Is BooBah the only Junebug with no teeth yet?
QoC -- If you visit the TTC threads, someone will be able to post a link to a site where you can buy loads of pregnancy tests for super cheap. I am hyper-aware of my fertility signals (and mine also spell imminent return of ovulation, though I can re-suppress by enticing BeanBean to nurse more, which isn't exactly difficult) so I probably won't be testing often. We are still actively avoiding pregnancy as best we can, so I will test immediately if I suspect, but other than the occasional bouts of paranoia...
I'd reccommend getting a copy of "Taking Control of Your Fertility" (or the cheaper option: borrow it from the library and memorize what you want to know :LOL) and a basal thermometer before I suggest testing once a month, just because it's less expensive and I get the added bonus of filling in a chart. (I love charts.
A mother's helper-- sometimes, I really wish I had one, like last week when Mike had to take a day off work because I was hallucinating from the Prozac. Some days, I wake up and just think "I wish I had someone to chase the kids while I ______." Then there are times when I feel like super mom: I've got both kids latched on, and then I stand up and maintain both latches while I find the telephone and toss it onto the kids using my toes, and then answer it with my nose and wriggle it up to my ear. Sometimes I feel like super mom for smaller things, like when BeanBean has a booboo and just needs a quick nursie or BooBah will only settle for me (a rare occurance; it usually means that something is wrong and only I am aware of it, i.e. poopy pants).
At the super mom moments, I think it'd be fabulous to have a dozen kids. At my less super times, I feel that I am a less than adequate parent to two. In my "I've got loads of money and can do whatever I want" fantasies, I have loads of kids and I have helpers, but sometimes I wonder: If I need help, does that mean I can't handle the kids and therefore shouldn't have them, even if I can "afford" them? But even in my fantasies, I need helpers. I need someone to do the dishes and cook the food and clean the house while I'm doing all the fun things with the kids. Someone to come along with us when we go out so that the toddlers can be taken to play areas and someone can walk the 8 year old back to the car when they forget their sweater and I still have enough hands so that noone gets lost when we cross the parking lot.
I'm going to talk to my doctor about getting some BuSpar, because the Wellbutrin is helping my depression but certainly not my temper. Perhaps once I have my brain well in hand (wow, that's an image! :LOL) I will feel differently. But I'm really curious about this. Would it mean that I can't handle so many kids if I felt the need for a helper? Would it mean that I could handle them any better if I didn't have a helper? I dunno.
Maybe I'll start a thread.
As far as how much they earn-- I have no clue. You've got a number in your head; why don't you ask her what she thinks is fair, and then compromise? Perhaps money isn't terribly important to her, but she'd like a ride to the mall every now and then who isn't her mother, kwim? You never know what she'll ask for, cash or otherwise, but I don't think it can hurt to ask.
|when your child is your priority, you don't have the "luxury" of self-indulged depression...
Um, I have to tell you, "self-indulged" and "luxury" are some of the last words I'd ever ascribe to depression, post-partum or otherwise. My kids are definately my priority and that's why I'm getting medication, but it's got nothing to do with the "luxury" of being depressed. I just don't like myself when I'm miserable and I feel that it's affecting every aspect of my being, to say nothing of my parenting.
I grew up with a single, clinically depressed mother. She used to sit down on the couch literally for weeks at a time, never moving to do more than get something to eat or use the bathroom. She'd sit with the remote in front of the TV and not say more than three words, unless they were angry or demanding. It wasn't luxury or self-indulgence that drove her to that state, or even that her children weren't a priority, it was her refusal to seek help or even admit that there was a problem. Admittedly, the drugs for depression back then were very limited, and the fact is that admitting that there was a problem when we were very young would have put her in an awkward position-- that of having to potentially give up her children to become a better parent. Still, I believe that there were things she could have done, if there hadn't been so many people (as there always are) saying things like "it can't be that bad," "just get up and do ___," and "it's all in your head." That's the legacy of thinking of depression as a "luxury" or "self-indulgent behavior."
Sorry for the rant, but that's a bit of an issue for me.