Enough With the Ganging Agley, Bob.

L officially finished the school year as of yesterday. It culminated in a massive picnic and kids running amok in a small wooded area adjacent to the school garden and outdoor amphitheater. It also culminated in her (sort of) doing a research project, kicking and screaming the whole time. Hyperbole? Maybe. But were there tears? Definitely. Mostly hers. Some takeaways from the whole star-crossed affair:

1. Thank the goddess we do not homeschool. I would be losing it on the daily.
2. My MIL does not understand how research projects work. The one assignment she either...took on or S asked her to take one (I'm unclear on those details) were allegedly her making broad statements about the research topic (monkeys) and having L write this without regard for spacing, capitalization or punctuation. I chose to frame this as an interview. She's too young to worry about citations, so that's good.
3. S may have offloaded that one assignment on MIL without communicating things like: the syllabus and how/where to upload the assignment.
4. I very much do not relate to my kid about all this in the sense that I vividly remember wanting to write essays and things like that as a kid because I wanted to be a reporter, largely because April O'Neill from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was goals. My godfather had me write an article on something or other at age 6 because he got wind of me wanting to be a reporter, and he revised it with a red pen and had me rewrite and resubmit it. Which I did. And was grateful for the opportunity. Or something.

Anyway. Since we've been back, H has failed to regain back to her birthweight which has been the cause of some anxiety. I'm not against supplementing with formula (so we have been) it's more of a dammit I guess we should have been doing that all along and tick tock on the clock motherfucker development is developing and now we have to play catchup. 

The longer I'm alive the more astonishing I find it that humans survived at all. Wasn't FASD just...rampant? Didn't people die in childbirth like...almost all the time? How the hell were kids getting all the nutrients they need (they probably weren't tbh)? Plus all the evil true crime and billionaire cabal shit that was and is happening. Christ. <thousand yard stare>

Okay, bye!

Written: 5.14.2026

I looked like hot trash, but I did it. I hadn't had proper sleep in probably 2 weeks, and forgot to bring the one makeup item that could have made me look half-alive, but I did it. H was as jet lagged as an infant can be, but she did amazing during the ceremony and flights and ig infant headphones really do help for equalizing ear pressure on flights. Plus: nursing helps.

My parents got a bunch of congratulations from family members (I guess that’s how this whole thing works?).

We had dinner at Tupelo Honey; I tried shakshouka for the first time. 10/10: love.

Inasmuch as I’m even in this dimension considering jet lag and sleep deprivation, I do love Omaha. People are…Midwest nice? They’re having an actual Spring? It’s green not muddy and eldritch - which, I DO love muddy and eldritch, but it’s nice to have a change of pace every once in a while. Turn of the century houses? Got ‘em. Every other house looks like the pink palace in Coraline (the movie). I mean, not in the suburbs obviously. YOU know.

The Airbnb I’m currently staying at is tonally the same as staying at my Grandma’s house in the 90s up to and including this one poem.

Otherwise, it’s been both nice and not so having my parents chauffeur me around. They are proud and help how they can.  But they are not kid people and babies are not intuitive for them. They are more likely to stand and stare while I wrangle the baby and the equipment than the average bear, although this is getting better with repetition and over time. Almost every statement spoken is bookended by a derisive laugh. Is it because of discomfort? Actual disdain? 

It makes me self-conscious. I don't particularly like who I am at times; I am so very scared that I come off like they do. This is nothing new.

Oh. THIS is the bad place!

 The extraction happened. Everything…happens. Will happen. Happening. Happened.

Did you know that untreated hypothyroidism can = psychosis? It can! Fun!

