We saw a counsellor tonight. It was one of those things where, when it’s over, everything seems so obvious. “He does better with positive structure? Give him positive structure.” Oh, yeah, that. And the advice to spend more one-on-one time with Blake? Yeah, that makes sense.

I suppose the other thing I like about seeking help is that it reminds me of how lucky I am. When I honestly take stock of our life and the ways in which we are good at it, I become so grateful. It’s easy to give in to despair in the moment and forget that there are people with real problems: addiction, poverty, illness, lack of shelter, abuse. I’ve got a kid who gets mad when he can’t play his video games and seems shaken by a new sister after 8 years of only-childhood. Pretty sure we’re going to be alright.

I had a pretty good day in other respects as well. Maggie has been sleeping the last few nights, touch wood, and she also had a good long nap in the morning instead of being woken for activities. We had a long walk in the sun to the library, where we sang baby songs and hung out with some moms from my exercise class. On the way we saw a family of groundhogs, living under a shed and a woodpile in someone’s backyard. It was pretty great.

Even the part where I was trying to figure out what to do with her soiled clothes when I had no backup was fine: solving these kinds of problems makes me feel tough and capable, even if I have to run her pants through the hand dryer so that they can be worn home and zip up her sweater over a bare chest. At least her socks were spared.

Ok, ok, not all of Mother’s Day was terrible. Mason did a lot of work on it, which was awesome. He loves buying gifts and cooking special meals and all of that stuff, so even if he was alone on the emotional heavy lifting, it was pretty great that he puts in the time and effort. He also has excellent taste in gifts.

And there was this hour when everything came together: the boys were supposed to be out on their bikes so that I could put myself back together from another fight with Blake, but the man himself came back unannounced. I had wanted to take him to my brother’s jiu jitsu class, but Maggie was sleeping so I couldn’t leave. He saw that I had been (sadly) decorating my three cupcakes of the dozen we’d baked on Saturday and decided he wanted to do his share. About ten minutes later, Sage & Mason came back and we all decorated our cupcakes, three each, just as I had wanted to. Maggie woke up and watched the rest of us with her usual drooly seriousness. Then each of us ate one of our cupcakes and Mason took Sage home. Yesterday we had dinner with my parents, and we were able to share the survivors: one each. My mom doesn’t celebrate Mother’s Day, but she still let me give her a special cupcake and share my bouquet. It was good. I’m still going to get help for the depression, but it was good.

I went to my second La Leche League meeting last night. I had forgotten how much I enjoy them from my first go-round with Blake. Breastfeeding doesn’t make you the same as anyone, but it’s amazing how comfortable I feel when surrounded by the committed, much as I do when in a good knitting circle. It’s nice to be understood, even if only for a little while.

I think I figured it out. It took a crummy Mother’s Day to make the breakthrough, but if I have to hit bottom, doing it among Soma truffles, artisan soaps and gerbera daisies isn’t the worst way.

It’s this: I’m depressed. Not “anxious about being a good mom” or “worried about my child’s difficulties in school,” although those are definitely part of it. It’s mostly to do with the fact that I haven’t done any much-needed work on my divorce. For the first little while I was on medication, as I was afraid I wouldn’t have the coping skills to get through the shock of break up. I was on meds for almost a year and a half: wonderful meds that made me feel normal, so normal that I wanted to stop taking them because I didn’t feel like I needed them. By the time I stopped taking pills, I was deeply involved with Mason, and the trauma of his break up was centre stage for both of us. After that, it was just being in love, being together, planning a new life, getting engaged, surprise pregnancy, wedding, birth and now I’ve washed up here. It’s like I’ve been on a rocket sled, powering through four years of my life without having to worry about what I’m dragging in my wake. And now that the euphoria of starting a new family has worn off, the sadness remains. I’m terrified of fucking this up.

I’m also terrified of neglecting Blake. He’s been increasingly troubled as he ages, and I’m afraid that if we don’t get him the right help the scars from the divorce are going to keep him from being confident and happy. It’s hard enough that he seems to have attentional issues without seeding the ground with emotional mines for later. I guess what I want for him is the chance to fuck up his life all on his own, not just because his dad and I couldn’t get it together. And I don’t want Maggie’s memories of me to be ugly. So: professional help.

I can’t be the only one who had a crummy Mother’s Day. What made it the worst, though, was that Blake ended up blaming himself at the end of it. It’s not like yesterday was any worse than a regular day, but the added pressure of a holiday makes it seem that much more disappointing for him. I mean, I tried to convince him that nothing was his fault, that both of us need some help, but it was clear he found it easier to take full blame. Poor kid. He has such a hard time with disappointment as it is. We got our wedding album in the mail a few weeks ago and Blake is smiling in only a few photos but visibly agitated in many others. He loves his sister, but it’s clear he would feel less conflicted about loving her if she were his dad’s. (And I’m so far from healing that every time the Boy says hi to her it makes me cringe, which must be a wonderful thing for Blake to witness.)

