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wickedstepmama [userpic]

The state of affairs, and babies don't need toys

August 2nd, 2009 (09:49 pm)

current mood: thrilled

Well, it's 9:50 and Griffin is sitting in his play station (a quilt on the ground with a husband pillow to lean against and lots of toys) busily investigating my travel hairbrush. $25 singing dog? Eh. Box of differently shaped and colored blocks? Pass. Freebie travel hairbrush that I tossed backwards into his carseat as he was screaming in traffic one day? WIN.

He also really likes the travel wipes container. I should just stop buying toys altogether.

So I went to the doctor the other day. Because I'm on crazy drugs I've had a med check in every 4-6 weeks since my pregnancy, because of the risk of postpartum depression. For the first time I didn't have a positive things to report--I've had trouble sleeping, and just generally been struggling. Sure, my body is wiggly and my life is very baby-centered, but so is every new mom's. It should not be consuming my life, and it was. Lying awake in bed every night thinking horrible violent thoughts for four hours was the cherry on the sundae of postpartum suck.

Since I've been casually told that I probably have ADHD before, and I've been struggling to lose weight (I lost half of it by giving birth, and then...nothing), my doctor decided to try something kooky: Ritalin. We upped my morning dose of Cymbalta just in case the Ritalin triggered some more anxiety, and I got a prescription for a sleeping pill just in case. (I haven't needed it yet.)


Within an hour of taking the first delicious little white pill my thoughts cleared. My mind just quieted. Things fell into place. THE HEAVENS OPENED UP AND I SAW GOD, PEOPLE. And I am never going back.

As far as I'm concerned, Ritalin is a miracle drug. I have not felt this good since I was a child. I am not afraid to speak or socialize. I'm accomplishing things I set out to do. When bad things happen, I don't blame myself and spiral blackly inwards. My husband told me he feels like he's seeing the real me, the me he always knew was there somewhere. This is weird, but I feel the same. Like the real me has finally been unwrapped from this horrible cocoon of anxiety and fear. Who knew that speed could do that?

So, that's where we stand. I'm starting my new life as a speed chomping maniac, and Griffin is STILL AWAKE. I have dire predictions for tomorrow's grumpiness factor. Stay tuned!

wickedstepmama [userpic]

Griffin Patrick

May 7th, 2009 (01:06 am)
Tags: ,

current mood: tired


What, I haven't posted in months, years, possibly decades? Here, look, a baby.

Misdirection? Changing subjects? Who, me? You must be mistaken. OMG, it's a brother and a baby!

We got married too, since I last posted. We scrapped EVERYTHING and went to the courthouse and then a steakhouse and it was WONDERFUL and AWESOME and MADE OF WIN. But you do not get pictures of that because I do not really like them. Also I don't know where they are. MOAR BABY!

Baby was 8lbs 11.6 oz, 20.25" long, and had a 36" head--the biggest our nurse had ever helped deliver, in fact, AND I AM HOLDING A GRUDGE.* I still managed to give birth in a tub of water with absolutely no pain meds. I am HARDCORE and AWESOME.**

(No, we do not have pictures of this. You do not want to see pictures of a naked lady in a tub of blood (there was some tearing action), and if you do I do not want to know about it.)

We do have xrays, however; baby was born with one hand. We've seen lots of doctors and the general consensus is that he'll be right handed.

Ok, ok. They also said that there's nothing else wrong with him and I didn't cause it by eating blue cheese or stealing sips of my husband's beer. It just happened. That really helped me. It really helped Scott that these doctors were the same guys who treated this dude

who pitched a no hitter for the Yankees. We're forgiving him for the Yankees thing, considering. Griffin's clearly never going to be a Yankees' fan.

My company laid me off during my pregnancy, so I do not have a job. I am ok with that. I'm enjoying taking pictures of this guy with my phone's crappy camera.

I'm also thinking I'll try to start editing and maybe writing freelance, maybe even trying to actually do the whole blog for money thing. What do you think, have I got it in me to post regularly?

I choose to interpret that as support.

