The past few months have been a bit of a roller coaster – though, like usual, an internal one. Not much of consequence has actually happened. I mean, I did get pregnant. I suppose that’s a big thing. I did go off of my anti-depressants. Still internal, but also possibly a big thing. Mostly, however, I’ve just gone back and forth between feeling strong and elated at my newfound commitment to the success of my self, my house, my child (ren), and my husband and a total overwhelming sense of dread that I actually am the horrible person I imagine myself to be, that my house is disgusting and seldom, if ever, clean, that I am absolutely failing my child and yet somehow, arrogantly and stupidly, have decided to have another (whom I will also fail), and, perhaps worst of all (or perhaps most true?), that my marriage is falling apart. Unfortunately, the former lasts for at most an hour, while the latter seems to be getting more and more constant…

Perhaps “falling apart” is a bit of an overstatement, or at the very least, awfully dramatic of me. This would surprise no one that knows me – least of all my husband. In fact, his response to pretty much anything I say about my feelings is that I’m being dramatic, that I’m overreacting, that I’m being ridiculous and blowing everything out of proportion. I don’t know what he thinks is going on because he doesn’t think, and he certainly doesn’t speak. He gets angry at things in the moment, and I know he feels resentment and anger over some things, I just don’t know if he knows that. He seems so completely out of touch with his emotions that I don’t even know how to talk to him. Obviously the ways in which I try at present are completely unsuccessful. Maybe that isn’t what it is, though. Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to me about things. 

Why does he resent me? Well, I haven’t been very involved in our family lately. When he gets home, I retreat behind a book or a TV show (Masterchef, usually) and ignore both him and our son. He bathes him and puts him to bed almost every night and lately, has also then come out and tidied the living room and cleaned the kitchen. Then, at the weekend, it’s even worse. I sleep in – usually until about 8:30, but sometimes until 10:00 (though that I blame on the pregnancy) and even when I do get up, I don’t give him a break or anything. Often, he takes the boy to the park or the zoo, while I sit on the sofa and continue to lose myself in either a book or TV show. He comes home, puts him to sleep for his nap, takes a nap himself, and then after a couple of hours (in which time I continue to do whatever it is I was doing), I wake up the boy and basically deposit him in our room, where they play games on the iPad for twenty minutes or so and then get up and play together. 

I know he wants to do things together as a family and I know that I do as well, but actions speak louder than words. And my actions don’t tell him (or me) that I want to spend time together. In fact, quite the opposite. I don’t know why. I constantly feel guilty and acknowledge that I am a horrible wife and mother. He doesn’t really speak of it generally, though he has mentioned it a couple of times. Nothing has changed though, and I don’t know why. Other than my acknowledgement of being generally horrible. 

On the other hand, I’m not entirely sure that he wants to spend time with me. When I am around, he seems not to notice me. If I’m talking, he generally either doesn’t respond at all (It’s very much like I’m talking to a brick wall) or interrupts me and doesn’t notice. I, of course, am unable to keep anything inside, so I bring it up instantly. He sometimes doesn’t even know what I am talking about and says he didn’t hear me or something, but refuses to acknowledge the greater issue of his not noticing me enough to hear me when I’m directly in front of him speaking to him. Often, he gets angry and says that I’m overreacting as it was a small thing and I shouldn’t care.

For example, tonight. I was watching Masterchef while making dinner and came into the living room, put dinner on the table and started to explain to him why I looked as if I had been crying (thinking he had obviously noticed as I was still sniffing and my eyes were red – he hadn’t). Now, granted, I wasn’t crying for any real, personal reason. It was because it had been a particularly emotional episode of Masterchef. I’m perfectly aware that it’s ridiculous to cry while watching Masterchef (Again, this is something I blame on the baby) and I also know that it’s not important that he listen to the details of a cooking show he cares nothing about. However, literally mid-sentence, he got up and walked into the kitchen to get some water and came back to the living room, asking me a question about something else, obviously having completely forgotten (or not caring at all) that I was in the middle of a sentence. I told him that I had been talking and that, once again, I didn’t appreciate feeling like absolutely nothing I say or do matters to him. He got angry and told me he “just wanted some fucking water”. When pressed to respond to him not caring, he replied that of course he didn’t care about Masterchef.

