a vent

Coming off a few days of Hell....

"You must have your hands full"

I hear that a lot.  And I always laugh and say "yes I do".  And while I love my daughters (and my son), I do need to vent for a bit.

We had the evening from Hell the other night.  My grandfather was in town and thus we all wanted to get together to spend some quality family time.  It was decided the best time to do so was Saturday night, for a dinner out.  My mother wanted to go to where my BIL was working as a restaurant manager:  the restaurant has a 'tiki bar' during the summer on a pond they have on the property.

I was not a fan of this plan.  The timing was bad, it was over an hour away, and it was going to screw up my pumping schedule as well as the girls' sleeping schedule.  Not to mention that there was going to be nothing for us to eat since we keep kosher.  But I was outvoted and against my (and my husband's) better judgement, we agreed.

It was a disaster.  I won't go into that much detail, but suffice it to say that as soon as Meorah woke up from the car ride, she took one look at all the faces, heard the loud noise from the band/people and started screaming.

And didn't stop for over an hour.

That hour was spent with Jason or myself trying to calm her down while everyone else had a good time. It wasn't until about half-way through that people started offering to help.  For that first half hour, Jason and I just separated ourselves away while everyone else was having a great time and we were left to deal with two screaming babies (Tzelia likes to sympathy cry, so once Meorah starts she'll get into it as well). Finally people started to offer to help and allowed us to actually eat something (another rant I won't get into...lack of food...what's the point in inviting someone out to dinner when you know they can't eat anything there?  Would you ask a vegetarian to a steakhouse?) but I found it disheartening how people love to offer to help, but when it comes down to it, people just like happy babies.  Everyone is willing to help and hold or feed a happy baby.  When the going gets tough, people start to scatter.  Jason and I used to look forward to family get togethers, but not so much anymore...we know it will end with the two of us dealing with an unhappy baby up past her bedtime, while everyone else is having fun and conversations... Eating will be in two minutes caught in between trying to keep two babies calm and Zev occupied.  Misery.  More stress than fun.

Granted towards the end people helped.   My dad was good at taking Meorah for a bit while Jason tried to eat something (really bad pizza, pie, and cornbread.  Fantastic).  And my grandfather kept Zev occupied.  But why did it take half an hour of screaming before anyone noticed how miserable we were?

The only good thing that came out of the hour of torture:  evidence that it was unrealistic to expect us to be able to do this.  Why make the people with the most hardship travel the furthest and go through the most difficulty?  And my the worst part?  My grandfather's comment to Jason at the end: "We could have come out to you".

Sigh.  What hurts me the most is that my grandfather didn't get a chance to really meet my daughters.  They were too upset the entire time.  And I felt bad for them:  all they wanted to do was go to sleep.  They didn't want to be forced out of the house in a loud environment around strange people, noises, and smells.

Zev at least had a good time.  And that was the rationale of meeting there:  there was a nice little play area for him.  But unfortunately it was a bad idea for the other four members of his immediate family.  We decided:  never again.  Dinners out with extended family are no longer an option for us unless it is VERY local.

Life is hard.  Last night Meorah decided to get up every 2 hours for no real reason.  So this vent is coming off of a few days of hell.

As a totally unrelated note, I had a surgery consult yesterday and will follow up on that in another post.

I'm sick of babies.

just a few pictures

Its a little blurry, but finally we have another picture of all five of us.  This was at Fathers Day brunch.  It was a nice morning out with my parents, my sister, her husband, and my nephew.

My sister, her husband, and Meorah.  I think Meorah looks a lot like Julia:  they have the same color eyes and shape of the face.

Not taken that day, but I really like this picture:

Lots of stuff going on, but going to save it for another post.  Money issues...yet again.  Another financial hit.  Sigh.  Sometimes I wish I weren't an adult....

6 months and counting

Six months.  The girls are six months old.  I've been pumping for six months, which was my first goal.

Pictures from the last few weeks:

At the girls' naming

Meorah with her typical 'WTF' expression

After the naming party

A happy moment...gotta capture these when we get them

In all, things are going well.  Nicole is off (still no baby in sight, though!!) and Meredith is now our nanny.  She'll continue for the rest of the summer.  So far she hasn't run screaming, although I know she is exhausted at the end of the day.  But as she told me yesterday:  she can deal with being tired for a summer.  She's making a lot more $$ working for me than she did for her previous mommy.  She's definitely earning it, though.

The girls are doing great.  They're around 11-12 lbs and have their 6 month appointment tomorrow.  I made my initial six month goal of breastfeeding/pumping, and have extended it for another three months.  While I don't particularly like pumping, I hate (hate hate hate hate hate hate) formula.  Not that I think its bad for the girls (I don't), but I think its disgusting.  Blech.  I hate working with it, I hate the smell, and I think its just revolting.  The longer I can put off formula 24/7, the better.  We're in the middle of an insurance issue with the formula (which I'll save for another post....I'll have to vent AGAIN about insurance companies), but I'd rather deal with the pumping than deal with formula.  Even if it means bitching to BCBS for another month.

Still loving the cloth diapers.  Oh how I wish I had done this with Zev...

Zev is now getting out more, which I like.  She takes them all out for walks and is exploring other places to go.  It helps that the weather is getting nicer.  He is starting to get a bit more territorial...when I get home and say 'hello' to the girls, he yells at me:  "No!  No hello!!" and will sometimes block me from going over to them.  Its rather cute, actually.  He's had a lot of transitions and has weathered them so well.  If this is the worst that he gets, I'll take it.

As for me, eh.  Work is very busy.  I'm (finally) seeing a GI specialist tomorrow.  It took three months to see him, and its rather annoying that now that I have an appointment with him, my reflux seems to be under control.  But then, its under control because I'm taking the Rantidine 2x/day.  And, it will be helpful to have a specialist looking after me.  So I kept the appointment.  I'd rather not have to be on meds forever, and I'll need someone to monitor my care.

I'm actually seeing another doctor for something else as well, but will save that for another post since its rather a big deal and would rather not ramble on and on here.  So I'll update that either today or tomorrow...

Oh and to add to the drama:  our backyard after the big storm that blew through here this weekend:

Nice, huh?  Happened after our party.  Our wonderful neighbors were nice enough to help cut up the branch after Jason managed to get it down so we can eventually remove it.  Trees were fallen all over Boston with the massive winds that came through.  We're just lucky it didn't hit the house or during the party and hit a child...