Lonely doesn't mean alone

I forget that I should never whine about loneliness or a lack of friends. Even though I might feel that weight bearing down on me from time to time, to voice those feelings (and indeed, they are just feelings and not necessarily reality) only plays injustice to those who are here for me.

In whining about how much I miss my friends who live here in this box with me, I also ignore the fact that this box keeps me in closer contact with people who have been in my life practically forever. Including, but not limited to Susan and even my momma. Sure, I give my momma a hard time when I find out life changing information on her Facebook page, but really, I'm quite glad that she has a presence on the internet. It gives us a chance to be in each other's daily lives.

There are new friends for new developments in life. That happened after my divorce, after I remarried, and certainly after I became a mama. I have friends here in town from my La Leche League group who I would shave my eyebrows for or even consider giving up Diet Coke for. Well, at least the eyebrows part.

I guess I just have a hard time with the change in climate of friendships. It's not surprising. I have a hard time with change in general. Especially change that is incremental. Rather than riding out whatever storm or hard times there are with people, I tend to just detonate the relationship and walk away from the wreckage.

Now. Aren't you glad you're getting to know me? Doesn't that sound lovely?

All this to say - lonely doesn't mean alone. There are some wonderful people in my life. Lonely means that I isolated myself for a time and needed a kick in the pants to get back up again. I'm getting back up again. Next week.

So expect a phone call or a text or Facebook message. There are too many people who are here in the flesh or wherever they are in the flesh for me to sit around being lonely.

I know these things. Sometimes I just need a good whine.

Lonely real life

I didn't expect to make friends on the internet. Certainly not ones that I would travel to visit or that would take a weekend to come see me. I didn't expect to make friends that I would miss or that I would long to live closer to so that we could hang together in the flesh.

But I have.

Lately, and maybe it's the hormones to some extent, a lot of my in the flesh people have been letting me down. Granted, I've been told I hold people to unfair high expectations, but I can honestly say that the Zoloft has been helping that. Still, I just can't count on some of the friends I once could count on and that hurts.

But, in my new found quest not to be crazy these past months, I've found a way to still love my friends for who they are and not necessarily what they are to me at the current moment. It's hard, but I think it will be good in the long run.

Today though, I'm missing people that I only get to interact with online. All my mamas on the board especially - I wish that we could have a playdate, get some coffee, go shopping, or just take a walk. Liz L., who I wish I could learn to be a doula with - I think we would make a great team. Patricia, who I recently reconnected with on Facebook and just got to see for a moment in April. All these people make my life richer, and a little lonely at times too, because they are far away.

It's just one of those lonely days. Especially when compared with Monday. Pardon my pity party. It will be over soon, I promise. How can it not be when this is what I get to see everyday:















Happy babies make great SSRI's.

Today

I've been on maternity leave. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

It's hard to get back in the habit of writing when you slump off like I have. I still have blog brain. You know, when you walk through the grocery store checking items off your list while simultaneously thinking about which of the carts you are passing would make for good blog fodder. I still have blog brain.

There are too many things going on right now that I just can't blog about yet. When something is holding me back a little, I have a hard time saying anything at all. But I'm going to try. I'm missing out on chronicling some of the best times of my life - watching my boys grow up.

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Today, I had changed both of the boys' diapers. I had stepped out of the room to wash my hands when Bird tripped over a bag of dry cleaning. He wasn't hurt, but he was whining for me to come help him. He was still whining when one of Squeak's shoes came off.

Bird got up by himself, picked up the shoe, and declared, "Oh no! Colin's shoe!" He brought me the shoe, insured that I put it back on his little brother properly, and then he went back to the bag of dry cleaning. He repositioned himself over it, as if he had fallen again, and started back in with, "Mama, help! Help, Mama!"

Snort.

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Today, I took the boys to a Durham Bulls game with Abby and Linus. We had great seats (once Abby convinced me to move into the shade), and Linus was kind enough to share his Matchbox cars.

