Henry woke me around 5:00, and by 5:45 he was back to sleep and I had to make the kind of decision that these days confronts me again and again and AGAIN and dominates my mental and physical landscape: Do I try to go back to sleep at this point and then have to drag myself up again in 15 minutes or 45 minutes or an hour, feeling nauseated and resentful? Or do I stay awake, because I’m already awake enough to feel okay about that idea, but then later feel exhausted and irritable because I should have slept more?

I got up. It’s 8:15, too soon to call the decision. Ask me again around 2:30 this afternoon.

I’m up and down as usual. Sometimes I’m despairing because I can’t seem to turn my mind to even one small thing such as a quick answer to a short email. Or because I seem to spend all evening pinned under a newborn, and then bedtime comes and goes with no change in the situation. Other times I’m eating a bowl of ice cream at the computer and I run out of computer stuff I want to do and so I sit there aimlessly feeling all groovy and bored. Or I get a bunch of things done one after another and feel all successful. Or I look back and realize I’ve been gradually successful: it’s uphill, and things don’t get done as often as they should, but for example Rob changed his sheets this weekend when he was cleaning his room, and I had to change William’s when he woke up wet a day or two later, and then last night I was clock-watching for the kids’ bedtime and realized I had a couple of free minutes to change Edward’s crib sheet, and so you see it DOES get done bit by bit and that’s encouraging.

But then at 5:00 in the morning I’m nursing the baby, and he’s writhing and keeps latching on and off, and when I burp him he spits up on my finally-got-it-laundered shirt and on my finally-got-it-showered self. And then I change his diaper and he spits up a little more, onto his finally-put-him-in-fresh-clothes outfits and into his finally-washed-that-kid’s-hair hair, the changing of which and the washing of which had previously been one of my encouraging accomplishments. And then as I sit back down with him, my body sore from sleeping in the recliner most of the night, he fills his freshly-changed diaper. At 5:30 a.m., things can seem cyclical and unending. But now it’s 8:30 and I’m dressed and damp-haired and blogging, and eating from a 2-pound bag of chocolate-covered dried cherries, and ignoring those suspicious sounds from the other room, and things are good again. These first few months are so nuts.

I have a book to strongly recommend! But there is a small problem. My mother-in-law is distantly connected to the author: the author is related by marriage to someone who lives in my mother-in-law’s town. To my mother-in-law, this is almost the same as having written the book herself, and she is taking an unusually intense interest in the book’s success. If I were to write about the book, it would not be astonishing for her to find my blog in one of her searches.

So! I must somehow communicate the book’s title and author to you without mentioning either one! Anyone up for a game of charades?

How about this instead: This super-secret link!

I lovvvvvvvvvvvvvvvved the book. As much as I liked the HARRY POTTER books, I kid you not! Maybe even…MORE.

I ran into a casual acquaintance today at the park. She was there with her husband and kids. After about an hour of watching/hearing her husband, I’m 98% sure he’s abusive–and if he’s not, I’m 100% sure he’s an unpleasant asshole. He’s a guy I knew a little bit in high school, and I hadn’t seen him since. Over the years I’ve known her, I have gone on and on and ON to her about what a fine upstanding fellow he was: so smart and so respectful and so responsible and so mature–because he WAS in high school. I was trying to say nice things (“Great husband! Nice choice!”), but now I imagine her listening to my way-off crap and feeling like now she can’t confide in me that he’s actually one of those tightly-wound guys who, in a movie, would soon be cackling crazily and wielding a shotgun. I feel like a right dumbass. No wonder our friendship never seemed to move forward. Also, I have that “wanting to fix it” feeling (“Should I ask if everything’s okay?”) that never leads anywhere good.

William swallowed a Magnetix ball–it’s like a metal marble. Luckily he didn’t swallow one of the little magnetic parts of the set: those are the pieces that have caused the sets to be recalled. The pediatrician says “all we have to do is watch for it to come out.” Well, I don’t know if you’ve had this “watching” privilege before. I never had. I’m glad that what we’re talking about here is not, say, a valuable item that must be retrieved, and that after I “find” it, I can let it flush right down the toilet.

I am stricken by my stupid procrastination. I’ve been meaning for MONTHS to pack up the Magnetix and mail them in for the replacement toy, but I’ve been so MAD about it: I don’t WANT a stupid replacement toy, I want our money back. We spent a lot of money on multiple sets of Magnetix because they were so awesome, and now they’re, you know, FATAL, and so even though it’s a stupid decision to keep them in the house, I feel angry about the lost money and the replacement toy, and so I put it off. Dumbass.

Also, I feel despair at the way even a six-year-old will still EAT A TOY, when I thought we were about three years past worrying about that.

