Family reflections

This past weekend turned out to be surprisingly drama-free and fun.  I mean, I love my family, and I'm not saying I don't normally have fun seeing them, but having 5 siblings, divorced parents and a widowed grandmother who doesn't always remember what you just said 5 minutes ago often makes my time with them more interesting and fast-paced than fun and relaxing.  Oh, let's face it, seeing my family is never relaxing.  It's just not.  Even when my mom watches my son in the morning so I can sleep in, or at night so I can go to bed early, it's not the same as sleeping in my own bed.  I can't lounge around in my pajamas, or waste any time, since my time there is always limited.  A typical visit consists of a 6 hour drive after my man gets off work, putting us in San Diego around 11 pm or midnight, getting up early that morning and having a long Saturday seeing as many people as I can, and leaving Sunday around noon.  That puts us home sometime around 6 pm or 7, which leaves us only a few hours of weekend before we have to go to bed and get ready for the week.  We really need to go to San Diego over long weekends so we can fit in a zoo or SeaWorld visit.  Sigh.

Anyway, I'm happy to say that my brother looks remarkably better than I expected.  I was told that his bedsore had become infected and that the infection had reached the bone, which is often deadly.  Needless to explain, I cried and imagined the worst.  People with spina bifida, the paraplegic condition my brother was born with, tend to have a shortened lifespan.  But, this time he's going to be okay.  He looked great, had already been discharged from the hospital, and says he feels fine.  I'm relieved.  I've been reflecting on my family and how lucky I am to have them all alive and still talking to me.  So many people don't have that.  

Mom and dad aren't perfect people, but they love and support me in whatever I want to do in life.  They're proud of me, despite my stumbles and flaws, and they've been there for me whenever I needed them.  It's cheesy, but heartwarming to think about.

I feel guilty about living a state away from my family.  I was raised to believe that family is everything, and being close to your family is more important than moving away to pursue a life elsewhere.  I mean, it was never outright said, but it was implied.  Whenever I talked about college in another city, mom got this sad look in her eyes and said, "Oh, but you'll be so far away then.  Do you really want to move away from all of us like that?"  More than that, everyone talked about living in California as though it wasn't possible to live anywhere else.  I admit, I would move back to coastal California in heartbeat if I could.  But I still wish my parents hadn't looked so disappointed when I moved.  I felt like I was betraying my loved ones by leaving.  Throughout college, I considered moving back to "help out" as my parents divorced, two of my siblings had kids, my parents lost the house, and my father had another kidney transplant.  But in the end, I think it was best for us all that I stayed here and finished my degree, married my love and started my family.  I wish I lived closer to them, and I'll try to make sure my son knows his relatives as well as he can, but I love having a separate life and doing my own thing.  Besides, I can always visit.

Keeping Sane

So, this has been a stellar two and a half weeks.  My son, my husband and I have all been sick with this nasty stomach flu that's been going around, my two sisters came to visit me along with my dad and their families, my man went to Las Vegas over the past weekend, I got a phone call that my brother is in the hospital with a seriously infected bedsore, and to top it all off I haven't been sleeping well.  I never fell prey to post-partum depression, but if this is what it feels like, it's awful.  

Everything has felt grey and empty.  It feels like you can't do anything right.  No matter what I do, it's never enough.  I always feel like my son deserves more, no matter how often I read to him, how many home-cooked meals he eats, or how much bonding time we get together.  The house is a mess and I have no energy.  All the parenting choices I've made aren't the easy or obvious ones.  Bed-sharing, extended breastfeeding and refusing to put him on a schedule have incited criticism and outright laughter from relatives and complete strangers alike.  It sucks.  It's unfair.  And it's so much harder without support.

I spent some time crying, having my little break-down after my son followed me from room to room whining and pulling on my leg for an hour, and I realized that sleep is at the crux of this problem.  I can handle all of this if I sleep ten hours a night.  Well, I think I can.  I haven't gotten more than 6 hours of uninterrupted sleep since my third trimester (heartburn prevented it.)  The really crappy part of this situation is that, even when my son sleeps through the night, my body is so used to him waking up and needing me that I wake up at least once, convinced I need to check on him.  Lame.

So, I've gotten kind of used to six hours a night, even all broken into two- and three-hour chunks.  But a sick baby won't give you that.  A night of vomiting and diarrhea, whether it's yours or the kid's, denies you sleep like that, too.  Worse, when the entire family is better, and things are starting to get back to normal, sleep will still be off.  Yep, the child has wrecked his sleep schedule and now wants to wake up and play for a couple of hours at 2 am.  I am dying to sleep again.  Sigh.

I'm getting by, napping alongside my son for now, and hoping this storm will pass soon.  I talked to my husband about it a couple of nights ago...okay, we fought about it, and I think we've resolved some of these issues.  He's been more affectionate to me and he now knows that I need a few minutes of quiet in our room to collect myself when the day has been really bad and I'm about to cry.  Just that extra kiss and "I love you" when he leaves for work really goes a long way.  I knew I married him for a reason.

In return, I need to approach him before I turn into a screaming banshee or a puddle of tears.  No problem!  In fact, I'm sure I got the better end of the deal.  

So, I took an overly long nap with my son today and burned dinner, and laundry never got done.  But there's a a distinct sunbeam peeking through the storm clouds now.   The week is looking up.