There was arguments over Wool E. Bull being a cow. There was popcorn. There was hand holding and running through the grass. Squeak fell asleep by the fifth inning. The Bulls lost, and I think they need some new pitching, but we still had a great time.

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Today, I took the boys on a walk with my friend and doula, Julie. Her boys, my boys, a couple of strollers, and a bicycle defied the rain back into the sky and took our walk with just a few sprinkles. The Greenway in Raleigh is one of my favorite places to be, and walking it with a friend is the best way to be there.

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So you see, we are busy. There are stories to tell. I want to get back here telling them. Maternity leave is officially over.

My love

Your eyes are navy blue. They captivate me.

Your ears poke out like my father's. Currently, you also share a hairstyle with him. I think you will grow out of that.

Your mouth has learned to smile and laugh naturally. You started laughing at your daddy yesterday and couldn't stop. You laughed until you gave yourself the hiccups.

That is one thing that I love about this house. More often than not, it is full of laughter. Granted, that means that your daddy and I are terribly silly people, but I think it might be a fun way to grow up.

Tonight, you took a bath with your brother. At first he was scolding you for kicking and splashing, but when you just smiled at his reprimand, he gave up and started washing your feet. He can be surprisingly sweet to you. Whenever someone asks him about his little brother, his standard reply is, "Colin. So cute."

You still sleep with us. Partly because there isn't anywhere else for you to sleep yet, and partly because you are so snuggly. You spoon perfectly, wake up to nurse a couple of times, and go right back to sleep. Usually. Occasionally, you want to stay awake and smile at me. If I have to stay awake in the middle of the night or wee hours of the morning, I have to say, I don't mind staring at your beautiful smile.

There is only one small complaint I have, and that is your hatred of the stroller. I love your stroller. You have a little hide-away compartment, and your brother sits in the jump seat above you. And. You. Hate. It. Unless you are asleep, you scream. Even when you are asleep, you usually wake up and then scream. Our long walks designed to help me burn this baby fat before you enter the first grade? Are torture for both of us. I would wear you, but you seem to hate that too. You just want to ride up on my shoulder and be able to look around at the world, cheek to cheek with me. It's a lovely feeling, cheek to cheek, but dang. You are heavy. I tell myself that I'm just working my arm muscles. Walking, pushing the stroller, and carrying you. Ridiculous.

You have such a sweet nature. Easy going. You like to be at home and nurse on your Boppy. As much as I don't mind nursing you anywhere, anytime, and here you are, just wanting your comfortable football hold where you and I can just gaze at each other. I have to admit, I like it too.

Today, you and your brother nursed together. We don't do that often, but today, you each latched on, and you stared at him. You hadn't ever noticed him before - even when he would stroke your head while you nursed together. But today, you and he locked eyes and I felt the urge to stop tandem nursing fall away again.

You are a big boy, you know. Not even three months old and you are already wearing 6 month and up clothes. I spent yesterday packing away two full boxes of clothes that you have already outgrown. I'm not sure what I will do with them yet.

I know that I will miss these tiny baby days. I feel them slipping away. But I have to say, I'm really looking forward to the things we will get to do when you can crawl and walk and run and talk and play and all of the amazing learning you have already started to do.

I'm going to try and write more. There is so much to say about you and your brother. I'm just not willing to do it at the expense of staring into those captivating navy blue eyes. You are my love.

Another battle in the war

I hate cancer.

That's a really stupid thing to say. It implies that maybe someone out there doesn't hate it.

Momma's numbers are down and her scans show improvement. Not enough to get a break from chemo, but improvement nonetheless.

My friend Susan, however, did not have clean scans and is facing another battle.

The thing that makes me so angry is not the cancer itself. It's the freaking inconvenience. Susan has things to do. Great things because she is a freaking genius. Great things because she is an awesome mom. Great things that the world will have to wait on because of cancer.

We're brushing off our Team Whymommy badges. We're remembering when the wall of support started. We're lifting prayers and positive energy.

Keep fighting, SuSu. It's worth it. You make the world a better place.