The sleep deprivation is starting to catch up with me as is the physical pain associated with breastfeeding. I'm given to understand things like: "breastfeeding isn't supposed to be painful" and "fed is best". However, I breastfed L for...what...like four goddamn years? It eventually started feeling a little bit better, but, especially at the beginning, it fucking hurts. For at least a month. Significantly more than my incision hurts. And I investigated it to hell and back with L and the only conclusions we (myself and the lactation consultants) really came to were that:
    a) her mouth is small (fair)
    b) my nipples are big (not necessarily something anyone cares to now, but in this context - relevant)
    c) L has something called a bubble palate which isn't something anyone can do anything about and just     sucks. There are, evidently, some techniques to try so I'll look into that - especially over the next few        days because I will be in airports where there will be little else to look into. Or around OTs who might
    have Opinions about lactation. Not as many Opinions as SLPs might have, but still - more than zero.
    d) It will, eventually, resolve as her mouth gets bigger.

But none of that helps at the moment, in which I am sad and in pain and ibuprofen and Tylenol only go so far, really. And I don't particularly want to use the five oxycodone that were dispensed to me for pain emergencies. Not yet.

S has been watching H for a couple of hours at night while I sleep (and fielding her in other less formal ways when he's home) which has been helpful. Her little but has not been sleeping during the night very well. I assume part of this is that the environment is maybe too chill? She sleeps pretty well during the day with background noise and lights but turn off those lights and put on some white noise and it's party time, baby. There's also the bit where she's not gaining weight and, in fact, losing weight at a rate that nobody likes which might be due to the aforementioned bubble palate. In any case, she's under strict feed at least every two hours protocol which isn't doing much for my sleep, personally.

Otherwise, there was a moderate-sized kerfuffle around her heart function which has resolved. There's a foramen that hadn't closed and now has closed and some oxygen saturation concerns which are no more.

We're leaving on a plane this afternoon after a mental health telehealth appointment and I haven't really decided how I'm doing or how to articulate this to my NP. Am I coping well? ...no? I am postpartum? That is a circle of hell fo' sho'. Do I want additional medication for that? ...I don't know? There are some very real issues that I need to deal with and SSRIs tend to make me a little more passive which I'm not sure is needed at the moment. But, then, if I'm too overwhelmed I'm also passive. Six seven. There will be the conversation about the psychology practice I received a referral to and then never heard back from again. How have things been going? Not so bad, not so good. Yes, I would like to continue the Welly B, please.

I am anxious about taking my newborn on a plane, but am hopeful it will go well. I'm mostly worried about her ears and my ability to cope with her crying. Three hours of sleep is not how I wanted to go into this, and the card I pulled today was The Devil which is a bit on the nose, thanks tarot deck. With that being said, I have headphones that are supposed to equalize ear pressure, although I fear it to be quackery. I have a carrier which I'm going to use almost the entire time, and it place her in a good position to try allegedly less painful nursing latches. So. We should get in at midnight and then maybe sleep a bit, and then it's Go Time. And there are a bazillion variables that I am not looking forward to dealing with when we get there  - mostly related to things like: can I wear her the whole time? Do I really have to carry all the shit in a Ziploc bag? How long is this all going to take?, Where the hell is the parking lot?, etc.

S has been *sigh* in a sort of...idk...Russian mystic headspace lately. Definitely lighting his candles in a daze, as it were. This has involved continuing to go to AA meetings a lot, hanging out with his friends and AA support system, and smoking MJ vapes and/or capsules. Like, all day. This is concerning* for reasons which I believe to be obvious, especially in my current anxious state. But if they're not obvious, hey! Check out the footnote.

