Life's a bitch...

For the second time in a week, I found myself in a dead sprint to Rite Aid, in search of the perfect baby formula. I had a brilliant idea last week to switch to generic baby formula, which would save us approximately one jillion dollars per month. Spike appeared to be on board with the Kroger brand for a day or so, then changed her mind. She expressed her displeasure by yarking on me and screaming uncontrollably. Our previously serene existence was no more.

So I raced to Rite Aid, pulling out my hair as only a new mom with jangled nerves can. I got the trusty Blue formula, and Spike returned to her previously calm state. Almost. So I got a bright idea that we should try soy formula to see if that would bring us all the way back to Zen Baby.

Fffft. A full day of soy formula brought us back to barfing, yelling and general mayhem. At the end of my rope, I raced over to Rite Aid again to get more of the Blue Stuff. They were out of the powder Blue, so I bought the liquid Blue, hoping it would be the right kind. The cashier, taking in my ensembe of a ratty t-shirt and pajama pants, astutely observed that I must have a "hungry baby at home, raising all sorts of holy heck." And how.

It's been a rough day, what with Darling breaking out of her crib and me still being too wide in the hips to get into a decent sized pair of pants. Howling Spike was a bit of a last straw. I was keeping a running log of complaints in my head, as if to prove somehow that I've taken my fair share of lumps for one day and deserved a spa vacation as a reward.

I was remembering fondly the days before children. The problem, as devoted fans will remember, is that I'm a bit of a pessimist. The good ole' days weren't all great, you know. Husby and I lived in Colorado for many years, and I remember the exhiliration of having a mountain range in my backyard and the freedom of non-commitment. The endless blue skies, the clean dry air of the high desert, the view from the parking lot at school...I miss all of these things. But I also remember the lonliness, the fear of not knowing what the hell I was going to do with a bachelors in Psych, the co-worker that threw post-it notes at my head. I remember being too far from my family, breaking the coffee pot at work on my first day back from vacation. I remember driving home from campus for lunch becuase I didn't have anyone to sit with.

And so it goes. I remember Michigan State, which was a pretty good time while it lasted. I think about high school, a time of freedom and rent free living. I remember the year I lived in New Jersey, the time I went to community college, the first time I tried to make spagetti. There is a good side and a bad side to everything, a time of growth mixed with the fear of not being prepared to handle the transition. I refuse to be romantic about the past.

So, where does that leave us? Our lives are full of crisis, from infancy to the grave. (I didn't make that up, that comes from Erik Erikson, neo-Freudian at large.) We must resolve these crisis in order to move forward in the game, in order to gain the skills to get to the next level. So I don't look back with glazed longing to be the person I was before, to go back to a time in my life when things were different. At least, I don't do that for very long.

We're faced with the challenges that are appropriate for our develomental level. Darling is faced with figuring out how to sleep in a bed instead of a crib. I'm pretty sure it is very uncomfortable for her not to be penned in on four sides. In five years, she might wish that was her biggest challenge. Spike is learning how to express her needs in a way that her big people can understand. I have no desire to be in her booties - how frustrating it must be to have to lay in one spot and scream until someone figures out that you've pooped yourself? Sure, it seems like a blissful life, to drink yourself silly and fall asleep in the middle of a meal and take another nap...but what if you didn't like what was on the menu?

So I'm back to day one, lesson one. Life, dear readers, is a bitch. No matter what stage you're in, your problems are big and scary. Even if the outside world thinks you've got it made in the shade.


Update: Spike was sound asleep by the time I got back from Rite Aid, and Darling was up wandering around because the baby had "woked" her up.