I’m so sorry for the radio silence. I have really good reasons for it. I’m going to list them in numerical form and call it Quick Takes. Clever, right?
We had house guests. My brother-in-law and his wife came for a visit with my two adorable nieces and we had a wonderful time.
Lincoln got baptized. That was the occasion for the visit, since they are Lincoln’s godparents. The whole day after he was baptized he was so quiet and slept well and was basically a little angel, so his godmother and I had high hopes that he was only Angrypants McAngryface because he was a pagan. Alas, he awoke the next day in a reign of anger and rage that has increased exponentially since then. He seems to have taken a clue from Charlotte, who (when it was explained to her that she was baptized as a baby) began screaming, “I don’t want to be baptizen!” and crying hysterically. I said, “But Charlotte, being baptized made you God’s child.” Charlotte screamed, “But I don’t want to be God’s!” and then cried for an hour.
I have a touch of PPD. Not too bad, not bad enough for medication, but bad enough that I feel blah and I don’t want to blog or facebook or do anything except curl up into an unshowered mess in a comfortable chair and feel sorry for myself. Unfortunately I have four kids, and Angry Baby Lincoln refuses to let me feel sorry for myself for very long.
Normally PPD involved me feeling sorry for myself for no reason whatsoever. This time I actually have a few legit reasons to feel sorry for myself, though. Lincoln seems to be a bad luck baby. Since he was born I have had a streak of bad luck to rival poor Sam’s in “Bad Day at Black Rock”. (That’s a Supernatural reference, in case anyone besides Leah reads this post.)
First, my teeth went to hell. I have “pregnancy gingivitis” and about $3000 worth of dental work to do. I have to split it up between this year and next, since my insurance only covers $1200 a year. It’s lame, and my teeth hurt. Also, I fractured my hand on Halloween. Yay. I have an appointment on Monday with a hand specialist, who may or may not put me in a cast. And of course it’s my right hand. I’m going to beg for no cast unless it’s absolutely necessary, because how am I going to type/do dishes/braid hair/live with my right hand in a cast?
Oh yeah, and the fractured hand is also one of the reasons I haven’t been posting. My hand hurts, and it’s swollen and purple, and it seriously is not fun to type. But I love you, so I’m typing anyway. Please forgive all typos. Or take a hint from Allie Brosh and feel sorry for me.
But the #1 reason I haven’t been posting is all Melanie‘s fault. She sent me two books, which arrived after literally one of the worst days I’ve ever had, and one of them, Tigana, is the best book I’ve ever read. So good that I’m reading it again. I love it. I love Melanie. She’s the best. If anyone else wants to send me unsolicited but enormously appreciated reading material, I will love you too, and mention how much I love you on my blog. I promise.
But I probably won’t love you as much as I love Melanie, because Tigana is seriously amazing. If anyone can top that book, I will be impressed.
I’ll try to be back soon with a happier blog post, but if people keep posting “why I’m grateful” status updates for all of November on facebook I’ll probably just be back with another whiney post about why that game irritates the living hell out of me. (Hint: it’s for no good reason whatsoever. I guess I just don’t like gratitude. That is totally unrelated to the PPD, though. That game irritated me last year too. So I guess the point it, I’m grumpy even when I’m not postpartum.)
Go see Jen for happier quick takes. On orders of Black Widow.
And Captain America and Wonder Woman.