*Not really.
**Seriously though? I don't understand how women with epidurals do it. My friends who've had them says it still hurts with the epidural, and I couldn't stay on my back for the space of a single contraction, much less the entire labor. Anyway, transition was the only part that made me want pain meds, and by the time you're in transition it's really too late.

wickedstepmama [userpic]

Dun dun dun.

May 18th, 2007 (11:19 am)
Tags: ,

current mood: anxious

Tonight we are going out to dinner. We've been a little strapped since the flood, but we've paid rent for the month and I just got a paycheck. So we're going to relax for a night and eat delicious food that someone else prepares.

At dinner we are going to tell Zeke that his mother had three sons after she had him, and gave them up for adoption. Tomorrow morning we are going to a park to meet the middle child, Chris, who just turned three.

Annie is a drug addict. She is currently in recovery and has been since November of last year, but she was addicted to various substances for quite awhile before that. She is also very good at hiding pregnancies. Scott found out about the first two pregnancies post-Zeke from a social worker after the children were born; while he and Annie were separated the divorce was not yet legal, and he had to sign paperwork affirming that he was not the father though he was married to the mother. By the time the third child came around he recognized the signs despite her efforts to conceal the pregnancy. Also, as this was her fourth full-term pregnancy she just got too big to effectively hide anymore.

It is not possible that Scott is the father of any of these babies, by the way. Not a single one of her children shares a father. Such is the life of a drug addict.

About a year ago Scott received an email from Marilyn, the adoptive mother of one of Chris, the second child Annie had birthed after Zeke (ie, her third overall). She and her husband believed in open adoption and were wondering if we would be interested in fostering a relationship between the boys. We were, but for us the timing was rather bad. Zeke was just starting to stabilize after a rough patch due to his mother's absence from his life, and Chris's adoption was not yet final (due to the fact that Annie ignored all court dates and papers). We just weren't ready to introduce anything else into his life that could stir things up. He needed peace and stability.

But Zeke is much more stable now. So, it's time to tell him. We think this is the best way to do it; we do not like keeping such secrets for him and fostering mistrust and feelings of betrayal. We also think that it would be easier for him to accept this sort of thing now, before teenage hormones and angst set in. It's going to be rough though. Zeke has a fear of abandonment--birthed of course from the fact that his mother very much abandoned him in favor of drugs--and we do not know what sort of fears or behavior this new information will set off. We've warned the school and requested an appointment for him with the school counselor. I'm not sure what else to do. There's just not much information out there aimed at bio-siblings, as I think they're called.

Any advice you might have would be appreciated.

wickedstepmama [userpic]

Later he argued that it was technically possible for his stuffed animals to come alive and eat him.

May 16th, 2007 (03:05 pm)

current mood: old

"I wish I had hair like you, Quinn. I like grey."


I have about four white (not grey!) wisps at one temple. (Would have had them at both temples except my best friend freaked and yanked out the side closest to her a few weeks ago.) There are two or three more scattered in the rest of my hair. I'm 24, dammit. My nearly-sixty-year-old father has the same hair as me and is still only salt-n-peppery, with the emphasis on the latter. This should not be happening.

In other news, I apologize for disappearing! I didn't write for awhile because I was busy, and then I didn't write because I felt bad for not writing for so long. Oy.

wickedstepmama [userpic]

Headache or house?

April 10th, 2007 (12:27 pm)


Dad called today; we officially have a hold on the place and date we want for the wedding. If we want it. Dad also officially offered us a deal: we can have the wedding, which he will pay for, or we can have a sizeable down payment on a house. Or, we can have a very small, informal wedding, and a smaller chunk of change towards a house. We have ten days to decide.

Is it small of me to say that I really wish he had officially made this offer nine months ago?

Extra things to consider:

  • I have an anxiety disorder. Getting up in front of people both terrifies and allures me.
  • I may have found the perfect dress, which happens to be relatively inexpensive.
  • Zeke has been looking forward to a wedding.
  • Scott did not have a wedding his first time around.
  • I'm not into big fusses.
  • Mom will go bonkers when I tell her this, and will disown me if I have the wedding at my father and stepmother's house.
I think I am having an aneurysm.

wickedstepmama [userpic]

Imitating Dad

April 5th, 2007 (10:52 am)

current location: work
current mood: allergy-rific
current song: Lightning Crashes, Live



wickedstepmama [userpic]

Holy therapy, Batman!

