Babyhawk--are you as tired of hearing about this as I am talking about it? Probably. Well it was finally resolved. I have to say that for being a homegrown mommy-run business I am absolutely baffled at how rude, incompetent and completely useless their customer service representative was. She (self-admittedly) forgot to get my refund, did not respond to my calls and e-mails (though acknowledged recieving them) and brushed me off on our last call to say she couldn't deal with it at the moment because she was heading to a pta meeting. Um, ok? I called her boss. Bingo, next day I got my refund. It's not like me to get all nasty. Ok, maybe it is. But this was justified. 2 friggin months of waiting!
I've re-ordered by carrier on a Canadian website. Hopefully I have better luck. I would like to say I didn't buy another babyhawk, but I did. Just, buyer beware. DO NOT ORDER FROM THE BABYHAWK WEBSITE.
Today I took advantage of the lovely weather that has finally arrived and went for a walk, exploring a part of the neighbourhood I have never walked around. It was filled with cute bakeries and delis and coffee shops. None were stroller friendly, unfortunately, so I couldn't go in. But soon, I see myself spending a lot of time there. The sunshine was glorious. I think I got a bit of a sunburn.
This post is feeling skeletal because I'm trying not to focus on all the negativity lately. Still, it's hard to avoid talking and thinking about. I've been bummed out. Stressed out. I have too much on my plate, and when Mike is sick, it's all on me. Not to sound bitter, but when I am sick, everything is still all on me. So I guess I'm just a little sad about that. I try and tell myself there is always more good than bad. Glass half full and all that rot.
I've got things coming at me from every angle and I'm having a hard time keeping up. How on earth do people live in this day and age? I feel like every time I keep up with something, another thing is crumbling apart in the background. Be a good mom, your house is a mess. Have a clean house, your kid turns into Ted Bundy. Maybe not, but you get my point. There's no way to do it all. And where did this feeling of obligation come from, anyway? I've never been the type to think I had to do it all. I never cared if my room was messy or if my friends thought I was stuck up because I didn't want to go out. Now I've become a slave to the balance. Evenings out twice a month, sweeping every day, baths on all days that start with T. It's enough to drive a woman mad.
Let us simplify. Focus on being. Ender is sleeping on my lap, with his long-lashed eyes and sleep-sweat slick hair making him look more than a little like a mewling puppy born only minutes ago. He sighs with comfort, one tiny hand resting on my breast, his jaw suckling a nonexistant teat. He is perfection. He smells of sweet spoiled milk and another delicate odour that can only be described as the smell of posession.
My days will improve. Mike will not always be sick. The car will not always be broken.
I will keep on keeping on.