going to handle 2?

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Last week? So good.

Except for the record number of tornadoes that happened to ravage the south. And the fact that I wore two unmatching flip flops on Monday. And the fact that I've singlehandedly managed to eat all the peanut butter filled chocolate Easter candies. Ok, so that still counts as being so good.

But, today? I'm hoping it isn't a preview of what is to come this week.  Some small demon possessed my child. She was MEAN today. I'm pretty sure it is because 1.) She flipped between sitters last week, 2.) She is cutting yet another tooth, and 3.) She didn't nap. AT.ALL.

I've struggled with picking her up from the sitter's before. She isn't always the most excited about going home. I get a hug, but then she's back to playing with the two other kiddos. She normally will cry, saying "Pay, Pay!" Not because I haven't paid the sitter, but because she has a had time with the letter L. And, probably because I did forget to pay the sitter and she's teaching Ansley some not-so-subliminal messages.

But, today, it was the UGLY. Not only did she not want to come to me from the sitter, but, when I actually took her, she slapped my face and pulled my hair. And it hurt. Not physically. But emotionally, and it hurt my pride.

I'm quick to say, "Oh, my kid is so much better better than that one pitching a fit over a barbie doll at Walmart." But it's when it goes the other direction that I think I'm just as hard. On myself.

I know we've hit a stubborn streak. And I know she'll come back around to be that sweet little girlie. But right now, I feel like a failure. Because I frequently have the kid that is crying in the grocery store. Or refusing to eat at the restaurant.

Or I have the kid that isn't even excited about seeing Momma when she gets home from work.

Yeah, sometimes it sucks.

Just sayin'.

Here's Your Sign

I can remember being in high school, and there was this really popular comedy skit that would play on the radio called "Here's Your Sign."

It was typically mocking stupid things people do, or things stupid people do (take your pick).

Not that I pride myself in being a fan of country music now, but I tried desperately to get away from it then. But not only could I not escape that skit, I couldn't escape the fact that people do in fact do stupid things.

And things have not changed. Except now, churches think it is fun and totally awesome to come up with clever catchphrases for their signs. And several in the past few days have left me wanting to say "Here's your sign."

The first one that I passed every day on the way to a neighboring county last week.

"I'm too blessed to be depressed."
I kid you not. I became furious. Not necessarily for me, though I would be lying if I didn't admit that I was personally offended.

But I thought about all the people that struggle with depression. And it isn't because they don't feel "blessed."

And, I think that is a problem with the church.

I've struggled with anxiety. Though I don't think I've ever seriously struggled with depression, I know some very good friends that have. And we have faced common obstacles.

I remember driving home from the doctor's office after my first appointment regarding the anxiety attacks. I was talking with my mother-in-law on the phone, and I just started crying. Because to me, I felt like I wasn't a "good enough Christian" because I often let anxiety get the best of me. I felt that by taking medicine, I wasn't completely trusting the Lord and His provision.

And then, just a few weeks later, while visiting the in-laws, there was a sermon in church about that very thing. About anxiety being a result of a lack of faith.

And it added to my condition. And it breaks my heart that some people still believe that depression is just an emotional problem.

"Oh, you're depressed? Well, just think about everything you have to be thankful for."

I'm sorry. It isn't that easy. And just when I feel like all the stupid people that think that depression or even PPD is an emotional issue finally learned to keep quiet (ahem. Tom Cruise), someone else comes out of the woodwork, making it be someone's "fault" that they are depressed.

Garbage.

That same day, a little closer to my destination, I saw a church sign that read "When in doubt, let Jesus lead."  And it made me angry. Just about as angry as the "God is my copilot" bumper stickers that were so common in years past.

This church, obviously looking to gain some new attendees, actually had a digital church sign that offered several slogans. "Body piercing saved my life." I'm not even going to touch that one.

