Well I hate cliches, but I do feel the need to say one: When it rains, it pours.

I just feel as though this past week has been one upset after the next: one moment of thinking everything was going to work out before everything came crumbling down on top of me. A week ago today I was over at the community college in pure survival mode, going from place to place to get things in order the best I could, trying my best to get into classes on the last day of registration. I was so, so determined that if I had the will to do it, there would be a way. I thought that by being tough and "gutting it out" for the day -- going through standing in line after line for hour after hour, being thrown into a math placement test with no prior knowledge of having to do so, rushing from place to place -- that by doing all of this I was only richening my chances of getting into classes. I starved myself the entire day only eating an orange and piece of toast that morning, my whole "adventure" lasting from 12pm-7pm at night. My mother in law came over to watch the kids, expecting a couple hours, whereas it was a full day. I felt thoroughly embarrassed to say the least. Here I was feeling a sense of pride for going back to school, for recieving a full tuition grant -- things just came together so perfectly. Yet once I finally did get to talk to a counsler, once we finally were able to squeeze me into a few last classes, I was planted with a bill far beyond anything I could afford: $875. I was flabergasted. They sent me up to residency to once again wait in line since apparently I was being charged out-of-state rates. The lady I spoke with was rude, obviously tired and direct: you are considered out-of-state because your license hasn't been North Carolina for a year, you are screwed, you are now stuck in a very sticky situation. Not her words exactly, but pretty much how the situation felt.

Over-tired and hungry from the day I went to the business office as I was told to so that I could "work out a payment plan" with this huge amount I would due. I sat with the woman and we came up with $230 a month (or something around there). I knew right then and there it was something I couldn't afford -- no way -- but I was in such denial at that point that I just went along with her. It wasn't until I was walking alone back to the parking structure where my husband was working where the weight of the situation finally fell upon me: I had just signed up for classes that I am going to have to pay to get out of.

We sat together in my car and discussed what had just happened. After running around and rushing all day I hadn't been able just to reflect on all that I'd done. We thought of me possibly getting a night job just to be able to pay for the classes, yet it seemed ridiculous: we were getting screwed over so much with out-of-state costs being almost three times as high as in-state. I was given a GRANT for pete's sake yet it wouldn't only now cover a small portion of the bill. The more we talked about it the more we realized the best thing to do would be to cancel classes. I would try to talk them into letting me cancel without a charge yet we both knew that we probably would get charged anyways. I tried talking to my mother-in-law about it when I came back to my kids at home. She suggested me "having a good conversation with someone with a sympathetic ear." It just felt like a slap in the face. Yeah. Gee. Thanks. She had seemed to forget that most likely those people working at the community college? Yeah, they don't care. They aren't going to bend of their policy of having to pay 25% of the tuition for each class when you cancel.

This has just been such a mess for me as I was SO excited to be going back to school, to be using my brain again for something other than changing diapers, to be furthering myself towards my goal of becoming a teacher. Now I just feel as though I am moving backwards. Now I have to pay money to just get out of this mess. Now I have to wait an entire year to even be able to go back to school. Now my goal of getting a 4 year degree will take even longer to accomplish.

It is just paralyzing. I feel as though I've been hit by a truck. I just couldn't even bear to deal with it so tried putting it aside for a few days. It was only the next day after all of this that I got a call from a social worker: it was time for our second visit. A few weeks ago we had a social worker arrive at our house after I had gotten back from the hospital with Adeline. She had broke her ankle a few months ago thanks to big brother jumping on her, and then I had taken her in again after Christmas because she was sick (ended up being told she had a double ear infection) and also mentioned the scrapes on her nose from when she walked into a window pane at church Christmas Day. Well I guess even that mere mention of her nose caused them to note down that she had had these two accidents so close to one another that it called for a social worker to come out. It threw me off having this woman arrive at my house late at night the day after Christmas, unwrapped gifts still spread out around the house, dishes from our hosting of Christmas Eve still not washed. Of course the house being a mess, at least in my eyes, not expecting company. At least she was very kind, very understanding. She told us straight up that she didn't feel any need to be worried about us, that she felt we were telling the truth about Adeline's accidents really being accidents. She then said that a second person would come out to talk to me and the kids and then another visit after that.

I just hate that I even have to deal with any of this. Just knowing that my name is on some list as a warning, as a mere possiblity of an "abusive parent" sickens me. I hated when the case worker asked if she had had any other "accidents" recently. Of course she didn't. I just hate that mere suggestion that it was my fault that anything happened to her at all. She's a toddler. She gets knicks. She's quick, she's walking fast now, and between watching her and her brother all day long I don't always catch her at every moment. I wish I could be supermom and prevent her from ever bumping her head or ever falling down but the truth is that I just can't. I can try my best to prevent her falls, I can scold her brother for jumping on her and pushing her, give him a time out or take away his trains, but it isn't guarantee that he's going to stop doing it. I hated when the social worker asked if I "watch her with those corners of the table" about our coffee table. Of COURSE I do. The whole thing just makes my stomach churn. I just want to be off of their list. I just want the whole stupid nightmare to end.

I was so upset the day and that morning, franctically pacing around the house trying to get things clean enough for this social worker coming over. I was still stressed out and hurt by the situation the day before with learning that I wasn't going to be able to take classes. I knew that I wasn't acting right with random crying bouts and yelling at my husband about the most innane things (like his not knowing why our phone wasn't working) but I just couldn't help myself. The stress of it all had settled in me and I just couldn't let it go. Everything that I had been planning for with going back to school had been ruined, what use was any organization of anything anymore? Everything felt torn apart. Immediately I felt the need to escape. I e-mailed my dad and asked if he thought I could use the money my aunt gave him to come visit us for me to come with the kids and visit him. He called me and said that we could come as soon as he wanted. Right away I got online and found a flight for the following week, thinking that getting out of here for awhile could do me some good. Heal me from everything that had been going on.

Well of course I had found days available for when I could go, had found an awesome deal that we should snag, had even told the lady who I babysit for that I would probably be going to visit my dad that following week, only to have my dad ruin everything.

I love my dad and everything, but he's got major issues. He's incredibly self-destructive. Anything that ever looks as if it is set in stone, already perfectly planned must and HAS to be destroyed. It's just in his nature. I knew it, I just knew it deep within me that he would once again get my hopes up just to use his power over me to crash them down. He's done it my whole life. Lied. He's lied and lied and lied: right away just to satisfy me for the moment, then to turn around and tell the truth when he'd finally find the courage. Such a lying bastard. Like I said, I love the man, but he's got issues -- he's incredibly dysfunctional. He can't hold onto any money for nothing. Him and my mom have gone through money so stupidly over the past years, have burned out everything including their inheritence and 401K down to absolutely NOTHING. I resent him for it and yet I fear becoming them and repeating the same situation: especially with how poor we are doing financially right now. I have an incredible fear of following his destructive footsteps, especially as I know I have very self-destructive tendencies as well. The only thing that ever keeps me going, keeps me thinking positive and clearly is my children. For THEM it is worth it. For their future it is worth keeping myself focused, tuned into my financial situation rather than distorting the situation in my head out of survival the way my parents taught me to do. My whole teenagehood my life was distored as if lived in some multi-angular dimension. My life just wasn't seen through my eyes the way other people saw me, the way other people saw their own lives.

It took to meeting Andrew and having children to wake myself up from this dream-like state of living. I am happy to have finally come down to earth. I am happy to finally be able to accept all that has happened to me in the past and now be able to move forward, thinking about things in life ahead of time and with intellectual purpose.

Anyways, back to the situation with visiting my father. I knew he'd do that to me, he'd back out on things last minute, especially knew that he wouldn't give me a credit card number to book the plane -- it was when I kept asking for that that he stopped responding about the trip and said he'd "call me in the morning." He did the same thing when I kept asking him about my sick cat a few months ago -- telling me he'd "talk to me when the weekend was over" and that he'd "be pretty busy that weekend." If that isn't an opener to something that had gone terribly wrong that I don't know what is. I hate the way he tries to manipulate me, it just feels so digusting when I've been fooled. I want to think of him as this happy bachelor living in Florida with my uncle and family but know that he is just as sick as he has been. I want to think that he is past all of the lying and deceptiveness, that he only did it to my mother because she was mentally ill so he had to, but know that he not only does it to her but to me, my brother, and pretty much anyone else he encounters. He is obsessed with lying: with doing whatever he has to do to make the person happy up front, only to crushingly break their hearts thereafter. It's painful and it's made my trust in him worthless, made my trust in the human race terrible: if people are just going to pretend up front why ever trust anyone at all?

So the next day after all this social worker business and me trying to run away to florida stuff I finally told my dad look, I am booking a flight, I am coming down, I am paying on MY credit card and you can pay me back once I get there (obviously he must have blown through the money my Aunt Sue gave him to come visit me; he claims he will be getting some "big check" at the end of the month where he will be able to pay me back). I'm not sure it was the best idea to actually go ahead and rack up even more debt on my card, but I knew that by booking it and doing it myself I was assuring myself that yes, I actually WOULD be taking the trip to Florida. He had told me that he'd be thrilled to have me down, that my uncle would be happy to have us stay with him, he'd love to see the kids and have our kids see his grandkids (my cousins kids). I knew that he wanted us to come visit, he just felt the need to "falsely pacify" me when he knew that he didn't have the money to take care of it right away anyways.

