PPD

I have a post in the works about mother's day, but who knows when it will be completed. Instead I'm living (and posting) in the moment. And the moment is and has been pretty tough lately. I've been dealing with some very heavy post partum depression mixed with a liberal dose of grief and that's just not my favorite recipe in the world. I'm feeling pretty fragile these days...like cracked pottery that just might break into a million fragments the next time you put it in the dishwasher of life. I didn't even fully realize how hard its been and the extent of what I've been feeling until I went to see our wonderful wise midwife the other day and my busy bee facade of I'm handling it just crumbled before her gentle loving gaze. The truth is I'm a mess. A huge weepy overwhelmed mess. And now I'm putting my mess out there for all the world to see. I am not handling things well, and I pretty much want to hide under the covers and cry all the time. But I can't. The LFM needs me, WB needs me, the laundry...well, never mind, at this point the apartment is one giant metaphor for my emotional state. Hopeless.

And amidst all of this, my father (and everyone else really) is pressuring me to take advantage of the real estate market and buy a house with Mimi's death money as a substantial down payment. Because you know, when I'm overwhelmed and sobbing from little things like making dinner or getting the car inspected, that's the perfect time to make major life decisions, right?

Speedracer on the Developmental Racetrack

The LFM and his Papy Putting in a Busy Day at the Office

Look at those Awesome Dimples!

No, I'm not Trying to Show Off my Impressive Ability to Create Large Piles of Mess Everywhere I go...This Here is Evidence of the LFM's Brilliance...the First Roll

I've been trying to write this post for a week...literally. Yeah, if this is our poor monkey's version of a baby book, he seems to be getting the cheap ghetto Dollar Store version. We'll give it to him for his 20th birthday along with a gift certificate for a mullet trim and a gigantic bag of cheetos...because we're just that classy.

The monumental news around these parts (which now seems like old hat thanks to my blogging laziness- the date on the post is really a lie, contrived to make me seem like a better Mama than I really am) is that on Sunday May 4th 2008 the LFM rolled over from his back to his stomach! [insert crowd cheers and tickertape parade here] At 3 months! This is not normally achieved until 4-6 months old. Harvard here we come! I knew the boy was brilliant!

Except he has not stopped rolling ever since. Even in his sleep. All he wants to do is roll (he has yet to discover the rock part of the equation). This wouldn't be so much of a problem except that our little precocious monkey has yet to master rolling from his stomach to his back. And he hates-nay, loathes- being on his stomach. The scenario runs like this: the LFM, looking all cute and pleased with himself rolls over with such grace and poise you'd think he was auditioning for the US Olympic Baby Rolling Team. He looks up for the grand finish and flashes a smile that puts Mary Lou Rhetton to shame. He then looks around, realizes that he's indeed on his stomach, and immediately panics that he will never again be able to get back onto his back. He yells until I come and roll him back over. Rinse and Repeat. 12 million times a day. The fun never ends. Ever.

So our Little Funky Monkey is now rolling over and reaching for, grabbing and holding toys. All quite early in the game. He also scoots when on his back and makes crawling motions when on his stomach. Umm, hello? Crawling motions? Maybe being precocious isn't so great after all..I was hoping he'd start crawling when he's about 18. Years. Not Months. Can't he crawl to class at Harvard?