Halloween has come and gone and we made it out alive.
I don't have pictures posted, but it will happen. Probably sometime around Christmas, because I'm cool like that.

I have been managing to squeeze some time into the day to do what *I* want. This week I managed to make curtains for our dining room and recover two of the dinner chairs. It's meant that the laundry must wait and the dishes will be done later, but the household hasn't fallen apart yet.. so it must not be the worst thing in the world.


On another note, my dining room is beginning to look like a dining room, rather than a box with some tables and chairs in it. Since moving into this great big house, we have only hauled two truckloads of our things. Which sounds like a lot, but considering furniture, clothing, and houseplants it's not much in the way of decor.

I've made do to make it look as nice as I can, but I'm itching to really "move" in. Ah, well.. one project at a time. :)

The Blog Where I Say To Myself - 'I Told You So.'

I feel as if the situation I am in now is an accurate metaphor for my life as a whole.
And that makes me angry. And sad. Frustrated. Discouraged. Overwhelmed. And even angrier because I feel all those things.

Four weeks ago, I said to my husband - "I need to get out Halloween costumes made. I do not want to be working on them the night before Halloween. Because that's how it goes every year and I want this year to be different."
Two weeks ago I said, "I really need to get those costumes made. Which means we need to get supplies."
I was told at that time that Halloween was a whole two weeks away and we would do what we needed to do next weekend - which as of today, was last weekend.
Today is Thursday. Tomorrow is our Halloween party and Sunday is Halloween.

Do I have costumes made? No. Do I have supplies for our costumes? No.
What I have is a pile of old t-shirts and quilting fabric strewn across the living room floor, along with the pile of hair I pulled out while racking my Muddled Mommy Brain for ideas.

Ah... yes. I should have just accepted that this was going to happen. Let me take this moment to stick my tongue out at myself and say, "Haha! I told you so!"

You see, it's not that I forgot. It's not that I haven't tried.
It's the lack of time. It's the lack of energy. It's the lack of creativity thanks to this neverending fog that I walk around in. I think, most importantly, it's the lack of support.

I don't understand why my goals are so unimportant.
For a long time, I just accepted it that there are a billion goals that need to be accomplished and mine are just among the ones that don't get done. But I'm beginning to realize that mine are rarely at the top of "The List". In order to get them done, it's a fight to tooth and nail and sleep deprivation and frustration.
By the time that my goals DO get brought into the light - such as tonight - I am so exhausted, so scatterbrained, that I cannot think to work. I can muster the energy, sure - but this takes brain power - and I don't have it.

So here I am. In bed. Writing, because I must get this out. I must find a solution, before I fall into some deep, dark postpartum depression where I have to pay some expensive shrink to tell me - "You need to make time for you." (Which is so, so much easier said than done.)

In case you're wondering about the Halloween costumes - I think we will be fine. My landlord left me a pair of handmade GORGEOUS butterfly wings, which I will pair with a LBD and some yard hair. Sprout will wear his plaid overalls with yarn "straw" and be a scarecrow. I think The Man will be a clown, but that's still up in the air. I won't lie - I work fairly well under pressure. I will make an effort to post pics when all is said and done. :)

I didn't expect this!

During pregnancy, I spent countless hours perusing the baby isles of Wal-mart, Target, Walgreens.. 

It was my favorite thing to do. 

Finally I could gush over baby clothes and actually have a reason to buy them.

I compared car seats, calculated diaper costs, studied bottle styles..

It's just this romantic, dreamy thing to do. It makes the pregnancy feel real. Just by imagining all this stuff filling your home and how you'll use it.

Today, for the first time since the arrival of Sprout, I've taken a stroll down the baby isles again. Sure, I've made mad dashes for our favorite MAM paci's, but nothing like this. Sprout was ready for some new toys and I thought it might be nice to have a long look-see..

Deep in the labyrinth of Retail's version of necessities, I laughed. I realized that there was no sense in walking the isles, we didn't need or use - any of this stuff. Then Billy said something that was perfect and puts everything into perspective for me..

"You're right. We don't use any of this. We're them holistic kinda parents.."

Eureka! Hello! That is what I've been needing to hear!

Screw the labels. I feel like I've subscribed to a magazine and pasted the cover to my forehead when I use those terms. It would look like it feels - ridiculous.

We are a holistic family. I am a (possibly borderline nazi) holistic mother. What feels natural to me is what I feel is necessary to do. You can break it up into a million different pieces and put it into a gift pack, but I prefer simplicity. Mix up all those labels with a touch of booby juice and you have parenting holism. 

I never expected to be this way. I honestly believed I would do what you're supposed to do - feed baby from a bottle, buy diapers each week, and spend hundreds of dollars on products with questionable safety without giving any of it a second thought. I know when the change first started happening, but that's a different post for a different day. 

People told me through out my pregnancy - "Oh, you'll be surprised at how you'll do things as a parent that you never thought you would." 

Wouldn't you know - they were right. ;)

Whoops..

Last night I poured half a glass of ice cold water on my mostly-asleep-but-nursing Sprout during his midnight snack.

Ice cold water.

OOooooohmahgoodness!

The screaming... the screaming..

The situation was frantic. Screaming, wet, cold, flailing baby who's just been cruelty jolted out of his dreamy state. Soaked bed. Glass of water that is not yet empty. Mama with one helluva cold boob. And a very confused husband who managed to not see what happened..

I suck.