So things were looking up Thursday, I felt a relief that my trip had been booked, that things were looking up for actually happening with that. Friday I was feeling some tightness in my neck and with the problems with my thyroid thought it would be best to ask my doctor about it. They suggested me coming in right away, leading to my husband to get off work early to rush home so that I could rush over there. Turns out that after all of that it is most likely just a sinus infection causing my throat to close/swell up, so basically a bad sore throat. Just with all the embarrassement of the week it just felt like another stupid thing to feel embarrassed about, and a waste of $30 for a co-pay when our money is just so darn tight right now to begin with.

I have to say that I am thankful that the weekend quieted down more. I still was feeling tense, still barking off at my husband out of no where, yet I feel that my hormones are a little off due to "woman's reasons." I really wish that I could level that off somehow as my PMS has gotten really out of hand since having kids: it's as if my hormonal levels fluctate a lot stronger. I hate feeling out of control in my own body and a lack of control of my own emotions: it makes me feel so much like my mother. I'm sure it is genetic.

I guess I have to look at today as a brand new week, a fresh new start and just wipe myself clean of last weeks mistakes. I hate the embarrassement of so many people knowing my mistakes yet I know that I just need to let go of this feeling. I need to allow myself to make mistakes in life because that is the only way of ever really learning and growing. Without mistakes, what room for growth can there be? I need to stop trying to control every situation every day because not everything CAN be in my control. I need to stop fretting over the past with my dysfunctional family: things ARE different, I live hundreds of miles away from them, I have been given a fresh start here in North Carolina -- chance to live a healthy, happy life with my family far away from that dysfunction.

I need to remind myself that nobody has died, nobody has been diagnosed with a terminal illness: we all have our health, we all have a roof over our heads. I need to remind myself just how thankful I am to have my in-laws be our "back-up" for us financially right now. Without them I honestly don't know if we'd even have a roof over our heads.

I need to stop trying to rush life so quickly. I need to slow down and smile to those I want to smile to. I need to stop feeling as though I must constantly be moving towards a future goal: It's okay to just take a breather and a break for myself every now and then.

I need to realize that I am young and have SO much time ahead of me for finishing up school. Perhaps next year will be better with Gavin in pre-school and the kids a bit older/more independent.

I need to take a deep breath *taking one now* be thankful for all the wonderful things in my life, and let all the troubles of yesterday fade away.

It is a sunny day outside, the rain has cleared. Let it stay that way.

I have been so sporadic with my entries in my livejournal over the past few years. I can't believe that I started this thing back during my sophomore year of high school and still have it! It's great to be able to back track to an entry back during my "other life," and read about what I really thought "problems" were back then. I wish I had more time to myself... more moments alone just contemplating about the world to be able to sit and vent or blog about it. I have started various blogs all over the web, telling myself that I was going to keep up with them, get myself into becoming a very good "blogger," yet then fail to continue to post more than one entry. It's just very hard to get yourself in a "writing zone" when you know that you are two seconds away from having to do something for a child. Even right now Gavin and Henry (the little boy I babysit for) are in the living room playing with trains where I am taking a few minutes to myself just to be able to write this.

I have been continuing to read blogs of my favorite authors pretty much daily. I started reading Sarah Dessen's blog in high school when I really enjoyed her books (she's a young adult author)and stopped reading her blog for awhile when I had kids and everything, mostly because I just-couldn't-relate to what she was saying. Recently I went back to check on her blog, about two months ago, to see that she was expecting her first baby. I grew very excited. Finally, this woman who I have been able to feel that I relate with was going to be experiencing the most life-altering experience possible that I had already been through, making me more likely to be able to relate to her! From then I kept up on her blogs almost daily, tuning in to see how her pregnancy was going, nodding along when I read about her cravings for watermelon or the fact that she was just-too-tired to even pull herself off of the couch.

It was just last week when the news came: Sarah had had her baby! Born over "labor day" weekend she gave birth to little Sasha Clementine, such a sweet name if you ask me. I feel sympathy for her now, knowing that she is going through a very confusing and delusional time, what with lack of sleep and now so heavily being depended on 24-7. It is an extreme adjustment to go from being someone who is so independent, having the time to write to herself for several hours every single DAY to having to get up and fetch a baby at a whim, I must imagine. I always kind of envied that time she had to herself while reading her blog, those hours of letting her mind drift over thoughts and putting them to page, knowing that they were to be published into a novel sold on bookshelves in "Barnes and Noble" soon enough.

I very frequently crave that time to myself to be able to let my mind drift and be able to write, yet honestly it just doesn't happen. Even if I forcefully take my body out of the house, going up to a coffee shop to sit and try, I usually just feel like reading a book or glancing at a magazine rather than attempting a novel. I wish I could have been further ahead with my writing at this point, having already had short stories published in magazines, maybe my first novel finished while I surf around for agents to accept it. Yet I have to remind myself that I still am only 21. I have gone through so much so soon, getting married at 18 and having my first child at 19, my second at 21, that I just need to "give myself a break." I go through periods of feeling this way, of telling myself that it's "okay to just let it go," yet then I find myself with a notebook and pen, frantically trying to scratch down what ever story substance I can conjure up, fast enough before my children wake up from their naps and need me once again.

The truth is though, you just CAN'T force yourself to write. Some people can do it, I suppose. Can sit down, knowing they only have an hour, and can come up with the most brilliant of stories. Yet I, on the other hand, need to know that I can relax. Need to know that I can get into my "zone." I think that's really why I have an issue blogging these days. I know that I won't have time to get into my thoughts deep enough, that I don't even bother trying to write.

Speaking of not having time, my little friend Henry is now in here poking and prodding around my computer room. I suppose I will have to wait until another time to hope to find my indentity... continuing to live in this endless cycle of clean and take-care-of without having the ability to really stop and think "Who am I?" "What do I enjoy?" "What is my style?" Because honestly I don't know the answers to those questions anymore. All I know is that I'm a mom.

And I suppose for now that will just have to work...until someday when I find my children in school, my self left along for a set few hours a time, wondering what it is I am going to do by myself...

Bridgette

I miss these moments alone with livejournal, all by myself in front of the computer, taking my time contemplating my thoughts before typing how I feel. I miss being able to take the time to just sit and think, not rush to and fro, meeting demands at every need. I feel cheated, not even having a chance to pluck my eyebrows, the baby needing me. I feel too tired to exercise even though I badly want to get on a exercise routine and get myself back into shape. I feel enormously weighed down by responsbility, hit hard by the wave of adulthood, all too sudden and all too fast. I feel bombarded with endless to do-lists, things that seem to build up and build up and never quite get finished. The resentment I have towards my husband is only increasing. I build it up within me, not knowing how to release, just letting it build and build. I don't know what to do with these feelings. Of course the obvious thing would be to talk to him about how I feel, yet how does one go about doing that? I've never been good at telling people how I feel, my words always at the tip of my tounge, the fear of them not liking what I have to say sitting at the back of my throat. Why do I care so much as to what their reaction will be? Why do I muddle these thoughts over and over and over and over again without releasing them? Why am I so deeply stuck within myself that I can't pull myself into reality, into the people around me? It's a curse, this phobia. This feeling of being different. I want to be normal, what ever that means. I want to have a normal marriage where we can talk to each other, not go to bed mad at one another. It seems the only thing that truly keeps bringing us back to one another is the kids.

Gavin and Adeline are our worlds and we depend on them for the happiness of our marriage. Whenever I am pissed at Andrew about something then something cute happens with Gavin going up to him and saying "I love you daddy!" making my whole attitude change in a blink. Just tonight I was so frustrated with Andrew. He finally took the garbage out of the laundry room that had just been sitting there, day after day, stinking up the place and making me want to vomit. I told them that I was ready to throw it in the street and he said "why?" How could he even wonder why? How could he just ignore me, day after day, asking him to commit to this simple chore? He lives in his own world and unlike me is much more stubborn. Most of the time when I ask him a question he does this long pause before answering, long enough to make one think he's ignoring you. Sometimes he doesn't answer back at all. What kind of a husband ignores his wife when she's talking to him? Then he doesn't understand why it makes me mad.

Anyways, so I was annoyed about the garbage thing, I was trying to get Adeline down to sleep by bouncing her and nursing her in the living room. I asked him to turn the kitchen light off so that it would be dark for me trying to get her down. He didn't answer me, kept walking with the garbage, ignoring me as usual. Fed up I went up and turned the light off myself with Adeline in tow, only to have "pissed off Andrew" return now mad at me for turning the light off because he couldn't see to take out the rest of the garbage.

