Venti Vent

A lot has happened in a month. For starters, Luci has gained 2.2 pounds and is about 3 inches longer. The pedia said she's very healthy with strong and clear lungs. She also put us on a different formula because I noticed that ants would crawl around the powder -- didn't like the idea of giving her too much sugar (I mean, if she inherited my sweet tooth and then we make it worse with the formula then we're screwed). Overall though, the pedia gave a glowing report, which is a big relief for this frazzled first-time mom.



She has started sleeping a liiittle longer now, although getting her to sleep at night is still a task of Herculean proportions. I feel a bit more confident though as I can now more or less understand her different cries. Usually she's just hungry anyway, so that part is easy. ;)

A bonus: Because of all the breastfeeding I've done, I've actually lost 27 pounds already. I'm even slightly thinner than I was when I got pregnant. Of course, my milking buddies are sore and extremely uncomfortable for most of the day, but I'm glad that all that milk is helping Luci get mighty healthy.

Everything has been great, actually, save for this tiny yet major detail. I know that compared to everything wonderful that has been happening, this is stupid (it's stupid actually even without comparison), but it's still something that won't go away...unless WE go away.

I so desperately want to move out of here. No, like seriously, you have no idea. Every time I wake up in the morning, I am filled with a heavy sense of dread just thinking about how to stretch the hours before Chaddy has to go to work until he has to leave me with...well, here.

There is a level of civility that should be maitained, and right now, I'm running on the minimum requirement; the one that is just a hair away from outright hostility. The only thing that's keeping me in check is not love nor respect but my neurotic sense of obligation and breeding. Aside from that, there is nothing.

We were given an ultimatum in almost certain terms (let's just say ellipses at the end of a threatening statement are very powerful), and I would be more upset had the condition been something I hadn't wanted to do from the very start anyay. It's either this way or we go, and boy do I €¥+£ing want to go.

Sigh. But where to go?

But we must go. I must shield my daughter from this whole mess. She will not grow up in this negativity and be influenced by her and her so-called "better way of doing things".

So. Help. Me. God. But where to go? Where to go?!?