The thing that struck me about this is that it seemed to contradict all I had been taught, and recently come to accept. Isn't God always supposed to lead? And, if we are in doubt, isn't it because we're the ones that were trying to lead in the first place?

I know the sentiment they were aiming for. But they were way off.

Finally, that same day, while headed to my sister's house for our weekly American Idol date, I passed a church sign that came as a warm sense of relief in comparison to the signs of before.

"Forgive your enemies. It messes with their head."

And I laughed. Out loud. For a few minutes. Because that's it. That's what being human is. Sure, it means a lot to love and forgive as Jesus also forgave us. But there is something about needing to feel justified. And, maybe I'm wrong in this, but if by forgiving someone you make them say "huh?" and spend a few minutes trying to figure out what just happened, that's justification. By turning the other cheek.

I'm not normally a sign reader. I don't typically drive slow enough to read an entire sign. But after a recent trip to the eye doctor revealed that I should probably wear glasses while driving, I've been able to read more signs. Turns out it wasn't that I drove too fast. I just couldn't see.

Too much

Is it possible for postpartum depression to hit more than a year after the child's birth?  Or, rather, anxiety?

The last two days have been hell. In fact, I don't even know how I'm able to sit here and type. I'm shaking, but not cold. I'm uneasy. I can't relax. Tonight isn't as bad as last, but it's still really difficult. And I don't really know what triggered it.

But it was too much for me last night. And I had to call Paul home. Because I was scared. And this morning, I woke up and called the doctor first thing. Because I had to get in.

And he saw me. Of course, I got the normal talk. Non-medicated verses medicated, or a combo of the two. Importance of exercise and sleep. And that I'm just wired this way, and it can't exactly be "fixed." Or simply "go away."

But I'm still scared. I'm scared about Paul going to work tomorrow. I'm scared because right now, my brain is running 1,000 miles an hour and I can't control where it is going. And I don't like that. I don't like where it's taking me.

I don't like that right now, I'm pounding out something on the keyboard while my husband plays with our daughter. I don't like that I can't settle down. I don't like that this feels like a spiral that I can't escape. I don't like that for 2 days now, I've felt like I can't function on my own.

Somewhere inside of me, I know this is ridiculous. I know that there is no reason for this. Which makes it that much more difficult. Because I want to make it stop. I want to make this go away. I want to be able to breathe deep breaths, enjoy a warm bath and cozy up with the hubs.

But instead, I'm clutching the hubs. Holding on for what feels like dear life. Because right now, he has the strength I need. He can function for me. And he can hold me, making me feel somewhat normal.

So, after stepping away for a few hours, I've ended the night, and it feels somewhat normal. I took some time to rock the kiddo, while she took some time to dance a little gig to the tunes that were playing softly. And I took that bath, finding a good book to start reading.

And now, I feel a little more normal, sitting in my fuzzy pink and white polka dot robe, as the hubs shuts down the house for the night.  And I'll snuggle in, hoping that when I wake tomorrow, normal will still be here, waiting for me to greet the day.

A Sparkle

So, for those of you that are just sitting on the edge of your seats wondering what is going on, I think I'll give you just a sneak peek just to shed a little light on recent circumstances.

Basically, I've just been overwhelmed. But, what it really comes down to is that I'm selfish and things haven't been simple, and so I've felt overwhelmed.

For instance, after 13 months sans toothers, the kiddo has decided to get them. ALL.AT.ONCE. Which leaves me wondering why Dante never mentioned this as the 11th circle of hell.  My conclusion? He obviously was without children, because if he were to have them, he certainly would have included additional circles. Forget the thieves and murders. That circle is nothin'. Come visit teething, INSANE diaper rash, irritability, lack of sleep and learning the word no, then come talk to me, m'kay?

I've had a bad attitude at work, and of course, it has lasting consequences.  Top that off with a not-so-wonderful employee review, and I've not wanted to be there.