I tell you, our marriage is all about miscommunication. How can a marriage work if people don't talk to each other? He blames it on me, says that I don't communicate, but really it is him being the blockade. He's the one with the walls up not letting me in. He's the one ignoring me when I try to talk with him. He's the one that lets himself become quick to anger at the mere suggestion of something, like finding a more decent job.

So anyways I had Adeline down in our bed next to Andrew only to have her wake up. I went in to nurse her saying that "All I wanted to do was get the dishes done since Daddy leaved the kitchen such a mess" and then Andrew stormed out of the room and slammed the door. After I got Addy back down I walked in the living room to see Andrew with a book in his hands. I then went back to the dishes. Adeline woke up again. Too frustrated to deal with her, I continued doing the dishes. Andrew went into the bedroom this time. It only took a few minutes and she was very quiet. After finishing the dishes and tidying up I went into the bedroom. Adeline was fast asleep laying on Daddy's stomach. It melted my heart and my lips into a gentle smile. All of a sudden all of the angst I felt against my husband started to disappear. He rolled her onto her side gently and into my arms, our team working working together this time, where I accomplished the art of laying her in the playpen and actually pulling it off without her waking up.

Left with jumbled thoughts, I found myself back with you Livejournal. What do I do now, disturb my sleeping husband to tell him that I need to talk with him? What do we even need to talk about? Will it help? Will he ever change? Or do I once again just let it go, climb into bed next with him, maybe cuddle with the back of him, and fall asleep with my husband and baby in the room.

Honestly that's probably what will happen. Unless I'm still too angry and decide to sleep facing away from him. Then tomorrow it will be like nothing happened. I suppose our marriage issues are quite uncompareable to many other couples's issues out there -- physical abuse, drugs, etc. But really should I be comparing one marriage to another? I am quite blessed to have a man who loves his children the way he does. I just wish he had more drive in him. I wish he'd want more in life then coming home, laying on the couch, cooking dinner, leaving the kitchen a mess and then going to bed. Yes it's awesome that he likes to cook dinner a lot (I still do too sometimes though) but sometimes the messes he leaves behind almost don't make it worth it. I don't know.

I am lost in this world of mommyhood, the endless diapers, the endless filling of sippy cups and cleaning of high chair trays. The going, going, going of it all. I hate that I never can take a moment to reflect. I use to have so much reflection time in my life before kids. I could sit and bed and write 20 page journal enteries, sometimes several times a week, just letting it all out. Now I am lucky if I find a few spare minutes to check my e-mail. I feel as though my intellect is dwindling. The smart, thoughtful, artistic Bridgette is being put to the side. I hate leaving her in the background. The guilt of it all eats at me. I hate not even being able to take the time to reflect on my own children's accomplishments. Adeline's calendar is empty on so many pages due to my incapability to keep up with it all. I always thought I'd be the kind of mother who'd have picture albums perfectly organized, labeled with the dates and ages. Yet now that I am a mom I wonder, when does one find the time?! I am always, always on call for someone in need. I can start "getting into something," like right now writing this journal entry, but something could come up. Adeline could wake up wanting to nurse again. Gavin could surprise me and start screaming, refusing to sleep, leading one of us (probably me) to go in his room and try to settle him. It's just this constant crisis that doesn't disappear. It eats and eats and eats at me.....

I suppose a lot of it has to do with my anxiety. I think my anxiety has been worse lately. I hate feeling all tense around my children, screaming at Gavin until my throat hurts for hitting his sister over instead of gently discipling him the way I'd really like to. Counting to 20 over and over again in my head as a way to pass the time until Adeline falls asleep while bouncing in my arms because I just want to lay her down and take a break from her for a bit. Seeing the kitchen a mess and feeling this intense feeling in my chest as though I am going to scream, run away, or slit my wrists open.

I hate the feeling of lack of control. It makes my mind grow dark. I tell myself that I would never hurt my children, would never hurt any child that I babysat for, and I know I wouldn't. There are times when the thought runs through my mind, my anxiety so built up from the feeling of loss of control. I'm sure a lot of moms feel this way though. Parenting is rough. It doesn't ever go away. It lingers, pulls you in, takes you on a wild ride over and over, despite the churning within your stomach and the taste of vomit in the back of your throat. Despite the fact that all you want to do is get off of the ride, run far far away from it as possible, and hide in a dark crevice away from it all where no one will find you.

There are times when I lock myself in the dark bathroom and curl up on the bathroom floor in the fetal position, my feet or back against the door so Andrew doesn't bust it on me. Even if I have the door locked he'll still bust in on me. With him he never has cared about privacy, even if I yell at him not to come in he'll still do it anyways. I hate that.

I hate that lack of control. I want to be able to have my own time to myself without him bothering me. I wish that I could organize a time where he could watch the kids and I could have some alone time to get things done, like work on my writing. He just wouldn't go for it though. He rather be lazy and act childish and like a baby, saying that he wants me to do this for the kids or do that and not leave him alone because he'll miss me. So guiltily I give in, sit on the couch with him and watch T.V. instead of doing something I'd really want to do like write or scrapbook. Also feeling guilty that I hadn't spent time with him all day alone and suppose I should hang around for a bit.

I suppose that I need to change my perspective on things. I only find myself coming to livejournal lately as a way to vent about all the hardships in my life. I really do have a lot of great things going on. Gavin and Adeline are incredibly healthy, beautiful, sweet individuals. I feel so blessed to be the one home with them every day. I recently started watching a little boy named Henry, a 20 month old little guy, a few times a week. Him and Gavin get along great and it's good extra money for us. Although my anxiety was bothering me a bit the last time I watched Henry (mostly due to Gavin acting up) I have to say that I do enjoy having him around. I'm happy to have found a job where I can work on my own without people taking tax money away from me and where I can be home with my kids.

I am happy to be alive, to be healthy and to have a loving husband. We have our difficulites, our differences, that is for sure, but I know that there is a reason why we have come together. We do love each other, deep in the core of ourselves. We are at a very delicate, hard time in our lives. I know that we must be prospective and think of the future. As our children grow things WILL get easier. We will gain more time for ourselves, more time for our marriage, more times individually for participating in hobbies. Someday I will finish school (need to go back first) and will have a career of my own as a teacher, giving us more money a greater independence with financial stability. I hate having to rely on my in-laws so much, yet honestly I am very blessed to have them in our lives. They do cross the border at times with trying to control our lives but when it comes down to it I know that they want nothing but the best for us.

I have to stay positive, I know this. I can't let the anxiety eat me alive. It'd be too easy too. I need to be aware of it, yet keep it in the background. I need to focus on what's important right now. So what if I watch children's programming most of the day, and somedays don't even leave the house. So what if my hobbies mostly include changing diapers and fixing food as of right now. I suppose that I need to be patient, except the fact that my children are young and will become more independant as they grow, and honestly just enjoy it all.

My eyes are heavy, I have a playdate in the morning at the mall so I must go to bed. Thanks Livejournal once again for listening...

Bridgette

Well now that I sat here reading Sarah Dessen's livejournal I am coming back to my own, preparing to write. I guess the thought that keeps ticking in the back of my mind is my husband.

Oh my husband. That man is just making me crazy lately. I wish him and I could just finally get on the same wave length about things. He lives in his own world so much of the time, it just seems like so much energy on my behalf to reach out to him. Right now our financial situation sucks, he's not making the money that he did in Birmingham, and the job we were hoping he would get when we moved here was given to someone else (which I learned from him telling my in-laws when we were all out to dinner, as I learn a lot of things he doesn't tell me). I guess he's just depressed that he can't provide for his family on his own and that we have to rely so heavily on his parents to help us right now. I guess I can't blame him. He's 27 years old, his peers have already started their careers, have been able to handle their families and jobs and taking care of them all on their own. Not that any of his friends are really like that, but I'm sure the kids he went to high school are as accomplished as any other 27 year old ought to be.

Perhaps it's not so much his age that is bothering him but the fact that he's gone so long in his so far adulthood without putting forth much effort, so why have to turn around and start doing it now? Honestly I feel that I carry so many theories in my mind as to "why he is the way he is" and I still don't really know what the answer is. I try to coax information out of him, yet he seems so distraught. He gets utterly absorbed into television shows or video games, his eyes so fixiated on the screen that he doesn't even shoot me a glance. If I then ask him if he was listening to me, he'll get denfensive, "YES I was listening to you!" as if he were looking at me, nodding, and respectfully paying attention to what I was saying.

I guess it's this lack of communcation that really has us "on the rocks." When I feel a wave of anger coming on, the build up of everything going on between us, I unleash myself through writing. I write him letters and leave them where I know he will find them, sometimes on the keyboard in the computer room, other times on the kitchen counter. I know that he will always find them in these places and I've been doing this since the beginning of our marriage, in fact our relationship. I have an odd way of not being able to voice my true opinions in person, yet perfectly being able to capture every emotion that I'm feeling on page. He's never really responded much to my letters, leaving them out with the pages hapharzadly piled, as if he maybe quickly glanced at it and then left it alone. He keeps so much bottled up within himself, exploding at times with small fits of anger, mostly defensive talk-back as if he were speaking to me like his mother.

