Annoying. (Or what it's like to be three)

"Mommy.  Mommy.  Mommy.  Mommy.  MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMYMOMMYMOMMYMOMMYMOMMY!"

She isn't paying attention.  Daddy keeps on talking to her but I need her NOW! 

"Mommy Mommy MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY!!!!"

I don't want to hang on a minute.  I don't want to wait until she's finished talking.  I have to tell her something REALLY REALLY REALLY important!  I have to tell her NOW!  I have to tell her right this minute because I really really have to tell her!

"MOM-MY.  MOM-MY!"  "MOOOOM-MY!"
Maybe if I just whine a little bit, "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMY!" But not too much because then she won't let me tell her.  I'll just make the sad face too.  "MOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMY!"

Um...She's looking at me now. I want to tell her something but what is it? She stopped talking and she's waiting for me to tell her what.  I have to tell her something and I want her to know that....hmmm......Look!  There's my Strawberry Shortcake Doll.  I'm going to go over and get it. 

"I like Strawberry Shortcake, Mommy!"

........................................................................

From the prompt found here:

The beast strikes again.

I am going back to therapy. 

It's been gnawing at me for a while now and I am fully aware that depression has its nasty black claws around my neck again. 

And then I saw this:

Well, I know that I have a history of depression, and in fact am postivie that I am slipping as you read this.  But the question remains: do I have a "negative parenting style? Lets see...Do I say NO more than I say YES? Check. Do I yell at her more than I think is normal? Probably. Am I critical and easily frustrated? Not so much critical, but certainly easily frustrated. So overall, yeah. That might describe me. So I am an asshole sometimes. But my kid is too!

"Preschoolers whose parents are depressed get stressed out more easily than kids with healthy parents, but only if their mothers have a negative parenting style, according to a new study.


The research, set to be published in an upcoming issue of the journal Psychological Science, measured the levels of the stress hormone cortisol in kids' saliva after mildly stressful experiences, such as interacting with a stranger. The researchers found that cortisol spikes were more extreme in kids whose parents had a history of depression and also exhibited a critical, easily frustrated parenting style."

I have a shitload of stupid things every day that push me to the edge and I am not always capable of handling them in a way that is even remotely helpful or constructive. And I sleep a lot more than I should be allowed to considering that I have a small child. I cry a lot and I have no motivation to do...well...anything most of the time. And this is WITH medication.   I want to be functional as a mother and I want to start now.  But as I kept reading I found out it may not even matter.

"Earlier studies have found that people with depression often have abnormal cortisol spikes in response to stress, suggesting that problems with the body's stress-regulation system are a risk factor for — or at least a hallmark of — depression. Several studies have found these abnormal reactions in very young babies of depressed mothers, which could mean the system is disrupted either in utero or very early in life.


But it's difficult to tease out the early influences on the body's stress hormone system. Genetics are likely partially to blame, Dougherty and her colleagues wrote. The changes could come about because of biochemical influences in the womb or because of the way depressed moms interact with their babies. Most likely, it's a combination of all of these factors."

This is my normal kid now...as I am apparently destorying her life.

My depression is something that has followed me throughout my life. I was diagnosed first at 14. I went through my twenties in and out of therapy. My postpartum depression is the stuff of legend. And the fact that I still struggle with it makes me want to scream. But to realize that I am totally ruining my kid's life as well (and not just because I am blogging about her and this shit will still be on the interwebs when she is a teenager) is really upsetting.

"Just having a depressed parent didn't make kids more prone to cortisol spikes, but having a depressed mother with a hostile parenting style did. The study was just a one-time snapshot of stress response, so researchers can't say for sure that hostile parenting by depressed parents causes the spikes, just that there is a correlation.

...If parenting style interacts with genetic and other environmental influences to send kids' stress sky-high, early treatment may help, Dougherty said. Helping parents interact positively with their kids might be especially important early in life, the researchers wrote, because the stress regulatory system is still developing."

Yeah, so according to this article, no matter what I do my kid is fucked. Or not. I mean, I always just assumed that having me as a mother would ensure at least a decade of therapy even before I ever considered having children. But perhaps I am still in the window where I can try to prevent her from succumbing to my miserable fate. 

I wouldn't wish this on anyone, let alone my own flesh and blood.  And I am terrified that one day she will turn on me.  One day she'll be my regular kid who is a pain in the ass, and the next moment she'll be the douchy goth child who writes bad poetry and slits her wrists for attention. 

