Emily is sitting on my lap as I write. I have to stretch my arms in order to accommodate her cute little baby girl frame.
I know she is ready for another one of her micro naps, but while she is quiet, I am not sure I want to disturb our peace.
She has taken to doing worrier like battle with the daytime sleep, and only goes down for twenty to forty minutes at a time.
Yesterday she had less than an hour all day, which is not nearly enough for a lady of four months.
Actually most days lately, we are lucky to reach two hours, but I think a part of that is due to her teeth ganging up on her, and all arriving at the same time. This morning I noticed a bottom one trying to peep through.
Yes, teeth, this is what I will tell myself.
However, the real culprit is the dummy.
Once again, I am attempting to take it away, but so far, let us just say it is not going well.
Do not get me wrong, it has served us well, but now it is becoming a problem.
By problem I mean, something I have dreamed up in my will I ever sleep soundly again dilerium.
Yes yes, I will take that bad mother of the year award any time please.
I know it might seem like I am a little quick to call it, but keep reading.
However, do not say I did not warn you, because it is not going to be pretty.
I would suggest putting your old gumboots on for this one, because this is no place for those expensive designer heels you love so much.
Ok, so I am just going to come out and say it, the baby broke me.
Well it may not have really been the baby. She may have simply been in the house at the time. but either way I found myself earlier this morning, locked in the bathroom, hands over my ears, trying not to cry, and counting to ten very very slowly, while I left Emily lying in the middle of our lovely warm bed protesting at the top of her tiny, but very loud lungs.
We had been having such a fun morning, practicing yoga, making mermaid noises, and playing with Zebra. Although on the toy front, I think, Zebra maybe being usurped by new Cheetah. Cheetah is bigger, and dottier. And everyone knows you cannot argue with the spots.
I figure having her watch me stretch my body is far more productive than having her watch me interact with social media on my phone, as has been my habit.
Example is better than advice, right.
Then it happened. I opened my email and saw my phone bill for the month. My stomach lurched as I read the headline, and I realised with a short sharp bitch-slapping jolt we would have to find the money to pay for my primary connection to the outside world from somewhere. But where?
Our financial affairs look like a desolate landscape of lifeless nothing.
Normally being confronted with said bill would not be an issue, but this morning, oh my God this morning it was a big problem.
I mean it is not as if the amount is larger than usual, but adding it to the car registration, the electricity account, and holy cow the rent, and we are pretty much screwed.
I am not afraid we will run out of food, but I am absolutely terrified of not being able to keep us warm, and put a roof over our heads.
It is one thing to be cold, but quite another to be homeless.
We are lucky in terms of the generosity of people around us regarding clothing Emily. Because although I am absolutely certain we would find a way, I am equally as sure, I have no idea what that way looks like.
I understand my reaction might seem a little over done, but having been a couch surfer for years, I am all too familiar with the shame and vulnerability, which comes with not being able to pull one’s shit together.
I have watched others struggle with the baby/business balance for years, and I swore we would never be in such a precarious situation.
However, it would seem swearing it would never happen to us, is not an insurance polacy against the reality of which I am playing chicken.
I am afraid we will have nowhere to live. As in literally have nowhere to come or call home.
Somehow I got it into my pretty little head, having a family would buffer me against such circumstances, but it has not.
So once again, I find myself staring down the barrel of displacement.
I am so overwhelmed regarding the business that I simply want to give up.
The problem is it is not as though I can go be a barista in the meantime while I figure it all out.
I know I could go back to my former vacation, but when I examine what is really important, the truth is, I am not prepared to leave Emily at the moment.
She needs nourishment, and my body gives her that in the specific ratios she requires, and in the specific time, she requires.
Of course, I understand expressing is an option, but for us, it is not an ideal option.
Oh and for the record, I had no idea I would feel like this before she arrived. As far as I was concerned, we would be mix feeding, if not formula all the way, and I would be back climbing the ladder of my own ambition again.
On the surface, sending Michael back to work seems like a solution. However if you knew my husband, as in truly knew him, you would understand why I do not ask.
If only it were something as simple as my pride preventing me from asking him to contribute in a more traditional role.
However it is something far more deep and complex.
He needs to be home with our baby girl. As in he needs it, the same way the lavender in the garden needs to be purple.
Of course I know he would go back to work if I insisted, but what good would he be to us if he were dead inside. Therefore we will find another way.
I am sick of not being able to do the simplest of things. Be it personally or professionally.
Do I even need to mention the power walking through the park thing?
Because let us just say, although I have not mentioned it in at least three posts, that does not mean I have forgotten.
However, for the time being, a sling will have to do.
Too bad the chick I emailed through eBay this afternoon was not willing to help another mama out.
Therefore, no quick trip up the road for a we cannot afford it but we cannot afford me to lose my sanity either pastry.
Ahhhh, I miss pastry.
However, my frustration is a little more complex than a simple lack of mobility and butter in my life.
What is really bothering me is my reliance on other people to help me take the micro steps in my business.
And by micro, I mean the smallest of details. Such as picking a font, a colour scheme, a logo, a website template, or reading a stupid spam filter.
It is not as if I can even adjust the category of my Facebook page, in a feeble bid to feel like I am making some sort of progress in aligning my brand.
Because these and other such menial cyber tasks demand capacities, I do not hold in my arsenal of brilliance.
Therefore, I am stuck in the mud with my circular grouchy thoughts for company. Wondering what on earth, we are going to do, and feeling terrible about not enjoying my baby.
After all, she is such a little cutie cute cute.
Too bad I feel like I am failing her on almost every level.
The idea of not being able to provide for us is confronting to say the least. Moreover, I figure it is going to go one of two ways; either this melt down I am having is making that slope extra slippery slidy downy, or it is the spring from where I will bounce like Tigger to new heights.
I guess the only thing to do is wait and see.
This is not how I imagined our lives to be.
I thought it would be easy to tack an Empire together from scratch. However, I forgot a large portion of the internet is not easily accessible to screen reader technology.
The amount of time I waste trying to navigate through clunky websites and resources is utterly ridiculous.
I mean I am happy to work in five-minute increments, but those minutes are rare, and they need to be spent wisely. And by wisely I mean not with my nose to the screen looking for a mouse I cannot see to click on a something or other I also cannot see because there is no keyboard command option in place.
Do not get me wrong, of course I am grateful for the advent of the internet, it has opened my world something crazy, but oh my God at times it can be labour intensive and extremely frustrating.
However, enough of sifting through the dregs of my life. Perhaps now I have publically named and shamed my fear, we can all move on. Tomorrow is a new day, and with new days come new adventures. Maybe I simply need to go do something fun for a while, and regain my equilibrium, perspective, and most importantly, my sense of humour.