Archive for the 'Uncategorized' Category

Goodbye, kids

So I finally took some time to check out my Sitemeter. I’m quite pleased with my following. A sufficient amount of peeps are reading, which really pushes me to pump out material, even as boring and depressing as its been lately. What some of you might not know, however, is that this is the FOURTH blog I have created. I wish this was the original, because then my archives would show that I’ve been blogging for a year and a half, instead of a measly few months. Unfortunately, each time I’ve deleted a blog and created anew is because of a few readers that are closely linked to my personal life. These readers, although I love them dearly, are just not people I want perusing through some very personal material I’ve written here. It’s different with strangers. To someone who doesn’t know me and will never meet me, I don’t have to worry that behind my back you are apalled…that you’re judging me. Because frankly, I don’t really care what you think.

I did my best here to create an anonymous blog. My name isn’t really Estella, and obviously my children aren’t named Einstein, Pigpen, and Animal. And although I’ve got an incredibly cute picture of myself as a child on the top of my page, I really had high hopes for creating a space where I could “let it all out.” Anonymously.

Apparently, I was stupid enough to link to photos in my Photobucket account where my username is my real, true, full legal name. I inadvertantly made myself googleable. Doh.

And so here we are again, with readers that I feel uncomfortable with. Sorry guys. Like I said, I love you, but this has got to stop.

I can’t seem to give up the blogging bug, so I will be moving once again. Please email me at tamingestella at yahoo dot com for my new address.

Thanks for the support,

Rae (Estella)


My fucking uterus

So B convinced me to cancel my appointment to get the blasted IUD removed.

Why did I listen to him?

Five days now into a period and there will certainly be at least 5 more. Probably about 9 more days.


Finding Life

I’ve had a rough 24 hours.

The depression has been growing, filling up the empty spaces in the house like a slow creeping cloud of black.

It takes every bit of my physical strength and mental resolve to drag myself out of bed each morning. It requires equal effort to keep my eyes open for 12 hours. Until the clock strikes 8 and I can bury myself under the down comforter.

Yesterday, after a full day of appointments, Einstein decided to test my limits and bring me to the brink of madness and rage. These episodes with him are becoming more and more frequent. He speaks to me with the most direspectful tone. He sounds like a 13 year old, rather than an 8 year old. He rolls his eyes and looks at me with such a smartass expression that it makes me want to grab his cheeks and squeeze until his lips go numb and his eyes go wide with fear. When the priveleges get taken away for inappropriate behavior, the shit hits the fan. He literally screams his head off, full force, sometimes for an hour or more, only stopping to take a quick breath. He throws things, pounds on the doors and walls. He thrashes, destroying everything in his wake. It’s alarming and out-of-character and invokes anger from me like you wouldn’t believe. My buttons get pushed. I lose myself, I become my rage. I float above my body watching the scene play out, escalating with each word spoken too loud, too harshly. Verbal exchanges are ugly, spiteful…words that should never be spoken between mother and child.

The child is halfway responsible for ruining our family life. He demands so much energy, so much time. I have two other children who are suffering, who sit alone quietly trying to block out the screaming. Children who are missing their parents as their older brother sucks us all dry. I am not exaggerating when I say that B and I have had in-depth conversations about giving custody over to Einstein’s biological father.

I say Einstein is half responsible, because the other half certainly rests of the shoulders of my husband. When I called him last night, hysterical about Einstein’s animalistic behavior, he sucked down two drinks at the ferry and drove home. He walked in the door, tipsy and slurring and angry. He threatened Einstein with his belt. He sat him down and he droned on and on, speaking in circles, glaring and riling himself up and spitting out angry nonsense words. When he was finished, he warmed up the dinner he had missed and went straight to bed. I sat at the dining room table amongst caked on spaghetti plates and homework papers and piles of laundry and I felt myself hit rock bottom.

