Juliet Martinez

I have realized recently that when I say "no" to Paula, and she continues to ask for whatever it is that I've denied her, I immediately begin thinking of all the reasons why what she wants is perfectly reasonable, and why I should give it to her. It really is like having her lawyer in my head. All I have to do is say the word "no" to my daughter, and the lawyer wakes up and yells, "I object!"

This is a particular problem when Joel and I both say no to Paula. Because Paula resists and Joel holds firm, and I am filled with the desire to voice all of Paula's Little Lawyer's objections and defenses. I tell them to Joel, usually with the disclaimer that it's Paula's lawyer talking.

Then I encourage him to stand tough while I offer a low-volume running commentary on why he should give in to the child. Is it really so awful for her to pull everything out of the freezer, strip naked, bait the dog, run barefoot down the glass-littered alley screaming at the top of her lungs, come back and drive to the store? I mean, let's be reasonable!

Okay, it's not that bad. Quite. But anywhere there's a little bit of wiggle room, I find myself mentally taking her side even against myself and my better judgment. Then the internal struggle begins. I'm working on developing my own parental lawyer voice to argue with the voice of Paula's magical advocate in my mind. My parental voice asserts things like, "No, magnets do not go in your mouth!" and "We will leave for gymnastics after you put your clothes on!"

This is really nothing new. By the time Paula was a few weeks old, I was already feeling like a dedicated receiver for her semi-constant broadcasting of "I AM NOT HAPPY. SOLVE MY PROBLEM" on all channels. Maybe the improvement is that now I have one or two other channels I can pick up. Channels like, KRED, about whatever book I'm reading, and WMOM, broadcasting maternal wisdom 16 to 20 hours a day.

I realize I should keep my metaphors straight and stick with either A) my head is a court of law, or B) my head is a radio receiver (I've got the fillings for it). I had some caffeine this morning and it's wearing off, confusing me so thatI visualize my cranium as a place where Judge Judy presides over the studios of WKRP in Cincinnati. Suffice to say that I'm really working on hearing a voice of my own in my head, and acting accordingly.

Court is adjourned.

Posted at:Fri, Aug 03 2007 09:11:27 AM
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Tue, Jul 24 2007

Big decisions

My friend M just had her fourth child, a little boy frighteningly named Maximus by his father. M said she can see it now: the kind of 100 mph kid at whom one yells "MAXIMUS!" But that's their agreement: she names the girls (Laila and Neenah Mia), and he names the boys (Julio Cesar and Maximus). You can see how they have slightly different taste in names.

Since the middle of M's eighth month of pregnancy or so, her mom and dad came from Mexico to be on hand for the birth and neonatal period. They do the grocery shopping, clean the house, take M wherever she needs to go, watch and entertain the three older kids, took care of said kids when M was at the hospital, basically do whatever needs to be done so that M can rest and care for the baby, and hubby J can come home from his 60-hour work week to a home-cooked meal, a clean house, happy children and, most importantly, a sane wife.

All this is thanks to the family support she has.

Five years ago when Laila was born, M's sister in California was also having a baby, one who turned out to have special needs. So M's mom was in California for Laila's birth and infancy. However, M's other sister took a sizeable chunk of time off work to cover for mom. This lovely aunt lives nearby with her teenaged children, and they visit frequently. They are nearby if M needs something, they are helpful and hardworking, and the teenagers are old enough to watch the kids if M needs them to.

I think I could have another child if I had that kind of support network.

Don't get me wrong, I have a great support network. I have an embarrassment of good friends, at least five close women friends whose kids are providing Paula with pseudo-siblings as she grows up. I have a neighbor who has seen me through some of my darkest times with Paula, letting me sit crying on her bed, surrounded by her kids (six typical, two disabled), and reassuring me that I'll get through it; she has fed us when Paula was sick, and sends her amazing cooking over periodically just because.

My sister is a phone call away and always a source of humor, encouragement and down-to-earth stoicism to counterbalance my, um, not-always-stoic personality. I have great relationships with my parents, whose spiritual and emotional support has been invaluable to me over the last few years (and the ones before that). My support system is better than most.

But it's not enough for me to have a baby on. I'm still emotionally battered from my first three years with Paula. I haven't healed yet. I haven't mentioned this here before, but last summer I started taking an antidepressant. It really, really helped me feel a little more glued together. And I still need it.

By this fall I plan to be in therapy. I'm working on getting my life back together and feeling more whole as a person. But I'm not writing benchmarks for withdrawal of contraception: I don't know if I'll ever feel ready to have another child.

I'd love to be living the fantasy life that I used to dream about. Fun with a family of two or three children, I don't know, being happy? Well, I'm working on the happy part.

Posted at:Fri, Aug 03 2007 09:11:27 AM
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Mon, Jul 02 2007

I did it. I jinxed myself.

(WARNING, DAD - MENSTRUAL TALK TO FOLLOW)

I am not generally superstitious, but I really think I brought karmic irony on myself by going around for the last few days saying:

"My iron-rich diet is working! I have my period and I haven't gotten sick! It's working! This is the answer to all my problems EVER!"

Note the exclamation marks. It's as though I was daring the cosmos to bring its heel down upon me.

Here's the story: For the last few months I've been suffering from truly severe fatigue AND reduced resistance to infections during my periods. I did some research on the Web - because there's no better doctor than anonymous crazies on the Internet, right? - and decided that I must be suffering from a bad anemia.

I could go into the details about beta thalassemia minor and blah blah blah red blood cells, blah blah blah can't take iron supplements, blah blah blah heterozygous versus homozygous, but then you'd start begging to be shot. So I won't.

Suffice to say I started this mega-iron-rich diet, eating red meat and oysters and clams and potatoes and watermelon and all the other things that the Internet told me I should eat. And sure enough, this month when Aunt Flow appeared, I was a little run down but 1) able to rise from the sofa, leave the house, play with the child, etc.; and 2) not terribly sick with a sinus infection, as has been the case for the past three months at least.

And I was so excited about my apparent success that I was telling everyone. Until this morning.

Between three and four this morning I woke up with lower abdominal cramping. I won't burden you with any more lovely body-function talk, but suffice to say I have a bad tummy bug. I have been sneaking any opportunity to be horizontal today while still taking care of some work stuff, delivering it to the office where it needed to go (because my @!#$!%& fax service literally cannot deliver!) and doing the grocery shopping.

I guess that means that I'm still not as laid out as I have been at this point in my cycle over the last few months. But maybe for the sake of my health, I'll just cut down on the exclamation points.

Posted at:Fri, Aug 03 2007 09:11:27 AM
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