S also seems to believe as per a conversation with me last night that it is somehow possible for him to leave town to work for a month at a time while also being the stay-at-home parent?** He was venting about work drama (and in construction work drama is pretty...uh...dynamic. There's a very real possibility someone is going to get physically fucked-up.) and then how he approached his boss about it and then that he told his boss he'd be available for intermittent contract work (cool), and that he really didn't want to work in town anymore (what), but that he didn't want to leave town either (uh...), but he would for like a month here and there to earn some extra money for us (I beg your finest pardon?). I shut that down to the best of my ability, but it probably didn't come off as the most therapist-y. When I asked who was going to watch the baby while he was out of town he said, "We'll figure it out." How so? "Well...our parents." Our elderly parents one of whom has ALS and all of whom who would be remotely interested in infant care are over the age of 70? No. No we will not. "Maybe a babysitter." For 40+ hours a week? At the inside that would run us $880 a week. Times 4 weeks on average that's $3520 per month which is assuming we'd be able to find someone who wants to just work sometimes and has crazy open availability and guess who's not gonna do that? Gen Z (because they have self-respect) and/or anyone who's responsible and qualified. Respectfully. Then later that night he was like, "Maybe we get an au pair lol." I...I am just baffled.

Sorry, it's just that: if that's the way it's going to be she already has a spot at one of the best childcare centers in town which we got by some goddamn miracle, so maybe we just take the L and turn it into a W and just pay the $2000 a month so he can continue working I guess? Which is what I thought he didn't want? I'm so confused. 

If anyone knows anything about anything, let me know.

Oh, and he's getting into the arts now, which is lovely and I'm happy for him, but it also makes me a little bit sad and annoyed because I am in the newborn forest which is, again, hell and I can't know how to hear about Butoh right now, S, or take you by the heart and take you by the hand and explain it to you. First of all, that's not how it works, and second the girl who got extremely excited about Butoh is if not dead, then, in deep hibernation. I mean, I can point you in some directions and I know some people but as far as me, myself getting Into It - no. Not right now.

Okay, I have more head stuff to get out, including how I feel like L is doing and how I just can't let go of the notion of feeling unsupported (but likely am supported, just not in the ways on which I'm hyper-focused), but I need to finish packing, drink some more caffeine, and shower before The Voyage. Wish me luck. Ima need it. And the capacity to directly ask my parents for help, because they are not the type of people to explicitly recognize or offer it - which makes my personal nonsense make so much sense if you think about it!

Ciao.

*We have a set of couple friends who like to talk about being "California sober" although they themselves are not exactly sober at all, but are more the mixing fancy cocktails based on Fallout or from a steampunk cocktail book - you know the vibe. V, the wifey of the couple, listens politely when I briefly freak out about the cannabis use, and speaks about her recreational activities of using gummies to sleep. And, bestie, I am not criticizing your use of cannabis. I am more so concerned that the father of my children, someone who has certainly spoken about having heard voices before and who does frequently come at me with paranoia, and who has up until very recently been very much all-in on taking over more childcare duties including staying home with the kids when I get a big kid job is high literally all day and that when I came home from the hospital my house smelled like a casino but like in the early 2000s because goddess forbid you smoke/vape outside with an infant in the house. ...I am not concerned about the gummies. Okay, as you were.

**??????????

Extraction Eve

A lot of different feelings are sloshing around my insides. My brain. My body. This extraction eve.

I am tired of the questions. How are you feeling*? Sad. Tired but my body and brain won't let me really rest. Angry. Somewhat hopeful. Not excited. Not joyous. Not happy. Aren't you excited to hold your baby in your arms? Yes. And I know it will be hard. And I'm going to miss the one-on-one time with L something fierce.

What with S being out of town for the past two weeks and in and out of the house frequently since he got back into town (I personally saw him for a total of about 2 nonconsecutive hours yesterday) I hadn't brought up the fact that, yes, I was still planning on going to Omaha. He took it better than expected - however, he's not going. Oh, and he doesn't want L to go either. 

I'm pretty fucking sad about this because Jesus fucking Christ. I don't often have strong feelings about Doing Things (at least, I don't think so) so when I do it's fucking important to me. And I've been talking about this for ages as a family vacation! So fun! We're going to stay at a hotel and go do fun big city things and the zoo and as of last night (less than 48 hours prior to surgery) all of that has been completely recalibrated. And I don't think she's realized the changes, because we're supposed to tell her together and tonight she's spending the night at a friend's house to celebrate their birthday.