I made an important discovery on Sunday. Someone at church (with no kids of their own) asked if she was sleeping. Instead of telling the truth (she sleeps most of the night and spends the balance in bed with us) I just said that she was a good baby. It’s the best answer because everyone is happy: the questioner thinks one thing, I know the reality, Maggie hears smiles and praise, and it’s the truth. It’s no one’s business how much she sleeps and eats or if she prefers to snuggle with me. She’s a good baby no matter what.

Sometimes when I break for awhile, it’s hard to know where to pick up the story. Should I just focus on highlights, things that made me happy? The continuing story of my kids, and what life is like with them lately? Should I just paint this moment and be done? I’m really not sure.

We went to TCAF last weekend. I’ve been anxious and sad this month and last, and the idea of TCAF seemed fraught with potential disappointment. It takes an awful lot of effort and gear to provision us through a single day out; a weekend seemed monstrous. Perhaps it would be more virtuous to stay home, help Maggie practice sitting, feed her mush and take her on long walks. The weekend before last I gave up on the Spring Knitters Frolic, another crowded once-a-year event that I usually look forward to. I was pretty sure that giving up TCAF would be a mistake. But Mason has been sick for days and Blake is not thrilled about anything lately and I’ve already mentioned the gear issue with Miss Maggie. Hard to figure out what, if anything, would help.

We did go, though. We took Blake on Saturday, and he was much better to be around than in previous years, mostly because I dreamed up a TCAF Rule: once you buy it, it goes away until you leave. Then I only had to keep him from stopping to read the displays, rather than the displays and the books he’d bought, and the books I bought… Of course, he wanted to leave after a few hours, and we forced him to stay on while Mason had a chance to browse. We had been separated for hours while Mason went to buy Hillside tickets, and I had forgotten my phone in the rush of getting out of the car with all the gear, a crying baby and a kid who had to go to the washroom; there was no way other than luck for the two of us to find each other. But we did, and we didn’t lose each other for the rest of the day, so that was something. And I saw all kinds of people I knew, from Dav to Cody to Jim.

The next day I had recovered from lack of sleep and total stress, and was willing to try it again. So off we went, just the three of us this time and no long separations to make it complicated. It was much better, much more relaxed. We were able to browse without worrying about losing a kid, and say hi without being hustled along by that same kid. Mason was really sick, so we tried to take it easy on the second day: just visit people we’d missed and catch some panels so that we could sit down.

In this vein, we went to a panel of Chip Zdarsky and Kate Beaton. Our arrival on Saturday, though early, was not early enough to be admitted to the Beaton signing line, so this was my one official opportunity to see her. (My unofficial opportunity came on Saturday when I was browsing the Topataco tables and she wandered by behind the table. I only looked up when I realized that someone was talking about babies, and realized it was Kate, so I tried to talk normally and not geek out. After all, I was the one with the baby.)

On Sunday I wasn’t as apprehensive. For one thing, there were more than a hundred people in the room with us, and for another thing there was free water. I may have learned little in my spotty career in university journalism, but I did learn to take advantage of free things on side tables, so while Mason unloaded Maggie on me and went to find the bathroom, I poured myself a glass of delicious water. We had found two aisle seats, as close as we were going to get while also providing an escape route if Maggie started to squawk. I was a little too keyed up to sit down, so I leaned against the wall, drinking my water and playing with Maggie. I thought about going up to say hi to Chip, since the last time we met was the first night I knew I was pregnant, but I chickened out. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize me without the nauseous haze of the first trimester. Maybe he had suffered a massive mac n’ cheese amnesia about that night. Who knew? Best to stay in the aisle, dancing with the baby.

The panel was charming, and I enjoyed it enormously. To be honest, I hadn’t expected Chip to be much of an interviewer: I knew he was funny and friendly but I thought that was it. But I liked the drift of his questions, which were intelligent and keen mixed with a good dose of smartassery. I learned things. Nadine came by to ask if the chair was taken, and we both realized a second later that we knew each other, so yes, it was taken by her from then on. Maggie was a terrific baby: funny and sweet and flirty with the people around us, and quieting quickly when I had to feed her half-way through. Sometimes she can just be the very best companion in the world because she’s such a joy that she smoothes over all of the quotidian bother of being in the world. Being with her makes me incredibly happy because I find her delightful, but I also get to bask in the admiration of others. It’s the best.

So of course, when questions were solicited and I happened to have one, I stood up with her and made my way to the front. “Hey, it’s the baby!” said Chip, and Kate said, “I saw that baby come in.” Chip also promised not to punch her, although I forget exactly why he felt it necessary to make that promise. They also referred to Maggie when we had returned to our seat: someone had asked about Wuthering Heights and Kate said her favourite moment was Heathcliffe regretting catching a baby, after which she and Chip felt they needed to apologize to my baby for mentioning such a scary idea. Basically, I found a way to make the panel all about my baby and I’m not even sorry.

