No other word for it: stressed

I've started this post about a dozen times in recent weeks. It never reads right so I just trash it and tell myself to forget about it. But I can't. I'm not even sure where to start but here it goes.

I never liked February and March that much. Even as a child, I never faired well in the stretch between Christmas and Easter, two important holidays in our home and at my school.

Easter, being the biggest holiday, represented a rebirth, not only in the Catholic sense but of my strength and ability to cope with the everyday stressors. The school term, while thankfully short, was the hardest for me and participating in extra-curricular and social activities became incredible sources of stress.

I'd count the days (with the help of Lent) and set small goals to feel more accomplished thus relieving some of the weight this big black cloud of stress created for me. Sometimes it would be a simple goal like going out with friends on the weekend instead of making excuses, other times lofty, like kicking butt on a midterm exam.

I also hoped I would grow out of this annual funk and learn how to be a less tense and stressed-out adult.

No such luck.

As an adult the seasonal slump persisted and I would still set the goals. Being single and employed, these goals were much more rewarding and successful. I would plan trips to warm locations (sunshine - the cure-all!) or weekend trips with the girlfriends (misery loves company, alcohol and chocolate!). I would space them out so I wouldn't have any lag time and most years I would survive without too much of a funk. My friends understood and I actually wasn't alone in this quasi-SAD.

Then came motherhood. Last year was my first Winter as a mom and I foolishly thought that having a sweet babe in my arms would prevent my malaise. What the fuck was I thinking? Obviously not much. I definitely was in the throws of mild PPD and once again I had to get my head out of my ass and set goals. I signed up for a parenting class that was a block away (had to be close by because I otherwise would not go) and forced myself to go. It was a miracle that (a) it was so close to home and (b) starting just as I was bottoming out.

It helped but I didn't relate to many of the other moms. They were already in little cliques and while I did make a good neighbourhood mom friend, most of the ladies were not my cup of tea. But something new was going to help me over this hump.

SB rigged up one of the computers so it was by my nursing chair where it seemed I spent 95% of the day. He bought a tracking ball to replace the mouse because he had come home one too many times to find me in tears, stuck underneath a sleeping baby and unable to surf without waking the "I will not sleep unless conditions are perfect" child. I surfed for hours at a time (there is only so much TV one person can watch) and the web became my new hangout.

One day, with a rare free hand, I googled craft sites. I was looking for a new project and I wanted to be doing something productive and creative. What I found was something completely different but utterly the same: parent blogs.

Woah. I found parents talking boobs, poop, babies, frustrations, careers, and all the same freakin' stuff I was thinking and wanting to talk about. Some thought like me, others didn't but I liked reading their opinions. I found advice (without being annoyed), I found cute photos and thought provoking posts. I found solace.

Eventually I got up the nerve to start my own blog and I started talking too. I found friends and made friends IRL that knew me through my posts and still wanted to hang out. I laughed and cried and started thinking like a functioning adult again.

It helped me get over that annual hump and now I had a safe outlet for my thoughts.

But things changed. Not only am I going through my selfish (in my mind) phase of depressed seasonal crap, I'm also stressed out to the gills over other "stuff". Personal stuff. Stuff I want to talk about and can't. And I can't even explain why I can't talk about it without causing more stress.

And I really can't take any more stressful crap.

I cry in the shower. I get lost in thought. I've tried to find a new outlet. And I can't. It makes me so stressed that I can't write about this stuff.

I should just go to one of the wonderful anonymous blogs and post my crap but it makes me angry (yes, angry) that I can't do it in my own forum. It makes me more angry that I can't talk about why.

SB tells me to forget about it and just write but it's not that simple. I can't change the way I feel.

I hope by writing this incoherent and inconclusive outburst, I might feel better. I'm sick of snapping at strangers, feeling blue* and I've got to get rid of that crushing, near-hyperventilating feeling in my chest. I don't want to feel this way but I need to scream out. And I can't.

Please let this garbled post help, even just a little bit. I just need a break from that big black stinkin' cloud that is hanging over my head.

* I hate using that word to describe how I feel. It's so fluffy and trivial sounding. See? I'm so freaking cranky that the words I'm using are pissing me off.

This post is brought to you by the number two

What were you doing a year ago today?