It really bothers me the way he treats our relationship with a son and mother. I feel that I do so much around our house, and also did so with the apartment -- doing all the cleaning, all the laundry (although he'll do his work stuff himself sometimes), vaccuming, bills organizing, I mean everything. The only thing he really does to help is with cooking. For a long time I was taking care of that as well, yet recently he's come home from work with ideas in his head of what to make, marching in the kitchen and whipping up some creative little treat that I wish I had thought of. Cooking doesn't appear as "just another chore" to him like it does for me because he absolutely enjoys it. He gets into the whirl of it, leaving the kitchen a reflection of his "creative mess." I usually end up taking at least a 1/2 hour every morning from the night before to clean it, leaving me feeling me feeling grumbling and annoyed. I feel a tinge of jealousy that he got to enjoy the creative madness going into the meal, whereas I was left cleaning up the mess behind him.

I suppose that a lot of the way we function is like that. He comes home from work and will sit on the couch watching "The Simpsons" with his PSP in hand, half-paying attention to the kids as I call his name to see Addy doing this or Gavin doing that. He'll kick his work pants or shirt or socks or all of them together messily onto the living room floor, making me feel the anger weld up inside knowing that I am the one that is going to have to pick it up and clean it. I hate feeling this way and I hate having this resentment towards him. It just seems like a never-ending repetition of me working so hard every day to clean, clean, clean and him coming home to create his fanatic mess, being too lazy and too lost into his own world to help. Then he comes up behind me and grabs me and tries to kiss me and I just feel so un-touchy feely. It just seems like come on, don't you see I am angry with you? I just wish he would realize how much these stupid little things bother me, how they all build up within me, making me resent him more and more.

Another big thing annoying me with him lately is that he's had this opportunity to call this guy at this other job offer for Advanced Auto Parts and he hasn't even done much towards it. He finally called the guy like a week later from when he was given his phone number which of course looks dumb on his part. His parents really get on his case about these things, too -- I guess it being a real fine line of whether or not they have the right to say anything at all. Here they are paying out money for us to live, giving them a right I suppose to push Andrew into getting a better job, yet at the same time he is a 27 year old man. He should be making decisions on his own to be responsible for his family, not having to rely on his parents "pushing" to take a step towards anything in life.

I feel a bit sickened by the fact that we are ruled so much under his parents wealth, living here in the condo that they own, paying them the rent that they demand, etc. I mean I have to admit that it's not a bad set up. It's a gorgeous condo community here with the pool right out back, a little fenced in play area in our backyard, and plenty of space all around for us. It's a brand new unit with brand new appliances and we even have our own roomy bathroom apart of the "masterbedroom suite." I can't help it though to feel a tinge of guilt that all of us has been given to us with not reciprocated in return. I wish Andrew would show more appreciation for all they have done for us. Here we have boxes of things left untouched from our move and we have been here over 4 months! If it was entirely up to me I would have had this place looking sharp ages ago with pictures hanging up things in order, all boxes put away or emptied. It just annoys me so much that we are on "Andrew time" moving at the slowest pace ever, not really accomplishing anything or moving forward, just "living." He's always been like this really, yet unfortuantly I never got a chance to really know this side of him until after we were already prepared to marry. He just puts everything off in life and it annoys me to no end, letting his car pile up with junk, old garbage, Pyrex dishes of things I gave him for lunch weeks ago. It's sickening and I don't know why he chooses to live like that, like such a slob, when one side of him is like that but in reality his character is much more snobbish. He likes things gourmet, fine wine and fine dine, the rich Grosse Pointe lifestyle he grew up with. It's as if he is struggling within himself to be the poor man who has to pinch every penny and budget every dollar, yet at the same time he wants to lavish himself with good food and good entertainment. I say himself because really when he gets any spare dime he invests in a video game for himself or maybe a carry out from a Chinese restaurant downtown where he works. It's another flaw in our marriage I feel, his lack of compassion for his wife.

He never really thinks of me in a "nice gesture" kind of way, not unless I push him to go get my flowers or to go pick me out a birthday gift the night before my birthday. I feel a sort of emptiness in that he doesn't voluntairly do anything to help me out, that he waits for me to push him, just the way his mother did with him growing up, not wanting to think properly for himself like any other educated, mature man would. I just wish he would think for himself for once, pick himself up and do something meaningful, take the garbage out without me nagging him, put his clothes away without me sounding whiny. I hate, hate, hate sounding whiny and I hate, hate, hate, filling the stereotypical "whiny wife" shoes that I sometimes feel I am forced to fill.

I just honestly don't know what to do. My in-laws are incredibly pushing and controlling, wanting things their way or the high way, and I think Andrew is feeling a bit overwhelmed bit it all. I don't think he wanted to be married with 2 kids so soon, and honestly I think that is the truth. I know he loves his children and I know he loves me, but he just has such a lack of commitment to us, that it breaks my heart to no end. I see keeping our home clean and organized and our finacial state leveled as a way of taking care of my family -- I just wish he could see it the same way.

I know that really, truly for me to be able to uncover his thoughts I will have to get us back into therapy. There's just nothing I can do for a grown man all on my own while juggling 2 little ones and a household when he's not willing to help himself. It bothers me that he lied behind my back and smoke ciggarattes at work, leaving one in our master bedroom toilet, me having to question him as to why their was a cigg in there. It bothers me that I then felt the urge to flee, get into the car with Adeline and go buy myself an HP photo printer as an early Mother's Day gift; the idea of him not getting me anything at all being too hard to bear thinking.

I just feel as if I am trapped in this marriage, honestly that how I feel. I love the man I truly do and I wish I could say I loved what he is doing for his family. I just wish he would step up to the plate, stop relying on his parents so heavily and push himself out there in the game: find a job that will support us better finacially, go back to school and work towards getting his degree in something he'll love doing -- do all of this and push himself without his wife and parents having to put all the energy into it for him.

It's just sickening, it really is, it makes my stomach curl at the thought of having to deal with this forever. This uncared for marriage that is folding at the creases. I can't export all of my energy into this relationship when he's not giving any of himself for it at all. The thought of us someday ending our marriage kills me to the point where I am willing to keep working so hard every day to do every thing myself. I don't want us to end, yet the thought that there may be another man out there, a man who will voluntairly help me out around the house out of his own love for me and voluntairly buy me a gift for our anniversery makes my insides flutter a bit. A man who would go bike riding, run along the beach with me, or take his kids for a walk in the park all on his own "just to give me a break." Andrew just isn't like that at all. He is always down, sarcastic and grumpy, in front of a screen and quiet and tuned into his own world. He's never ever once taken one of his children to the park alone without me coming along -- whereas I've had innumerable times out along with them.

Anyways, I just felt the need to vent a little bit, especially before tomorrow as his parents are coming over to watch the kids in the evening tomorrow along with his sister Sarah who will be in town. Luckily I was able to convince Andrew to take the kids for a car ride for a bit so I could at least vaccum the place here for tomorrow. I spent the whole evening running around doing things while he sat on the couch, once again lost in his own world, ignoring me. Then he wonders why I give him the cold shoulder and go on the computer after the kids have gone to bed rather then sitting out on the living room couch with him. And he wonders why I won't give him the kisses and stop my whirling bouts of cleaning to sit and cuddle with him. He just doesn't understand. Doesn't understand at all how I am feeling within, what my needs are, what our family needs are, how it's lack of decision-making and participating in ANYTHING in this family is driving me completly insane from within.


Well that felt relieving typing that all out. Now I must turn to bed... take things a day at a time... and hope that things work out for the best.

Bridgette

I really don't know where to post, or where to write, yet for some reason I felt like coming back to my old livejournal. It's amazing how it's all still here. All those posts I made in high school. My calendar on here goes back to 2002. Wow! That's 5 years ago. I can't believe my account is even still on here. I commend Livejournal for keeping accounts on here and not ridding the writers of their posts just because they haven't posted in "'X' amount of time."

I started a few different blogs around the web. One was on blogsource.com. The other was on blogspot.com. I don't get a chance to blog all that much anymore since I also run 2 websites up for my kids so when I do get a chance to blog it's like ehhh... where do I do it?? I also have a written journal I sometimes write in... but even that is gaining dust. It's amazing how very little time you have for yourself with small children. Not to mention a part-time job as well. I sometimes post on my myspace blog as well, but don't like the idea of all my best friends being able to see everything that I write. I keep that blog more "public oriented," trying not to say things that I wouldn't want to tell people in person. I think it's easy to say too much on the internet and I've been guilty of doing it before. You learn as you go and for me I learned that it's better to think out what I'm typing then saying something I know I will regret later, yet write anyways during the heat of passion. I've lost friendships on a few moms groups due to my "heated passions" about things, giving people the wrong idea about me, when in reality I am really a pretty laid-back, fun loving chick -- not a drama queen who's trying to start a fight.

I guess I just need to feel a direction as to where I should be writing. There is so much out there online now that it is overwhelming. Blogs, websites where you can post your own stories/articles and make money, or of course just your old fashion writing journal. There's something nice about being able to type though, especially as a mother will ill-sufficient time. It's quick and I'm a fast typer, so I can get out what I'm trying to say fairly quick.

