We've just returned from London, where we spent the day with Mike's extended family on his father's side. It was very nice. There was a bbq, and a lovely shady yard, and Ender cooed and gurgled his way around the circle making everyone fall in love with him. He was a bit fussy from a skipped nap, but got his second wind, and took a little dip in the inflatable pool (which, for a little person is a regular pool) and was very well behaved. I love this side of Mike's family. I can talk about cosleeping and nursing, and everyone nods, agrees with me, and understands. It's so refreshing to not be judged. Sometimes I feel just tied up in knots from the tension between the kind of mother I am, and the kind of mother people expect me to be.
The car ride home, however, was absolute hell. The air conditioning in the volvo is irreperably broken and the heat wave that has hit ontario means constant weather in the mid-thirties. I had a spritzer bottle in the car which could only do so much. Ender's car seat is now front facing, but I am convinced Mike has installed it wrong, and Ender's head flops directly forward so that he can't sleep more than fifteen minutes at a time in it. I can prop his chin up with pillows, but it was far too hot for that. So, at the beginning of our trip, we pulled over to a McDonalds and decided to flip the carseat to rear facing (which is naturally more reclined). However, we forgot that we usually use a rolled up towel beneath it to recline it properly, and by then it had already been wrestled to rear facing. Ender HATES the carseat this way, because he can't see us, but it had seemed like an ok compromise if it was more comfortable for sleeping. Which it wasn't. Long story long, Mike and I screamed at eachother, I reinflamed the tendonitis in my wrist, and Ender screamed the whole way home. At the moment he still is not going to sleep and it's almost 9:30. Ugh.
I am starting to get really frustrated. I have enough freedom now that I can do some things with my little man, but I'm also starting to realise that a. I am mostly on my own. Being a mom means a lot of lonely time when you watch everyone else bounce freely about like little baloons and you are stuck to a seat. Even when your man takes the baby, it's a 'break', it's never for long enough and within fifteen minutes the baby is back in your lap again. Where you want him, but still it's exhausting. It makes you green with jealousy, and your husband is then confoundedly confused about why you're so mad that he went to the bathroom without telling you. And secondly, b. I realise that there are things that I simply won't be able to do for many, many years. Realistically, I wouldn't have done them anyway, but in typical fashion, I mourn them anyway. On the ride from hell, I stared out at the lakeshore, where the cool water looked so inviting, and saw several sailboats dotting the horizon. It will probably be 10 years before I ever have time to learn to sail. If ever. Do I want to learn? Not really, but knowing that I can't do a thing for 10 years makes it seem like something that is worth doing!
That is all, dear readers. Next time I write, I will have had a shower, a sleep, and a much happier baby. I also hope I haven't long-term-edly re-injured my wrist. Ow.