Got Blues?

I've been rather depressed lately. That's one of the reasons why I haven't been posting. Actually, from what the people around me have been telling me, I've been a bear to deal with and it needs to stop. I think it has. This weekend will tell for certain.

Emma's family life has gotten off to a good, albeit interesting, start. With her father in Illinois and us in Michigan, the three of us are only together for a few days a week. However, they are good days and Meng has turned out (as I suspected) to be a natural at the daddy thing. He comes on Thursday or Friday and then takes off Sunday or Monday so he can attend meetings, do research, and all of those things that a responsible student should do.

I get sad when he leaves. That might be why I'm depressed.

In a future blog post, I plan to talk about my decision to pump instead of nurse. I am sticking to my decision 100%, but lately I've felt like a house appliance. I get up in the morning and spend a half hour pumping. Then I feed Emma, often for an hour. Then I eat and take a shower, and then I pump again. Usually by that time, Emma needs fed again. I've got a lot of people helping me, but I get jealous if someone else gets to feed her more often than I.

It's easy to feel inadequate or dehumanized. Maybe that's why I'm depressed.

Certain things just haven't been getting done. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm just over 3 weeks postpartum, and considering that fact, I'm doing quite well. Still, yesterday I cleaned my room for the first time since coming home from the hospital. I have at least 100 thank you's to write, I've promised myself I'd update the House Management notebook, help keep the house in order, knit a stuffed sheep and make a scrap book. So far, none of those things have happened.

I'm finding it difficult to find motivation. I find that depressing, but the truth is...

School started without me this semester. I thought I was ready, but every time I see someone post pictures of their apartment or dorm room, I get this little pang of resentment. I'm going to graduate a year behind most of my friends, and even when I start classes again, it's never going to be the same. I will never have that life that I had before. I'm saying goodbye to going out with a group at midnight just because, sitting behind a residence hall desk for hours with a friend, and sharing a too-small apartment with a group of girls. No more 2 a.m. study parties, or camping out in the library till they kick us out, or watching movie after movie until we all fall asleep. I have to act like a grown up now. I have to take responsibility for someone else. I can't just say, "I'll do it later," because there's an actual being at stake.

Someone now knows me as "Mommy," and she'll be my charge for the next 18 years. Spell it out. Eighteen years! That's daunting, and terrifying, and something that I really didn't want for at least another 5. But it's happened now. Don't get me wrong; I wouldn't trade Emma for anything, let alone the life I'm leaving behind. That doesn't mean it's any easier to say goodbye.

I just wasn't ready for this. I'm pretty sure that's why I'm depressed.

Color Confusion

If you know me, and most of you do, you know that there are things I don't prefer.

I don't prefer Harry Potter. I don't have anything against him, or Rowling, it's just not what I choose to read.

I don't prefer Twilight. I have quite a few things against that series, not the least of which is I think it is poor writing, not to mention how creepy Edward is. I prefer traditional vampires.

While we're on the subject of heart-throbs, I don't find Johnny Depp attractive at all. Nor am I attracted to Orlando Bloom. I'm also not attracted to any of the Jonas Brothers, Christian Bale, the late Heath Ledger, Zac Efron, I could go on but I think you get the idea.

I really really really don't like Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift.

It took me a long time to like the latest Star Trek movie. I finally saw it on accident when I walked into the livingroom to find my dad watching it. Honestly, I was sucked in before I realized what it was. Admittedly, I enjoyed it.

If I were to continue this tangent, you'd get bored and stop reading, so let's take it from here. If you review all of these do-not-prefer's and dislikes, you'll find that they all have one thing in common: they're everywhere.

I don't know if I dislike them because they're popular, or if because they're popular it was easier to discover that I dislike them, but I just assume that I'm a non-conformist by nature (here is where Mom makes her "non-conformists are all alike" comment).

All of this is leading up to a fact that will come as absolutely no surprise to you. I don't prefer pink. To say I dislike it would be false. I don't mind pink, I'll wear pink, and in fact I own a fair amount of pink things. I also own a fair amount of blue, purple, orange, red, black, brown....

Being a college student and therefore, of course, much more informed than the rest of the world, I disapprove of assigning colors to a gender. Having said this, there is entirely too much pastel pink in the world.

As I was walking through Target on Tuesday, pram-shaped gift card clutched in my hot little hand, I found three of the most adorable newborn outfits. Each was a tunic/legging set, the first a mauve butterfly pattern with brown leggings, the second a light blue with bright striped leggings, and the third a white flowered with turquoise leggings. I was so excited about the last outfit, I washed it that night and dressed Emma in it yesterday. I didn't manage to bring out my camera, but here is a picture of the outfit.

The picture does not really do it justice. The colors are much brighter. Now, it's not pink. But I think we can all agree that it is quite feminine. Even so, three times today I was asked, "How old is he?" He? I thought to myself? Maybe it's just a tongue slip. So I'd casually say "she," which all three times received the response, "Oh, I assumed it was a boy."

Really?

Now, an infant looks pretty gender ambiguous. Naturally, a person will assume the sex of the baby by what he or she is wearing. One of the three people said, "Well, I didn't see any pink."

Why is it that girls must wear pink and boys wear blue? It's not even blue. It's turquoise. Did they not see the flowers? (Not that it's relevant to the situation, but why must girls like flowers and boys like dinosaurs? That's just messed up.)

So people are unobservant and assume boy when they see no pink. I don't prefer those people.