And, I'm really not doing well with the hubs working 2nd shift. Luckily, Hopefully, the hubs will be moving to first shift in a few short months. I know that it means that Ansley will be with a sitter more than she is now, but I really think it will be a major improvement for our family.

And, the last stress? I totally brought upon myself. I thought it would be a great idea to MAKE presents for Christmas. Which would be, if I started more than two weeks ago. And, I'm just not finished. And, honestly, I get home and just decide to crash, er... play with the kiddo for a few hours before bedtime. Except this week, which I've opted to spend those after-work hours with my sis and brother-in-law.  Totally worth it (hopefully she'll agree when she gets an unfinished Christmas present).

But, there has been a silver lining. I'll share just a sneak peek, and I'm planning a review VERY soon (if I was a cool person, I would say that I had a giveaway to go with the review, but I'm just not that awesome).

So, behold. The glory of Modern Bird Studios: 



GAH!! Is that not pee-your-pants beautiful???  For those that care, please don't think I neglected your opinions on photos. I sent several pics for Greg (the artist hand of MBS) to work with, and this one was the finished product.  ::Squee!!!::

Seriously?

Dear police department that employs my husband,

Could you BACK UP OFF, please?

Listen, I know you guys are understaffed.  But that's what happens when you let 6 officers leave or get fired and you don't replace them!

My husband? He hates to leave people in a crunch. And I love that about him. But, 72 hours in a week? That is ridiculous. You may wonder why he is working so much. It's because your sergeants, who are ON CALL refuse to come in, leaving the hubs to take care of it all.  You know, he has two days off a week.  And when he volunteers to fill in on one of those, it doesn't mean that he's volunteering to fill in on that day for 8 months!

And when Thanksgiving is his day off, not something he asked for specifically, and you make him work it because somebody didn't double check the scheduling and scheduled someone who was out of town, that's your fault. You work it. Don't call my husband in because "you knew you could count on him." That's garbage. He's not even at the bottom of the totem pole!

Don't get me wrong. I am very thankful that my husband is employed. And I am so proud of the work he does. But right now, he's working on about 4 hours of sleep. He worked from 2 p.m. Saturday to 8 a.m. Sunday, and worked 2 p.m. Sunday to 8 a.m. today. And he's home now, taking care of our toddler. And he isn't sleeping!  And he's supposed to go back in at 2? You're kidding me, right?

This is what I don't understand. How come when someone calls out, the hubs is the one stuck filling in, but if he tries to call out he's told "Nope. Sorry. We don't have anyone to cover for you."

I know I'm a little grumpy about it.  But, you know what the worst part is?

Ansley sees less of her parents together than she sees us apart.  And that just isn't cool.

So, would you kindly work something out? Hire some new people? Have your on-call people actually be on call?  I miss my husband terribly, and I'm worried he's making himself sick.  And that just can't be going on in my house. So use your title of Chief or Deputy Chief, flex those muscles, and do something about it, m'kay? I don't want to have to get ugly about it. That just isn't the right thing to do.

And, after all, I am a lady.

Smooches!
Tiffany

Something is Coming Between Us

Me and the hubs, that is.

And it has light brown hair, blue eyes, an occasional snotty nose and is really stinkin' cute.

But I don't like it.  Because I like snuggling with my hubs.

Ansley goes down for bed just fine. Beautifully, actually. And she sleeps for about 4 hours. But between midnight and 1 a.m., something really weird happens.  She wakes up and starts crying. When I go in to comfort her, she's fine as long as I'm rocking her or bouncing her. But, even if she's sound asleep, as soon as I put her back in her crib, she wakes up. And then, it's like a little demon had joined us.

A few nights, we've decided to let her work it out on her own. Clean diaper, refusing milk, snuggled warmly, binkie and bear handy... but... no.  A few nights ago, she screamed for ONE HOUR. One hour of pure torture for a momma who wanted to go scoop up her little girl.  And after that hour, we still had to go calm her down.  And, she ended up in our bed.

Last night? The hubs and I slept back to back. And the kiddo was in the middle.  Not cool.