I guess I'm also pissed because last night was the last opportunity we had to spend together as a family before H is born and S was so upset about the news that I wasn't planning on just not going to graduation because he didn't want to/didn't want me to, that he decided to go to an extra meeting at night that he wasn't going to stay late at but did and so wasn't home until after 9:00 PM.

Just...fuck. I am still going. I am keeping it together-ish. I am crying periodically, but have done all the stupid last-minute coordination shit for a third time. My parents are coming in clutch and have agreed to drive me since among the things you're not supposed to do after a c-section is drive a car. 

I did ask K to come with me if possible (realizing that it's not very possible because people of a certain age have lives and children and shit like that) and she couldn't. And then very reasonably asked if I was sure I wanted to do this which made me irrationally angry because this is another conversation I just keep having over and over again Groundhog Day style and after a certain point it feels like (isn't - but feels like) very few people in my life currently believe I have thought about it and am sure and what the fuck do you hear when I say x activity or thing is important to me? That one song from The Muppets? Christ.

So anyway. To summarize. My parents: saving the day. S: somehow truly believes this is a an example of me not "respecting him" because I want to...do a thing? That is probably not aces, but not totally unreasonable? L: oblivious, but having a difficult year what with all the unpleasant surprises. Which, yes, she got to go to Disneyland, but only after her dad pushed it back by five months. I'm sad for her. No fucking summer camp. No trip to Omaha. And, as of today, because I put S on the spot to plan and execute her birthday party no party like the one she was envisioning. I would be livid.** I: am sad and angry and not surprised and feeling unsupported because of this backlog of S just not supporting much of what I want to do. He's supported some stuff...but reluctantly, honestly, and it has been just like pulling fingernails to do get him at all onboard to with things like buying a house, going to grad school, getting a vasectomy, getting a job where he does not work out of town and, now going to graduation as some sort of final gesture of support after 3+ years of not being very supportive with this at all.

*sigh* In other news, I finally made a C-Section playlist. Here it is.

Okay, that's all. Tomorrow: Star Wars day and the extraction. I'm not ready. It's going to go great.

*Because this is typically (but not always!) in reference to the pregnancy/imminent delivery, not any other part of life.

**But, then, I am still upset about that one time we were supposed to go to a convention in Mississippi with my dad but then didn't for some reason and I had this whole plan where I was going to wear some fancy white shoes and go swimming in a swimming pool and wow the difficulty with change and rigidity of thinking? Those roots run deep.

I do care, but disassociation looks pretty damn attractive.

I don't know what to write, but feel like I should.

I had a request to do a session on anger management by one of two people who come to my community group, but it sounds like perhaps, in their case, the anger is justified? I understand you can't haul off and go punching people, but as of a few days ago it sounds like people at the place they're living are physically harming them and stealing their shit. And, of course, they can't just go live somewhere else. That's not how America works. *sigh* So: it feels dumb. Why talk about conflict resolution when the real solution (in my heart of hearts at least) is get the fuck out of there? I mean there probably is some point. Deescalation, etc. But fuck, man. You know? Yes.

Stress results in weird dreams. I'm surprised to say last night's stress dream involved fouettés. Fun how no matter how long it's been since I've taken a ballet class...stress about fouettés? Is eternal.

This game is pretty great, if you ever get the chance to play it. File under: things that shouldn't work, but do.

Someone I used to work with once said they don't believe ghosts can hurt living people because there are still white people alive in the South. I think about that every so often.

It's been pretty quiet this past week. More YouTube than usual, but at least, I suppose, I'm monitoring it while working on homework in the living room and having conversations about what's happening in the videos every now and again. Granted, those are somewhat limited in subject matter, but it's not rampantly unmonitored as it is at my MIL's house.

