Cranky
Cranky is a great word. Just look at it! It looks just like it ought.
And I am cranky today. (Again.) Bear with me (or stop reading right now, because I am very whiny - perhaps it's contagious).
About one out of four mornings, Skipper goes back to sleep after her 6-AM-ish nursing session, and Cook and I have a tacit agreement that I get to sleep in with her. * This morning was one of those, so I woke up at 8, 15 minutes before the arrival of the bus that Cook likes to catch. I was, of course, still tired, and would have been happy for about 10 hours more of sleep, but things needed to be done.
Skipper wanted to nurse again (because when she's not sleeping like an angel overnight, she wants to nurse at least once every 90 minutes). We had no clean diaper covers, so Skipper was wearing only a cloth diaper, which soaks through instantly. Dutch was being awful, refusing to dress and complaining of every possible ache or illness she could think of (her nose really really hurt, and her heart really hurt too, and she couldn't feel it pumping!), and finally throwing a knock-down-drag-out tantrum over the fact that her vast shoe collection did not contain ANY SHOES SHE LIKED. Skipper peed on Cook's freshly-ironed shirt. Skipper cried a lot. We remembered a load of wet laundry, including diaper covers, left in the washer overnight.
They finally left, half an hour late, Dutch in tears, but at least dressed and shod and walking of her own volition. I looked around the apartment, which was littered with detritus - rejected (nonsparkly) shoes, granola from Dutch's breakfast, dustbunnies, blankets from fort-making, clean and soiled washcloths for the mopping of baby barf, drafts of my BSP report, crayons, a bag of wet laundry...
I changed Skipper, put a wet diaper cover on her, wrapped her to me , walked around till she fell asleep, drank a cup of coffee, hung the wet laundry on the rack, ate a bowl of granola and yogurt, checked my email for BSP emergencies, and looked at the New York Times website. And here I am. I'm still wearing my pajamas, and haven't brushed my teeth or hair. Skipper's sleeping uneasily. I am feeling dismayed by how horribly Dutch behaves AND how horribly I behave when she does it. I am feeling peevish about carrying a 10-pound baby on my body all the time. I am feeling guilty for writing whiny blog posts and not just getting up and cleaning the apartment. Ugh.
Also, I'm feeling a little crushed by the Times articles I've been reading.
This article doesn't tell us anything new, but is deeply depressing. After reading it, I opened the three pieces of mail we got yesterday from various parties involved in Skipper's and my health insurance. During the last six months, I've gotten probably a hundred "This is Not a Bill" notices about my prenatal care and Skipper's postnatal care. We've only gotten a few actual bills so far, but the flood of information about how much we're going to have to pay is scary. The cost of a healthy pregnancy and an uncomplicated birth is three or four months of rent. The cost of having a baby spend three days in the hospital is even more. Skipper has nearly reached her individual maximum for the year. I have no maximum, because I have crap insurance** through school.*** We can pay the bills, and we're not yet at the point in our health or finances where we have to decide which health-maintaining prescription we're going to fill this month. But it is just so astonishingly wrong. The whole system is just SO WRONG. As Dutch would say, it's totally poop-head poopy. With pee on top.
Speaking of things that are wrong, how on earth have we gotten to the point where we need legislatures to ensure our right to dry?
Anyway. I've got to turn off the computer and wash some dishes. I think I've reached my self-pity threshold for the day, and possibly the whole week. But first, things to cheer me up:
*We haven't actually discussed it, but in my mind it's fair because I'm the one nursing her all night long.
** Because Kaiser won't insure me because I grind my teeth at night
*** Which means I have to take at least five credits a quarter so I won't lose it. If I got really sick and had to drop out of school (or, say, skip a quarter in order to have a baby), I would lose my health insurance. This is a bad way to care for people.
And I am cranky today. (Again.) Bear with me (or stop reading right now, because I am very whiny - perhaps it's contagious).
About one out of four mornings, Skipper goes back to sleep after her 6-AM-ish nursing session, and Cook and I have a tacit agreement that I get to sleep in with her. * This morning was one of those, so I woke up at 8, 15 minutes before the arrival of the bus that Cook likes to catch. I was, of course, still tired, and would have been happy for about 10 hours more of sleep, but things needed to be done.
Skipper wanted to nurse again (because when she's not sleeping like an angel overnight, she wants to nurse at least once every 90 minutes). We had no clean diaper covers, so Skipper was wearing only a cloth diaper, which soaks through instantly. Dutch was being awful, refusing to dress and complaining of every possible ache or illness she could think of (her nose really really hurt, and her heart really hurt too, and she couldn't feel it pumping!), and finally throwing a knock-down-drag-out tantrum over the fact that her vast shoe collection did not contain ANY SHOES SHE LIKED. Skipper peed on Cook's freshly-ironed shirt. Skipper cried a lot. We remembered a load of wet laundry, including diaper covers, left in the washer overnight.
They finally left, half an hour late, Dutch in tears, but at least dressed and shod and walking of her own volition. I looked around the apartment, which was littered with detritus - rejected (nonsparkly) shoes, granola from Dutch's breakfast, dustbunnies, blankets from fort-making, clean and soiled washcloths for the mopping of baby barf, drafts of my BSP report, crayons, a bag of wet laundry...
I changed Skipper, put a wet diaper cover on her, wrapped her to me , walked around till she fell asleep, drank a cup of coffee, hung the wet laundry on the rack, ate a bowl of granola and yogurt, checked my email for BSP emergencies, and looked at the New York Times website. And here I am. I'm still wearing my pajamas, and haven't brushed my teeth or hair. Skipper's sleeping uneasily. I am feeling dismayed by how horribly Dutch behaves AND how horribly I behave when she does it. I am feeling peevish about carrying a 10-pound baby on my body all the time. I am feeling guilty for writing whiny blog posts and not just getting up and cleaning the apartment. Ugh.
Also, I'm feeling a little crushed by the Times articles I've been reading.
This article doesn't tell us anything new, but is deeply depressing. After reading it, I opened the three pieces of mail we got yesterday from various parties involved in Skipper's and my health insurance. During the last six months, I've gotten probably a hundred "This is Not a Bill" notices about my prenatal care and Skipper's postnatal care. We've only gotten a few actual bills so far, but the flood of information about how much we're going to have to pay is scary. The cost of a healthy pregnancy and an uncomplicated birth is three or four months of rent. The cost of having a baby spend three days in the hospital is even more. Skipper has nearly reached her individual maximum for the year. I have no maximum, because I have crap insurance** through school.*** We can pay the bills, and we're not yet at the point in our health or finances where we have to decide which health-maintaining prescription we're going to fill this month. But it is just so astonishingly wrong. The whole system is just SO WRONG. As Dutch would say, it's totally poop-head poopy. With pee on top.
Speaking of things that are wrong, how on earth have we gotten to the point where we need legislatures to ensure our right to dry?
Anyway. I've got to turn off the computer and wash some dishes. I think I've reached my self-pity threshold for the day, and possibly the whole week. But first, things to cheer me up:
- Skipper has grown into a wardrobe of festive and brightly-colored onesies!
- We have fresh strawberries!
- Big School Project is almost done!
- Obama gave a speech about Islam and didn't use the word "terrorism" once!
*We haven't actually discussed it, but in my mind it's fair because I'm the one nursing her all night long.
** Because Kaiser won't insure me because I grind my teeth at night
*** Which means I have to take at least five credits a quarter so I won't lose it. If I got really sick and had to drop out of school (or, say, skip a quarter in order to have a baby), I would lose my health insurance. This is a bad way to care for people.
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