Honestly, I can see how he thinks it’s an overreaction. Of course he doesn’t care about the show. And really, I don’t need to tell him about it. It didn’t change my life, nor does it really, in the end, matter to me at all. What he never responds to or understands is that it’s constant. If we are with his family (or anyone) and somehow, a member of his family and I start talking simultaneously, he will always respond to this other person and completely ignore me. Always. Every time I bring up a previous conversation, he has no idea what I am talking about. Even if it’s something we’ve spoken about five or six times. Nothing. He just doesn’t remember. His reaction? They are little things and I’m being dramatic. And while I understand that he didn’t want to hear me go on and on about the stupid TV show, it is not an isolated incident. It happens more times than I could ever count. At least a couple times a day. 

None of these are isolated incidents. I feel like he ignores me or doesn’t care about me in any aspect of his life. We have absolutely no sex life. Maybe once every two months, we’ll touch each other, but that rarely turns to actual intercourse, unless I instigate, and when I do, I usually feel like he has no interest in actually having sex with me. He likes “doing stuff”, but not often. When we do do anything, it feels completely forced and rote. It is not exactly scripted, but basically the same exact thing happens each time. Like I said, this is once every two months or so. I know a lot of this has to do with having a small child (a child I was breastfeeding until a few months ago, as well) and being tired, etc. That’s not the issue – the real issue is that no matter how many times I talk to him about it, absolutely nothing has changed. He doesn’t kiss me goodnight, or even say goodnight. He doesn’t spontaneously come up to me and kiss me or tell me he loves me. He doesn’t even really touch me much, or treat me in a romantic way. To be fair, that isn’t a recent thing. 

We talk a lot. We text all day – about random things, about the boy, about his day or mine. We tell each other everything and can still be quite honest (though I don’t feel it does any good). In fact, we’re the best of friends. I don’t think he sees this as a problem. I mentioned therapy and he was truly confused. He has no idea why we would need it and once again, thinks I’m overreacting. I feel so completely overlooked and passed over by him that I don’t even know what to do anymore. 

On top of all that, my going off anti-depressants hasn’t made any of this easier for any of us to deal with. The past month has been horrible. I’ve been extremely moody – as in, borderline manic depressive, horribly sensitive and have had absolutely no energy. Considering I’m all of those things at the best of times, well, it hasn’t been good. I imagine it’s been quite difficult for my husband as well. Usually, he’s quite supportive when I’m depressed, or emotional or in any way “compromised”, for lack of a better word. Unless, that is, it affects him. If I’m crying because of a fight we’re having, then he shuts down, is cold and admits to getting more angry as I cry. If I’m depressed and he has to care for me – hug me, listen to me, tell me he loves me, that’s fine. But if he has to clean, watch a two year old and do that, it’s too much. So he doesn’t hug me or listen to me or tell me he loves me. In fact, he doesn’t really do much for me. He hasn’t for some time. And he makes me feel like I’m the bad guy (which I probably am, and I would feel like I am without his saying it, anyway) because not only is he working, but he’s cleaning, waking up with the boy if need be, letting me sleep longer and doing all that I said previously (bathing, putting to bed, etc). That’s all wonderful and helpful, but I’ve told him over and over that I need emotional support right now and he can’t, or won’t, give it to me. Or he doesn’t understand. Or he hasn’t heard me as he simply isn’t listening to what I’m saying. 

I honestly feel that we’ve both sort of bowed out of the relationship in any romantic sense. I think it’s never been very important to him, so possibly he hasn’t even noticed, I don’t know. I do know that he rolls his eyes and tells me I’m wrong when I bring it up. But I know that I’m not really as committed anymore. I don’t really see the point. Especially when no matter how many times I tell him all of this, he doesn’t remember, doesn’t care and doesn’t do a single thing about it – including even responding to what I say. 