Anyways, I guess this is my introduction post. I'm going to make another post now about how I'm feeling in life. So that's it.

Bridgette

Alone as always, yet surrounded. Inside myself too deep to pull to the surface. Exhaustion makes me dilliusional, wanting to sleep yet so over-tired, too over-tired to know where I am. Being ignored, being felt worthless. Why must I be rejected every other night yet given a warm bed to myself and then tonight feel intruded when he enters. Loneliness has made it's toll long ago. He's only made it worse. Preferring to be alone himself, rejecting me. I cry out and scream within,

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

yet no one hears me. Do I even listen to myself? I feel worthless, rejected, why am I even alive. Who even cares. Just a pretty face with a soul-less being. I'm so tired, I'm so so tired. I want to sleep. I don't want to hear dishes clashing, I don't want to hear my world being interrupted. I don't want these thoughts of my deranged family circling in my head any longer. I don't want this urge to write to keep pushing itself up into my fingertips when all I want to do is sleep. I'm so tired. Why won't sleep come. Why must an incredible heavy weight be carried within me. Why do my parents run my life, making me feel like .... like.... nothing. I'm so tireddddddd, this motherhood is too tiring. I want to sleep but am interrupted. Why can't I sleep. Why can't I sleep. Why can't I sleep. Why can't I just be ignored like I'm used to.

How could I be so lucky, so blessed to have your angel eyes as my child. Your sweet, supple cheeks and baby doll lips. Every feature on you has been carved out of perfection, my sweet little angel baby. You are growing into a boy and someday into a man yet still are my baby boy. I will never forget the way your innocent dark eyes look into mine filled with such intensity and love. For someone so young you are so intense, filled with so much wisdom and mindfulness. I could have never dreamed up a more perfect child. From birth you were the most beautiful little thing I had ever seen. An instantaneous bond was formed -- the strongest bond I have ever felt with another human individual. You and I are one -- you have taken the best qualities of me and of your father with you. I live on within your little body and within your strong, old soul.

My intelligent little one, oh how you absorb the world. Taking in everything around you with no regret of indulgence. You remember everything -- your mind fresh and young and so ready to take it all in. The love you have for me radiates throughout my body -- I can feel it, how strong it is. I can only hope that you feel your mother's love the same -- the way in which I gently stroke your cheek as you are falling asleep or dry the tears that form in the corners of your eyes. Please never forget these intimate moments between you and me -- all the times we've rocked and rocked and rocked, imitating the ocean's waves as we were both lulled to sleep. All the times your body was connected to mine, me feeding you the zest of life through my breast.

And now within my belly a new soul grows, a sweet little body of a baby girl awaits her arrival. Here it is my 21st birthday and my belly is hugely swollen, this little person ready to emerge at any yet moment. I wonder whether she will make her appearance today on my birthday or decide to stay in and leave it a day all my own. Strong waves of braxton hicks have taken over my body all day, leaving me into a labor-like daze, wondering and contemplating if this could turn into something real.

I fear the new that is about to emerge. Gavin, my little soul mate, how will he handle this dramatic change.

And now he awakes... now at 2:42am. He must have sensed my thinking of him -- our strong bond felt through the doors of a deep sleep.

Change is upon us... a little sweet girl is about to be born... any day... I will release another part of my soul to the world.

Bridgette

Tonight has to be the last night of it.

I went to my first lingerie/toy party with Rebekah. I have to say it was a fun and interesting experience. I went to it knowing that I couldn't afford to order anything even if I wanted to -- so just enjoyed my time there and the game we played and the interesting demonstrations the lady gave. A lot of the girls there were roudy and drunk, but that was alright -- it still made it fun.

Yet even so, tonight has to be the last night of it. The last night of what? The last night of my parents ruling over me. I reluctantly let them watch Gavin tonight. Who else do I have on a Saturday night to watch him? Despite the fact that my therapist doesn't want them to watch him anymore I gave in. Just knowing that my father would be reorganizing my apartment while I was gone and doing my dishes/putting them back in weird places made me decide that Gavin should go to their place today. It still made me nervous w/ that cats over there and Brenton and the pot smoking and the stairs he could fall down and all. He's survived all the times he's gone there so far that I figured one last time would be okay.

But honestly, this time I need to step up -- I need to cut them off. I need to agree with my inner being that that was it -- they had their last time alone with him and I can't allow it anymore. Maybe once a month or so if I am desperate to get out w/ a friend on the weekend, but other than that I can't keep taking this week after week.

By the end of the party I have 10 missed calls. TEN! They were all from my parents. I actually let some of the rage escape out of me in my voice, saying "WHY have you kept calling when you *knew* I was at this party?" My dad was like, "Well why didn't you answer?" "Ummm... b/c they told us to put it on silent b/c she was giving a DEMONSTRATION!" It's like reprimanding a damn bratty two year old talking to them.

So anyways, he said ok yea, I'll drop him off now. I ran into him pulling into the gates and hopped into the car w/ him since Rebekah and I didn't have a gate key. It was then I noticed my mother was in the car as well. UGH. Of course they invited themselves into my apartment after my dad carried Gavin in the car seat into his room for him to sleep in for now since he was already asleep. Of course my dad invited himself to the computer and my mom invited herself to reading all of my Mother's Day cards that were out.

She brought up watching Gavin while I was in school and I said that well, I'm trying to have Andrew watch him more. After her saying, "Oh well I can do it, I said I would" I told her that my therapist told me that it'd be better if Andrew watched him. "Oh well maybe we can do half and half," she said. Then I kind of just started ignoring her and walking away, starting to dial Andrew on my cell phone, trying to signal her to leave.

Shortly before that my dad has said, "Oh I can watch Gavin for you if you want!" I said ok, please stop I'm going to start hyperventilating. Between him and my mom it was like two squawking birds right in my face. He left and she stayed behind, lazily making her way out on her own time.

Such a f'n bitch. I just hate the way she stares me down -- so bluntly to the point where I have to look away and only stare back out of the corner of my eye. Staring me down as if she owns me, as if she is my boss and as if it doesn't really matter what I say, because she thinks in the end she will win. She is used to winning with Chris -- him giving all of himself to be ruled by her. Its just really f'ing sad. I just can't take the corruptness of it.

I am so stuck in between wanting and at times *needing* help but then wanting so badly to just cut my parents off all together and not communicate with them at all. Yet I am sadly still tied to them with driving their vehicle and with my father paying my cell phone bill (which sadly right now has been turned off... because he can't afford to pay any of the cell phone bills right now).

I just want to work harder with Andrew to make things work in our family. I want to keep them out of our private little circle of love and trust.

I'm just so tired, so worn from them.

I've taken enough of the beating. This is it.

From now on, I'm not taking anymore.

If I need help, my dad can come over *once in awhile* and help play with Gavin *while I am present* just for a short period of time. I'm done with leaving him alone with them anymore.

I'm just done with all of it.

This is it... this is a new beginning.

It has to be.

Bridgette

I have recently started seeing a therapist. She is a very nice woman -- tall with blonde hair and blue eyes. She lived in Florida for 20 years so has a room full of ocean memories -- pictures of the sea, ocean scented candles and sea shells. She has a 15 year old daughter and raised her as a single mom. I have a feeling she's still single.

I decided to reach out and see if I could get therapy because there is so much chaos in my life right now. The majority of it stems from my parents. Unfortuantly my parents have over-taken my life so much to the point where I am being swallowed and suffocated into this deep, whirling circle of pain. I thought it was bad as a teenager, stuck in high school and under their roof, and I thought I'd easily be able to escape it once I moved out. I thought that despite the fact that I would only be a few miles away from my parents that I could still create my own safe home and secure little family, without them included.

It wasn't so bad when he was a newborn. I was so emerged in the idea of being a new parent that I welcomed any help that I could get. My dad was living in Florida at the time and would call me, call me, call me. It wore me down. I'd still pick up the phone, feeling like a zombie saying hello with no emotion, just wanting to get the call over so he'd stop calling me leaving messages for me to call him back.

It's been an evil trap. They have let me get married and move, yet they won't let me grow as an individual. If I don't answer their phone calls -- from either my mother or father -- they start panicking. Something must be wrong with her. Someone must had murdered her. I know my dad doesn't really believe this, but my mom does. He caterers to her, calling me for her leaving messages like, "Mom wants to know if you're ok... just give us a call back."

I have gotten so lost in it, so lost in feeling so obligated to answering these stupid phone calls that I have lost myself. Everytime I'd see the phone ring it would be their names. Pushing themselves into my life -- pushing themselves to come over. Pushing themselves to do this or that for me. Not letting me be my own human being on my own time for even one day.

