Wednesday, 16 January 2013

WebMD feeds into my hypochondria...

Post number three, look at me go!  I found only one mistake in my last post, which is a serious improvement from my first post -- again I will continue to try to not assault your eyes with my poor grammar and incorrectly spelled words.  Remember, I am by no means an English teacher.  (and I still lay blame to my sweet little cherub -- he obviously distracted me with his baby ninja telepathy skills)

Here it goes.  I have Baby Schizophrenia.  There, I said it.  Sadly there is no cure.  I am in no means making light of the actual medical condition schizophrenia, because that is no laughing matter.  I am however dismayed that I have recently noticed worrisome symptoms that lead me to believe that I am a "Baby Schizophrenic".  Let me explain...

Thanks to WebMD, I can now easily feed into my hypochondria and diagnose myself by simply looking up my symptoms and modifying it to what I'm experiencing.  Ready, here it goes...Baby Schizophrenia makes it hard to:

1.  Tell the difference between what is real and not real:
Here is my main symptom, I hear my son cry.  Now I know what you're thinking, uh huh... me too.  No no, you don't understand.   It's like me saying, "I see dead people..." because when I go in to check on him, he's not crying -- in fact, he's either perfectly awake and happy or blissfully asleep in a baby coma.  This happens to me mostly while in the shower.  You know, you put the baby down for his nap, you have a solid 20 minutes before he'll wake up -- but two minutes into the shower, barely lathered up, SCREAMING!  Somehow this melt-down has combined with his apparent first word, "MAAAAAHHHH-MEEEEE!"  So you hastily shove your head outside the shower curtain, and strain your ear to towards the door, wait for the next wail to begin...Hmmm, nothing.  Back in the shower you go.  

Three minutes later, you've rinsed and repeated, started to condition and... "MUAAAH!  MUAAAH!  MUAAAH!".  Ah ha!  I knew I heard him!  This time you shut off the shower, jump out into the bathroom -- dripping all over the floor, hair sopping wet filled with conditioner, you tip toe quickly to the door (because you obviously get the floor less wet that way), open it up so you can better hear the meltdown and wait for it....NOTHING.

Convinced your babe must have somehow seriously injured themselves into a concussion you now quickly tip-toe (because somehow walking full footed is not an option while you are perfectly nude and rushing to save your child from impending doom), dripping wet, leaving a trail of water and conditioner like Hansel and Gretal, to your poor baby's room to find them just as you left them, perfectly fine and asleep.  

Somehow you feel defeated.  Like your mom-ninja skills led you astray.  Each time it happens, your need to find your child in full melt-down losing his-marbles mode increases, just to validate your sanity.  Then you realize (after many more similar experiences) you may have a problem.  You vow to look up your symptoms on WebMD on his next nap, and you walk your perplexed self back to the shower, to finish what you started.  Flat footed this time, because God knows it doesn't matter now.      

2.  Think clearly

After 6 months of sleep deprivation, silly nursery rhymes that you don't know the words to anyways so you change the lyrics to what you're doing during the day instead, and days upon end of baby talk like...Maaa Ma, say Maaaaa Ma... Who thinks Mama is funny...Mama is SO funny...Hahahahahaha... Maaaaa Maa.... Common, seriously...what Mother can really think clearly?

3.  Have normal emotional responses 

I think crying after reading Robert Munch's, "I'll love you forever!", is not the intended emotional response.  (Seriously, the Mom dies?  Who the hell writes this crap?  As far as my son is concerned, I am immortal and twinkling and pretty -- like Bella in Breaking Dawn, but with the ability to show a broader emotional range than a smiley faced eraser.)

 4.  Act normally in social situations

Obviously to the non-baby folk, baby talking in public must certainly not seem especially normal.  (Ohhh, you smell!  Did you poo poo?  Let me smell your bum.  Ahh, no -- just a toot toot. Well Mama's got your bum bum! Your bum bum.  That's right, your bum bum! You're such a stinker!)  Don't believe me?  Next time you're in a "social situation", imagine saying that to an adult in your life.  Maybe your husband, or your sister, maybe your friend.  That's right, it's definitely not normal.

But more especially, when my husband and I are adventurous enough to bring our son out to a friends past 8pm -- we'll put him to sleep in his car seat in another room.  He'll sleep like a, well, baby -- because that's what he is.  But this is when my Baby Schizophrenia is at an all time high.  It's like every 12-23 minutes, I'm called down to be the next contestant on the price is right.  I jump out of my seat, to walk quickly towards the room he is sleeping in and rashly ask my husband, "Is that him? Is he awake?".  When he tells me that he didn't hear him, I can't possibly believe him (he doesn't have Mama-ninja instincts!), so I rush to peek in on the baby -- convinced again that I will find my son awake and bewildered, but nope -- out like a light.  Sheepishly, I walk myself back to my seat, and try to apologize and explain that I'm not a crazy mom to my friends -- which clearly is not the impression I leave them with.  And like I said, 12-23 minutes later -- rinse and repeat. *sigh*  

Please tell me I'm not the only mom who suffers from this terrible affliction!

In closing, with no cure in sight, I hope that at some point my symptoms lesson and that I will be able to re-integrate into society as a normal functioning 30-something year old woman.  But in the mean time, I'll be sure to leave an extra towel on the floor -- so that I can to try to step-glide my way gracefully to my sons bedroom without leaving a slippery mess the next time my BS flares up.

This rant was inspired by this hilarious mom-ism someecard.

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