When I was unhappy towards the end of living in Barcelona, I spoke with my acupuncturist friend who told me that the problem with my situation and feeling like I had no one but him was that I put too many expectations on my husband, then my boyfriend. I needed him to be lover, family, friends, confidante, in short, everything. Even in a very healthy relationship, that’s impossible. Not to say that by being someone’s lover, you can’t also be their friend or family, because of course you can and of course I want that in our relationship, but he can’t be the only one. And he is. And has been for far too long. Maybe I do expect far too much from him. I know I expect far too much from myself, and maybe that’s why I’m unable to do anything anymore. 

I don’t know. I know that I don’t want to just sit on the sofa and read and watch TV and ignore my husband and my child, but I can’t seem to help it. I know I’m absolutely crushed inside every second of every day and the pain of just living like this is so overwhelming, I can’t see a way out or any possible way to change anything about myself. I don’t think he’s wrong to feel the way he feels, I just wish he’d express it so I knew what it was. So we could talk about it in ways that maybe could be helpful to both of us. So I didn’t feel we were stuck in a downward spiral that was only going to end badly. 


The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly Cry

Well, today has been a day. Thankfully, one that is almost over. In fact, I should already be in bed, considering I’ve gotten five – six hours of sleep the past two nights, which in and of itself is scary for a thyroid-addled depressive mom of a wild child but is absolutely terrifying for a pregnant thyroid-addled depressive mom of a wild child.

We’ve had a terrible storm here the past two days, which kept the boy up the night before last. There were 21,735 lightning strikes between 9:11pm and 11:11pm, according to the Channel 4 Weather guy (via my husband) and the storm was so close, the lightning and thunder were simultaneous and louder than I’ve ever heard before. The wind and rain were so intense, we both ran around “battening down the hatches”, which really just meant putting bicycles inside the garage and making sure all of the sand toys were properly shut inside the sand pit. It still felt dramatic at the time, though.

Throughout those two hours, the boy kept waking up, piteously crying, “mummy, dad, mummy, dad” over and over again, making it difficult for me to fall asleep (I do like the kid, after all). Then, for no reason whatsoever, he decided to just be awake from around 11:30pm until God (and my poor husband) knows when because I finally fell asleep at 12:30 in the morning. I was not a happy lady, waking up at 6:00 the next day.

Although we planned for an early night, I was hosting our weekly Wednesday “Mommy & Me” group the next day (today), so I had lots of baking to do. Considering it was the boy’s birthday, I had promised these people cake. And I know what those tired mamas would do to me if said cake were not delivered. So, of course, I try completely new recipes. I make a quiche (and crust from scratch), chocolate cupcakes with cream cheese frosting, deviled eggs and all sorts of little goodies. Then, when everything is finally finished and it’s midnight and I lay my head on the pillow, I decide to watch Inside the Actors Studio: Cast of Arrested Development. Face palm.

Needless to say, I don’t even much remember this morning. I let the boy watch “the fishies” (The Little Mermaid) while I frosted the cupcakes and got everything set up (Oh, and made a ginormous pot of coffee… Sorry little baby…). 10:00 (When our group meets) came and went. 11:00 came and just when I started to fear the worst, three people showed up. Three. To celebrate my little boy’s second birthday. I organize the group. I travel all around this stupid city to go to everyone’s house, no matter how far on Wednesdays and Fridays and do all sorts of work for the group other days as well. And three people showed up. Granted, the boy couldn’t care less (one of those that came was his little girlfriend), but I will admit that I took it personally. Is it immature and ridiculous to do so? Yes. C’est la vie.

Add that to feeling generally overwhelmed, lonely and homesick and well, you can imagine my mood. On top of that, the boy turned into a monster. OK, not really. He’s been a monster for awhile. BUT WHY DOES HE NEED TO THROW EVERYTHING ON THE FLOOR? Water, food, toys, phones (Shall I share a photo of my ridiculously cracked [but still functioning] iPhone?!?!), chairs… Anything he can get his grubby little hands on. AND I CAN’T HANDLE IT ANYMORE.

But enough about that. It’s the bad. It’s what created the ugly cry – the all day, puffy faced, emotional hangover headache, exhausted, ugly cry. Frankly, I’ve thought about it enough. Once I look into what I’m going to do about it (both the need to get out of here issue and the can’t control my child issue), I’ll write more.

