monday, monday

so here's how yesterday really went down.

woke up feeling O-tay. the prof was smiley, I had a to-do list, plopped the Prof on the bathroom floor (don't ask me why that's the one place where he'll lie contentedly for more than 3.83 minutes), grabbed the phone book and started making things happen.

made my eye doctor appt, did some research, was ticking things off my list and feeling fly.

tried giving him a bottle, and while he refused, nobody was hurt. oqui came home for lunch, chilling...tried the baba, again.

SUCCESS! homeboy took it like a champ. mouth wide open. perfect "latch". drained the measly ounce and a half in 15 seconds flat.

HOO0-FUCKING-RAH

then he realized it was empty and went ballistic. by the time I could heat more...forgeddaboutit.

do not ask me why...but that COMPLETELY set me off. I lost it. big big big big big big time. I got hysterical. the lights were on but nobody (reasonable) was home. TKO'd by a 12 pounder.

I felt like nothing could convince this child to do what I needed him to do unless he damn well pleased. I felt fucked.

I told oqui not to go back to work, that I shouldn't be alone with him because I didn't know if I could get myself together before he woke up. I was totally schitzing. et.cet.er.a.

he went back to work. I know he had to, but I was still completely fucking panicking.

they always tell you to ask for help if you need it...when I finally asked for help, he couldn't give it.

dambit.

I called my mom. she called my grandmother. my grandmother called me. I called her. they called the pentagon and so on and so on.

the prof woke up bitching and I tried to ignore him long enough to brush my teeth, pack his bag and get us both to gramma's before shit got ugly.

he was there all of two hours. long enough for me to get my eyes checked and my hair chopped.

btw...NEVER walk into a mall salon in a crazed mood and pick the first available stylist to cut your hair.

bad things happen...but that's another blog, entirely.

soooo...anyway, when I got back my grandparents had things relatively under control, he had taken some formula via bottle and I was ready to get home because my boobs were going to explode and I was starving.

then my mom came down. she REALLY thinks I need to stop nursing and was deadset on giving him a bottle. fortunately for me, he slept like a log the whole time she was here (trauma will do that to a little one) and no more artificial baby food found its way down his throat...willingly or otherwise.

I nursed him without incident all night...

then he started screaming again today.

so on we press. continuing our emotional roller coaster ride that is our nursing relationship.

he does ok. I feel great. he gets sick. I wanna cut my limbs off and beat myself to death with them.

this oughta be amusing for the next half a year or so...