The great poo of 2007… and a sorrowful exploration of life…

Okay, this post is bi-polar, as are my days most often of late.

The humorous part first, so those not wishing to feel sad can stop reading and retreat back to happyland. (Which is located no where near New Jersey.)

The great poo of 2007 struck full force tonight while I was enjoying an evening coffee with a friend, Tiff. Otter, who had been poo free all day and was sitting calmly on my knee, suddenly exploded, sending a river of poo out of his diaper, down his leg, onto his shoe, onto my leg, down my leg, and onto the floor. Ick.

At first, unaware of the extent of the damages, I began to perform a quick diaper change in the nearly empty cafe on the chair next to me. (The bathroom has nowhere to change him.) Sadly, there were two factors conspiring against me. The first, Otter had waited to perform his amazing feat until the cooing, baby friendly family had left the establishment and were replaced by the mean and glaring anti-poo family. Second, the extent of the poo rendered my “quick-change” plans useless.

I retreated to the bathroom and wiped my baby and I off as best I could. Happily, he felt much better, and my “quick-change” attempt had driven off the mad family, so Tiff and I were able to better enjoy the remainder of our coffee.

WARNING: The following contains not happy emotions.

I am struggling with something. I am supposed to sit for the NJ bar in nine days. I have not been able to study for it at all because I have a newborn, a child out of school for the summer, no nearby family, and recently moved.

Normally, these obstacles would be challenges to me, something to soar over and conquer with strength and grace. After all, I took and passed the Colorado Bar while preparing for a move to NJ, recovering from surgery, pregnant, and with my husband in another state. Because of this, many of the people in my life express their belief in my ability to take this bar and do well. I have my doubts.

There are differences between now and then. Fairly important ones. To begin with, the last bar I took after over 2000 hours of study with Nick. We had been at it for 6 months by the time the test came around. We had been at it for over twelve hours a day for the two months immediately preceding the bar. I was living with my parents, who were helping me with Marlena while Lee was in NJ. I had a pile of similarly situated friends around me, with treats and emotional support. I did not have a brand new baby.

Now, I am in NJ, with no family but Lee, and have been here for a year. I have friends, but none of them co-students. I have not been able to study more than about 30 hours. I have not slept longer than 4 or 5 uninterrupted hours in over 3 months. I have lost my previous study partner to drowning, and every time I start to work on the bar, I start to cry. My migraines are returning, I have anxiety attacks, and I have about a tenth of the support network I had before.

I am in the process of adjusting to a new house, a new baby, and a new town, again. I am still living out of boxes. I spend a great deal of time mourning the loss of my friend, my previous life, my days as a law student, and many other things. The rest of the time I care for my children and try not to let my feelings negatively effect them. I try and shop for groceries, get together with my friends, and shower before noon. I try and cook dinner for my family. I try to remember to feed myself.

I have been told I have the baby blues, I have been told all this is to be expected after the death of a dear friend. I have been told I can take the bar and just fail it if I can’t study.

Except I can’t just fail it. This is an area of my life where I have a bad case of OCD. I have literally bitten and torn my thumbs to pieces stressing out over not doing well on this exam. I have cried in frustration each time I have set a movie on for Monkey, gotten Otter to sleep, tried to study, and been interrupted by him waking up, or Monkey needing a snack.

I have to hand write the exam, which is next to impossible on a good day because of my lovely RSS and the injuries I suffered when the dogs pulled me over the stroller and dragged me across the yard the other day.

I am at a completely indecisive standstill. I can’t win. I feel like a failure if I give up and don’t take it, but I will feel like a failure if I take it and don’t pass. It is past the time that I can actually study in a real way and assure my passage. Taking it at this point is one big Hail Mary, thrown desperately from deep within my own territory.

So what do I do?

Now we are six…

Oh the time flies. On a Friday the 13th in July, six years ago, I gazed down at a 9 pound 1 and a half ounce infant with awe and shock that something so small and perfect could belong to me. I fed her, snuggled her, watched her play with her first balloon, saw her read her first newspaper with Da, and made up lullabyes. I rocked her to sleep in a rocking chair, and cuddled her to sleep on the couch, often napping with her. I took piles of photographs of her with her fuzzy duckling hair, her rock star baby sunglasses, her deep blues eyes, and her rosy cheeks. I co-slept with her for years, I nursed her for a year and a half. I took her to the mall’s play area (affectionately deemed the petri dish) and watched as she scrambled around on waffles and bacon. I danced with her to Laurie Berkner and ran with her at the park. I watched my mother play endless fairytale games with her.

I helped her crawl and then walk. I gave her her first and only baby food (peas) and her fist adult food (Split pea soup). I gave her boy toys and girl toys, and felt I had done well when she declared that she wanted to be a bulldozer driver when she grew up, while all the girls around her wanted to be princesses.

I sang with her to song after song, hung masterpiece after masterpiece on the fridge, and watched improvised dance moves performed in my living room. I took her swimming for the first time, read her stories, took her to law school classes (where she raised her hand and participated more than once), and watched her grow.

And here we are, six. She can read and write, and keeps several diaries full of her secret thoughts. She wants to be a lawyer when she grows up and plays with her case files while watching Legally Blonde (her favorite movie). She is a big sister, who can help care for a baby, no longer being one herself. She will be entering the first grade in a few months. She held hands with a boy at her birthday party, and she is currently sitting across from my office at her own desk answering her own email.

How fast it all goes.

Thank you to everyone who sent her emails. She was thrilled to get her own phone and email account, and loved that she already had so many messages. She is trying to respond to all of them, but has to hunt and peck, so it may be a while.

The moments that make it worthwhile…

Okay, so life is normally insanity, or drudgery, or both. My days stretch into weeks, with nothing to separate them, as I sweep, mop, cook, clean, change diapers, shop for groceries, and entertain children.

However, from time to time, moments stand out of my weeks and make it all worthwhile. Here are the moments I had this week:

Otter’s first real laugh. Two days ago I tickled under his arms while changing him and got a solid baby giggle. I repeated my actions two more time, each time receiving a smile and laugh. I could have tickled him all day, but I am sure if I did it would result in not getting a laugh, and would closely resemble torture.

Otter’s first stuffed animal was purchased today. Monkey and I chose a “classic” Eeyore and handed it to Otter in the store. He widened his eyes, wrapped it up in his arms, and squeezed. He has been squeezing it ever since.

Monkey, upon getting an Icee at Target, described the frozen treat as “Delectable, Delicious, and Delightful.” She informed me that was from “The Upside down show” therefore vindicating the hours I have let her fry her brain on T.V.

Chloe, my PTSD cat, who had never purred in the entire 5 years I have owned her, due to her traumatic past as an abused kitten, jumped on the bed for petting today, and purred at me for a good twenty minutes!!

All these things make the rest worth it, and I was blessed to have so many of them this week.

Managing life with chronic illness requires savvy spoons