And I feel hopeless because we’ll probably never find all the little dangerous magnets that have fallen out of the plastic sticks: the other day, the cat had a little chain of magnets hanging from his collar. They’re tiny, they’re everywhere, and they can be fatal if the child swallows more than one, and there’s no way we can find them all. My solution? Don’t think about it. GREAT IDEA! I’m lucky it was William who swallowed a piece, since he can tell me that he did. And I’m lucky he swallowed a non-magnetic component, which is not dangerous unless he also swallows a magnet. And I’m a total dumbass for keeping this toy in the house just because I’m sulking about the money.

To be fair, I’m not the dumbass who ate the metal marble.

Do you know how many tries it took to capture even that crazy-looking picture of a smile? Many. It took many tries. I had to kiss him and make coochy-woochy noises, then quickly get out of the way, put the camera in front of his face, and hope the picture wouldn’t be all blurry from not using the flash. Repeat and repeat and repeat, until the poor baby wouldn’t smile anymore.

The little ingrate smiled first at Paul. Hey, no, don’t take into consideration whose nipples were all cracked but nursed you anyway, taking a layer of enamel off her teeth from clenching so hard with each painful latch-on. Don’t take into consideration who gets up with you at 3:30 in the morning when you want a little snack or a little company. No, no, I wouldn’t want to influence you by reminding you who it was who gave up her body as a vessel for nine months, barfing and barfing in what had better turn out to be a genetic advantage. Heavens no! Neither will I present Exhibit A: stretch marks, or Exhibit B: saggy tum flap, or Exhibit C: hormones you could sharpen a knife on. No! Go ahead and smile first at the other one, that’s fine with me.

I had a bad dream about my mother-in-law last night. She was telling me what a good cook she is (she does tell me this, repeatedly), and how I should really use her recipes if I want to make Paul happy (she doesn’t say this outright, but constantly hints it). I summoned up all my courage and told her that Paul doesn’t actually like her cooking (this is true). She said knowingly, “Oh, I think he does,” and then rapidly started talking about something else–which is EXACTLY what she does whenever I disagree with her on any subject: flatly contradicts me and then goes on to another subject in the same breath so I can’t argue. The whole encounter was so realistic. Thanks to my subconscious, I get extra time with my mother-in-law!

This is Day 5 of her not telling us that she’s coming for a visit. At first I thought–charitably, and then feeling righteous and lovely for being so charitable toward someone I can’t stand–that perhaps she was just waiting to mention it the next time she wrote to us, which would be a perfectly reasonable thing for her to do (more self-awarded points for me, for being so reasonable myself). But she has now emailed us, and has failed to mention the trip, which tells me that she’s hiding it. One thing I hate about Paul’s family is how SECRETIVE they all are. Last time she visited she took a plane, and she hid her departure date. As if we weren’t going to find out! She also won’t tell us how she meets her boyfriends, which of course makes me assume she meets them in some shameful, sordid fashion (I picture her hanging out in the hallways of nursing homes, licking her lips and waggling her eyebrows suggestively at all the old men wheeling by), but probably just means it makes her feel powerful not to tell.

I went to the dentist earlier this week for what was supposed to be just a cleaning. Actually, never mind, I don’t want to discuss this after all, forget I said anything. Suffice it to say that dentist stuff, it SUCKS. Sucks YOUR MONEY.

It seems like everything needs money from us right now: the couch is broken, the kitchen faucet is broken, the lawnmower is broken, the insurance copays have gone up and we got back-billed for two months’ worth of them, the hospital wants to see a little cash for that whole c-section thing, there’s our goddamned teeth which ought to be hand-crafted out of solid gold by the time we’re done paying for them, etc. Paul is all, “It’s going to be okay, it really is,” and I guess it will be, but doesn’t it sometimes feel as if it’s just one huge expense after another your entire life? When will there be big wads of cash that DON’T go for dental work and various insurances and car repairs? And then I can hear buzzing in the back of my mind about how we should have 6 months’ living expenses in savings AND be saving for the kids’ college educations AND what do you MEAN you don’t have a retirement account, you’ll NEVER be able to retire now, NEVER, NEVERRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

I found a couple of old posts I thought I had already posted. Or maybe I did post them and these are unused draft versions, so now I will seem to be repeating myself. Well, whatever, I’ve posted them now:

Now Is Not The Time
LYKWTAMBYTWAWTTO Day!

Go relive April and May!

Yesterday and today I have felt NUTS, like I’m going to fly up in the sky and shoot out sprays of irritation and anger over all the land. Everything is pissing me off, everything is stressful, there are too many stressful, pissy things happening all at once. I can’t even tell if this is a postpartum thing or if life is actually stressful and pissy right now. All I know is that I don’t like anybody or anything, and that it seems like it would feel really great to take a whole stack of plates out to the driveway and smash them one after another. Mmmmm, destruction.

