Azita is wobbling through life these days. And climbing. Every time I turn around she’s either doing the zombie walk — you know the one where she puts her arms out in front of her and takes very wobbly and jerky steps, as if her legs feel dead — or she’s climbing something. So this is why all that childproofing stuff is necessary. I’m finally getting it. The thing is, no matter how fast I act, she somehow manages to pull things on top of her, run into things, and fall — she’s a master of the faceplant.
Now I know all of you seasoned mothers out there are laughing at me. I know you told me so. I just couldn’t fathom what you meant at the time. Plus, don’t we all think “that” happens to other people, not us? So, here I am, mother to a daughter that is part adorable baby girl and part psycho mountain goat. It’s actually fun. Yes, it is tiring, especially after a very long day in the office, but I love playing with her much more now that she interacts with me in more interesting and active ways.
The problem is that, as I said, this girl is accident-prone. Just like her mom and her aunt. And just like the both of us, she is also always covered in bruises. They are all over her body. She looks like a Dalmatian. Or a victim of abuse. Here’s where the irrational fear kicks in. At least, Roger says it’s irrational, but I am not so sure. What if her daycare providers think she is an abuse victim? Or her pediatrician? Or anyone else who might see her without her clothes on? I can’t say that I wouldn’t think so if I didn’t actually see all the accidents. My sister knows what I’m going through. Her middle son inherited our clumsy ways, and he is a regular at the ER and urgent care. She’s also always afraid that Child Protective Services will come knocking on her door any minute now.
It can’t be an irrational fear if we both think it, right? The thing is that this fear, irrational or not, is leading me to bring up my daughter’s clumsiness in just about every conversation I have. You know, just in case someone notices the plethora of bruises and decides to report me. Maybe I should just make a sign to wear around my neck: “Please Don’t Take My Baby. She did this all herself. I swear.”
zahra, December 8th 2009 |
Tags: abuse, accidents, bruises, Child Protective Services, climbing, crazy, learning to walk
Posted in Parenthood + Childhood
I swear that over the past three days I’ve thought up a minimum of 10 posts that I just had to write. I hope you enjoyed reading them or at least imagining what they were about if I actually wrote them. I really think they would have been superb species of the blog post variety. The issue here isn’t that I got lazy or even had writers block, something I’m really familiar with since I was afflicted with it until T-8 hours before every single paper I ever wrote in college. The reason is much simpler than that. I’m pretty sure I have early onset senile dementia. Seriously.
The symptoms of senile dementia are…Ok I won’t list the symptoms, because I don’t really have any of them. What I have is actually more like imaginary dementia. But I really did forget every single post I sat down to write over the past few days and I mean within minutes of sitting down to write them. As in, I think of something to write about, run to my laptop, sit down, select to add a new post and nothing. My mind becomes blank. I can’t remember anything other than my throbbing head, stuffy nose and achy muscles.
So I guess what I really have is a cold and extreme exhaustion since Azita has also been a bit under the weather, refusing to eat, and therefore waking up constantly during the night to complain of her hungry tummy and to cough up a lung. Also, Roger just interrupted me to give one of his spiels that he finds oh so adorable where he incessantly asks me questions one after another to give me a preview of what Azita’s toddler years will be like and then doesn’t take the hint that I really just want him to shut up already. Sheesh. Now I can’t remember what I was going to write next.
I probably should go to bed now, especially since I have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn tomorrow to vote and workout before work and Azita will likely be up and starving for some milk since she again refused to eat much of anything today. But, actually I can’t remember what the but is, but it really was something.
All this is to say that I’m sorry for rambling. I’m just trying to cover up the fact that I forgot what I was going to write about, and I can’t remember the previously-written paragraph of this post let alone the first sentence. So, yes, I have no idea where I’m coming from or where I’m going to and therefore cannot be expected to write anything intelligible in between.
Now I really will go to bed and hope that when I wake up in the morning I will actually remember what I’ve wanted to share with the world these past few foggy days. Copious amounts of coffee will surely help with that. I’m winking at you now, Roger.
zahra, November 2nd 2009 |
Tags: azita, crazy, exhaustion, illness
Posted in Uncategorizable Ramblings
I have to say that I am not a big fan of cleaning. There are some parts that I like, namely vacuuming and bleaching bathroom surfaces until they are completely devoid of germs and any color (I like a sterile, white bathroom. Wonder what Freud would say about that?). Mostly though, I generally postpone housework as long as possible in the hopes that someone else (read “Roger”) will take care of it. When I was pregnant, I kept waiting for that nesting phase to kick in, and it never did. Not with respects to our home, at least. It kind of did with my job — I spent the entire night before my last-minute c-section clearing out my work inbox, responding to all messages, and setting up auto-responses for anything that could possibly automatically respond to people. In the past couple weeks, however, almost 9 months after I gave birth I appear to have finally started nesting. I am suddenly consumed with cleaning and organizing. I am obsessed. Wasn’t this supposed to happen when I was actually still pregnant? Yet another sign that I really am not quite right in the head.
zahra, September 22nd 2009 |
Tags: cleaning, crazy, home, nesting, pregnancy
Posted in Parenthood + Childhood
I’m a paranoid person. I mean really paranoid. Let’s say I say hello to a coworker and the coworker doesn’t respond. Most people would think “Oh, {insert person’s name here} didn’t hear me.” That would be the logical thing to think and probably the most likely explanation for said event. I know this, because I am generally a very logical person. In spite of this, my thought process in this situation would go something like this:
Hmmm. Why didn’t person A respond to my hello? Maybe person A is mad at me? What did I do to make person A mad at me? Or maybe person A just never liked me and was only being civil to me because person A needed me to complete task 1. Is it because I’m obnoxious? Oh wait, I bet it’s because I said I didn’t like that fruit flavored gum 3 weeks ago when person A offered me a piece. Or maybe I smell bad? Oh no. Please tell me I don’t smell like a sewer. Who can I ask if I smell like a sewer and get the truth but not totally embarrass myself? Oh wait, I know what it is. I’m totally getting fired this afternoon and my boss must have told person A that I’m getting fired, and now person A is trying to ignore me to avoid an awkward situation. Oh crap. How much money do I have in savings? How long will that cover the mortgage if I can’t find another job for a while? Is my resume up-to-date? I’m going to update my resume right now and start emailing people tonight to see if they know of any open positions. What should I tell people when they ask me in the interview about why I left my last position? I can’t say I was fired, right? Can I? I need to find out from someone how to answer that question. What if I don’t have money to buy Azita food or diapers? I can’t believe this is happening to me. I’m such a failure. I have no job and my baby is starving and pooping all over the floor.
Seriously. All of that and usually more (that’s the abridged version) is a typical response I might have to a simple human interaction. WTF, people? This is not natural. I know it. I’m about a quarter of a step away from needing a tin foil hat. I blame my mom for this behavior. She is the one who told my sister and me that no one was really our friend or really liked us, people are always trying to take advantage of us, and books are our only friends. I kid you not. Books are our only friends. How’s that for childhood crazy?
Luckily I’m pretty handy with tin foil. And, Roger’s pretty good at talking me down from just about any ledge. Also, thanks to Roger, I now have a Kindle. That means I can carry hundreds of friends around with me no matter where I go. Take that, Verizon network.
zahra, September 15th 2009 |
Tags: anxiety, childhood trauma, crazy, humor, interpersonal relationships, Kindle, marriage, zahra
Posted in Family + Friends