A year ago, we took Bump out for a family outing because the weather was nice and cooperative. Doesn't she look cute with her little red horned hat?
That double chin of mine was almost gone. Those sixty pounds were really hard to lose but that is so last year to talk about. I'm a toddler mom now, I talk about language development and when to potty train.

What were you doing two years ago today?

Two years ago, we feasted on this delicious lemon mango wedding cake with grape vines made of chocolate, fresh berries and a white chocolate ruffle painted with real gold.
We also ate other wonderful things but the cake, oh that cake. I remember Chef Don calling me the day before and he was panicking. The real grapes tasted sour and he had promised me a cake draped in grapes and berries. He said he could make vines with chocolate and make berries look like grapes. I said it sounded divine. He said I was the most laid-back bride he had ever met.

It's true, I was completely chilled because everything was perfect. This cake was for the day that I was marrying the man I love. I love cake and I love SB, what more could a woman want?

How could I not love a man who will wear the same hairstyle as our daughter to encourage her to stop ripping out the elastics?
This keyboard can never convey the emotions I feel for him. I love you so much SB that I tear up just typing those words.

Happy Anniversary SB, I love you THIS much.

xoxo,
Motherbumper

Like you didn't already know I'm weird...

So about 50,000 years ago E of E and Me, a fellow good-looking gaming nerd (can I call you that E? Because I just did), tagged me for a meme. This meme has made the rounds so many times in the 'sphere that I'm sure that everyone has done it at least twice. And because I've been in my usual winter funk (more on that in another post) I didn't do it. I meant to but nothing happened because .... well just because I'm seasonally challenged.

I swear that all the posts that I have done since the end of November were pure chance because I'm prone to hibernating this time of year. Seriously, if I could bundle up Bumper and crawl into a cave to sleep for a few months, I would do it in a heartbeat. I wouldn't even bring the Wii, that's how serious I am about doing nothing.

But I came here to meme not write about my sunless disposition... so on with the meme.

You want to know some weird things about moi? No? Well why are you doing reading this? Did I mention I'm more cranky at this time of year also? No? Well you probably could have guessed it.

Anyhow, here are Six Weird Things About MotherBumper:

(1) Any time I pick up a cup, mug or glass I have to check it for spiders. It doesn't matter if it is a self-serve wine station at a fancy 'do, pour your own soda pop at fast-food places or schlepping coffee in my own kitchen, I must check for spiders because twice (not once) I have found big hairy spiders in my mug before pouring a drink. And I hate spiders. I really fucking hate spiders.

I can never shake the feeling I had when finding one of those fuckers in my mug. So every time I go to the cupboard, I pick up the cup and quickly glance inside, ready to throw it across the room in a microsecond. Because you never know when one of those lil' shits will be hiding in there.

(2) I'm a compulsive route and task planner. I cannot get in the car or go out walking without knowing exactly where I am headed and how I am going to execute the task(s). I have a horrid time wandering aimlessly and shopping without purpose. Even if I'm just going to the grocery store, I must envision what route I am taking to get there, what aisles I'm going to visit and what order the food will go in my cart.

I am not paralysed or confused if I cannot do things they way I planned BUT I generally cannot get out the door unless I have reviewed this plan in my head. When joining a new course for Bumper, I try to visit and plan the route/routine before the start so I can be relaxed on route. Because we all know how stressful doing anything with toddlers can be and you can only imagine what it's like with that ol' neurosis of mine.

(3) I love to read books but unless a book was life-changing (for me, not Oprah) I rarely remember the plots or details. It's embarrassing but I've learned to live with it without looking too stupid. If someone asks me if I've read a particular book, I usually just say no because it's easier than trying to have a conversation about a book where the only thing I remember is if I have read and liked it. Most of the time I retain the details and plot for a few weeks and then poof! all details have been filed away in one of my brain's cabinets, never to be retrieved again. This weird thing actually pisses me off.

(4) I don't appear to be looking people directly in the eye when engaged in conversation. Meaning, when I'm talking to a person, I appear to not be looking into their eyes but instead over their shoulder. But I am looking into the persons eyes directly, yet because of a strange wall-eye thing that is barely detectable, I appear to be looking behind them.

I can't tell you how many times people have suddenly turned around to check what I'm staring at, to find nothing. I'm so used to it now, that I explain it as soon as I see that "what is she looking at?" look in their eyes. Years ago, I had a manager get pissed with me because he thought I was being rude by looking over his shoulder all the time. I explained why and he was very embarrassed that he had focused on my (one and only - ha!) physical "flaw". I milked that guilt as long as I could.

