|Yep, boots. Literally. Ellie in socks because she hates boots and shoes for that matter.|
I have made it my mission this week to get out of the house with Ellie every day. Therapy and doctor's appointments do not count. Our outings must be fun-filled and preferably involve other people.
It sounds relatively simple, right? Oh no. I just want to sleep. All. The. Time. My sleep quality is poor. My amount of sleep is poor. Doesn't that sound like normal mother thing? Yep. Such is life. Yet, I think it might be a huge factor in my depression. It has always been a trigger. Lack of it [sleep], I mean.
|Ellie, the superfast crawler.|
I am so tired that I want to go down for the night when Ellie hits the sack. However, I have been informed that 7pm is too early for my bedtime and I have things to do. Like laundry. Like dishes. Like this blog. Like maybe I should bond with my hubby who works so hard so that I can be a SAHM. So alas, I do not sneak into bed at 7pm. Plus, it really is too early for a night owl such as myself.
True bedtime arrives and I have been hit with my second wind. I lay there and listen to Andrew snore or the Tama meow. Or listen to the hum of our super silent energy efficient dishwasher that is in the complete other part of the house. Well, at least I think that is what I am hearing. Thoughts of what all needs to be done filter into my mind. Then, I find myself sending off one more email. And then another. Oh and maybe I should start on the next blog post. I have tried creating a list each night, color-coded, of course, to prevent this. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes I get stressed about the list. Maybe I should toss the list?
|Guess who motivates her to walk? Not Mommy. Not Daddy.|
Sophie of the Princess Puppy Paw-Paws!
Wake-up time comes all too early. Recently, the Bear wakes in the middle of the night due to those pesky evil teeth that I talk so much about. Molars? Who needs them? Apparently, Ellie does and they are coming in at full throttle. Gums bleeding and all. Poor little Bear has a scrape on her finger from using her hand as a teething ring. Boo! Not to mention this little Bear-Bear got the VERY early-to-rise gene from my father. I try to let her hang out in her crib for a little bit until it is an appropriate hour in the morning for people to be awake, yet I lay in bed listening to her. Listening for any sign that she might need me. I finally get up, but all I want to do is burrow down deeper into my covers and pull my pillow over my head. Wait? What? Oh there is a dog actively licking my face. Sleep no more.
|I love waking up to this.|
I have been wishing the morning away. Waiting for naptime when I could potentially lay down. Yet again, I have things to do. It is a real popular time for people to call our house. So sometimes I shut off the phone, but wait! I am waiting for the Upper GI results. It is also a real popular time for UPS and FedEx to deliver things. This sends Sophie a barking. The house is under attack! We must bark very loud and incessantly to alert Mommy and wake up all beings in a 20 mile radius!
Alright, I am done complaining. I am leaving self-pity-land. Back to the mission at hand!
So far, we are doing great and most of our outings are scheduled for the week and in the morning which are most difficult for me.
|Take a wild guess who she is so excited to play with? Cannot even fathom a guess?|
Really? It is going to be a real shocker. I just know it. . .
Sophie Dog, of course!
Yesterday we had an enjoyable playdate with a friend of mine and her little boy. I forgot all about wanting to sleep and embraced this one-on-one playdate. Her little towhead is just darling and kept hugging me and touching Ellie's hair. Ellie has a lot of hair so I can see why he was so enthralled with it. As for the hugs, oh it just touched my heart to have some extra snuggling from such a sweet little boy. Sheryl, oh how I wish I brought my camera. I have come to believe that a good hug from a dear friend and good hugs from a little child can soothe the soul and mind.
Today was our weekly playgroup. Have I mentioned lately how much I love this playgroup? I love this playgroup. It all started last year. It was a way for me to get out of the house with a newborn. It was a way to meet other mommies with kiddos around Ellie's age. They were and still are my rock. They listen to me ramble and do not care that there is spit-up on my shirt. Or that Ellie spit up in front of them. Or that Ellie tries to sit on their laps. There is something magical about this mom's group. They do not judge and they are completely supportive. They cheer for Ellie and love her triumphs. They help us through the trials. They do not have to do that, but they do. Each and every member.
|I am relatively positive Ellie loves Sophie the best.|
On a side note, I have yet again discovered that it is the oat allergy that scares me more than anything. Down syndrome, oh peh shaw. Oats bring out the crazy in me. Children's playgrounds and playscapes scare me. Kids have Cheerios. They love Cheerios. They drop the Cheerios. They share the Cheerios. Cheerios have oats. I probably come across as a stark raving mama bear when I yank the offending foods out of Ellie's reach or her hand and then do a quick finger sweep ready to whip out my EpiPen Jr. Down syndrome will not kill her, but oats will. You can guess what happened today at an indoor playscape involving a mother that I didn't know leaving piles of Cheerios around and a fast crawling Super Ellie? Crisis was averted.