I feel like The Machinist but without all that great weight loss

I’ve been down the rabbit hole for a while now and I’m working on getting out. Things hit a very bad point last week after weeks of not sleeping plus all the other shit life can throw at you.  Max refuses to sleep, plain and simple. Sparky has been traveling or working so much that Max’s care rested solely on my shoulders and it finally caught up.

Me: I hate that the neighbors are playing that music so loud I can hear it through the three-foot brick walls.

Sparky:  Huh?

Me:  Don’t you hear that?  They play it just at that level that I can’t figure out what it is, just random music.

Sparky:  You hear it right now?

Me:  Yeah, I’ve been listening to it for the last week.  I think it’s the Belgians. The damn smoking Belgians.

Sparky, paying attention now: Huh.  Do you see shadows?

Me: I always see shadows. I think I just need a follow-up appointment from the Lasik.

Sparky:  OoooKaaaay.  You are getting sleep right now.  Jen, there isn’t any music.  The building is silent.

Me:  Shut up.  You can’t hear that?

Sparky: This is not good.  You are hallucinating.

Turns out, one needs sleep to function.  Sparky, being fully aware of how the brain functions, finally figured out that mine was not functioning the way it should. The next day he took Max and I slept for six hours straight. It was fabulous.  Then Max and I stayed up all night again and Sparky went back to work.

Do you see the problem?

We are working on the problem, but like with everything here, it’s a slow process.  It is in these moments I hate being here, I resent being in Krautland where I have no family and no immediate support system because my family is too far away.  It’s the worst part of being an expat.  I just need family to come over and take Max for a few hours so I can sleep.  Or to talk to me or to figure out that I’m slowly going mad from lack of sleep and utter isolation before the music starts playing in my head.

The day after that talk with Sparky I called my aunt.  She’ll be here December 1st. I just have to make it until then and she’ll be here and I can let go, without fear, for a few hours and finally fucking sleep.

We are interviewing nannies or babysitters or tagesmutters or whatever you call the lady that comes over two/three times a week to give me time. But again, that takes time.

Until then, I’m holding on.  Sparky is out-of-town again. Max is teething and vaccinations are tomorrow. I’m praying he sleeps for more than his usual 30 minute cycle tonight.  The good thing about vaccinations is that they make him tired.  He sleeps.  That’s the point I’ve gotten to, hoping vaccinations will make him tired enough so that I can get more than 30 minutes to 1 hour of sleep at a time.  Hoping that I can close my eyes long enough for them to stop burning before he wakes up again.

Just for the record, I have all the books from Dr. Sears to Ferber and all the books and theories in between. I’ve tried them all, but I can’t focus enough to get it right. He doesn’t co-sleep well, but he doesn’t sleep well in his crib.  He can’t self-soothe back to sleep and the one time I let him cry it out, he and I cried for three hours before I gave up. I just can’t figure it out in the state I’m in.  I just can’t do it alone.

Patti will be here in 2 weeks.  She calls me every day to tell me how many more days until she arrives.

That is what family is for.

Dave and Meghan

This is my brother David and his wife Meghan.It’s weird to call her his wife because we are still kids right? Except I’ve been married for 6 years and have a kid and just ordered a Christmas stocking that says Mom and not Jenny.

Anyway, I realized this year, e-mailing christmas plans between Meghan, Jennice and my sister that not only have we all grown up, my brothers are with fabu women.  Women who kick ass and take names and our family has grown up.

Meghan rocks.  She is one of the fiercest people I know. Loyal and fierce.  She works for Child Protective Services.  You definitely want her watching your back and you definitely do not want to piss her off.

She also has a wicked sense of humor.

Last year I realized that I was jealous of Meghan.  She took over as the reigning female, the one who kept everyone together, the center of our family. She brought David back into the fold for which we are all thankful because Dave rocks too.

But see, that used to be me until I moved 6000 miles away and it made me kind of sad. Then I was really happy.  The family is solid. She keeps them together and every year I go home and get to be a part of the family again without guilt.

