a new kind of all-nighter

This post may resemble complaining, but it's not. I LOVE being awake for 90% of the time between 12am and 6:30am with my molar-sprouting son! M and I are thoroughly enjoying the fact that for the past week or more (I'm in such a state of euphoria, I've lost track) we have had the opportunity to bond with our screaming, writhing, discontent child for 1-2 hours at a time, and we only have to miss him for a quick 30-45 minute snooze before it starts again. It's been just like having a newborn again so, you know, it's all-around awesome. Good for our mental health, our productivity at work, and of course our relationship in general.

Last night I decided to try giving him alternating doses of tylenol and motrin in his sleep. We did one "dream dose" around 11pm. This bought us a couple hours more than we'd been getting and I set an alarm for a 2am dose, but alas, he woke screaming at 1:50am. One top molar is in and I can feel both bottom ones below the gum. No sign of the fourth one yet. This morning was just one long meltdown from the moment he woke up until we pulled out of the driveway. The cumulative sleep deprivation is obviously getting to him, too.

When I dropped him off at daycare, I told his teacher he'd been inconsolable all morning and I hoped things would go better for her. No sooner did I finish the sentence than I turned to see he'd pulled a book off the shelf and was sitting on his own, quietly and contentedly "reading" it to himself. His teacher said that he'd spent the whole previous day doing much of the same. This kid is usually a whirlwind at daycare but he obviously feels the need for some downtime. Kids' intuitive self-care is amazing sometimes.

this and that

I'm here with a belated thank you to everyone who talked me off the ledge after my last post. I'll fill you in on how the story ended: My friend and I discussed the situation very briefly during the only time we saw each other (a couple of days later) but I was still too bound up emotionally to express much of anything. Then she went out of town for a few days. When she returned, I brought it up again and confessed that my feelings were hurt that we talk so openly about so much and yet she'd kept this from me, and also that I knew I was probably being paranoid, but I was worried about what her keeping it from me meant in the grand scheme of things. She swore up and down that it meant nothing; that she hadn't had a chance to tell anyone about it before her friend (now business partner) launched their website, not even her husband. I'm choosing to believe her because she's a good friend and I want to be over this. Here's hoping I'm not about to be knocked out by the Other Shoe on it's way down.

Honestly, the situation was eclipsed by a bigger, scarier WTF, but I'm filing it in the unbloggable folder for now. Mostly because I'd like my blog to be something other than long periods of neglect punctuated by complaints. Bor-ring.

So in the yay column: Elliot rocks my world. I realize I've said this every month since, like, month 5 but... 16 months old is totally my favorite time!! His sense of humor is really starting to come out and he's just so darn sweet, when he's not throwing himself on the floor and screaming until he can't breathe, but as long as I'm in the right mood, I even find that kind of cute. (C'mon, how do you not laugh when a child acts like you've removed a limb without anesthesia because you tell him he can't wear your adult-sized shoes to school?) M teases him about his low standards because he pronounces "Ta Da!" at full volume and thrusts both arms out to the side when he does something as impressive as stack a single block on top of another. He can point out his eyes, ears, nose, mouth, chin, head and tummy and tell us what a cow, sheep or duck says. Oh, and a rooster, if you count "doo-d'doo," which we do, because we have low standards too. :-) He's just a cool little dude.

Oh, this is sort of old news but I don't think I've posted this here before: I LOVE that he can walk. More experienced moms had me all freaked out about the walking stage: "Oh, you think he's tough now. Just wait until he's walking!" and "Don't encourage him to walk. He'll do it soon enough on his own and then you'll be in a world of trouble!" Well I'm here to file a complaint against that craziness. Stationary to crawling was a much bigger adjustment. I don't think he moves any faster walking than he did crawling but (a) I don't have to worry about his hands and knees getting dirty and/or torn up on questionable surfaces and (b) he can actually cover ground on his own now which is helpful if we need or want him to and (c) it makes him happy. He can get things for himself now which makes it easier to meet his needs than ever before. Sure we have to chase him around, but we were doing that when he was crawling and we weren't enjoying any of the "trade off" benefits of his independent ambulation. It's nice that when my arms are full of crap in the morning, we can make a single trip to the car because he can get there on his own two feet. It's nice that we can ask him to go get a pair of shoes from his room and he does it. We play the "take this to your Mom" game all the time - cute and functional. All this is to say that walking is good stuff in my book, so if you've had people tell you otherwise, please add these two cents to the mix.

It's been ages since I posted any pictures, so here are a few so you can see what a KID he's turned into lately:

most recent "bear" pic - 16 months

Fourth of July

last pro photo session - 15 months

When will it ever end?

I'm not going to waste your time with the details. The nutshell version is that my closest local friend who was also my doula during E's birth launched a major pregnancy/birth-related project, obviously several months if not years in the making, and I heard about it through someone else. On Fac.ebook, of all places, when I was asked to "like" said project's page.

I'm also not going to waste your time with the freaking dissertation I could write about all the many ways this has ruined my night*. Poor M got an itemized list over dinner. Know that they are plentiful. And know that at least 90% of them are self-absorbed, infertility-and-traumatic-birth-scarred bullshit**. I know this, and yet I can't turn them off.

I have M as a barometer for how a normal, rational person should respond to this situation, and compared to her, I am like some kind of sad, deranged narcissist.

I have been feeling really proud of myself lately - like I might finally be getting a little distance and perspective. Apparently not. I guess I just needed the right trigger to be right back where I started.

No, that's not fair to say. I'm not back where I once was. I don't view every pregnant belly as part of a conspiracy and I have ventured back into certain physical and online spaces I had to stay away from for a long time. I'm better than I was. I guess that makes it all the more surprising (and infuriating) when something so minor can unleash this torrent of sadness and disappointment and frustration.

I just want to be a normal person with normal emotional responses to life. I'm so, so sick of this twisted gift that keeps on giving. I know you all are too, which is why I'm here. I just need to vent to some people who get it, so thanks for listening.

*Here's one weird one, though - perhaps you can help me with it: One of the things that is most upsetting to me is the fact that I can't figure out why she wouldn't tell me. It makes me feel left-out; it makes me feel stupid for not being able to see whatever it is; and it makes me feel nervous and defensive - like whatever I'm missing is going to come crashing down on my head at any second. There is some Reason X why she didn't think I could handle the information or she didn't trust me with it or she didn't value me enough to share it or something else I haven't even considered. Whatever it is, it ain't good. I feel lame for being so upset over something I can't even define, but the fact I can't define it is kind of the point. Not only was I kept in the dark, I'm still there in a way. Any insights to normalize or clarify this jumble would be appreciated.

**10% have nothing to do with anything infertility- or pregnancy- or baby-related and are just plain old hurt feelings at being left out. I literally talk to this woman for several hours every single weekday, and many weekends, too. We talk about anything and everything, or so I thought. But I know that even those feelings are tinted by my residual hurt feelings at being blindsided by her pregnancy announcement, which brings us back to... you get the picture.