Christmas Cringes

So, it's been awhile since I've blogged. Ok, a long while for anyone following. The holidays kinda sneeked up on us this year. Usually, by the time Thanksgiving rolls around, I'm all gung-ho about getting that Christmas tree as fast as possible cut and dragged to it's final resting place in the corner of my dining room. I proceed to lug all the boxes of ornaments and tree fluff upstairs and assemble my work of holly jolly art.

This year, I'm not there. Or I should say, I'm not here, in that holiday buzz that surrounds my dining room corner, all lit by the chosen tree. It's been a rough year all along. Especially with a new baby.

I've had a hard time adjusting to motherhood all year. When Josh turned six months and he went from fussy baby who eats and sleeps all day, to a babbling bubbly alert baby, I thought that crazy, paranoid feeling of doom and just sheer I-can't-handle-this-thing-called-motherhood business was over. Sometimes, on days like today, I am reminded that perhaps it's not. I remember about six months after Josh's presence was made in the world, before he became bubbly, I had a conversation with my midwife. A routine visit that would turn into a crying fest on the table (sorry for the visual). At that time, I had just broken my foot right before a two major events at work (this lead to a knee-high cast and krutches being added to my wardrobe and no work for six weeks), Josh had surgery (for another post, someday), and my car was stolen out of our driveway at home (also another amusing post). I will remind the audience that this all happened in the space of two weeks time.

All I did was cry, especially on the weekends when the Hubbs was at work most of the day and I was left alone to fend for myself and this little bundle of breastmilk, spit and poop. This scene, however, had become a tradition in my house since my son was born (the crying, I mean). I decided it was time to get this weird feeling I was having about being a mom and the distance I felt towards my son, checked out. So there I was on the table-thingy in the doc's office, in my cast, feeling utterly lost and like a freak. I didn't even know where to start because it had gone on so long. There were times I was happy, lots of times I think. Just I couldn't stay happy for very long and I still had not bonded with my baby. WTF? What was wrong with me?

So there I was, spilling to the midwife who had delivered my son, everything that had happened recently and how I had been feeling even before our life temporarily collapsed. I think I went through a box of Kleenex in that visit. I remember her asking me if I wanted to hurt myself and I said Uh, No.  She said ok looks like you're just stressed out with what's happening in your life right now (REALLY? YOU DON"T SAY!) perhaps you should see a shrink and talk about it.

That's it. And I was cured! Well, no, but I managed. Many crying sessions later, Josh became bubbly and a happy baby (no thanks to my crying, I'm sure). And as time went on, I just ignored those feelings towards him, if the crept up occasionally. I will never know really if I was suffering from postpartum depression. You get those surveys at the hospital and at the doc's office after you have a baby. Do you have suicidal thoughts? How often do you cry? blah blah blah...  Geez, the survey makes you not want to take it. There's nothing inviting about those questions. And what about the answers? scale of 1 to 5, or often to rarely? So will they only take me seriously if the paper is littered with 5's and all Often's? Regretably, I never did see a psychiatrist. Which I still think about every once in a while when those feelings creep in.

So back to my original point, this year's been littered with crap events. One of my good friend's brother passed away earlier in the year. Tragic story I won't tell since it's not mine to share. Shortly thereafter, the foot, Josh's surgery and the car fiascos. We coasted most of the summer, even got away for a week's vacation. But the year just couldn't end on a high note, couldn't you?

The Hubbs experienced a career blow and hefty paycut to match (thank you, corporate bastards). Last week, after Josh has been so kindly sharing his gooey germs with me, I managed to clog the bathroom sink. Which, evidently kick-started a parade of crappy events all over again. It turns out we need to replace the entire plumbing system in our 1959 home. Dear House, you suck. We had to rip out the kitchen cabinets to access the plumbing and replace a hot water heater and main sewage line. CRAZY!!!

My job, for now, is doing good. In fact, I got a raise.... literally, a crumb, for taking on another person's job. These people are saving hundreds of thousands of dollars by not hiring someone and I get a penny. A FREAKIN' PENNY!!!! (ok, not really, but it could be). So instead of working ten hours a day and not seeing my son that often, and in return for my penny, I get to work 14 hours a day (on a good day), learn an entirely new job, and come out of this alive! Oh, did I mention I have to raise $10Million a YEAR! A YEAR! yes, let me repeat: ONE YEARRRRRR!!!!

In the spirit of Christmas and all the merry holidays, I still have a job. Which is something that some people can't say these days. And as I sit across from the Hubbs, who's feverishly searching for a new job as we speak, I am thinking of all the wonderful things I am hoping for this new year. Putting behind this awful crap of a year and moving forward to greener pastures, where Christmas trees grow, waiting to be decorated with tree fluff in some lucky person's living room.