Since we scared all the pregnant women with our postpartum discussion a few days ago, it seems only fair that we now share tips on the things that can help to alleviate the problem. Let’s try not to laugh a hard, bitter laugh as we try to think of things.

I’ve mentioned in another post that it helps me to have good food, and to try to do one small task per day. I’ve also mentioned that I do whatever gets me more sleep. Here are some other things I’ve tried with some success. And when I say “some success,” I assume you know I mean “It may keep me from packing my bag and heading for a hotel hide-out, but it doesn’t take that off the list of options.” These are just things that sometimes make me feel a little better, not things that “fix” anything or make any kind of huge difference. I assume you also know that I am in no way qualified to give out any kind of medical advice whatsoever, and that if you are feeling truly nuts you need to consult a doctor about it because postpartum stuff can be really serious and bad, right? Good.

1) Coffee, small amounts (too much can make me all jittery and snappish, and I think I have gracious plenty of that already), especially with a selection of flavored creamers to stir into it and a cookie to eat with it. I once read on a web site that 1/4th cup of coffee taken medicinally every hour can be helpful for mild depression.

2) Turning on lots and lots of lights. I read that tip on the same website that mentioned the medicinal coffee. I’d thought it wouldn’t help, but it did seem to improve my mood on dark, sad mornings.

3) Taking fish oil capsules. I read a long time ago that a study found fish oil helped with postpartum depression. That could be a total load, but it stayed with me and now if it’s not true I don’t want to hear about it. There is something to be said for the placebo effect.

4) Nice smells. A pretty shower gel, a good perfume–but not a scented candle in this state of mind or you’ll accidentally burn the house down and then think how sad you’ll be.

For the love of god, tell me you have more ideas, because that list is pitiful and the combination of insurance issues and the kids’ giddiness is making me feel like scorching the land with my wrath.

Here is a Swistle pregnancy tip: play The Sims computer game in your third trimester.

On The Sims, you monitor the mental and physical health of your Sims people by consulting a little panel of bars. There is a bar for hunger, a bar for fun, a bar for needing to pee, a bar for needing comfort, etc. A bar heading toward solid red means things are getting dangerously bad; a bar heading toward solid green means things are looking good. A little diamond hovers above the head of the Sim, giving a summary of all the bars combined: green is good, grey is getting bad, red is time to dive for cover.

If you experience postpartum the way I do, you will have times when you start feeling all darty-eyed and frantic and crazy and sad, and everything is bad at the same time, and it seems as if the only solution is to sit there and cry at the futility of existence. There are so many things I need, and I know that if I get them I will feel better, but I’m so overwhelmed by the sheer number of things I need that I can’t even do a single one. It feels pointless even to try to pee, since the house will still be a mess and I’ll still be starving and I’ll still need a shower and the baby will still want to be clumped sweatily on my shoulder every minute of every day and I’ll still have a dishtowel stuffed under my shirt because all my nursing bras are in the laundry basket.

If I’ve been playing The Sims for the last couple of months, however, I will be in auto-play mode, seeing little red/green bars wherever I turn. I will not try to get every single one of my bars to green but rather to improve the bar-averaging diamond over my head by fixing the things that are easiest to fix. It is helpful to remember that even just peeing will improve your overall situation; it works for a Sim, anyway. Eating a muffin improves things still further. Putting one dirty plate in the sink = even better. Every small thing you do will add up. And that is good, because there are times when a single small thing is about all you can manage. Go pee now, there’s a good girl.

This morning my mother has taken all five children. All five! I have 45 minutes of utter aloneness in the house before I need to go pick up three of them. So far I have used my precious, precious time to:

1) pee with the door open
2) eat four–no, five–Reese’s peanut butter cups

Woo hoo, party at my house!

I went to The Children’s Place store yesterday and bought a few more things to supplement last week’s online order. I found the pink patterned maryjane sneakers, which was happy: I’d only been able to get them in blue on the site. I also found the pink/orange hoodie in 4T for next year: there were none in 4T on the site so I’d bought it in 3T, but 3T is this year’s size and so probably I’ll return that one when it arrives (Elizabeth already has two spring-patterned hoodies in 3T). I also bought a pink crinkle skirt and a purple shirt with a huge ice cream cone on it. I’d wanted the huggable octopus shirt but they didn’t have any left in bigger sizes. I considered the striped crinkle skirt and maybe I will still go back for it, but yesterday the twins were falling apart and I didn’t have enough time to consider shirt options.

While I was out, I also bought the big bottle of Dove 2-in-1 moisturizing shampoo conditioner. I used it this morning but my hair is still wet so it’s too soon for a report.

So! On to non-retail news! My mother-in-law is in touch with my parents from time to time, and she emailed them yesterday to say that she is driving out to visit us this October. How many days do you think it will be before she tells us? Let’s start the count: today is Day 1.