Why do I bring this up?  Well, lately I’ve been more than a little homesick.  I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole (another post for another time) and I really need my family. I can’t wait to go home at the end of December and get everyone together for dinner.  I can’t wait to introduce Max to those who don’t know him yet.  I can’t wait for Max to have cousins and I can’t wait to be a part of something that great again.

Not only that, but i need a pedicure and there is nothing better than gossiping with Meghan while my toes are painted with the discontinued red that she hunted down for me.  Seriously, my sister-in-law rocks.

How lucky am I?

 

 

Happy Birthday, Dear Brother

You know, you were a pain in the ass when we were kids, but you grew up just fine.  I’m so proud to be your sister.

For your birthday, I’ve decided to give you a gift you never thought you’d get.

I hereby promise to never, ever bring up the scar on my shin again.  I’ll never bring up how you would kick me over and over with those damn cowboy boots until you killed the nerves in that particular place. Or how weird it still feels, 30 odd years later because I can’t feel it.

So there.  That was the end of it.  You can test me all you want, but I shall never bring it up again!

Thank you, Jeff, for being my best friend.  Thanks for being the one person I can tell everything to and know that you’ll not judge me, but rather trust me to know what I’m doing.  Thanks for being the home I can always count on.

Oh and thanks for being the kind of sibling that will require me to have another kid so Max has a shot at such a relationship.  Well, that is kind of a thanks. I wish that kid could just appear, weaned and sleeping through the night.

In the pictures below, you might notice a pretty lady.  Her name is Jennice and she is a very big part of Jeff’s current level of happiness.  She rocks.

Happy Birthday.

 

Don’t Be Scared, He’s a Good Monster

So the comp should  be picked up today.  We’ll see. THIS might be my last post for up to 30 days.

I’m so going to a Mac.  Sad.  I hate to make Sparky happy like that, but I can’t stand it any longer. and there is an iPhone in my future.  Just shut it, Tilman.  I don’t want to hear it!

In other news, we got a video baby monitor.  It’s fascinating.  It is supposed to let me relax and stop thinking every noise is my kid jumping out of his crib (he can’t do this yet) or tickling his feet while he sleeps to make sure he’s breathing.  Only, see, I can’t take my eyes off it.  It’s like the Roomba when we first got him.  I spent HOURS watching the damn vacuum vacuum.  Now I spend Max’s nap watching him on a video screen.

This morning Ollie found the camera.  That cat is such a camera whore.  any camera, anytime.  Whiskers and nose.  We’ll have to work with Olls and get him to understand that looking down at the camera adds ten pounds.

Oh and our water supply, you know, into our house, has been found to have a coliform bacteria.  All water must now be boiled until the new UV filter system is installed which should be soon… ish.  This is Germany after all. It only took a week to get the damn sink installation in the Kablooey room finished incorrectly.  Anther week for them to correct the mistake. And then another week to paint and get the worktops installed.  Two months for 10 square feet.  I’m not bitter.  Oh the glories of everyday life.

Above and beyond anything though, is that kid. Man, I just love him more and more everyday and thank my stars I get to stay at home with him. Thanks for that, Sparks. Thanks for supporting us so I can stay home.  And thanks for not expecting me to cook.  I might go a little batty talking to a 6 month old all the time.  I might need a break around 6 pm, but I never get tired of being with him. He will need a sibling so I don’t spoil the perfect being he is right this minute. But we can wait on that one for a while.

Adios, amigos.

Ollie stop licking Max’s head…

J is for Jerboa

I’m waiting for the DHL guy to come and take my comp away for it’s latest rehab issue.  My computer is hooked on the junk.  It’s the only explanation I have other than Vista + Sony = craptastic mess of un-uninstallable shit with a blue screen chaser. I’m thisclose to turning Mac.

This might be my last post for “Up to 30 days, Ma’am.”

