Author Archives: amberbatdorf

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As Q takes one of her many naps, MJ and I finally had a chance to return to a semblance of our normal schedule. We have done our flashcards and had our dance party already this morning. I also excitedly realized that I can once again sit comfortably cross-legged.

One of my girlfriends suggested I occasionally use this blog for a “mommy and me” type of thing and there is something that I think may be worth discussing. When I had MJ, we had a difficult time with feeding at first. Whether the issue was with latch, suction, who knows- we were not always successful. By the time we got a hang of it, he was eating a lot and eating well. Because this is the last feeding experience I had, I found myself comparing Q’s eating to MJ’s.

Q and I fell into feeding like old pros, but she was spitting up a lot. It took me a few days to realize that I was grossly overfeeding her as she could not really process the amount of milk her brother was eating at five months old. I have since been adjusting the amount of time she eats for, but now I fear that she is not getting enough as she is a peanut compared to her brother.

On a brighter note, CJ and I figured out what Q’s problem was at night (which way she faced in the bassinet and temperature of the room) and since we have addressed both these, she slept through the night last night! I made CJ get out of bed a few times to check if she was still breathing because she seems awfully small to be sleeping through the night, but I was also grateful for my first full night of sleep since she was born.

Postpartum Depression?

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Seven days ago, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl and I am one proud mama!

After MJ’s birth, I did not really suffer from Postpartum Depression. I was definitely more emotional than normal (crying at commercial, etc.) by I did not have any severe feelings. After this birth, I have an irrational fear that I cannot keep both my babies; that I will have to choose between them. I think this stems from the fact that every day since we have brought Q home, I have had to watch MJ grow more independent. He will go in his toy room alone and entertain himself without asking for someone to come in and keep him company. If I am feeding his sister before bedtime, MJ will sit alone on the sofa instead of snuggling in my lap like was our routine.

I know I should be happy, but these things make me so nervous that he thinks he has been replaced and that mommy does not love him anymore – hence the fear of being able to only keep one of them.

I do not know any other moms who have suffered through any type of Postpartum Depression or the like. Any advice that could be given, would be greatly appreciated.

Train Table

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For Christmas, MJ got an amazing train table from his grandparents. Yesterday, CJ spent hours putting it together and the boys loved playing with it. This morning, the first thing MJ ran to was his playroom so he could play with his trains some more. Then he pulled a “Godzilla” and decided to really have some fun.

Godzilla and his train village.

Godzilla and his train village.


He completely destroyed his village this morning and had a blast doing it. I do not foresee having a blast cleaning it up 🙂

The “Hole”

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My mother has always referred to my father’s side of their bed as “the hole.” This is where he dresses/undresses and there has always been a decent amount of clothing littering the floor in this area. I love CJ, but after having him home for five days in a row for the holiday, he has turned my house into his “hole.”

This morning I found his clothing on the kitchen table, kitchen counter, dining room table, living room sofa, foyer bench, and in the bathroom. I was not even aware that he wore that many different outfits while he was home. Joining his clothes in some of these areas were MJ’s clothes. Wherever the boys happened to be when CJ changed MJ, that is where the clothes stayed (and I was wondering where all MJ’s socks were disappearing to).

It has only been six and a half years. Maybe after a few more, CJ will get the picture about what the hamper is for 🙂

Thanksgiving “dinner”

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While at home, it is hard to remember that I am a picky eater; I simply make meals that I know I will eat. Occasionally, I make things for CJ and MJ that I know I will not eat, but it is easy enough to make a little something on the side for me.

Yesterday, at CJ’s family Thanksgiving dinner, I was reminded of how picky I am and was beyond embarrassed about it. As dishes were passed around the table, I handed one after the other to people on either side of me. At the end of the passing, I only had turkey and a dinner roll on my plate. I quickly realized that my family’s staples of mashed potatoes and corn were not going to be made available to me and that the things I saw before me were all there was to be had.

My mother-in-law sat beside me and I felt as if her eyes were fixed upon my empty plate. I am so glad that CJ did not bring any extra attention to my predicament. I do not know the last time I was so embarrassed and I do not think I could have handled it if he had tried to tease me about it at the time.