So. October. And this is July. That means I have roughly three months to clean the house. It will not be enough time. I think I am going to have to bring back “Digging Ourselves Out” projects. I did one the day before yesterday but didn’t think to take a Before picture. We have a large endtable next to the couch, and it was piled so high with clutter, items were actually sliding down as if on skis. I’d intended to remove only the things Edward was actively getting into, but I inadvertently triggered a total-endtable clear-up. Now no one is allowed to put a single thing on that Lemon Pledge-shiny surface. EVER AGAIN.

One of my brother’s friends had a baby a few months before I had mine, and they gave out the web address of their blog so that friends and relatives could keep up with the news. One detail caught my eye: they wrote that they’d been told to allow for 200 diapers for the first month, but that “those people don’t know our baby–we used 500!”

I’ve never tracked my babies’ diaper usage, but 500 sounded high. It’s not the first time I’ve seen estimates that seemed high: because I had twins, I’m always reading about and hearing about twins, and I would keep hearing about twin newborns “going through an entire package of diapers per day.” Diapers for newborns are typically sold in packages containing 40-56 diapers. If the twins were sharing a 40-pack a day, that would be 600 diapers per twin in the first month; a 56-pack a day is 840 diapers per twin per month.

I’ve seen high cost estimates, too: in the cloth vs. disposable debate, figures are thrown around about how many hundred dollars per month it costs to keep a baby in disposables, and the number always seems higher than I feel like we spend–but who knows, maybe it just disappears into the rest of the shopping and I don’t notice it.

So now I had to know: how many diapers does MY baby use? and how much does it cost? I brought a notepad with me to the hospital, and as soon as the nurse put Henry’s very first diaper on him, I started tracking how many we used. Looking back on it, I realize it would have been way WAY easier to keep track of how many packages of diapers we bought, but never mind that, I didn’t think of it, let’s just go with what we have and not discuss how dumb I may or may not have been.

One month seems like a good time to check in. Does this mean he is one month old? NO HE IS NOT I REFUSE TO ACCEPT IT. Also, Henry is right now outgrowing newborn-size diapers, so the next package I buy will be size 1, which changes diaper count and cost: going from size newborn to size 1 is the only time you get more diapers for the same price; after that, you get fewer and fewer diapers for the same price.

So here is the report: In one month, Henry used 180 diapers. The newborn-size diapers I buy are sold in packages of 40 diapers, and it’s possible I missed recording a diaper change or two, so let’s round it up to 200 diapers, or 5 full packages.

I buy Target brand diapers, which cost $5.75 for a package. So Henry’s diapers for one month (5 packages) cost me $28.75. It’ll cost me less next month when I can get 56 diapers for the same price as I spend for 40 now.

William’s diapers cost us more, though, when he was a newborn. The Wa1mart diapers I was using at the time (we didn’t have a Target near us then) didn’t work on him; he kept leaking out of them somehow, with the diaper dry and his outfit soaked. Memory fails me, but I think I bought Luvs because they were the least expensive of the brands. Memory fails me again when I try to remember how much a package of Luvs cost, but I know it was more than the store brand ones, so that would make his diaper use more costly.

I just posted a little while ago, so don’t miss the cookie post below if you haven’t seen it yet. But pretty, pretty Mir alerted me to a good deal over at The Children’s Place, and we all like our kids to dress the same, right? …Right? Anyway, there’s a clearance sale AND a $10-off-$30 coupon AND a free shipping deal, so I got some stuff for Elizabeth for next summer. I tried to link to each thing I bought, but it didn’t work–but just go to the “outlet” section, and all the stuff I got was under “baby girls.”

I bought the cute false-advertising “Never Crabby” shirt that Shelly’s Peanut modeled the other day, and in fact I bought it in two sizes so Elizabeth can tell lies this summer and next summer. I bought the yoga skort in the same blue color (called “oxygen”), and then bought the white t-shirt with the blue “CUTIE” on it, and a dolphin shirt I think will go with the skort too, and the blue socks, and the blue patterned maryjane sneakers. Plus of course the hoodie in both colors it comes in, because I love both, and because I love the hoodies I got for Elizabeth in the spring clearance, and because Shannon’s Darsie has it (top photo) and I am so influenced by what other people’s kids look cute in.

Why did I buy nothing at all for the four boys? Er. I have no good explanation, other than that it is fun to buy girl clothes.

If you follow Mir’s link for free shipping, allow a little time for the coupon to arrive: I think mine came about an hour later. Do the dumb little game first (it wants personal information like your name and address, but you have to give them that anyway when you place an order), then shop, then see if the coupon came yet. And, as Mir says, you can use that shipping coupon along with the $10-off-$30 coupon, so as long as you order $30 worth of stuff, you get it for $20 and you get it shipped free. Awesome.

If you buy anything, tell me what you bought! I might have to place another order.