I love my kiddo. Dearly. But seriously, our bedroom is for us! The hubs and I have to fight for the time that we do get together, and 8 of those 10 hours a day are from 12 a.m. to 8 a.m.

I hoping this is just because she's teething. I hope so much, and pray that she isn't getting too attached to sleeping in the big bed, or on the couch with mommy, or in the recliner with mommy. Because those are all places we've had to sleep in the last few weeks.

All while the hubs slumbers soundly (normally) in the nice, comfy bed.  We paid far too much for our mattress for me not to use it.

Maybe that's the problem.  Do they make pillowtop crib mattresses?

You're probably wondering what it's all about

These lectures on my innards (or, at least, my faith).

After cruising through college and really making my faith my own, it's time to be an adult. I have a child now that I'm supposed to train up in the way she should go, and hopefully she will never depart from the Lord.

When Ansley was teeny tiny (which, really, was only about a day. or two), we decided she would stay in the church service with us. She slept, didn't cry, and we felt (and still do) that our time of worship should be shared as a family.  As she got older, and would fuss, I took her out of the service, and we listened as I stood with her in the back. If she still fussed, we went out further.

Only recently, since about 10 months, did I take her to the nursery.

We get such little time together, that we like to spend what we do have together. So, Ansley gets her cup of Goldfish, a book, a few silent toys, and a chair of her own. And, normally, she's fine. But if she's laughing, or moving around a lot or just loud, I take her out.

I'm part of a young adult Bible study group (I feel that it is important to note here that by "Bible study," I mean watch a 15 minute DVD by Rob Bell and talk about it for about 10 minutes. Deluxe). Unfortunately, it meets during the week, and Paul is unable to attend, which leaves me to fly solo. Which, I'm fine with. I guess. I mean, I'm used to it by this point.

A few weeks ago, I get a text message from a dear friend.

"Speaking of getting under people's skin... I'm not sure how to say this but several people in group have been commenting on how hard it is to concentrate on the devotional dvd with Ansley between them and the tv. I really don't want to seem rude, but they elected me to see if you might mind scooting to the outside or the back of the room or maybe just trying to keep her still and quiet while the dvd is on. I know that's a difficult task with a one year old, but ansley is just too cute not to look at and we really need to be focusing on the message."

And this pissed me off. It wasn't even in a way that ruffled my Mommy-bird feathers.  First and foremost, aren't we adults? Could someone not say "Hey, Tiffany, I can't see around your crazy kid.  Do you mind moving her?" I would have taken that much better than the group talking about it for apparently a few weeks, nominating a good friend to say something about it, and sugarcoating it with "Ansley is just too cute not to look at..."

I know what you're thinking. But, honestly, I'm not the I-think-my-kid-is-perfect-and-never-in-the-way-and-if-she-ever-is-everyone-can-just-get-over-it-because-I-let-her-do-whatever-she-wants kinda momma. I never moved her because no one ever said anything. Period.

Secondly, as adults, shouldn't we be able to control our attention span for 15 minutes?? We apparently can't carry on a conversation based on the Bible, or even a book. Instead, we use the most attention grabbing form of media, and still can't keep from getting distracted. I've found myself in this place. Please don't get me wrong. But it's only been until recently that I said, "You know what, those little girls that do ballet in place while we sing during church? It's my problem that I'm distracted. Not that their parents are bad parents." And I control my attention.

And, there's more to the story. But I think it's best if I stop here. Because my fingers are kinda tired.

Heartbreaking

This post started out as something completely different. It was lighthearted and about how Ansley has started walking and how she is an absolute joy.

But, instead, I have been watching Teen Mom. Everybody has their guilty pleasures, right? Bon Bons, expensive shampoos, driving fast.  Well, mine is Teen Mom (ok, at least one of them. I do enjoy me some expensive shampoo, and, on occasion, driving fast).