(5) When I find a food item I like, I crave and eat it all the time until I'm basically sick of it. I'm not sure why I do this and it drives my husband mad. Oh well, he didn't marry me for my food skills. Recently I've been on a spinach salad and Italian meatball craze. Mmmmm... meatballs and spinach... drool...

(6) I was a standardized patient. Did you ever see that episode of Seinfeld where Kramer acts out illnesses for med students with his friend Mickey? For years I was a "standardized patient" for a med school and a national physician college. I got paid good money to play sick and it was so much fun. It was also really hard work because I need to understand all aspects of my "illness" and symptoms (as not to lead the student astray) and also how to react if they performed treatment.

For instance, I once played a bad-habit diabetic who came to the ER with a laundry list of complaints. Depending on what treatment the student administered, I either slipped into a coma or instantly became coherent. I slipped into a coma too many times to be acceptable in my mind. I also found it flattering that I could play a pregnant teenager into my late twenties. Actually, I could write a huge post about some of my experiences doing this so I'll stop here. Suffice to say it was fun and great money.

So there you have it, some weird things about a freak like me. I'm not tagging anyone because I'm pretty darn sure everyone except for the the Prime Minister has done this meme. And who knows, maybe he has done it, I just don't read his blog.

weeeeeeeee! Opps, I mean Wii!

I saw an adult in a snowsuit yesterday. Not a skidoo suit but a bright purple and teal snowsuit. And she appeared sane. Not to say that an adult in a snowsuit, sans skidoo, would be insane. But when this person is on the subway in a major urban area, the outfit might be branded as "overkill".

Yes it did snow recently but really, does 10 cm of snow call for a snowsuit? I'm just saying.

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Anyhow, moving right along. A service announcement: I've decided to rename husband "sb" because I'm too lazy to type out husband all the time. Sb is much more manageable for my lazy digits. Sb is my private name for him and no I'm not telling you what it means.

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So sb and I finally got our Wii. We have been trying to get one of these things since Christmas time and my diligent stalking visits to the local electronics store finally paid off.

I could barely believe it when the woman said she was going to the stock room to get the last one for me. I figured she would come back and say sorry we are sold out, because I have heard that approximately 45,000 times since December.

Actually, at one point in January the store had put up a handwritten sign in the Nintendo section that said "Don't bother our employees about the Wii - we are sold out". I told them it was a rude sign, completely against the core principals of customer service and they agreed. As a former retail muse I found the notice incredibly offensive and punished them by being that annoying (but not rude) customer. Good times.

Back to the day I actually managed to purchase a Wii:

So after asking the customer service lady 6000 pointless questions and making them explain their extended warranty without any intention of purchasing said warranty, I left giggly with my - whoops - our new gaming console. Yes folks, I'm an annoying customer BUT only when my buttons are pushed. Poor kids, I guess they don't really deserve it but it's payback for all my years of dealing with yee-haws like me.

Anyhow, the Wii is truly amazing. End of story.

Okay, I'll say more:

It's a workout in a box. I'm addicted to bowling. It's like having an alley in the living room. No seriously, it is. You hold the "ball" up, swing and lunge to the release. WICKED for the quads. Really, it is. I started with a score in the 120's and managed a 194 by the end of the night (10 pin bowling). It's like being at the alley but no Lysoled shoes to wear or bad draught beer. Sweet.

Watching sb play baseball is amazing. He has a wicked arm IRL so it's cool to witness. We haven't even cracked open Zelda yet because the included Sports package is so much fun. And while I haven't seen golf, the tennis and boxing games are also total work-outs (you sweat!). We seriously need another controller (hard to find for purchase right now) so we can bring out that wonderful competitive nature we admire in each other.

I love the fact that it's backwards compatible with all my Game Cube games. We also can surf the net from our TV. Watching sites like YouTube and reading blogs on the big screen is fantastic. Score one huge one for Nintendo.

I just read what I typed and now I just have to say:

I AM SUCH A NERD!

When puppets attack... for LOVE!

I never told you but when we got back from our last trip out East, there was a wee package waiting for us at home. One of those little boxes that looked like it holding something wonderful. This package did not fail that expectation.

Inside, nestled in some beee-u-tiful confetti tissue paper was a creature - a felt-fleshed critter who begged to be brought to life. This unstrung pinocchio was quickly animated once freed from the confines of the box.