Speaking of: right before we went swimming yesterday at the Good Pool, my MIL texted S and myself to say that she doesn't want us using her middle name as one of the fetus' middle names. Instead, she would like us to use her first name. First of all: no harm in shooting your shot, but that's not really your choice, bestie (lol). Second: her first name is now mainstream culture/Gen Z/Gen Alpha slang for things that are kind of...meh. So no - no thank you. Third: hormones aren't helping with my unprocessed anger around, like, everything so while I didn't directly respond at all my first impulse was to say, "I'm sorry you've had that experience with your middle name, but I happen to like it a lot - it was even in the running for first name at one time! If you're truly uncomfortable with us using your middle name for fetus, then I'd be willing to pivot to FIL's mother's first name instead. Let me know!"

Anyway, S handled it and appropriately, so I'm pretty happy with the outcome. My catastrophizing drama queen brain had at one point spiraled to if I get any type of pushback whatsoever I'm changing the whole damn name. Because why? See: unprocessed anger. Mostly related to the audacity (MIL) and S being gone up until the day before delivery and doing the equivalent of signing me up for shit I did not agree to explicitly (which are good things and somewhat thoughtful! Except for that I am not fucking managing figuring out childcare and hanging out with people I don't know that are more his friends from AA anyway and just - bestie I am tired and I am trying to finish up grad school. I am not lonely and do not want more moving pieces to coordinate and following through with however much I may, yes, want to check out the coven across the park or go to an ecstatic/dance improv group at 11 on a Sunday - which were two of the activities).

I did actually get as far as contacting the mental health place I have a referral to and messaging them my insurance information as requested. And...that was it. That's the last I heard from them. Now, here's the thing (feel free to skip if I've already gotten into this; I can't fucking remember if I have or not): I'm pretty sure I will not have insurance past mid-May. Why? Because it doesn't appear as thought I can COBRA school-based insurance. I didn't resign or get fired! I just graduated! Which is what you want to have happen, right? Heck yeah. But also: no.

So now I'm probably not going to follow up with them anymore because I now need someplace that will just see me for a flat fee (hopefully), and just stick it out and pay out-of-pocket as far as things like initial pediatric appointments and postpartum followup appointments go, because S will not get insurance through work and, at least as of the last time I tried to do anything with the government marketplace S will also not provide paystubs in a timely manner, and makes too much for me or kids to qualify for a sliding scale pay plan anyway. 

Therefore (because I'm tired of saying 'so'), I'm kind of torn about how to address this.

• Do I have a lil' conversation via text (even though S frequently misunderstands me via text) and say: "Hey. I know you don't want to hear about this, but it is fucking important and I (and your kids) need you to listen and choose a response: you need to figure out if you want to pay for aaaaaaaaaalll of this (healthcare shit) out of pocket, or if you want to get insurance through your company, or if you want to provide me with paystubs to try to do something about it otherwise." 
• Do I just figure it out on my own as I have been doing this whole time? That hasn't made me feel the best about life, but it has been the most functional from a bottomline standpoint so far.
• Some secret third option?

Anyway, that's all I got for today. Happy Sunday. T-minus 12 days until dissertation, 14 until surgery. Wewt wewt.

Steps that turn into extra steps (multiplying exponentially) from here to the horizon

Things have been somewhat peaceful the last few days, although I'm concerned that I'll jinx it by naming it.

Yesterday's sun has turned into overcast and resulted in some light snow. I continue to be not very good at getting L to school on time, but she hasn't overtly shown any discomfort with this. We are only 2 days in, though, I suppose. S is having a good-ish time in Cordova. Last night he said he intends to get back the day before I'm supposed to go in for surgery. Which is scheduled for 5:30 AM the next day. I've been telling the fetus she needs to stay in until at least the afternoon of May 1st. After that it is whatever. But she is tracking at exactly the number of weeks I allegedly am, so unless she gets a wild hare, so that's good.

