A post in which I lose my head, and then find it again

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.

*ahem*

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.

*breathe*

I will keep on keeping on.

Eliciting a Reaction, or, You can't always get what you want the nice way.

So I woke up this morning, as usual, and went through my routine. Changed Ender's diaper, fed the fish, started up a pot of coffee. Played with him, set him down for a nap and watched some indie cartoons, he woke up and I climbed the stairs to wake up Mike.

As Mike watched the boy and I made breakfast, Mike rubbed his face.

"I'm so tired." This of course, as the person who had been up three more hours than he, evoked my ire. "I wonder why I'm so tired?"

"Well you slept plenty."

"Maybe I'll take a nap."

"Maybe you're tired of being a dad." I snapped.

Oh my.

Why would I say such a thing?

I think we all have had experiences of saying nasty things we don't mean. This particular thing flew out of my mouth so quickly that I had no chance to backpedal. I continued to make my pumpernickel eggs with a hat on them in silence. And then we ate. Silently.

While we silently ate, cleared our dishes, and took showers, I had time to think about why I would say such a thing. A lot of the time, I am tired of being a mom. It's one of those things that because mommyhood is a constant flow, you repeatedly feel as though you need a break throughout the day and it makes you think, 'wow, if I wasn't a mom, I would just be sitting on my butt reading that book that is collecting dust on the dining room table.' This is a lie, of course. If I wasn't a mom, I'd be at work. Or school. Either way, that book would be collecting dust. As the verbose, emotionally attuned female I am, I feel the absence of Mike's rhetoric on the subject. Is he tired of being a dad? I believe so. If not, then he is a superhuman of emotional resilience.

I think I said something so nasty because I wanted him to say, 'yes, yes I am tired of being a dad. I'm not actually tired. I just need a break once in a while.' and then I would say, 'I'm tired too. This is hard, isn't it?' And then we would bask in the glow of mutual understanding. We would feel connected, based on the fact that this thing we're doing is really, really hard.

Admittedly, I approached it all wrong. I'm not sure why on earth I feel the need to say things to elicit reactions from otherwise placid, and well-adjusted people. Is it that I like to push their emotional buttons? Press them to their boundaries? Maybe it's that the world can seem so incredibly passion-less, my mind tumultous in comparison, and this is my levelling mechanism to pull them into my misery, my joys, my disappointments.

I can wax philosophical all I want, either way I feel guilty. After I apologized, and apologized again, and we discussed our boundaries and our exhaustion, and Ender grabbed at our faces as we hugged (my nose in his left hand, Mike's lip in his right) I knew that I couldn't promise it wouldn't happen again.

After all, I got what I wanted, didn't I? It's hard to avoid doing something negative when it achieves the hoped for results. Until I find a more constructive way to elicit emotion from the male gender (or hell, anyone for that matter) I will continue to fall back on old habits.

But I'm sorry. Being a tired mom is no excuse for being a bitch.