Unnamed creature: Pleased to meet you, I need a name

Unnamed creature: You look delicious
Bumper: So do you!

Unnamed creature: You are delicious!
Bumper: gahhhh!

I have never met a more beautiful puppet. And I'm torn as to what to name this little pup. I'm currently fielding name suggestions from YOU! Please leave us your ideas in the comments.

We really need your help because Gahhhh! is just not a worthy name for this critter.

This unnamed beauty is a creation of Andi from Mystic Spiral Studio and I bid on it during Her Bad Auction. Andi also has beautiful jewellery that I've been drooling over since finding her Etsy site.

Please help us name him (her?).

Seriously folks, how does one tell the sex of a puppet? It's hard to tell even when I've got my hand up it's wahoo.

No puppets or bumpers were harmed in the writing of this post.

sweet sixteen

Bumper is sixteen months old.

Over the past month I've watched her blossom into a great communicator. Which I think is pretty amazing since she only has a couple of words.

"Mama!" means me or get that woman or I want this. "Da" means Dad or what's that? "Eeeeee!" means cat. "Ahhhhg!" means sippy cup. "No no no no" with a vigorous head shake means no. She has us well trained to her lingo.

She understands complex requests like get a book off the shelf & bring it to me, pick up the wrapper & put it in the garbage, or let go of the cat & back away slowly.

She listens and sometimes I catch her thoughtful stare where she appears to be figuring things out. She concentrates so much more, no longer giving up in frustration at the first obstacle. Mind you she does has the same short fuse that both her parents possess. You can almost hear her say "CRAP" when things don't work out her way.

I could go on about this for days but I'll spare you the details. I just wanted to share my awe.

Assorted explosions - none involving poop

I can't tell you how sad and confused it makes me feel seeing a Wendy's commercial selling me baked potatoes and chili using the Violent Femmes Blister in the Sun. Isn't that a crime somehow? Damn those ad execs and their attempts at being cool. It's not working.

Wait.

It worked. I want Wendy's now.

Next thing they will be using The Divinyls Touch Myself and Cindi Lauper's She Bop to sell me their sandwiches. Then Wendy's will have one large sticky mess on their hands (or floors). They can't say I didn't warn them of this.

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We just got back from swimming and I can't tell you how happy it makes me to be back into the swing of things after last week's suckage of health. Bumper is probably the happiest of the bunch because she was getting sick of seeing my mug all.day.long.

She craved other kids and our first outing was this past Saturday - a playdate with Wonderbaby. I'm surprized she didn't explode upon arrival. Yesterday was boring old appointments so that was no fun.

Today we had swimming. And I believe because it was another windchill of -25 outside, all the other parents and kids, save one, stayed home. A class with two little ones is an excellent group size (says the introvert). We did everything they wanted to do and thankfully the rec centre cranked up the heat so the little ladies were nice and warm. Now Bumper is sleeping hardcore after all the kicking, sliding and jumping into the pool. Good times.

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I cringe everytime I read a story about Super Tonio. His mom is amazing and hopefully has strong biceps. Fourteen and half pounds. Good gravy.

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So any parents out there have advice on how to keep ponytail bands in a toddlers hair? One that doesn't involve duct tape, a staple gun or the like?

Check her out, she looks so darn cute yet she rips the bands out the minute I let go of her arms.

And holding her arms by her sides is not an option. That would mean I couldn't hold my beer.

Proof that Monday sucks (and I talk about the boring ol' weather)

In order to confirm any suspicions you may have about my nerdiness, I will drive it home by saying the following:

This morning I'm pretty darn sure we woke up on Hoth. Yup, it looks like I'm going to need to slice open a stinkin' tauntaun to keep warm and I'm pretty sure I saw a wampa wandering the parking lot looking for a meal (hey, the lady in 118 looks meaty). Heads up to any Star Wars fans who accidentally tripped upon this site, this is a parenting site (most of the time) so move right along (or stay if you want, feel the love and eat some cookies).

If we could stay in all day, we would, but noooooooo today is the day we have an appointment that we were wait-listed for the past 16 weeks. Murphy's Law rules my life. If we make it back with all our fingers and toes (and noses) we will regal you with stories of our travels. Please send warm thoughts our way.

Current temperature: -16 with a windchill of -29.