I'm trying to focus on appointments this week, wrapping up capstone things for on-site this week and getting all the presentation stuff ready next week since I'm having my defense nearly a week earlier than anyone else.

On my list today are:

- verifying: did I get a prescription for the vaccine I'm supposed to get this week?
- eye appointment. Bleh. Bleh because the place I go is a little bougie and the front desk people are always stressed out there's always a little bit of miscommunication between the provider and the front desk person resulting in no followup appointments being scheduled for the main issue I have anymore which has something to do with my eye pressure threatening to be too high. Whatever. It's time. Get. It. Done.
- getting the damn RSV vaccine; if by some crazy random happenstance I can't get it that is one of maybe 3-5 reasons why I wouldn't go to graduation.
- a nap
- finishing a lecture
- picking L up from school
- dropping L off at my mom's house aka her least favorite place to go; and I just...kind of don't blame her? They have great qualities, but, yes, the passive aggression has gotten real real over the years and who wants to be around that? Nobody, that's who.
- doing some acting for lab this evening. Fun! I don't have to grade! Not that I mind grading, actually, but I should probably do other writing more closely related to shit I have to get done this week.
- light chores. For they are always with us.

Finally, a quote from Vicky from The Good Place if I may: "Acting is reacting, and reacting is pre-acting, but pre-acting? Well, that's just being."

Black cat energy? Or just plain 'ol toxic?

My energy, though it hasn't been "in whack" per se for years, is officially "out of whack" as of yesterday. Wiggedy whack. Around 3:00 PM I just hit a wall and subsequently stayed at Site One for another 2.5 hours because I had to. Following that I crawled home and laid down until basically this morning. Woke up around 5:00 AM, had some coffee, and remembered that I have a big, scary, pre-test due tomorrow that if I do not achieve at least a certain score on I will have to pay re-take. And if I don't pass that one, I will not graduate. Ah, yes. There's the stress response that drives me (you? Us all?).

There's this function that's kind of like a filter and kind of like tunnel vision that kicks in at times of extra fatigue which means I can only perceive one task at a time. Yesterday that manifested in not responding to an extremely kind text message for 8 hours. *sigh* 

What if...I really honed-in and tried to take the focus from longer term to short term. Like, moment-by-moment, maybe? And considered the things I am doing and saying and whether these are in alignment with my actual values. One part of me really thinks that could go some way towards reducing moral injury (a concept I don't remember hearing about prior to yesterday). Another part of me thinks that's well and good, but you forget shit on the daily already and it doesn't seem super-likely that this strategy will go any way towards...making that better. You know what? There are way more than two wolves inside me.

Anyway. Some things lately of neutral provenance:

• Doing tarot pulls for if I do versus don't go to graduation, and the cards being kind of...unhelpful. Cards: "If you do go, then you will experience the high of celebration and the crash of being unable to focus on anything but the parts of the decision you regret. If you don't go, you will be resentful of the fact and feel constrained by life circumstance as per the usual." Y-yeah. I know. That's just, like, how my brain works. I could have told you all that. ...you got any actual clarity for me, or...? Perhaps there is some secret third option.
• No fear of hitting hours this week due to being at Site One for an extra day. Things are pretty much set up for next week group and 1:1 session-wise, so I just have to figure out the last week. I also have to determine how Site One wants their toolbox set up. Site Two's is kind of already in-process of getting set up, so that's fine. But otherwise I need to finish (not in order of priority) an interview synthesis, grading for two things, an abstract, a poster, and a Sway portfolio. Oh, and I guess feedback forms for two...three sites?
• Just trying to keep this total unicorn of a person in mind while I'm here in the home stretch. Also it's not a home stretch. It's an infinite series of innings! If I know anything about baseball. Which I don't. Unless that metaphor is about racing. You know what? I'm not looking it up. Because not only do I not know anything about baseball, I also know nothing about racing. Uh...here's a song about that.