My heart is seriously breaking right now. I don't understand how parents can act the way they do, not only toward each other, but toward their children. How can you justify using such foul language around a child that mimics everything you say? And saying "You make me do it" doesn't count. Own up to your actions. 

How can you justify treating someone like even less than dirt? And how, in return, does that person manage to hang around, being verbally and at times physically abused?  And how, with their lives plastered all over MTV, can these two allow this to go on? Why haven't people stepped in to assist?  This family is broken, possibly beyond repair, and we watch.  And I cry.

I cry because I know this isn't the only family out there like this. I cry because the child has no say in the matter, and is often times shoved to the back screaming while her mother sleeps in or cusses her fiance. It is completely unacceptable.

I know that I'm not the best parent. I know I get frustrated with Ansley, and with Paul. But I also know that we're the adults, and Ansley depends on us. Completely.

And I know that.  I guess that what make me the adult.

That change

So, I mentioned that youth group I started attending in high school, and that it changed my life.  That's for real.

I learned so much during that time, even if it took me to this point to realize it.  I made some great friends, but, more importantly, I learned that my faith wasn't just something I believed, but it was something I needed to live out, and share with others.

It became a relationship.

Which is what it should have been all along. But, I missed that.

I wasn't spoon fed.  I figured some things out on my own.  And, I even strayed. Not from the truth, but from some of the more legalistic things I was taught. Like using the KJV because that's what Jesus used.  Ok, so I was never taught that Jesus used the KJV, but I was taught that it was THE WORD OF GOD. And is was the only version that should be used.

I made some great friends. I depended some friendships that I already had. I learned to be a leader. I became passionate about my faith. And about truth.  It was real.

I didn't really see the struggles of the church.  All I knew was that our youth group was awesome, and at times we managed to bring 100 youth through the doors.  Looking back, maybe I can see some issues, and why some people may have struggled. 

We were clique-y. I was clique-y.  And, unfortunately, I feel that may have come at the exclusion of others. We got too big, too fast.  I didn't know everyone (not that knowing everyone is important, but at least introducing yourself is). The youth director never went below the service with other relationships.

The first time I think I started to realize that "church" had its issues was when that youth director left. He didn't leave under bad terms. He left to go back to school. The search committee listed their number one requirement as having a bachelor's degree.

And then, they hired someone who didn't. And, he had grown up in the church, and his family still attended.

And I was frustrated. So I withdrew to my community of believers at the Christian college I attended. And learned even more.

Off the Face of the Earth

Ok, so I know I dropped off the face of the earth for just a little bit.

But, ya'll, I've been busy!

We celebrated Ansley's first birthday. We welcomed a house full of family for a weekend. We visited a very special little man that made his way into the world.

And, we've had some frustrations. Ok, so maybe a lot of them.

I love my daughter. With every ounce of my being, I love her from head to toe. But, sometimes she gets the best of me and I want to crawl in bed and just cry. Because I can't take it.

Overall, Ansley is a very good baby, er, toddler. With the exception of a bout with reflux which we were able to make some lifestyle adjustments for, she has been easy. She never fussed between breastfeeding and bottle feeding, took a variety of bottles and pacifiers, preferred to be put to bed awake, and didn't freak out when we stopped the bottle a couple months ago. She's never fussed about eating different foods, and actually prefers peas, and as I discovered last night, broccoli.

The only difficulty: the routine and schedule. Not setting it, but functioning without it.

I've heard that babies really enjoy having a routine. This I discovered early on with Ansley. Dinner, bath, playtime/snuggle, bottle, bed. She turned into a pumpkin at 8:30. And if we didn't follow this, she was a terror. As we discovered this weekend.

We took a trip to visit that new little man. Two hours away (though, really, it turned into about a 4 hour trip after dinner, ice cream, gas, tire pressure, yada yada yada). She slept in the car, which was fine, because we hit the road close to pumpkin time. What happened next, I can't really explain.