Afterwards I did have the courage to go up and talk to Chip, and even get Kate to sign Maggie’s copy of Nursery Rhyme comics. I’m glad Kate Beaton likes my baby, but it’s really gilding the lily. I like Maggie enough for everyone already.

What have I learned from this TCAF? I learned that I miss people, and I want to spend more time in hangouts. I learned that Maggie is the source of all happiness, ever. And I learned that, despite feeling like everything was just too hard to begin with and having it confirmed on Saturday morning when I was hauling two kids and roughly a thousand pounds of gear with no way of getting in touch with my main support or my friends, TCAF is worth it.

The photos were uploaded months ago. The stories finished shortly after Miss Maggie was born.

But now they’re together, just before we try to buy tickets for the next one. Where else will you see photos of Dan Mangan backstage at a Fred Penner concert, shot through Serena Ryder’s legs?

Still not very happy, but I’m hoping that things start to get better this week. Mason is finally done the second of the two night courses he taught this year, so I can look forward to seeing him four nights a week rather than two. Just being able to take Blake to his activities, instead of sending him off with my dad while I stay in and mind the baby, will be helpful. I want to get out more now that the weather’s warmer, which means concocting a new rhythm for the day. I also have to make sure to offer Maggie solids more regularly: she’s healthy and growing but she’s slipped off her percentile pretty dramatically in the last two months, and I still haven’t found a food that she loves. I’m sure it’ll all even out eventually, but I was enjoying her rapid growth after such a slow start, and I’m not happy to give up that affirmation.

Her tapering off hasn’t seemed to affect her physically. She’s still really good at her jolly jumper, and excellent at rolling from her back to her side, but so far no full flips and no sitting. I suppose that the biggest change for Maggie this month is that she’s taken to the pacifier in a big way. Blake never cared for it, so I don’t have much experience with a pacifier baby, and although I feel that pulse of guilt when I use it to seal the deal on naptime, it’s made car rides a lot easier. And church. And visits with relatives.

We tested this last on Saturday, going to see Mason’s sister’s family with all the kids. Blake and Sage occupied themselves on the trampoline, bouncing so much they exhausted themselves by the time we left. Maggie was at her most charming, smiling and cooing and allowing herself to be passed around with few protests. She even took a nap, which made the rest of the visit sweeter. Tammy couldn’t get over how lovely she was, which is nice to be confirmed. I mean, we’re totally moon-eyed over her, but we realize that it’s a condition specific to parents.

Blake had a pretty rough weekend all told. We usually have fairly- to insanely-busy weekends, especially when we go into Toronto to pick up Sage. The temptation to stay in the city is strong, but we end up with kids who have been exhausted by too many restaurant meals and travel time in the car. This weekend was particularly intense, even when I gave up on my plan to go to the annual Knitter’s Frolic, and when we got stuck in a traffic jam on Sunday night, Blake completely lost it.

Granted, his reasons for getting upset were mostly regret that he wouldn’t be able to play video games before going to bed, but underneath that was a sugar crash following a birthday party and frustration with being constantly in the back seat with a fretful baby. A few years ago he used to like going to the city with us. Then he was indifferent. Now he’s acting out, and I can’t really blame him. Who wants to spend your only two free days living some one else’s agenda?

I didn’t, however, get to this acceptance yesterday. Yesterday we were just trying to calm him down and talk about what he thought was wrong. It was only after that I realized we needed to make a change. I remember being a camp counsellor, and listening to one of my campers tell me that their family was so busy on the weekend that she ate in the car. It was a terrible prospect, and I’m not proud that Blake can say the same. Besides, it’s not just him, it’s Maggie: six months in and she still doesn’t like long car rides. The pacifier helps, but it would be more helpful if she were at home, surrounded by familiar things. Maybe then I could spend more time on getting her to eat.

I’m having an angry, depressed, needy day, and I wish I wasn’t. I’ve had a few rocky weeks where I’ve been listless and irritable, unable to make some sort of promise to myself that will keep me going in the long lonely days. I burned out on domesticity, which was pretty inevitable, and the only thing worse that trying to keep up with everything is the way the house looks after a few weeks of letting it go. We’re at the point where we’re losing books. Not good.