My therapist says it seems like they have no life. She says I should tell them ok, I will talk to you at 6:00pm. Well I don't want to talk to them at all. Andrew can get away without talking to his parents for weeks -- why can't my parents just let me go and do the same? They hold onto me like a little prized china doll -- so fragile that she can't leave the curio cabinet by herself without breaking into tiny fragments or pieces. They don't respect me. If I say no, I don't need you to pick me up tomorrow -- they will keep pushing -- especially my dad. He will call me several more times saying "I can pick you up if you want." He will push and push until I give in -- until I feel so hopelessly covered in their patheticness that I am drowning myself.

It has taken a huge toll on me. My mother goes through her phases of becoming Sybil -- a crazy, psychopath who calls Andrew and my phones leaving terrible, mean, heartless messages. Attacking our characters, attacking our beings. My dad says just to ignore it. Basically he wants us to block it out, pretend it didn't happen -- to push it deep down like he does and let it weigh us down just like he feels.

I just can't take the chaos anymore. I can't take the ties I have to them -- the chains I feel around my wrists. Why is Brenton allowed to smoke pot in the basement, day after day after day, with them just blocking it out in their minds that he isn't doing anything? Why is he allowed to drop out of high school, to hang out w/ his friends all day without them even caring where he is? Why am I the one that is tortured, so significantly focused on -- when I'm the one wanting my own life and HE is the one who is still a child and really needs their focus the most?

They are so deranged, so fucked up that I just can't take it. My therapist thinks that I am sick for letting them watch Gavin -- that they have affected me to the point where I live in an illusion that they are okay. Perhaps this is true, I really don't know. I know that my dad plays with Gavin and usually doesn't watch him more than 1-2 hours. I know that my mom takes him for walks and feeds him in the high chair and tries to keep a routine with him -- so how terrible could it be leaving him w/ them? She's afraid of him being able to pick up the subtle insane ways that my parents present. Perhaps the way that my mom will space out, not paying attention to what's going on. Perhaps to the way that she will scream at my dad on the phone or in person -- despite the fact that I have told her never to do so in front of Gavin. Perhaps it's my dad's submissiveness she is afraid of -- that he will let Gavin start running around w/ knives just b/c he doesn't have the guts to tell him not to.

So from here on, I am trying to erase my relationship with my parents. It is very, tryingly hard for me to break them off. I almost feel that my breaking the relationship they will melt into this world of nothing, this life of no meaning and become deeply depressed to the point where one of them might kill themselves. I want so badly to help them, for them to get treatement and grow healthy. I just don't see it happening. How do you help someone who can't see that they themselves are sick?

Instead of letting my mom watch Gavin while I went to school today I left Gavin with Andrew. Andrew came to my appointment with my therapist yesterday. It was a very good experience for both of us. She asked us what we expected of each other in the relationship -- he wanted me to communicate w/ him more instead of closing myself in. I want him to pick up the pace more and willingly help out w/ Gavin w/ out me having to push him to do so.

Walking through the mall, you spot a woman sitting on a bench, right there in front of "Motherhood Maternity," hunched over with her back facing you. She is evidently holding a baby, or possibly a small child -- at the distance you are at it is hard to tell. As you walk closer, curiosity growing inside of you, it appears that the woman is holding a baby -- perhaps a 6 month old. The baby is just lying there -- it's sweet little fuzzy blonde hair poking out over the side of the mother's arm. As you walk around the woman, it becomes clear. The baby isn't just lying there -- the baby is nursing. The mother isn't hiding herself one bit. There is no blanket draped over her shoulders. Her breast is obviously poked right out of her buttoned down shirt -- her bra being exposed for all to see.

Depending on the type of person you are and how you feel about breastfeeding, you may find the situation sweet -- feeling that the mother is doing all that she can to benefit her child in the best way possible. Or you may not even see that the woman is breastfeeding -- and only that she has her shirt open, here in the middle of the mall, with her breast hanging out.

The thing is, breastfeeding is important. It contains amazing immunities for the child, boosts their IQ, and offers a comfort that an artificial, rubber nipple just doesn't quite compare to. It's also beneficial for mom, too. It helps her to lose weight faster after giving birth, helps to prevent ovarian and breast cancer, while also providing her a closer bond with her child. These are just a few of the amazing benefits of breastfeeding.

When a woman chooses to breastfeed exclusively, she is making an incredible commitment. She is committing herself to providing food, comfort, and nutrition for her child all solely on her own -- at least for the first six months. After that she may decide to start offering solids, yet if she so chooses to breastfeed, will continue to do so almost as often as before.

Let's face it, moms have places to go just like anyone else. They don't want to stay cooped up in the house in front of the television all day -- sitting on the couch with a baby attached to their breast like some kind of slave. Sometimes they just want to go out -- do some shopping, go out to dinner, or go see a movie -- and a lot of the time, that means bringing baby along with them.

What is a woman to do when her baby does that deep, hunger cry out in public -- that cry that instinctively starts letting the milk down from her own breasts? Is she to ignore these natural cues -- to go about her shopping business with a screaming baby in tow? What really is so wrong with a woman choosing to sit down on a bench for a few minutes -- to open up her shirt and nurse her baby? Especially if the baby falls asleep at the breast, which many babies do? Wouldn't that make your shopping experience all the better -- to not have to deal with a screaming child, but a calm, comforted one?

What many people don't understand is that a mother unbuttoning her shirt to nurse her child isn't trying to make some controversial statement by showing you her bare breasts. She is just doing her motherly duty -- feeding her child just like a bottle-feeding mother would pull a bottle out of her diaper bag. She isn't caring much as to what skin is showing -- heck this is defiantly not a time to be trying to look sexy. All she is doing is nurturing her child.

Some say that a breastfeeding mother in public should find a restroom to go nurse in -- but what if the baby starts crying to nurse in the middle of the mall -- the restroom being all the way on the other side? Is she to run with her screaming baby in tow -- pushing him in the stroller, causing a scene of mayhem all around her? It's just so much more simple to find a place around her to sit and nurse. Plus more restrooms aren't all that sanitary for a baby to be eating in. Would you eat in a bathroom stall? It's just so much easier for a mother to nurse for the few minutes that the baby needs it -- then to get on with her business.

Some also say that a baby breastfeeding in public should be covered with a blanket. My question for them is -- Have they ever tried eating with a blanket over their head? It is suffocating to say the least. It makes the child hot and sweaty. A lot of the time they will just pull it off of their heads and play with it. They hate it. In fact, draping a blanket over a child draws even more attention to the public eye. Why should a woman put her child through the torture of hiding them under something just to benefit an unknown stranger?

There are so many misconceptions out there about breastfeeding and not enough straight facts. People underestimate the importance of breastmilk -- the fact that although a baby may prosper on formula, they aren't receiving the "whole package" that breastmilk really gives them. It's like raising your child on fruits, vegetables and whole grains, or raising them on happy meals. Which one do you think makes for a healthier child in the long run?


Our society may never get over the relation of breasts to sex , but what it needs to accept is the fact that breasts are multi-purposeful. They can nurse and comfort a child during the day, while also acting as sex toys for their husband later that night. It's okay for them to still be seen as sexual. Yet when it comes to a mother sitting on a bench and pulling out her breast to nurse her child, they go back to their most primitive of functions -- they become a feeding tool for their child.

It is this importance of breastmilk that must be spread. Without mothers breastfeeding in public, the public eye doesn't get to see it occurring as much as they should. People need to see it to understand it. Mothers need to see that other mothers are comfortable with nursing in public -- so why shouldn't they be comfortable doing it as well? More nursing breasts need to be shown bare -- so that it becomes more of a normalcy. If mothers keep draping things around them, our society will never change, and people will continue to look at breastfeeding as a shameful, inappropriate thing -- rather than the incredibly important thing that it really is.

I had this freakin' annoying head cold that is driving me nuts. I HATE being sick. It just makes me want to crawl up in bed and stay there all day, having sexy man servants in little brief bikinis bring me home made soup, hot tea, and of course rubbing my feet.

You'd think a husband could fulfill these duties... but the reality is... he's at work. Even if he wasn't at work... I couldn't really see him being the type to "nurse me" when I'm sick. Ha! I asked him if he'd make me home made soup, and he replied, "Why don't you make your own soup?"

I'm here alone tonight with the little man... that little 9 month old baby of mine who is whimpering, "Mommy... come pick me up out of my crib... I need you to rock me to sleep... I need to pull your hair, pinch your skin, wiggle in your arms, wine and fuss, all while you try to keep just enough composure to stay calm and keep rocking."

It's tiring. That's the honest truth. It's dragging, it's demanding. Don't get me wrong... I love my son to death... more than anyone could ever imagine. It is an incredible bond that we share. It truly feels as though he IS me... just in another form, and another body.

Now his whimpers are starting to get under my skin. It's so hard... but I can't just leave him there. He's my life, my baby soul mate. *Sigh....* here I go to rock him...

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Thank God... he is asleep.

No one understands the stresses of real life until it hits you. There are so many boggling things running through my mind... all day long... sometimes I just feel like I am going to explode into pieces. It's incredibly hard. Not having money sucks. Having a house that needs to be cleaned sucks. Having your car insurance canceled because the bill is late sucks.