Because now, I need a little good. And the good is, we’re having another boy! I know, I know, I’ve been saying for ages (probably not here though, as I really only blog in my head [but if those were published, I'd be the most prolific, amazing blogger that ever was]) that I want a girl. And I do. Those little dresses and tutus and then the relationship between a mother and a daughter. However, two little boys! Brothers! Best friends (I’m assuming, though as my mother pointed out, her brothers aren’t speaking and were involved in a legal conflict recently – Thanks, mom!)! But really, I knew. I’ve always known I’d be a mother of little boys. And though my little monster has been an incorrigible little shit lately, I’d happily have two of him…

New Little Squishface (Eighteen Weeks)

New Little Squishface (Eighteen Weeks)




(Nearly) Wordless Wednesday

One Day Old

One Day Old

2funnyfacesleeping 1

One Week Old


Three Months Old

4 5months

Five Months Old

5 6months

Six Months Old


Christmas Day (Six Months Old)

7 snowday

First Snow Day (Seven Months Old

9 LucasLamb

First Carnival (Nine Months Old)

10 fountain

First Spring (Ten Months Old)

11 clapping

Clapping for Himself (One Year Old)

13 bike

Lovin his Bike (Twenty-Three Months Old)

14 announcement

Pregnancy Announcement (Twenty-Three Months Old)

Two Years Old TODAY & What a Climbing Monkey He Is...

Two Years Old TODAY & What a Climbing Monkey He Is…


Reasons My Child Makes Me SMH

1. If I walk past his shut door on my tiptoes in the evening or night, his little head will pop right up as he cries out, wanting to play or wanting me to sit beside him whilst he deliberately does NOT sleep. However, if I need him to wake in the morning, I can walk in his room loudly, open his blinds (which are really loud), take out his binkie, and talk to him and NOTHING. He barely stirs.

2. If I need to shower after the hubs leaves for work (which is often as I am also not a morning person), he will stay in the bathroom with me, like a good boy. However, he is adamant about me leaving the shower doors open, allowing all the heat to escape. As I quickly try and clean the oatmeal from my hair, he puts everything he can get his grubby little hands on into the shower with me: his step-stool, his potty, my towel (which was dry), various toys, anything he can manage to pull out of the cupboards (which are supposed to be child proofed)… And we have one of those teeny little ‘European’ showers, in which I would not be able to fit were I to gain five pounds.

3. He needs to have ALL doors and cupboards shut at all times. So, if I want to get in the fridge, for example, I have to be lightening quick and already know exactly where whatever it is I want to eat is, because I have about 1.2 seconds to get it out before he slams my poor hand inside the fridge, screaming at me for daring to disturb his well-ordered universe. It should be noted that usually when I’m getting something out of the fridge or cupboards, it’s because he’s yelling at me that he’s hungry.

To be continued…


Parental Visit

playing with beads in his new sensory table/bins

playing with beads in his new sensory table/bins

My parents have been here visiting for the past two weeks. They literally arrived the morning I took my pregnancy test. My husband told me not to tell anyone. Ha! Has he met me? We decided only to tell our immediate families, with strict instructions for my mother, who happily told all and sundry last time. I believe she was just walking down the road proclaiming to the world that she is going to be a grandmother, though she claims that she only told close friends.

They were here for less than a minute before I said something. My mom brought me a bottle of GABA, which I had said I wanted to take to help me sleep but couldn’t because I was breastfeeding. She excitedly gave it to me, saying that now that I’d stopped breastfeeding, I could take it. I just stared at her, thinking of how to respond. She knew.

In the end, I would have had to say something regardless, even had we not decided to tell; it would have been obvious had I been that nauseated constantly without reason. Of course, the day they left, I started to feel better. Such is life, as my grandmother used to say (Note: anything my grandmother used to say needs to be imagined in the accent of a Jewish New Yorker).