I thought Max had the swine flu yesterday.  It started the day before.  He’s been really, really cranky which is really not like my little angel at all.  Seriously, I have a pretty easy-going kid so the cranky issue followed by the not sleeping issue plus a little bit of a fever and a little cough,  multiplied by the 16 articles I’ve read on the swine flu led to my correct diagnosis of the swine flu.

Wrong.

It was the drool that filled me in.  That and the constant biting of everything he can get his mouth on.

Yep, teeth.  The kid is teething.  It only took me about four hours to get over my H1N1 scare and then another four hours of trying to help the little guy with ice chewies, frozen peas and oragel (which he hated with a capital H) before I remembered “Hey, I can give him Tylenol.”

I am a genius.

Tylenol and co-sleeping equals 12 hours of escape for Max and his ravaged little mouth.

Right now he’s eating my book and other than writing this, I’m watching Elmo and the Alphabet Jungle.

J is for Jerboa. Did you know that?

Now then, the Kablooey room is almost done.  Had the plumber, who looked a lot like Vin Diesel AND bossed me around a bit, finish his part this morning. Nothing like a guy with big tools to boss me around. Me-ow.

The dry wall guy is here now fixing the large hole the plumber made.  Tomorrow I hope to have it painted and then the work tops mounted and it’ll be done and all chemicals can be stored above five feet.  Everyone under five feet will be safe.  Over five feet and you’re on your own.

Now,  for your viewing pleasure, here is Max.

Max and Ollie

I think it might be that my air supply has been cut off

I’m tired.  Like bone tired.  Max is keeping me up all night again.

I keep hearing Air Supply playing in my head.

“I’m all out of love, I’m so lost without you…”

I have no clue how that got in there, but it’s not going away.

Max is in his crib, happily playing by himself, but wide eyed and well, happily playing.

I want to go to sleep before our midnight through 5 am lovefest where I really regret ever starting to breastfeed because Sparky gets to sleep through his nights.

I’m so tired the bags under my eyes start at my nose and work their way out.

The Kablooey room is almost done.  It’s done enough that I can really screw it up if I don’t pay attention to the details, much like my grasp of the German language. Did the catholic lady have friends help her move or take off her clothes.  One verb that can go very wrong.  I think it might be two verbs actually, but they sound alike.

Got Scrunchy in the mail today.  Ollie swiftly knocked him off the bookshelf.  Thankfully his box is sealed or he’d get to know the Dyson a lot better than either one of us wanted.

I’ve got nothin.  Nothing that wants to jump out of my head.  Lots in there, but I can’t seem to pull anything out.  Thought constipation.  Will pears, peaches, plums or prunes help? A therapist?  A week in the Canary islands like my physiotherapist?

Max has decided he wants my attention now.  I suppose I should rush over, change his diaper and then nurse back to his 3 hour nap before we get up for the night.

Oh, what are you thinking of?
What are you thinking of?
Oh, what are you thinking of?
What are you thinking of?

I’m Chiquita Banana

I have the answer to all our problems, Sparky and mine.

Sparky drives me crazy using only half a banana. I hate the smell and the blackening peel on the counter.  Nothing I say or do convinces Sparky to use the whole banana.  This is a guy who can eat three plates of meat and potatoes yet cannot eat a whole banana?

I say it’s a passive aggressive thing.

He says it’s a ratio issue – muesli vs banana bits.

I then say it’s an issue for couples therapy because if he doesn’t find a way to eat the whole god damned banana, he’ll be buried with that damn half a banana.

I found the answer and it’s not 250 euros an hour.

Mini-Bananas.  The best part was when Sparks asked the cost and I told him I didn’t know because why look at cost when they solved so many problems but as the baby food was only 30 euros and the whole bill was close to 130 euros, well, around 100 euro**?

Oh my god was that worth it.  I wonder if he’ll eat a whole god damned banana if the alternate solution is 100 euro mini bananas?