I can’t take it anymore. I can’t handle the ups and downs, the one step forward, two steps back. There is nothing I own, nothing I care about that means more to me right now than just getting OUT. I need a job and a room and my little boys. I need to find them again, find me again. Find Life.

The ADDled brain

Yesterday I took Pigpen to a new pediatrician. (Practically the only one on our side of the island…EVERYONE sees this guy.) His name is Dr. Bob. Pretty cool guy, I’d say. Really kid-friendly. I talked to him about Pigpen’s incontinence issues and he gave me a few good tips that I hadn’t heard of yet. (I’ll spare you the details.) But he was definitely super-quick to jump on the medication bandwagon. He whipped out that prescription pad for something that would relax my little one’s overactive bladder. I imagine it was pretty surprising to him when I declined. One thing that he did during the appointment, which really turned me off, is when he told Pigpen that “pretty soon the kids at school are going to start making fun of you for peeing your pants because you’ll smell.” Yeah. That’s real appropriate, Mr. Professional.

He also referred us to a “specialist” for the ADD diagnosis. The guy’s card says that he’s a therapist and a “coach.” I can’t help imagining some cheesy, plastic guy in cheap suit talking to us like he’s a car salesman or an annoying motivational speaker. Or even the guy in the cleaning product infommercials who yells very quietly. The coach’s card says “Helping tame the ADDled brain!” Is “addled” even a word? And if so, who uses it? He actually has a trademark next to the phrase, so apparently it’s uniquely his. The whole thing weirds me the fuck out.

My boys

So I’m borrowing a camera this week. Here are some up-to-date pictures of my boys. All badly in need of a haircut.

Einstein: (Check out the eyebrows on this kid. Woah.)


Animal: (Check out how much Pigpen & Animal look alike!

Fully trained. Kind of.

Well folks, it’s over. I have finally completed the last bit of training and the only thing that stands between me and certification is the actual work. My clients are 37 weeks and 35 weeks respectively. It won’t be long now.

The 4 day workshop definitely gave me some confidence. I wasn’t sure if I would gain anything from the experience, since my birth-junkiness has caused me to devour just about every bit of information out there, and has pushed me into picking the brains of every birth professional I have ever encountered. But I have been trained well. I doubt that I would have received this quality of training anywhere else in the U.S. My instructors are well known…nationally, even internationally. I am so lucky.

I spent the last few hours of class on my hands and knees, panting and blowing and moaning and grunting and birthing my imaginary baby. I spent it stroking and reassuring and positioning and adding counterpressure to my fellow students during their imaginary labors. I looked at the room, full of groups of three. All of us panting and blowing and yelling and rocking and swaying. I laughed. I had to, it came naturally. And then I thought of Louisa, student midwife at the very same school. Giving her fellow classmate a vaginal exam, a pap smear. This is how we learn. And learn I did. It was amazing.

An award! Yeah!

Thanks to the lovely Magdalena, I have been given the “Thinking Blogger Award.”

It was a pretty good time to get this little tasty treat, considering the fact that my depression has sucked me dry of every bit of inspiration and has left me with a severe case of Writer’s Block.

My job in receiving this award is to pass it along to 5 more blogging peeps. This is a little difficult for me, because my top 3 have already been named. (Magdalena’s blog and also Peggy’s and Thordora’s.)

There are only about 10 or so blogs on my Favorite’s list now. So I’m sorry, original award-giver. I only have two more to add to the mix.

1. Walk Slowly, Live Wildly Sara doesn’t write often, but when she does, it’s fantastic. She is the epitome of natural motherhood and has opened up my eyes to so much. Another cool thing about Sara is that she is a devoted Christian. With dreads.

2. 8cm Deluded For all you moms out there, this one is great. The Domestic Slackstress is an ex-newspaper reporter/internet news producer/magazine writer who now stays home with the 3 kids she birthed nearly back-to-back. She is fucking hilarious. Hilarious I say.