sueeeus

…or rather, forward motion.

What a day. What a week. This one wiped me out. So much work. So little sleep. My brain is like goo. I had all these great intentions of getting other things done this week. My poor little love bug is all sniffly and under the weather. There are two new kids at the daycare. Carriers, the both of them. I’m certain of it. It’s okay, I guess. Some exposure is good for building a strong immune system. And his is fairly strong. He doesn’t like sweets, so I have to be very creative in attempting to dose him with infant decongestant. He hasn’t been sleeping very well, either. Poor little guy. He’s normally such a happy boy. It’s hard to see him hurting. Those tears are so heartbreaking.
What a face. He has so many new expressions, and they are so funny! He’s trying to be a tough guy. But I know better. He’s a love.

Weekend plan: get some SLEEP!

I’ve been asked to help draft my brother’s obituary. My family has a message board (we were way cool, before blogland ever was, ha ha so there, neener neener neener) that we use to keep in touch. I’m an emotional wreck, but I made a first attempt. I put it out there for the family’s scrutiny. It went something like this:

1/12/71 ‘ 10/27/05. Like a comet blazing through the night sky, P2’s life, though short, burned brightly with passion, faith, and love. He set for himself unattainable standards, which he followed with unstoppable drive and determination, fueled by his keen intellect and clever wit. P2 lived to love and be loved, and to do his very best. He gave it his all. Through the eyes of his family he was one to always share what he had, to keep the family in order; he was always de la moda, a faithful brother, a mechanic extraordinaire, smart, sharp witted, and an all around good guy. He was selfless, a loving father, and a great cook. He is survived by daughters J, K, and C, son M, granddaughter M, brothers T1, T2, P1, J1, and J2, sisters S1, S2, and C, mother P, father H, and (ex) wife L.

No posts. No replies. No comments. Nothing but Silence. I’m left hanging, with this girly emotional outpouring that I can’t take back or delete. So I make another attempt. This time more concise, matter of fact, less emotional.

1/12/71 ‘ 10/27/05
P2, born and raised in (God’s Country), was a man of passion and intellect with a great love for his family, the outdoors, food and music. P2 died unexpectedly while living in Colorado Springs. P2 was a natural leader, with a proficiency for chemistry and mechanics. He served his country as an ELT on the US Navy submarine Pintado. P2’s memory will live on in the hearts of his family and friends.

Again, nothing. Silence. Inside I am screaming. Screaming. How can I be the only one putting words out there for the family to consider, and yet they say nothing. Are they offended Do I sound like a stammering fool Have I mocked his life I didn’t mean to. Have I romaniticized his life I didn’t mean to. What have I done Why do they not say anything

I’ve never written an obit before. I’ve barely ever read one. I trolled around with the help of Google and found some examples and tidbits and ideas. The generic newspaper obit is too boring and dry. Just a resume for the dead. Name, Age, COD, Job History, Family History, blah blah blah. Too impersonal. Too many shallow angles from which to draw judgemental conclusions. And to what end What is the point of that information What good does it serve I. Don’t. Like. It. Who the hell is an obit for, anyway The general public Or people who care. I think it should be for people who care. So I tried again.

1/12/71 ‘ 10/27/05

P2, born and raised in (God’s Country), was a man of passion and intellect with a great love for his family, the outdoors, food and music.

P2 was a natural leader, with a penchant for cooking, chemistry and mechanics. He served his country during the 1990s as an ELT on the US Navy submarine Pintado.

P2 developed a lifelong friendship with his first child J, born of N and adopted to the A’s in 1986. In 1994 he married L and stepped in as a father figure to K (born 1992); C was born in 1996, followed by M in 2000. The marriage ended in divorce early in 2005.

Always an excellent cook and lover of good food, P2 had entrepreneurial dreams of becoming a restaurateur and chef. P2 had a discriminating palate and enjoyed fine wines and micro-brews, but he also kept a place for his good friends Jack and Jose.

Most recently residing in Colorado Springs, in a show of eccentricity and necessity coupled with a sense of humor and frugality, P2 announced earlier this year that his new home address was ‘The North Face of Mount Gibbler, Uncompahgre National Forest, Under the Blue Tarp Lean-To.’

Whether hunting, fishing, biking, playing golf, or snowboarding, P2 was at his best when able to enjoy the outdoors, especially in the company of his brothers, sisters, and children.

P2 always had a flair for the dramatic, and enjoyed many genres of music, from Broadway to Punk Rock. His eclectic sense of style mirrored his taste in music. He could just as easily look as though he stepped from the cover of GQ magazine, as from the pages of Rolling Stone.

P2 was deeply spiritual; a seeker of ‘Truth, with a Capital T.’ He wanted little more than to love and be loved. He set for himself unattainable standards, and he gave it his all. He fought the good fight. He finished his course.

P2 is survived by daughters J, K, and C, son M, granddaughter M, brothers T1, T2, P1, J1, and J2, sisters S1, S2, and C, mother P, and father H.

P2 wrestled with bipolar disorder. His memory will live on in the hearts of his family and friends.

A small memorial celebration will take place on November 19, 2005 in (God’s Country). For information, please call xxx-xxx-xxxx.

I await feedback from my family. I am too tired to scream anymore. I hope they will finally step in and help me.