Maybe I was not quite as over being picky as I thought…

NaNoWriMo

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As November is National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) I had been hoping to make some major strides in my book. So far, this has not been going quite how I planned (my biggest day has been an addition of only 1,000 words). I know it is early in the month, but I feel I have already fallen into the pattern of every other month. I was hoping to set a precedent using NaNoWriMo as motivation.

For some reason, the past few days have been full of reading, as seen by my Goodreads profile. I know in order to write well, you have to be well read, but I guess I have been using “I just need to finish this” as an excuse to not sit down and work on my book.

Have you ever been so simultaneously scared of failing and succeeding that you find yourself hesitating to finish the task before you? I feel quite proud of the idea I have and the notes, etc that I have so far. Up until extremely recently, I have been to nervous to share my work with anyone. The few people who have read what I have so far have given positive feedback, but what if they were only being nice? And somehow worse, what if they were not? Is it completely silly and unreasonable to be scared by the possibility of your own success? How does one overcome it?

I am Important

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Yesterday, I went to a Thirty-One party I had been invited to by one of my grandmother’s girlfriends. Generationally, I was a little left out, but I did not mind. I got to spend the few hours there hanging out with my grandmother and she is a pretty cool lady.

While I was at the party, I had a great time. All the ladies were so nice to me, telling me I did not look as pregnant as I am (which was a lie, but a sweet one), just being kind and gracious. I had a wonderful time.

As I was dropping my grandmother off at home, she asked if I would be over the following weekend to make cookies. Turns out my sister and my aunt had made plans to go to Grandma’s and bake and did not invite me. Considering how I had been treated by them the day before while we were washing Grandma’s windows, this was just the icing on the cake. I cried all the way home.

CJ, because he is quite possibly the sweetest man on the planet, did not work out. He spent the entire evening with MJ and me making sure I knew I was important to him. We watched a movie and snuggled 🙂

I really needed a night like that. I had been really dark and depressed when I got home. All I could think was that it was really sad that I felt more appreciated when I was with people I was not related to. Thank goodness I have CJ; I do not know what I would do without him.

I will just have to remind myself:

“You is kind.
You is smart.
You is important.” – The Help, Kathryn Stockett

Today Was Difficult…

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I no longer have a place at the kids’ table; my son now occupies that space. I am a mother, homeowner, have my BS, but am still not qualified to sit at the adult table. Why is it then, that while I am only qualified to be in this awkward limbo, I am forced to suffer a strange and uncomfortable sharing of information?

I do not need intimate details of aunt and uncle infidelity and divorce. I do not wish to hear unemployment histories and financial difficulties. I am not “old enough” to join them, yet they seek me out. I know it is not for my wisdom – I have not lived as long as they have or seen as much. I know it is only for my sympathy. Unfortunately, there are many times when I do not wish to give it.

I know more things about certain people than I think I should know. How can I be expected to be a good member of the younger generation when I have these secrets I need to keep? If I cannot be at the adult table, then please, LEAVE ME OUT. Let me stay in limbo; playing with the kids and keeping my rose colored glasses as far as pasts and presents of the adults are concerned.

I am so tired of not telling one person this, another person that, etc. More nights than not, I cry. Most of those nights, it is not for myself or my own problems, but something I have been told and cannot discuss to get off my chest. I cannot fix everything, yet I feel this overwhelming compulsion to do so and it is debilitating to feel this way and know that there is nothing I can do.

No more secrets. No more confessions. I am done.

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Today, I was running a little late for work. MJ was up for four hours last night and that obviously made pregnant mommy a bit sleepy and I may have fallen asleep 15 minutes before we were supposed to leave the house. After dropping MJ off with his GG, I was making my way to work when I came across an older man waiting to cross at a crosswalk. I stopped my car and attempted to wave him across. The man smiled and said through my open window, “I may be old, but I am still a gentleman. Go ahead, young lady.”

My tired, crappy day is now a little bit better. 🙂

Gymnastics

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Gymnastics class last week was amazing. I cannot wait until class tomorrow.

MJ had fallen asleep in the car on the way to class, so he was a little grumpy and uncooperative to begin with. Once he realized there were plenty of girls to stare at, he was in his glory.

There was a cute little obstacle course set up and my little man was unafraid to show off; I was so proud of him.

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