April 2nd, 2007 (11:31 pm)
Tags: , ,

current location: home
current mood: weepy
current song: The Nature Channel in HD

I am marrying Superman. Scott was just downstairs doing laundry (while watching baseball--best. husband. evar.). He came upstairs to get a drink, and found me freaking out as I cleaned the guinea pig cage (which is usually his job). I freak out at him for a few minutes, during which time he unearths that I go nutty out about changing the guinea pig cage because back when I was thirteen I think I killed my hedgehog by not feeding her for three days while we were moving. But wait! After talking to me for ten minutes, he discovers that I wasn't responsible for killing her, my mother was, because I couldn't drive and my mother refused to either bring her with us at the beginning or return to feed her.

And then, after all of my tears were dried and I was absolved of the murder? (I swear to god, this has been weighing on my conscience for eleven years.) He returns to finish folding the laundry.

He's coming with me to therapy on Friday to tell my therapist about this, but as he says, "Dude, your mom killed your pet and told you it was your fault. That's like a fastball down the middle of the plate for a therapist."


wickedstepmama [userpic]

I can't wait till he goes into therapy.

April 2nd, 2007 (01:47 pm)

current mood: anxious
current song: Alleluia, Dar Williams

You know how some people hate their in-laws and do what they can to minimize contact? Today I called my fiancé's ex-wife's parents to make plans for Easter. I am awesome.

Of course, what made this necessary is not so happy. Zeke's mother, Annie (not her name), is an addict. She got into heroin through a guy she dated several years ago. Her parents finally put her in rehab around Thanksgiving, however, due to that Zeke hasn't seen her more than twice since then. And since her abusive, racist ex-boyfriend stole her phone when her parents carted her off to rehab, Zeke hasn't received many phone calls. He got one on Christmas, one on his birthday, and I think one on New Year's. In the past few months he's gotten a few more, since she moved from the inpatient program to the halfway house. But for whatever reason the calls are still few and far between.

(I'm really not sure how to do this post. I want to be able to post about Zeke's mom and how it affects me, but I don't really know how to treat it. Do I assume you know? Do I assume you don't? Blargh.)

Last night, right before bed, Zeke suddenly started crying. He missed his mom. This isn't something he does often--frankly, I can't remember the last time he did it--which is fortunate, because there's nothing Scott or I can do about it. We can't call Annie; we have no number for her and we've been led to believe there are restrictions on phone usage at her halfway house. We can't reassure him that things will get better, because this is better. All we can do is tell him we love him, and she loves him, and she's trying to get healthy again. It sucks. Parents are supposedly to be able to fix things, and we can't do a thing.

So that's why I called her parents: I wanted to fix things. (Also I've been rather afraid of her parents simply because they are my fiancé's ex-wife's parents, so it was a good challenge for myself.) We don't have contact information for Annie but they do, and I was hoping that they could call Annie and tell her that Zeke really needed to hear from her. As it turns out, I was in luck: Annie is getting her first day pass on Easter, to come home to her parents' house for an overnight visit. Since she'll be staying overnight it'll be a good opportunity for Zeke to go to his grandparents' house--he can't stay alone with her, but he can stay with them while she's there. It screws with our Easter plans (though it gives us a super rare night out!), and I'm lucky my mom was gracious when I called and told her that we might have to be late or come without Zeke. But ultimately it's worth it. Zeke needs to see his mom, and we'll take whatever she can give us. I only worry about telling him too far ahead of time, while there is still time for everything to go kablooey.

wickedstepmama [userpic]


March 27th, 2007 (04:45 pm)

current mood: amused
current song: Lowlands of Holland, The Chieftains

We had friends over for dinner last night, two friends of Scott's who I have not yet gotten to know very well. When they arrived Zeke was playing outside--hello spring!--and Scott was grilling--spring! I've missed you! As it was beautiful out--god bless spring!--we all ended up standing outside on our awesome deck talking, the delicious grill smoke blowing out over our backyard.