That is all.

Super-cala-breastfeeding-cosleeping-delayed vaxing-cloth diapering-baby wearing-attachment parenting-lactivist!

Super - cala - breastfeeding - cosleeping - delayed vaxing - cloth diapering - baby wearing - attachment parenting - lactivist!

"Holy LABELS, Batman!

She's just like everyone else!"

Did you catch all that? Should I slow it down some?

I am a breastfeeding, cosleeping, delayed/selective vaccinating, cloth diapering, baby wearing, attachment parenting lactivist.

Try saying that three times fast in one breath hanging upside down in Tahiti. 

I'm not uncommon. There are thousands of other Mama's out there just like me. 

Sadly, I don't know any of them in real life. (I take that back - I bought cloth diapers from a lady on Craigslist whom I've been carrying on email conversations with. But does that really count?)

What this creates is a split kind of life. In the interwebs, I am normal. Dare I even say, in a sense, enlightened? Not necessarily enlightened because I choose the alternative route, but enlightened because I know there IS an alternative route.

When I unplug, things change. I'm the odd-girl out.

There are jokes out there about Mommy Wars. The "I am a better Mother than you" complex. Sometimes it's accidental, sometimes it's not. 

To differ from another Mama is, in essence, saying "What I am doing it better than what you are doing." If our choices match up - like two cloth diapering Mama's hanging out - then we agree that cloth is best. We chose that. We believe it to be true.

This is where the title of this blog comes in.

Mommy Trenches. 

I want to use this blog to explore and rejoice in these choices that I have carefully made. 

I want to meet and share with like minded Mama's. 

I hope to maybe enlighten and educate along the way.

I want my friends to better understand why I choose the things I do.

About that whole "Mommy Complex" - 

I've realized that the key to making friendships work with other Mama's is to realize that what is best differs from family to family, child to child. It took some time for me to understand that.

Only a Mama can know what's best for her child. And I know such intelligent, beautiful Mother's that I know they would never do anything less than that. :)

Peace

My last post was also our last evening of colic. 

I've kind of been afraid to write, afraid that I'll break this spell.

I don't know what happened. We woke up the next day and everything was fine.

That day turned into several days.

Several days turned into  a week.

Two weeks later and I feel like our lives have turned around.

Dude - colic sucks.

It's still a little too fresh for me to write about. 

Another day..

Colic & Me

I have a headache.

It's from vodka. 

These days, that's not unusual.

My three month old son has colic.

He cries. And cries. And cries.

It's easy to write off another baby's whining as "just crying"..

But when it's your baby, it's soul shredding.

Somewhere in those hours of crying you come to realize that you are a bad mother.

You are inadequate. You are not enough.

You catch yourself saying things like, "I know you hate me. But maybe if we rock/bounce/stroll/sing/swaddle you'll be happy." 

You'll realize you shouldn't believe your kid hates you, but somewhere in your heart at that very moment you'll believe it anyway and it will hurt. 

I am aware that I'm not a bad mother. I am aware that I am entirely adequate as a mother. But during those moments, my soul is being worn thin, and I can't be aware of anything but that. 

I know that every day there will be several hours of feeling this way.

I know there are somedays where I will feel this way all day, but I do my best not to think about that. 

My chest is covered in scratches from him clawing at me.

He does it because he is in pain.

And when he's in pain, it hurts me on a level that is indescribable. 

So I cope with vodka. 

Every night. 

After he falls asleep for the evening, when I know he won't need to be fed until I'm sober. 

This motherhood thing - it ain't easy.

People tell me, "Oh, gosh. I don't know what I'd do with a colicky baby. I can't stand it when my baby cries even a little."

Heads up - I don't know what to do. I'm just an exhausted mother. I get depressed. I drink. I wake up the next day and do it all over again.

Wash, rinse, repeat. 

It sucks. But it's true.

Mommy Blogging

Starting a new blog is harder than I anticipated.

This isn't MySpace. There isn't some homepage to start from.

I've spent almost three months contemplating this blog. 

I almost didn't. A while ago The New York Times wrote about "Mommy Bloggers".

Those stay-at-home-mom's who selfishly sit on the computer all day while their children run amok, chasing pipe dreams of being writers. Like Motherhood is an illegitimate subject to write about. I think there was something about them also making money, but whatever. 

I really didn't want to fall into the category of a "Mommy Blogger". I don't know why. I don't think I knew why at the time. I just didn't want to.

I have a friend who has moved, quite literally, across the country. There is so much to share and so little time to do it in. It was decided that blogs would be key. 

For the record, I don't care so much about that anymore. I see now that blogging can be a key component of staying sane. You kill two birds with one stone - writing and sharing with friends. 

Hi. I'm April. I'm a Mommy Blogger. 

(I won't lie, it's still kind of weird to me.)

Welcome!

This post can't be too good, because then I'll always have something epic to live up to. 

...and while I am totally capable of being epic, it gets tiring.

So, hi.

This is the Mommy Trenches.

This is my blog.

Where diaper laundry, leaky boobs, mothering controversy, and sleep deprivation abound.

I hope it makes you go "Awwww" and be the cause of the kind of heart melting squishiness that requires a bucket to catch the drips.

I hope sometimes it makes you reconsider preconceived ideas of mothering and societal norms.

Really, I hope you like it.

If you don't, I hope you'll understand that I'm too preoccupied with Mothering to be concerned. 

 :)