Yes, I know. I know. I've neglected you. I've been ignoring you. I didn't get a chance to write the 5 month update on October 5th and since then I have felt too guilty to come back. What kind of mother doesn't find time to recount in writing a recap of her son's 4th month, when she's already done the first four? Sigh...tsk, tsk. Bad mommy.
So I considered letting the whole thing drop by the wayside and forgetting that I blogged. I mean, I am taking yoga now and baby massage classes and getting out of the house more. Maybe I don't need to blog anymore....
Nah. I dig mah blog. I miss mah blog.
And so here I am, internet, hoping that someone still reads this. But then I guess, even if no one does, I do. And maybe someday Ethan will. So that's good enough for me.
OH! Update--I'm semi-famous (in my own mind...) As I bowed my head and uttered "Namaste" at my last yoga class, I couldn't help but notice one of the other girls in the class was looking at me funny. I am very self-conscious in yoga, so immediately I assumed that a boob had popped out of my nursing tank top. But the tank was intact and the boobs were concealed (although that's no longer a given in my world), so I let it go. As I was rolling up my mat, she said, "You're Sarah, right?" Ummmmm...indeed. "I recognize you from your blog. Forty-five degrees something, right?"
F.r.e.a.k.y. But very cool. I have never been recognized by a stranger for any reason whatsoever in my life, so that was fabulous. And then she said nice things about the blog, which was way better than if she had said, "Yeah, you suck." So I was happy.
I am also nearing the end of my quest for a tolerable Mom's group, the holy grail of the stay-at-home-mom. Like Amy, I fret and stress when I am going to be in contact with other moms, potentially cool new mommy friends. It is, in some ways, worse than preparing for a blind date, because you REALLY can't look like you're trying too hard the way you kind of can on a date. So you dress nice, but not too nice; you put on makeup, but just a little for that *natural* look (god forbid they think you're a frump OR a tramp--it's a delicate balance!) And then you don't want to talk too much or share too much.
So sitting cross-legged on my massage instructor's livingroom floor, in between two moms and their adorable little ones, I commiserate, but not enough to let on there's PPD lurking in here; I offer advice, but not enough that they might think I'm a *know it all* just because Ethan is older than the rest of the babies; I laugh at jokes, but not enough to sound seem totally desperate for company and adult interaction. When one of the other moms suggests the group exchanges emails/phone numbers and starts meeting outside of class, I try not to run across the room and hug her in relief that someone has stepped up and made the first move.
So I have Zoloft and I have new mommy friends, but I still need mah blog.