We were still there waiting for the chicken to cook when Zeke came to get lime chips say hi. This couple hadn't seen Zeke in awhile, and were eager to see the sweet, precocious little boy they remembered.

Scott: Zeke! Can you say hi to Hannah and Reed?
Hannah: Hi Zeke! It's been a really long time since I've seen you!
All of us: ...
Quinn: Zeke, why don't you take your stinky inside and finish your homework.
Zeke: STINKY! goes inside STINKY!
Hannah: Wow, maybe we should be rethinking that kids thing...

Perhaps we should have warned them that Zeke is fully into that perform-for-adults-by-being-annoying stage.

wickedstepmama [userpic]


March 27th, 2007 (02:20 pm)

current mood: bloated
current song: Tim McGraw, by Taylor Swift

So apparently when I challenge the weather gods to dump us with snow and ice, they listen. You'd think that having a full inch of ice covering the ground would make me grimace and apologize for incurring the wrath of the weather gods. But I never pretended to be sane. Me, I thought the ice storm was fantastic. Not only could my dad, big hulking ex-linebacker that he is, walk across the ice and not break though, but his Land Rover could drive across the ice and not break through. It was awesome.

I also probably should have made this post six weeks ago. But I never pretended to be punctual, either.

wickedstepmama [userpic]

Weather Gods! I challenge you!

February 13th, 2007 (10:39 am)
Tags: ,

current location: Work, dammit
current mood: irritated

Oh my god, Weather Gods! Give us snow!

This morning Zeke came to our door as the alarm was trying to go off and I was trying to pretend I didn't have to pee, because once I rolled out of bed that was it, the day had started, and I couldn't still be unconscious and warm. "I have bad news," he said, in a wobbly voice. "It didn't snow all that much."

"We know baby. You still have school today." Scott gets emails from some website about our county's school closures on his Sidekick, and had already checked it.

And then. He starts crying. And we're not talking about the cute teary little sniffles that my non-parent friends think kids do. We're talking big honking pay-attention-to-me-my-life-is-so-terrible-WAH-WAH-WAH-WAH-WAH crying. Because it didn't snow.

So you know what weather gods, now I'm annoyed. I want a frickin' foot of snow, dumped on us overnight and then frosted with a nice inch of sleet or freezing rain that freezes nice and solid before the commuters start. I want a veritable snowstorm. I wanted a good solid several inches before you fucked with everyone's expectations, but now I want an effing snow dump. And not because my kid cried because he didn't get a snow day (because that's really not cool), because my kid cried in the SACRED FORTY MINUTES BETWEEN WHEN MY ALARM GOES OFF AND I HAVE TO HAUL MY ASS OUT OF BED.

wickedstepmama [userpic]

This was a lot funnier when I didn't realize the end was a prompt.

February 1st, 2007 (10:57 pm)
Tags: ,

current location: Home!
current mood: amused
current song: Tim McGraw, Taylor Swift

From Zeke's writing homework. All mistakes preserved.

Prompt: Man's fishing boat sinks; a shark enters the man's territory; a baby sea lion is nearby and hears the man's cry for help and returns with twnety adult sea lions that create a barrier between the man and the toothy sea attacker.

Margaret and the shark

Once, an old man named Joseph, 82, lived in an old mansion with cobwebs in every other corner. He always took an every-day fishing break. One day he was sick and asked, "Will you go fishing for me?" to his wife, Margaret, 78. "Yes, but just this once." she said. When she got there, she got in the rusty canoe and paddled. She got the fishing rod and threw out the hook. She felt a strong rumble and reeled in towards her canoe. When it was completely reeled in, the fishing rod pulled Margaret under water. She spotted a shark and screamed. Lukily, a baby sea lion heard the commotion and got 20 adult sea lions who formed a barrier between Margaret and the shark. Margaret got back into the boat and went home and told the story to her husband.

The End.

wickedstepmama [userpic]

I have no work ethic.