And this is for you, Max.

**They were not in fact 100 euro.  I just like to keep Sparky guessing.

And here’s a gratuitous Max shot.

Mrs. Garrett Warned of Weeks Like These

You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have... *

My last two weeks.

We made a joke that my brother and my dad are riders of the Apocalypse because they showed up in a puff of smoke and the rest of our world kind of imploded.  Some stuff I can write about and some stuff I don’t. Let’s just say my Dad REALLY wants me to move home now.  So much for the romance of European Living.

Sparky picked up my father and brother from the airport on October 1st.  Five miles from home the car started smoking – in through the air vents.  They managed to get home and the car promptly died.

Welcome to Germany, Dad!

That was the car that could hold four adults and a kid seat.

Then our second car died.

Then the rental car died, the rental car we NEEDED to get to Frankfurt to be there when Scrunchy was put to sleep because he was in a lot of pain.  His time was short and I sat there kicking a non-functioning car while my poor little cat sat in a strange hospital waiting for me.

And then Scrunch died.

A neighbor I barely know drove us, in Friday night traffic and waited for us to complete our business to drive us back.  A bit of grace just when I needed it. Thank you, Uschi.

As an aside, can I just say that it cost us more to cremate Scrunchy than most of his vet bills?

My car was fixed in a day so at least we had one that worked. Not a car that we could all fit into at one time, but at least we weren’t stranded in the middle of nowhere otherwise known as our loft.  Sparky would chauffeur my dad and brother to a restaurant then get Max and I so we could go out as a group.  Not ideal, but at least we got to go out.

Max was, of course, an angel.  His schedule was totally ignored.  He went where and when we went and yet he was so flexible and easy.  I don’t know how I got so lucky. I expect his first phrase to be “Hang ten, Dude.”

I was playing with him one day when he dropped his head too fast for me to react starting Guilt Fest 2009 part 465.  His mouth hit my forehead and while it didn’t bleed, it left a mark on his perfect little duck lip and his tears mixed with mine.  I felt like such a crappy mom.

It did however prepare me a little for today when he rolled off the bed – over the pillows that had held him in the middle before – and on to the floor.  It is the first time I have ever been grateful for a bed 6 inches off the floor.  He is fine.  Not even a mark.  Sparky and I might have had our lifespans shortened, but Max recovered with 30 seconds of snuggles and kisses.

The Kablooey room is, of course, a nightmare.  Ikea delivered the wrong cabinets twice.  The installation guy has rescheduled and the plumber went on vacation without telling anyone the details of our job.

But you know what?  The last two weeks have either bestowed an inner knowledge upon my golden head or worn me down to the point I just don’t give a crap anymore.  It’ll get done when it’s done and there ain’t nothin’ I can do to make it go faster.

I think it was the delivery of the only car the five of us could fit in at 9 pm October 12th, the night before my dad and brother left that really pushed that point home. At least we could all drive to the airport together!

Anyway, I’m recovering this week.  I had a great time with both my Dad and brother, but I’m tired.  Playing housekeeper, cook, mother,daughter, sister, and wife is exhausting.  Thank goodness Max is there with me. We’ve spent a lot of the day snuggling and giggling in bed.

He went through a growth spurt over that two week visit and frankly, I don’t know who replaced my little baby with this long kid.  He’s so big I can almost not remember him being small. Oh and that weaning thing?  So not happening.

Gotta run, but here’s a little picture of the last two weeks.

I have had that damn theme song in my head for days now. It rotates with “C is for Cookie“

RIP Scrunchy

He was the best and the greatest.  He was my sentry when I showered and would lick my hips to help me dry off.  His first meal with me was spaghetti and it took me a month to realize that the light orange dot on his chin wasn’t a spaghetti stain, but his coloring.

He’s been through a lot and finally his little bod gave out.

I miss you so much, Scrunchels.  Give my love to Cleo and Sig for me.  They’ll be waiting for you.