She was happy. She visited with Gramma and Pap-Pap. She played. She laughed. She was so.stinkin'.cute. But the time came when Mommy and Daddy were ready to hit the hay. So after another short car ride, it was bed time.

She went down easily, and I went to shower and get myself ready for bed. The mistake came when I reached in the crib and covered her with a blanket. She hadn't been asleep, but was just chillin'.

The sirens went off. Normally, I would let her cry. But, as guests in the house, I didn't want to wake those just down the hall. So, I put her in bed with us. Disclaimer: I know this is frowned upon in most circles, but I loved having Ansley sleep in our bed with she was younger. I liked cuddling, since she is opposed to that regularly.

Anywho, she couldn't get comfortable. Toss, turn, flip, turn, roll, toss, turn, jump, flop, climb, turn, toss, climb, roll, b-i-n-g-o. Ok, well, she wasn't crying, so how bout a few toys until she fades? Bang, laugh, howl, hoot, laugh, yell, bang, Bang, BANG, laugh, flop, flip, turn, use mommy and daddy as jungle gyms.

Next step: rocking in the recliner. Nope. Ain't.Gonna.Do.It. Ok, back to the bed. She slept for about 2 hours, and the process started over. Seriously, I finally took a blanket and tried to sleep on the floor hoping she would settle down if she had more room. Yep. I caught about an hour cat nap while she played with the car keys and the headboard.

It's so easy to have a kind heart for your child when they are upset, or ultra tired, or hungry. I found it very difficult to be patient when she was in a good mood and playing.

But it was 4 in the morning!!!!

And I haven't made up for it. When you have an infant that wakes in the middle of the night to eat, your body has learned to function with minimal sleep. But when your child has been sleeping through the night since 4 months, you get very angry. Especially when coffee isn't part of your vocab and you are a very grumpy person without sleep.

So, the point of this post? Don't feel like a bad parent for finding, and sticking with, a schedule or a routine. Obviously, you don't want to starve your child because it isn't dinner, but, speaking from experience, they really like that routine.

And, you know what? I do too.

Deep breaths.

I'm frustrated. And it's getting the better of me.

I'm frustrated that we are a one-car family again, with no end in sight. I'm frustrated that the hubs will be working 6 days a week until sometime next year. I'm frustrated that we see more of our coworkers than we do of each other.

I'm frustrated that my dog is knocked up, and despite being medicated, is covered in fleas. I'm frustrated that I brought Rufus home in the first place. I'm frustrated that Bunker ate two of my favorite pairs of shoes in two days.

I'm frustrated that the only decent channel we get has changed it's signal and we don't get it anymore. And I'm frustrated that it's the channel that shows baseball, football and Glee.

I'm frustrated that as I work my way off this medicine, I feel like my head is spinning, making me want to keep taking it. I'm frustrated that I'm tired all the time, and leave work with a headache almost every day.

I'm frustrated that the neighbor's don't have a stronger internet signal. I'm frustrated Ansley's room is the wrong color, and I can't find the time to repaint. I'm frustrated that the new curtain rods I bought don't fit. I'm frustrated that I can't squeeze the staple gun to finish recovering the recliner in Ansley's room.

I'm frustrated I can't blog more. I'm frustrated that I'm not as funny or have as many followers as other blogs I read.

I'm frustrated that Ansley has learned how to dump a bucket full of water out of the tub during her bath. I'm frustrated that she hasn't been sleeping well.

I'm frustrated that I'm jealous of an unborn baby. I'm frustrated that as we toss around the idea of a second child, I can't help but think it won't work, and we should just stop here.

I'm frustrated that I've gained weight, and my fat jeans are too small. And I'm frustrated that all I want to do is eat half baked ice cream and chocolate chip pancakes.

I'm frustrated that I have a college degree that I'm not using. I'm frustrated that despite being a 2-income family, I feel like we're barely keeping our heads above water.

And, I'm frustrated that I'm frustrated.