And this is my kid in 5 years after my depression ruins her life.  Obviously.

In truth though, the motivation for therapy isn't strictly because of her.  I am tired of feeling this way all the time.  I am tired of not wanting to do anything.  I am tired of having to battle my negativity to FORCE myself to type up a new blog post.  I am just tired of being tired.

So I made an appointment with a grad student at the University's counseling program.  I dont have insurance so this seems like a decent option financially.  I dread the idea that this girl will be all of 16 and not know anything about life but we'll see.  Wish me luck.
Here's the full article.
Great! So then the damage is already done. FANTASTIC! I knew it. I ruined my kid before she was even out of the oven. No need to put on the frosting and the sprinkles if the cake comes out burnt.

Being kind to myself does not suck.

So I wrote and submitted a piece to Band Back Together (one of my favorite sites to stalk and contribute things to...sometimes anonymously) and they chose this one to post. 

OK. So the BB2G World Tour theme for March is “Be Kind to Yourself.” And there are about a thousand things I can think to do that would be nice to do for myself. I could book a massage or buy some new music or get my hair and nails done. Those things are ways of physically pampering myself, but I don’t know that they’re my definition of “kindness.”


To be kind, I have to stop being an asshole to myself.

I bet you want to know how I intend to do that, huh?  Well, go here.

For any of you who are not in the process of MAKING 2011 YOUR BITCH, I recommend you go see how.

...And Nobody Told Me...

My struggle with postpartum depression strikes again!  This time on the fantastic guest-contributor driven blog, And Nobody Told Me...

Please click, read and then wander around the other posts.  You'll find at least a few of my blog friends there too!

Straight to my post, "....That postpartum depression is a different beast"

Mr. Sunday Night Special

Do you know this man?

My kid does.  OH YES, she does.

This is Tom Bergeron.  You may know him from Dancing with the Stars.  But this is not where we know "The Berge" from. 

Lila is obsessed with Tom Bergeron.  Every Sunday around 4 pm, she gets all ornery and starts demanding we eat dinner right away so that she can have her bath and be ready in time for what she calls, "The Berge".  You see, there was a time not so long ago, when we had the DVR and we could watch old episodes of what Lila calls "America's Homiest Funniest Homiest Videos" whenever it struck her fancy.  Several months ago, however, we gave up the cable TV, so now we only get to watch The Berge and "people getting hurt" (her other name for the show) when it is airs on ABC at 7:00 on Sundays.

I am personally kind of shocked that AFV is still on TV.  I mean, with all the viral videos that are all over the interwebs and all...but that show continues to delight my kid no matter how many kittens she sees swinging from ceiling fans; no matter how many douchbags catch a railing to the balls; no matter how many grandmas miss their chairs and plop down on their Depends.  It just does not get old for her.

On a related note, some of you are by now aware of my crush on Bob Sagat.  I love Bob Sagat because many people see him simply as the fun-loving dad on Full House or the once goofy commentator/host of AFV (in the days BEFORE The Berge).  But if you have ever seen his comedy routine or read the tabloids, you know that he is the filthiest, foul-mouthed, weird, creepy, older guy to ever spend months hanging around the Playboy mansion.  And I LOVE that about him!

Lila DOES NOT share my enthusiasm for Bob Sagat.  In fact, not too long ago, we watched a 20th (or 15th or 25th I am really not sure what it was) Anniversary show and The Berge was joined by my horndog crush Mr. Sagat.  Immediately, Lila's face soured the minute she spotted him. 

"WHO IS THAT GUY???"  She spit out at me. 

"That's Bob Sagat," I told her.  "He's really funny.  Mommy really likes him.  It is going to be an AWESOME AFV with this guy on!" 

She wasn't even remotely seeing it.  "I DO NOT like Tom Begeron's friend!"

I wondered how my other weird crushes would fare in her opinion.  Would she appreciate Joe Biden's hair style?  Would she accuse Louis CK of being a filthy ginger? It's a good thing I am OVER Stephen Colbert because I am sure she wouldn't appreciate his tone.

So tonight (actually in about ten minutes) just like mostly ever other Sunday evening will be spent with The Berge, along with Lila, Ben and our cat, The Asshole.  If I'm really lucky we will have a few laughs and some nice quiet time eating popcorn and being one big happy not-so-funny family.