His favorite things are cardboard and paper. Notice in the box he’s holding his favorite postcard. When the mail comes, it’s mostly junk mail. Look! I say to him. Some mail came for you! He rips it to shreds with glee, and tries to eat it as well. I am vigilant and remove it before he ingests any. How he loves doing what I’m doing! If I’m reading my mail, he wants to read his mail. His postcard came from a real estate duo who paid a little extra for that marketing edge, for it is no ordinary postcard. No, indeed. This clever postcard is laminated. We treasure this item in our household and are quite careful not to throw it out. He has gotten many miles of safe reading and chewing pleasure from it. In retrospect, I still have mild regrets at the hundreds of dollars wasted spent preparing for the arrival of my first child. When all that was needed was cardboard and junk mail.

What a day. The strawberry broke. I wasn’t prepared for the sight of so much blood. I knew there would be blood, but how can it not be a shock to look at your baby and see their face completely covered in bright red blood, with more blood streaming steadily, on and on It bled for nearly TWO HOURS. It completely saturated a 16″x16″ microfiber towel. We were on our way to the in-laws for a birthday celebration. I don’t know if he rubbed his eyes or rubbed his face against the seat belt shoulder strap. He was asleep and it happened in the blink of an eye. We went to the emergency room. I was distressed that he was gushing so much blood and didn’t know what to do, since it wouldn’t stop bleeding. It’s not a bit like what you see on shows like ER or Gray’s Anatomy. It took nearly two hours to see a doctor. The triage nurse saw him in the first 20 minutes, took his weight and blood pressure and told me to keep on putting pressure on it, just as I was already doing. He bled on and on. He fell asleep. Still bleeding. At least he held still better when he was sleeping. He didn’t like me holding the towel to his face and kept squirming while he was awake. It stopped bleeding just before the doctor saw him. Diagnosis Bleeding Hemangioma. Yes, I know. Treatment Plan A. If it happens again, apply pressure until the bleeding stops. It will eventually heal on its own. Plan B. Anesthetize and Cauterize – inject a needle that close to my baby’s eye, to numb the area, then burn him and leave a lifetime scar We chose Plan A. During last Monday’s checkup our doctor had told me that it could break open and it would bleed, and it would probably grow back, and eventually it would diminish and disappear on its own. She just didn’t mention how much it would bleed, and what to do if it did. I was expecting something I could put a bandaid on. I did tell Mr. Man that the treatment is to wait it out, that it would eventually heal on its own. He wasn’t too impressed with that solution, but in the ER, hearing the doctor pose Plan A and Plan B, he was amenable to Plan A. Go figure. (But I’m glad that he was no longer adamant about more drastic action such as Plan B.)

We made it to the birthday celebration an hour and a half late. We have another new mom in the family. Her little guy is 2 weeks old and she herself is looking fabulous, as though she’d never even been pregnant. She’s had no trouble at all nursing. I’m so jealous. Really. The little guy knew just what to do. He latches like a pro and drains her efficiently, in 10-15 minutes. TEN MINUTES! I remember our struggle, where Buggaboo would chew me raw for 30-40 minutes at a time, every two hours, and hardly draw anything out. I’d have to pump afterwards, another 15-20 minutes. Clean up the bottles and get them ready for the next round. 5-10 minutes. Then do it all again. Do the math. I spent over 12 hours a day trying to feed my baby. How I longed to be a breast-feeding mother! I tried SO hard, with nipple shields, a tiny feeding tube along side the nipple, or against my finger. There were so many obstacles. The breasts were too big, which made it difficult to position him. The nipples were too big for his sweet little mouth. He couldn’t get a good latch. The milk didn’t come in well and he didn’t have the patience to try to draw it out, and I just didn’t produce enough milk. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so emotionally difficult had I not had my heart set on being a breast-feeding mother. And to see this new mom and her little guy sail so smoothly into it! I’m so happy for them, truly, and surprised at my concurrent feelings of jealousy. In the self-pity confines of my mind, my selfish thoughts are why couldn’t it have been that easy for me

I feel drained.

First I scared my mom by kicking and wiggling and nearly getting myself stuck in my bed. It’s a comfy bed, but I think I’m getting to be too big for it. It’s an Amby hammock, and it’s supposed to be good for my development, but honestly, I like to snuggle up next to my mom more than I like to hang out in this comfy hammock.

Later, I took a shower and got all nice and clean. I’m not quite sure what I think of this water business.

Then I got all snuggly buggly before it was time to get dressed.

We went to my mom’s company picnic today. It would have been much more exciting if I were a little bit older. It was hot outside and I mostly slept, but I did make sure I urped all over myself and my mommy a few times. When I woke up, I got my picture taken with Daisy Duck (but that picture is still in my daddy’s camera). I also got this super cool froggy tattoo. My mama likes froggies, and so do I.

Today is a day of note. Today my Buggaboo showed me that he can sit unattended. He’s such a superstar!

Shoogga Boogga Boogga Woogga
Shoogga Boogga Boo
Shoogga Boogga Boogga Woogga
Tell Me, Who Are You

Shoogga Boogga Boogga Woogga
Shoogga Boogga Boo
Shoogga Boogga Boogga Woogga
You’re Mama’s Buggaboo!

Shoogga Boogga Boogga Woogga
Shoogga Boogga Boo
Shoogga Boogga Boogga Woogga
Mama Sure Loves You!

Biggedy Buggedy Buggedy Boo
Snuggely Buggely Boo
Buggedy Biggedy Biggedy Boo
Somebody Loves Her Buggaboo!

Biggedy Buggedy Buggedy Boo
Snuggely Buggely Boo
Buggedy Biggedy Biggedy Boo
Guess Who Loves Her Buggaboo

Biggedy Buggedy Buggedy Boo
Snuggely Buggely Boo
Buggedy Biggedy Biggedy Boo
Mama Loves Her Buggaboo!