January 30th, 2007 (10:37 pm)

current location: The couch
current mood: bouncy
current song: AMERICAN IDOL, BABY

Augh! I'm making excuses to myself for not writing here because I haven't finished setting it up yet. So help! See that little blurb over on the left hand side? (Ok, first leave your friends page and actually go to my journal page.) What. should. I. put. in. the. brackets. Eh? I've come up with like seven things and none of them work. Ideas, anyone?

EDIT: biceyou hit the ball out of the park in an email to me suggesting that it be "slightly bipolar bride-to-be". This was after I announced I had actually bought yak cheese off of amazon, which I had been threatening to do for months. (Long story.) I think it fits. :)

wickedstepmama [userpic]

Ain't no gourmands here.

January 25th, 2007 (03:38 pm)
Tags: ,

current location: The Cubicle
current mood: grumpy
current song: Unlikely Lovers, Falsettos


Right. Because when I get home from work and am struggling to get Zeke homeworked and fed before he starts foaming at the mouth I am really going to slice up some strawberries to top off my cashew butter, honey, and Ryvita Fruit Crunch snack. You know, that I just tossed together out of things I had lying around.


wickedstepmama [userpic]


January 8th, 2007 (07:39 pm)
Tags: ,

current mood: amused
current song: Acoustic version of Bad Day, Daniel Powder

On the way home from the Y today Zeke asked Scott why someone would have a baby if they didn't want it. Scott replied that sometimes people don't intend to have babies, and that he would give him a book, Where Did I Come From, when they got home. (This is the book that Scott read when he was growing up; we grabbed it from his parents' house over Christmas.)

We scrounged for dinner tonight due to miscommunications between Scott and me, and as I heated up my dinner Zeke waited for his to cool...and read the book. At one point I glanced over his shoulder at the book to see what part of the process he was on.

He was reading a page called Making Love.

I know information is cool and being honest and unafraid of talking with kids is really cool and will lead to good things later in life. I get it. I'm down with it. Bodies? Awesome. Sex? Fantastic. Protecting your kids from rumors and STDs and unexpected pregnancies and worse? TOTALLY AMAZING.

But at the same time I am TOTALLY FREAKED OUT. Because now? When he looks at me? HE KNOWS.

wickedstepmama [userpic]

He didn't answer that last one...

December 14th, 2006 (09:14 pm)

current mood: devious
current song: We Danced Anyway, Deana Carter

At dinner tonight Scott was going through Zeke's very full take home folder. (We keep forgetting to go through it and help him empty it out.) In the middle of going through it he pulled out and handed to me, without comment, a plain sheet of paper with the following written on it:

Q: What is your name?
A: My name is Zeke.
Q: Where were you born?
A: I was born at St. Agnes.
Q: Are you at least 5?
A: Yes, I am.
Q: Do you poop your self?

wickedstepmama [userpic]

Oopsie daisy

November 11th, 2006 (12:38 am)
Tags: , ,

current location: home
current mood: naked

It's midnight, and I'm getting ready for bed. Scott is downstairs finishing up a few things before he joins me. Zeke is sound asleep, as is his best friend Kaila, who is spending the night.

Or so I assumed when I neglected to close the door to our bedroom before I got undressed.

I'm lying in bed, buck-assed naked and trying to find my page in my book, when I hear mutterings coming from down the hall. Suddenly I look up and Kaila is stumbling down the hall, babbling distractedly. It is at this point that I recall that she sometimes sleepwalks.

All of my clothes are well out of reach and would take too long to pull on. Instead I leap out of bed and yank the sheet from the tangled mess of blankets, feeling decidedly like I'm in a movie. I hurriedly wrap the sheet around me--all the time in full view of Kaila--and rush out of the room, trying to say calming things.

A word of advice: when wrapping a sheet around you a la movie star, throw it around your shoulders. I realized that this would have been smarter than wrapping it around me like a towel when the top fell down on my way down the twelve-foot-long hall. Twice.

Luckily, while I was abandoning the towel-style and flashing a sleepy Kaila as I threw the sheet around my shoulders, Scott made his way up the stairs. Seeing my state of buck-assed nakedness, he gallantly decided to take care of Kaila himself. When he returned to our bedroom he relayed the following conversation:

Scott: What are you looking for, Kaila?
Kaila: She who has the Play-Doh.

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