I had no idea how badly I wanted noodles until I got back to the office with my dinner tonight. I haven’t been obeying my diet lately because if I lose any weight, I lose milk supply as well. I would rather be fat than starve my baby, so bring on the cookies!
I’m making a point to eat some oats every day because that is supposed to be the best galactagogue, and I’m still taking the fenugreek as well. Off my diet, my milk supply has almost doubled, and Ivy has gained more than half a pound. Granted I’m adding some cereal to her bottles and some purees between feedings, but extra milk in the boob helps, too. She doesn’t fuss as much or cry as often now. I wonder if she was ever getting enough to drink? The WIC nutritionist was horrified that the doctor told me to put formula powder in Ivy’s bottles. At least someone has some sense.
That’s the extent of which I’m willing to talk about that. I don’t mean to be a bitch, I just know that when I posted about Ivy’s weight in her picture group, people lost their minds, and I’m not interested in seeing that again.
I used to have a friend who asked my advice over and over about the same exact thing and never listened to me, and it drove me crazy. It was almost always “should I dump my boyfriend?” and then she’d go on for hours about his shortcomings, so of course I’d tell her to walk away. Then she’d go back and tell him that I hated him, and I had never even met the guy. They got married… Then they got divorced about a year later.
I’m not really sure where I was going with that. Just telling a story. I guess that’s what I do.
I’m getting a lot of cheering on from a particular friend about my writing ability, and it’s really nice to know that someone would read my novel if I wrote one. A big part of my issue is that I know that my mind is pretty bent, and I always assume that no one reading me will really get what I’m trying to convey. So many people say that I have a “gift” with the written word, but here and there I get a critic who thinks I’m too wacked. Maybe it’s their minds that are bent. Who knows? All I can do is put pen to paper and see how it goes.
I rarely ever actually write with a pen and paper these days. Typing is so much easier, and for anything that will eventually be a finished product, you end up having to type it up anyway.
Some nights, the words just flow and the pages seem to scroll and scroll. This entry is only almost a page long, but it feels like it only took me a breath to put down. Other nights, I battle with the blank page like a goblin against a dragon. If covering the page with words meant slaying the white beast, I would instead fall on my own sword. It stares me down and mocks me, and then shakes my words off like a dog after a bath.
But still, I write. It is in my nature. I can’t help it. I’m actually finding it really helpful to write about my fears and shortcomings as a writer. There’s stuff in my brain that needed to get out before I could actually work on something again. 28 hours until I can start focusing on my novel. I just looked up the time change that happens that night, but since the clocks technically go back at 2am, that doesn’t affect my start time. I already told Jared that I have plans to start writing at the stroke of midnight that night, and I’m hoping that he will at least stay up with me a little. There’s something about even just being in the same room as him that brings me peace. He doesn’t even have to be paying attention to me. If he plays video games while I type, I’m perfectly content.
My biggest distraction is Facebook. It has been less so since my therapist told me that I needed to cut back because it was becoming an addiction. Okay, so I’m defying her concerning writing erotica, but I stay much more mentally stable when I keep my FB usage to a minimum and just put my thoughts down in Word, whether I post them or not.
Three times now I’ve thought I might not want to post this entry, but I have to get used to being in the public eye again. I have to grow a thicker skin to criticism.
I have to write my novel and flip the critics the bird.