I am also incredibly frustrated by Gavin's Pediatrician. This woman appears to be a nice, well-educated woman, but in reality she is living in the twilight zone. She is trying to tell me that Gavin is UNDER weight for his age. If you have met my baby... you know he is no small little dinky thing. He is a BIG boy! She doesn't seem to understand breastfed babies as much. It's quite obvious to me that most of her patients are formula-fed babies. For Pete's Sake the freakin' hand out sheets she gives us are funded by formula companies!! Breastfed babies and formula fed babies just DON'T compare. Breastfed babies grow more in spurts, not on a month-to-month basis. Formula fed babies, many of them, are OVERWEIGHT. I do not want an overweight baby. She admitted that he is fine with everything else -- perfectly healthy as can be. So then she tells me to give him 8 oz. of cow's milk to him a day for extra calories. First of all, breastmilk has way more calories than cow's milk. Second of all, the American Academy of Pediatrics and the World Health Organization agree that babies shouldn't be given cow's milk at all until they are at LEAST a year old!! Otherwise it can be highly allergic. Even then it is still pretty early. And if they are breastfed babies... they don't even NEED cow's milk!!

The next thing she tells me is that it is okay to give him peanut butter and orange juice now. First of all, peanut butter is INCREDIBLY allergenic. Some babies break out in hives just from TOUCHING a table surface where peanut butter has been. Honestly, it is that bad. Once again, it is recommended by the A.A.P. and W.H.O. to wait at least 2 YEARS before they are given peanut butter. Honestly here.... is this woman trying to kill my baby??? I mean it's freaky how WRONG she is... and she is a doctor???????

And the thing with orange juice is that it is highly acidic... so much that a baby given it at this age won't be able to handle it. It would most likely make his butt all red, broken out in rashes, while also causing his stools to be bloody.

So basically she told me to force more food/table food (crap) down his throat, told me that my milk supply isn't good enough for him, and said to come back in a month to weigh him again. "This is REALLY bad," she said about his weight. Geez.. I wish I could turn back in time and say, "Woman... YOU are really bad... get her freakin' act together before you end up KILLING someone's baby with your terrible un-educated advice!!!!!!!!"

Honestly... isn't it SAD and WRONG that I know so much more current, up to date information then this 50-something year old doctor does??? I was in shock when she was telling me this information... so much to the point where I just nodded my head and agreed with her and then walked out of the building without fighting it whatsoever. But do you think I will ever return to that doctor's office again?? NO!! I am finding a new doctor for Gavin right away. Which is ANOTHER stress for me. How am I suppose to find the right doctor out there, that accepts my insurance, that is close by, and most importantly, that is breastfeeding-friendly??

I hate to sound so angry, so furious, but honestly I am!! I HATE how stupid doctors are today. It almost makes me want to go into the field and become a pediatrician, just because I KNOW that I would be given out up to date advice... advice that doesn't put the baby's life in jeopardy (but I know that's not going to happen). Imagine all the mothers out there who don't even question this woman and who just take her advice word for word. It's sickening and sad!!!!!!

I hate to complain. I really do. But I am just so frustrated with stupidity.

Stupidity= Rap music, ghetto crap, President Bush, F.E.M.A for not getting their ASSES in there and saving those people in New Orleans as soon as they possibly could, Britney Spears and Kevin Federline (and their unborn child), the media's obsession with celebrities, My Super Sweet 16, anything on MTV, reality T.V. CRAP, 93.1 DRQ, 95.5, and all the other CRAP radio stations Detroit supplies us with, people in downtown Birmingham, people on the street, people on the road, everything, everyone, the sky, the earth, the UNIVERSE!!!

Too much stupidity everywhere!! I am fed up!! I am American and I am NOT proud of America... BUSH YOU SUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Making up lame excuses for not getting help A.S.A.P to the people in New Orleans. Lying his way through everything. Posing for a freakin' Photo-op on the scene in New Orleans hugging people (a white person by the way) trying to look like some kind of a hero, sending our troops overseas just so that their brains can get blown out of their heads. Ugh!!!! You have no idea how badly I hoping Bush's brains would have been blown out on national television by a looter with a gun stolen from Walmart when he was "on the scene" scoping things out.

Sickening. All sickening. That's all I'm surrounded my lately.

*SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH*

Thanks for letting me vent, Livejournal. Like I said... I hate to complain... and it makes me feel guilty. I know how lucky I am to have a roof over my head, even though I'm poor. I know how lucky I am to have a handsome, loving husband, even though he's lazy. I know how lucky I am to have the most beautiful, perfect baby in the world, even though he drives me crazy.

I guess I am just human.

What a beautiful day. Outside my window, beyond the cheap, crooked blinds, I can see the sun's heavenly cast over nature's piece of art work. I only glance, then look away, closing the blinds and shutting myself in. As beautiful as it looks, it doesn't really matter whether I'm out there to experience it or not. I feel too heavy to carry myself that far. To lift these feet and bring myself there seems like a million impossibilities all rolled up into one.

A young angel sleeps and dreams of candy-tasting milk, rivers flowing through his tiny, perfected lips, while a pool sits there, drooping down his chin. The sun brightens his room, the bed in which he lay. He is dreaming of all the sweetness of heaven. I only wish that I could dream the way he does.

So many issues unresolved... it's so easy to just feel hopeless. Crowded and shoved, pushed back and forth, I feel as though my inner being has been abused. I don't know who this woman is in the mirror. A mother, a wife, a lover, a daughter. I dedicate myself to work -- for my son, for my husband.

Things that I use to despise -- touching dirty dishes, wiping away soiled food, pushing down garbage with my own two hands -- these are things that are now my life. They are who I am.

Things... endless things... surround me... suffocate me... things that need to be done... need to be cleaned... they seduce me over and over again.

The young angel is so beautiful, so perfect, like a tiny doll that came to life. His thoughts are of a perfect world where cruelity and evilness do not exist. He doesn't know any better. Wet, chewed up paper shoved into his mouth, stuck to the top of his roof like peanut butter causes him to choke. I must save him. The garbage can being pulled down, the plastic being ripped apart by his tiny, perfect fingers. I must save him. Books after books being grabbed, pulled down, and climbed over. I must save him. He's but innocent.

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How a family life can be so jumbled, so terribly turned wrong, I cannot understand. How a mother can be so unforgiving, so wrongly cruel, so hurtful and then forgetful. How a father can be so ignorant, playing innocent, standing up for his wife even though he knows she has lost herself years too late.

It is a mixed, heavy burden. I appreciate her motherly duties. Performing acts of doing laundry, taking care of her angelic grandson while I attempt to get out and lift the burden but only slightly -- freeing myself from all the suffocating weight that is squishing me deep into the ground.

I loathe her being. So carelessly she stares at a blank T.V. screen. Hour and hour. Muted, she pretends to watch. As she is approached, she becomes defensive. Excuse after excuse, she compensates.

Carelessly writing letters, little scribbles, a foreign language to people who she seems to feel deserve them. In a way, she's warning them, explaining that she is out of control, a hurricane climbing a hill and then slowly descending, until it is completely uncontrollable and tearing up everything in it's course.

The heaviness she reciprocates... it's a contagious disease that spreads to all nearby. There is sadness behind those fake, sterile eyes. A mind so jumbled, so in need of a fresh slate... just withering away. She spreads this disease to me... it envelopes me. I push it deep down, hide it behind the walls of my stomach... deeper it penetrates... as I hope for it to disintegrate.

It doesn't. It sits and grows heavy. It stabs painful stabs. It is there no matter where I am.

I wish to elope away from this destructiveness. To take the perfection of my new family -- the angel, and a loving husband, far, far away, where only we exist. I wish to leave so much in the past -- the hurtfulness a mother and a father's ignorance has caused. I wish to live each step of life without this heavy burden pulling me down.

I await the day where the sunshine is my friend, where I can happily and carelessly, without any burden or insecurity, roam the earth as the human being I was meant to be. Tagging along my best little friend along with his father.... my true love. I await a change. I await normalacy. I await...

Well the whole thing with the moms group worked itself out into two different groups now. I am happy with that since I can talk with the women I liked and not worry about the other ones that were annoying me. *Sigh*... It's important for me to have other moms to talk to... otherwise I just feel so lost. Not lost like I don't know what I'm doing... lost like I have no one else to relate with. How can I relate with any other 19 year old girl when I feel aged beyond their years? I look back to the girl I was before I got pregnant. How much smaller my breasts were. How much tighter my stomach was. How I could pretty much wear any style of clothing I wanted comfortably and without looking like a HOOTERS girl. Now I am left with scars from the journey of pregnancy to motherhood. Stretch marks that have faded remain. My breasts are so huge and so full of milk that I can't fit into anything I use to be able to pre-pregnancy. My body has dramatically changed and forever will be different. The scars that motherhood have left me remind me every day that my life is no longer the same and I will never have the innocence that I used to.
Motherhood brings the woman out of you for sure. There is nothing more instinctively *woman* then feeling your breasts lactate as soon as you hear your baby start crying. There is nothing more *woman* then feeling as though your child is the only important thing in the world... then having a one-track mind revolve around them day and night. There is nothing more instinctive then being in the deepest sleep and being able to pull yourself out and run to your baby because of the littlest peep.
You don't do things for your baby necessarily just because they are your baby and it is your job. It is as if your whole body has been altered, changed and gone through the dramatic transition, to now only work and function to sustain this young child's life. Nature takes over you and overcomes you. You no longer *are* you. You are the vessel to keeping your young alive.
You lose all of your shame. You no longer care if you wear makeup or wear tight-fitting cute clothes. You no longer care if the clothes you are wearing are even clean. It doesn't even matter that you haven't showered for days.
I don't think that anyone who hasn't experienced motherhood really understands. You *can't* understand it until your body has gone through it. A girl is only a girl until she becomes a mother. Then she is woman.