Today is Maggie’s half-birthday. Probably the best thing I did for her today was lay down in the morning and nap the entire morning with her. She hasn’t been sleeping very well lately, and it’s doing odd things to her disposition (i.e. she’s stopped nursing down at night, she doesn’t want to nap, etc.). There was some good time after lunch in her jolly jumper, while I sat on the floor next to her and sang songs and folded laundry. She goes through burst of unassailable happiness, where she’s just so darn charming that I feel guilty for breaking eye-contact, and then she suddenly cycles into miserable and screaming. It’s hard to keep up with. And it’s worse now that we’re on the other side of mat leave, counting down the remaining months until I squeeze myself into a blouse and pretend that I care about run-on sentences, because every bad day makes me feel even more desperate and sad.

Today is also my dad’s birthday, and I managed to get into a huge fight with him in the first five minutes of the day, so there’s that as well. Hooray for me.

Today Miss Maggie developed a beautiful new skill: pinches. She usually has a meltdown sometime in the morning: if I’m lucky, she has it on the way home from school and pops off to sleep within minutes, freeing up my whole morning. (I’m not usually that lucky.) Today she pitched a fit as I was mixing tuna with mayo and negotiating bread with Blake, who would rather eat two frozen ends of a processed loaf than a fresh-sliced sourdough. She was yowling and pinching me so severely that I had to hold her away from my body as I rushed to the living room to nurse her. As I made my escape I told Blake he was on his own.

I heard rustlings from the kitchen, then nothing. My parents arrived and took Blake to school. Twenty minutes later Maggie fell asleep and I settled her in her crib. I went back to the kitchen, where I found an empty bowl. He had taken ALL the tuna for his frozen bread-ends sandwich. Not that tuna is expensive, but still. A whole can.

I blame Pinchy McScreamerson.

So, I’m not sure what part the constant hunger pangs had to play in all this, but I’ve spent the last two nights tossing and turning with stomach pain and the last two days listless, wondering if I’m going to get dizzy when I stand up. I had to stay home today instead of going into the city with Mason for a fun Saturday, both because I am sick and because we kept Maggie out till all hours last night while I went to a yarn tasting. She’s doing very well today, me not so much. At this point I have to wonder if the spaciness and nausea are part of the stomach problem or just a result of little sleep and cautious meals.

I did something fun last night, though. Yarn tastings are pretty special events in that I get to meet a lot of new people, I get to touch and use lots of fun yarns, and there is the possibility of a fabulous prize. (In the case of last night, this was an untouched skein of fuschia lace weight silk. Pow!) Things were rushed and weird with us last night, as the Boy was late picking up Blake and we hit hours of traffic on the way to the city. This meant that I had to skip dinner, and trot away from Mason & Maggie at the Ceili after bolting a plate of bread & butter. Mason made it another couple of hours before Maggie had enough of the crowded bar and refused to stop screaming; I found out about it when he appeared at the Purl wild-eyed, holding the baby wrapped in a blanket borrowed from the restaurant where our stuff remained. The rest of the night was much like the Drillhouse, in that it wasn’t that hard to do things with Maggie or not very hard at least, and people seemed overjoyed to see her. There was even another baby there, one who was not quite as agitated and willing to play on the floor with Miko. Maggie preferred my lap, which was fine. We stuck out the rest of the night, and I got some dinner that I was finally able to eat once she was installed in her beloved crib. She’s a pretty great baby, and if the price of taking her out is that she won’t go to other people and I have to hug her and kiss her? I can pay it.

I’m feeling sluggish and out of sorts today, constantly hungry and unable to get interested in anything productive. I blame the weather: after a week of summer sunshine it got normal again, which meant temperatures plummeted. I think my body believes that it’s fall, and is trying to build body fat stores. Either that, or I’m in some new stage of post-partum adjustment. I gave up on my diet: it was impossible to stick to it when I was out of my mind with hunger. Maybe I can get back on it when I feel normal.

The downward trend started on Tuesday, when I suffered three minor upsets in an hour. First, I was turned away at Baby Time because the program was full. It being an hour earlier than usual, I couldn’t get my normal Tuesday lunch of a burrito on the way home. My dad took us to the library instead, where I found that my held book had been checked in an hour before, and no one knew where it was. Mason laughed when he got home at the petty nature of my problems. It was silly even when it was happening, but still: it’s hard to come home and know that you just spent the last hour running in circles with nothing to show for it.

Maggie continues to edge closer to food. Now when I hold something like a spoon or a toothbrush, she reaches for it and studies it with intense concentration. I’m not in a huge hurry to start food (I like her diapers the way they are, thanks) but it’s still terribly exciting.

The other interesting thing is that she’s decided she likes her pacifiers. I didn’t try too hard with her, as Blake never really went for them, but she is still so miserable in the car that I thought I’d give it a shot. I’m not quite at the stage where she has anything clipped to her clothes, but I have to admit that it’s a nice break from having her on the breast every half-hour when she’s out of sorts, and it makes it easier for people who aren’t me to soothe her. The only real downside is that it becomes a one-size-fits-all solution, especially when I’m this sluggish (or when I’m eating, which is all the time).