What did we do during their visit? Everything. Correction: THEY did everything, I did absolutely nothing. It was amazing. My mother cleaned the house (repeatedly), took the boy to the park, put him to bed, changed his diapers, etc while my father built a sensory table (pictured above), fixed the bottom drawer of the boy’s dresser, and bought and put together a kitchen, table, chairs and bookshelf (including weather-proofing). He, of course, also took the boy to the park and ran around playing football with him. I watched My Kitchen Rules (all-time best cooking show ever), Lark Rise to Candleford (best BBC series), slept, ate and took a couple of baths. Best Vacation Ever. Oh, wait… It was supposed to be their vacation…

I’ve now just finished my first prenatal yoga session. I bought a double DVD (pre/postnatal yoga) when I first got pregnant with the boy and, of course, never even opened it. So, I’m already doing way better this time around. Go, me.


8 1/2 Weeks and Counting (Except When I Forget Completely)

Size: kidney bean

Fun Fact: tail just about gone

Baby Enjoying: swimming around and doing flips – so they tell me, I can’t feel anything

Mommy Enjoying: vinegary foods (marinated artichoke hearts, pickles, coleslaw, sauerkraut, salads, etc…), gardening (who knew pregnancy would be the motivation I needed?), Lark Rise to Candleford: a pregnant girl has to relax after all, so I’m rewatching the ENTIRE series. Sooooo good!

Baby Not Enjoying: the crazy toddler that keeps kicking and hitting him/her and distracting mommy so much that she forgets that he/she exists

Mommy Not Enjoying: this weird obsession/revulsion I seem to have with Subway (only when pregnant), nausea in general (somehow I’d blocked the entire first trimester out of my mind), the crazy toddler that keeps kicking and hitting her belly (and everywhere else) and distracting her so much that she forgets that she’s pregnant

Secret Fears: not being constantly nauseated so I know that everything is ok (I want to have an ultrasound every day), this little baby somehow knowing my desire for a little girl and going away or feeling sad because of it

Grateful For: Prenatal Yoga with Shiva Rea – first day done and feeling totally energized!



Oh, sweet lord. I don’t even know what to do with myself.

Technically, I suppose my husband and I were trying. Or, at least, we decided that once we got to South Africa (which was awesome, BTW), we’d stop actively not trying. As in, no more condoms. Yay! I didn’t really think that that meant that I’d get pregnant in South Africa. Our first little monkey arrived quite early after only one time of “not not trying” and it took this one two times… I told my husband this morning that after this, he needs to get a vasectomy or something because we are obviously quite fertile.

Beyond the excitement, there is this complete “oh shit” feeling that is many things combined. Here’s a list of all the things that have me slightly concerned:

  • Being tired with a toddler
  • Not being in shape and pregnant (again)
  • Being over 35 (Well, in July)
  • TWO KIDS… WTF?!?!
  • Having to get a car (Possibly.)
  • Having to get a license for said car
  • Money
  • We were set to leave Germany in January; now we’ll have a one month old
  • Giving birth again (NOT fun and I DO remember)
  • My little boy not understanding/feeling left out

That’s all I can think of right now off the top of my head. But, I only found out this morning. I can imagine there will be a lot more to be scared about in future. Of course, on top of that are all the normal fears whilst one is pregnant, the same ones I felt while pregnant with the boy. I suppose, luckily, he keeps me busy enough where I won’t be able to just sit and focus on them.

My mind is a total blur. I keep going into our room and looking at the stick again to make sure. I took a test a few days ago and it was negative, but the pharmacist said that it could have been because I took it at night and it’s more accurate to take the test in the morning. So I bought another test and took it at 5:15 this morning, thinking I’d go back to sleep afterwards. Ha. Only, I did. I remember that about being pregnant – I can sleep anytime, anywhere. It’s the only cure I’ve ever found for my insomnia.

I’m glad to say, though, that I was thinking about the boy having a brother and the thought made me very happy. Not only that, but I was looking at his sweet little head and thinking, two boys would be okay. As you can tell, I’m trying to convince myself I don’t want a girl… But really, I think I would be happy with two boys. I would be disappointed that I didn’t have a girl, but not that I had a boy. If that makes sense. Mostly, I’d be sad about the tutus… I really want to buy some tutus!