On that note.... I sometimes find myself missing my pregnancy. I keep thinking back to this time last year when all this chaotic-ness was chasing me. I was three months pregnant and trying to plan my wedding at the same time. I would read this week-by-week book to see how my baby was progressing every week -- and major changes were taking place. Every week he'd be a few millimeters bigger. New organs would start developing. Eyes would be opening. It amazed me to see how quickly he was changing inside of me.

The first time I felt him move inside of me was the purest bliss ever felt. It was as if a live butterfly was inside of me, fluttering and letting me know that he was there. It was the reassurance that I needed all along -- to actually *feel* this living being inside of you... not just envisioning it. The more miraculous miracle.

I miss it so much. I miss it when I could push my palm gently into my belly and he would respond back. And he would respond every single time. It was our communication. I'd tap in there to check up on him and he would respond with a little kick, or punch, or maybe a flip. Toward the end I could literally feel every movement he made. I would sit on the couch and just watch my belly move in waves. Ocean waves back and forth. A rolling ball beneath my belly. Little pokes and prods underneath my skin.

It was as if a whole other world opened up the day he was born. I transitioned so quickly from "pregnant" to "mother." Just in that quick second that he came out. At that moment is when it happened -- BAM!!! Nothing else in the world mattered. Myself was now given to my child. The Bridgette that there used to be... any sort of innocence that I used to have.... was simply gone. Any teenager left in my was swept away. Any need to "party" or go out or do any normal 19-year-old thing had subsided. It didn't matter to me.

It's simply incredible how fast a person can change like that. I look back to the person I was before I got pregnant, not knowing where my life was headed, what I was doing in school, where I was going to be living, or what my major life decisions were goin to be. Then life decided to make the decisions for me. Push me along. I suppose nature already knew that my body and soul were mature enough for the journey.

I still carry elements of the Bridgette before. Of the Bridgette from Groves High School -- sweet, rock music-lovin', smart, shy, somewhat insecure Bridgette. Although now I have been totally transformed into the mother and wife version... and it only took such short time.

Someday maybe I will obtain some more of myself back. Maybe I will care more about my appearance once again. Maybe I will attempt to carry on real hobbies -- get back into my writing, journaling, get back to school. But right now I must fulfill my job. I must nurture my young. I must be there for Gavin. For the little boy that cries when I leave the room or set him down. For the little boy that automatically stops crying the moment I hold him close to my chest. My little baby soul mate.

I am overwhelmed by everything lately. I found this really cool mom's group for December babies a few weeks ago and was really enjoying it. It is a Yahoo group so you write each other through e-mail. I made one simple suggestion to the group and then BAM all these people were mad at me. So I apologized for something that wasn't even wrong to begin with. Then I had this b*tchy one sending me private e-mails harassing me. So I said screw it and I left the group.

Now I have all these people e-mailing me about how sorry they are that I left. Now I'm wondering.. was it all just me overreacting? Should I rejoin and just ignore the one who was harassing me to begin with? Should I try to make her apologize?

For some reason the whole situation just had me really down. Not to mention that my hormones are so out of whack lately that I can't control my own thoughts or feelings. I feel so lethargic that I can't move away from the computer seat to clean or do anything. It takes everything in me just to pull myself up.

I'm sick of this draaggggggggggginggggggggg feeling!!!

So I was just ready to hop into bed and go to bed for the night... when I heard a little fella rollin' around in his bassinet next to me, making little fussy noises.

*Sigh*.

Motherhood REALLY is a 24/7 job!! I was SO happy to get him to bed at 9:00PM tonight b/c I really wanted to watch my favorite show, "What Not to Wear." So I settle in and get comfy on the couch in front of the T.V. to find out that it is just a RERUN!! I decided to watch it anyway.

Then I decided to watch, "Sheer Dallas" afterward. Seeing the commercials just made me feel turned off by it but I thought I'd give it a try. I'm not sure that it is always this entertaining but tonight's episode was mildly so at least. It was about "best friends." This guy named Billy (who is engaged and to be married) and this gay guy named Lance are best friends that work at a hair salon that caters to rich people. The other story in the show was about this 63-year-old rich woman named Carolyn and her best friend, her little dog Marlin. This woman must have had everything from breast implants, to liposuction, to face lift, to God knows what else. I would have to honestly say though that for a 63-year-old lady she looked really GOOD!! Even if she does look incredibly fake. She actually seemed like a real nice and genuine person... not one of those phony rich fake people... although I guess I haven't seen enough of the show to see her bad side. So the first story w/ Billy and Lance is that they get into this whole huge fight since Lance throws a bachelor party for Billy but Billy never wanted a party and the party ends up being a disaster, etc. So Billy tells him he isn't allowed to come to his wedding anymore. Then the story w/ Carolyn is that she is dating all these men and trying to find the right guy for her but will only keep the guy that gets along with her little spoiled dog.

So in the end Lance doesn't end up going to Billy's wedding but shows up for the after-party and apologizes and they make up. Carolyn takes her pup to a fancy dog show, making sure that he is prepared with acupuncture, massage, and whatever other expensive treatment before hand. She invites a date to come along who ends up feeling third wheel to the dog. The fat little dog ends up winning the contest just because he is so cute in his little doggy tux.

I have no idea why I felt the need to recapture all of that show. I guess I just found it entertaining LOL. Although who knows if I will ever watch it again.

I am like that with most shows though. Like Paris Hilton's show. I ended up watching one episode this season. Or "The Apprentice." I've just seen one episode this season as well. I was getting into "The O.C" during its first season but this season never got into it. I finally got around to watching it this Thursday and it ended up being a really good episode. Now I find out the season ends next week.

I guess I find it more interesting to pick one, random episode of a show to watch rather then a collaboration of many. Most T.V. sucks anyway to want to follow any one show week after week.

Well now that I know for sure Gavin is asleep I think I will sneak back in there. Hopefully my mattress won't be so squeaky and I can quickly get under the covers without waking him.

I guess it will be nice when he gets his new crib Monday and he is sleeping in his own room. Although I sure will miss him at the same time, too.

Maybe that's what made me like that "Sheer Dallas" episode -- the fact that it was based on best friends. When it comes down to it, Gavin is "my little best friend."

Gavin is going to be 5 months old on Sunday. This is also Mother's Day. He is also going to be baptized this day :o)

He is taken to a few new noises. He seems to "sing" to himself -- making little high-pitched tunes and letting his tongue roll over different notes and sounds. Just a few days ago he started blowing spit bubbles out of his lips while making a blowing noise. The closest way to describe this is by saying that it sounds kind of "fart-like" LOL. It is so cute. We are just hoping that he doesn't start doing it while being baptized. Hehe.

Do you know how good of a baby this little guy is? He goes to bed at 9:30PM (okay... it would be nice if it were 8...), wakes up sometime b/w 5-7 for a night feeding, goes back to sleep and sleeps until somewhere b/w 9:30AM-10:30AM!! He actually lets me sleep that long sometime!! Just today I was able to sleep into 10:00AM. I am taking advantage of this as much as I can because I know that soon enough he will be a little toddler trying to wake his mommy up at 6 in the morning!!

Here is goes again. "Eeeeerrrrrr...(then bubbl-y fart noise)."

He will also go, "Ma Ma Ma Ma Ma Ma" when he is tired and wants his mommy. Both my mom and Andrew have said that he will do this when I am not around. He's even done it a few times when I have walked out of the room. Can a 5 month old really be smart enough to know who "Ma Ma" is already?? Well my little boy can be :o)

Soon enough he'll be eating solids and sitting up. Then scooting. Then crawling. And then soon enough he will figure out walking.

These babies grow too fast.

They need their mommy. He needs his mommy.

He's calling for me right now...

my sweet little angel.

Well somehow we have made it to May. When I look out the window it is sunny today, but I'm sure it is not quite "May weather" just yet. Today they are suppose to have the pool here at our apartment open to swim in. I'm not quite sure if I'm ready to hop in that water just yet. I have already been jumping ahead of myself with the whole Spring thing by organizing my closet -- putting away all my winter clothes and taking out my summer. I've even walked outside in a tank top, shorts and sandals a few times. That one day when we had 81 degree weather was pretty much the only day this worked for me. Any other day I tried doing this I