Day two in Hell
Apologies right up front. This is one big ol' whine at 4:30am (Friday). Feel free to give it a miss.
Well this damned yeast is kicking my bountiful arse. As of this morning (1am, whee!) Fiver latching on was so painful I had to keep myself from yelling out and waking EGH. I can't go on like this. I have an unusually high threshold for pain and I was crying after a few minutes. I ended up having to unlatch him - something that has never happened; usually there's an initial stabbing/burning pain then I 'get used to it'. Not this time. He's getting more blood than milk from the left side.
I've just taken a load of my pain meds to see if I can make it through nursing the other side. I'll go out to the Wal Mart today when EGH gets home and get one of those cheapo manual breast pumps. I've used them before and they work well for me and I'll be DAMNED if I'm going to stop breastfeeding. I don't mind tossing in a little formula until we get over this and I absolutely cannot keep eating pain meds all day just to be able to feed.
I feel so bad. I'm just depressed in general with the daunting task of losing weight. It's 100% my own fault, of course, that I have it to lose in the first place, but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with. All the post-partum swelling doesn't help, making me gross and awkward like I was still pregnant. I also have no energy. I try to get stuff done and get so tired. I suppose all the Percocet isn't helping that. Bah.
I'm feeling and looking old, fat, and tired.
And since I've dragged you down into this sudden pity party, let me go ahead and say that all this crap makes me feel bad for EGH, too. Nothing like having an in-pain, half-doped, old, fat, tired, and crabby wife wandering about and complaining. Oh glee.
To top it all off, he's having enough trouble at work with a few fellow teachers (who deserve the moniker that starts with a 'B' and ends with 'itches', but I'll be polite and not say that here *ahem*). These cows are of the sort (and I know all of us have worked with this type before) who are just never satisfied. They don't want to do any work but they don't want anyone else to be recognized or praised. They gossip and are nosey. They fight every policy change by undermining the administration, talking behind the Principal's back, going to the district office, yet they never present viable alternate suggestions for solving problems. All they do is stir the pot, stir the pot, bitch, gripe, gossip, and moan.
I hate women like this. HATE them.
Ya know, if you don't agree with something, then stand up and say so. Come up with a better idea on how to do things. Voice your concerns to everyone. Follow the chain of command. Do your freakin' job.
How hard is this?
If you're not happy with yourself, unfulfilled at home, or whatever, then too bad. This is your job. Suck it up, pull on your big girl underpants and freakin' deal with it. I say this almost every day: these women better be damned thankful that it's the sweet, polite, pushover of an Evil Genius that they have to deal with and not me.
Especially me with thrush.
(This is me. This is me with thrush. Be afraid. Be very afraid)
(How's that for mixing catchphrases?)
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PS: thanks everyone for reading this drivel. Sometimes I feel like you guys are the only ones keeping me sane.
Labels: Caution - venting gasses, Random crap, The job of motherhood
4 Comments:
I hope these ladies don't read your blog.
Aerodog, while I appreciate where you're coming from (shouldn't speak ill of hubby's co-workers lest it come back to bite me on the arse), I am not lying or exaggerating. This isn't conjecture or opinion. These few women have been making everyone's work life hell.
Well, they're fixin' to get their comuppance. They've run the Principal - a good man - off and I hope they get their due. I hope they get the least teacher-friendly principal in the system. I hope they get a hard-arsed ex drill seargent whose motto is 'My way or the Highway'.
That'll learn 'em.
Blue. Seriously.
You are LESS THAN A WEEK POST PARTUM. The idea of weight loss should not even be in your GALAXY of thinking right now. Your only job at the moment (as if I need to tell you this) is to get yourself healthy so that you and Fiver can settle into a nursing routine. Once that happens and you get a chance to relax, a lot of the weight you're worried about will come off on its own.
Please tell EGH that I'm pulling for him. I'm so, SO grateful to be an adjunct professor - I don't HAVE to deal with all the pettiness and politics that run rampant in public schools. I'm fairly certain that I wouldn't last a year in an environment like that; I'd get my ass fired for scolding the grown-ups for acting worse than the kids they're teaching...
*hugs*
I hear you. And wish there was something I could do for you!
On the upside- fiver does latch. :) You're not going through the insanity (but still a good idea on principle) of having to pump all day to give your child breast milk. And wash pump parts, and bottles, and store it and rotate the stock and ARGH... as soon as you get things done they want to be fed again and you never ever get sleep--
Oh I was a TRIP those first couple of weeks.
Hang in there- thrush is not the end of the world but it does hurt like those fellow teachers of EGH. ;)
Have a solid good St. Paddy's day. Let the kiddos find a leprechan and you can use him to wish the thrush away.
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