The return of the drugstore beetles

About a year ago when we first moved into this apartment, we had an infestation of drugstore beetles, likely coming from the dried Mexican chilies I bought. Well, somehow, the beetles have returned. They came, and when they did, I had the exterminator come and set glue traps for them. That was about a month ago. They were nowhere to be seen for about two weeks after that, and so I thought they had just disappeared. Well, they are back AGAIN, and this time, I have to kill at least 5-6 every day. I find dead, flattened ones on the floor all the time. Even Kaia has managed to kill them by rolling over them and squishing them with her hands, unknowingly on her play mat. Almost every single glue trap the exterminator set up has at least 3-4 dead sesame seed-sized beetles on them. I went through my entire pantry and have no idea what the culprit is. And with these types of pests, they just keep multiplying unless you identify the source.

The exterminator came back today, and he took one of the glue traps with the dead bugs and said he’d examine them under a microscope to properly identify what type of beetle they are. But he’s pretty sure they came in via a bag of grains or rice. I went through all the bags of beans and rice we got in the last month, and I’ve seen no trace of them anywhere. I’m not even sure what to do anymore.

I also found them stuck dead on the honey bottle my nanny brought me back from Jamaica, honey from the hive her nephew keeps. Who knows – maybe these will all just die off in the week we are away in San Francisco if we are lucky. I just hate these bugs so much…

Oh, and my nanny sees them, but she refuses to kill them. “I can’t kill them,” she insisted. “I can’t kill another living being.”

Oh, really? Well, how noble of her! And I can’t hold it against her because nowhere in her nanny contract does it say she has to help me kill household pests!

Expanding the horizons of our nanny

Ever since Kaia started eating solids in June, I’ve been preparing all of her food. There’s a section of the fridge with little containers to store food I’ve either prepped, cut, or made specifically for her. Most of the food is just the same food Chris and I eat, just separately portioned out for her, cut a little differently for easier/safer consumption for her, and also with no added salt/sugar and less heat/chili. Originally when we started feeding her solids in the early weeks, I only gave her one or two things at a time, but I realized that it probably wasn’t enough variety for her because there are only so many meals she can eat in a day in addition to her breast milk, which will continue to make up the majority of her calories until she turns 1. So now, I try to give her anywhere from 5-8 different things for each of her two solid meals per day. Part of it is for exposure and familiarity so these things are just normal to her. The other part of it is that I want her to know what variety in food exists… because if she isn’t exposed to variety early on, then she will never be comfortable with it and may write off new foods as “foreign” or scary. I never expect her to eat everything I portion out for her, nor do I expect her to eat every single thing I present, but I want her to get used to different foods, textures, flavors, and to at least see it and feel it with her own eyes and hands.

My nanny thought I was a crazy woman when I first started putting her solids plates together. “This new mom is putting 6 things on her plate… is she crazy? Kaia is not going to eat all these things!” she thought to herself. She did imply a few times that she thought I was giving a bit much for variety, but I insisted to her that I wanted Kaia just to have the exposure, and if she didn’t eat it, I’d be okay with it. I didn’t want to force feed her because force feeding early on can lead to unhealthy associations with food as early as before the age of 1, which I obviously don’t want. But to my nanny’s surprise, Kaia has at least tried every single thing I’ve ever presented to her. Most things she has embraced. A few things took two or three tries, like plantains or eggs, but by the second or third time, Kaia has always willingly self-fed herself and eaten. And after the last two months, our nanny admitted to me that she was wrong. She watched Kaia self feed herself cut up buckwheat noodles today, and our nanny was so intrigued that she asked me if she could try some herself (our nanny didn’t know what buckwheat noodles were).

“I didn’t think she’d eat everything you gave her, but she does!” the nanny exclaimed. “She really does eat everything. I’m just used to moms only giving 2-3 things at most for solids meals. Some moms don’t give anything and expect me to whip up food for their children with their empty fridge with just condiments in it! Then, they come up at the end of the day, and the first question they ask me is what their son/daughter ate for lunch or dinner!”

I cannot guarantee that my baby will embrace all foods and not be a picky eater. But I think that the proactive steps we’re taking right now with finger foods, self feeding, and a wide variety of exposure to different foods will set the best possible foundation for her to be a good, confident eater who loves and appreciates foods from all cultures. It’s a huge time investment, as her self feeding meals takes about 45 minutes to an hour per meal on the weekends, but I love watching her explore food and hope this helps her future.

Poor with money, rich with love

My nanny is a happy person. When we have moments together when I am cooking or pumping or preparing Kaia’s solids or breast milk, she likes to tell me about how she is still so in love with her husband, who she has been with since high school (she’s 59 and he’s 60 now, so that’s a LONG time), how they still keep the flame going by doing little cute things for each other. She tells me how much she loves her children, her grandson, how close she is to her daughter. She loves to share stories of her sister who lives in Florida and how when they visit and stay with each other, they steal each others’ clothes, jewelry, and handbags, and the other has no idea it’s happened until they’ve already flown off. Then they squabble about it and laugh it off until the next visit. She told me about the time when she and her husband finally bought their own home in Mount Vernon, how dilapidated and unlivable the inside of the house was when they first moved in. But after three months of repairs and renovation with her handyman uncle’s help, the inside of their home is like new and feels comfortable, like a real “home sweet home.” They love to host family and friends at their home often, and she says there is nothing better in life than family.

“We may not have much money,” she says to me often, “but we have so much love in our family. And that’s better than all of Jeff Bezos’s money.”

On the one hand, there’s my nanny, who lives paycheck to paycheck who enjoys life, loves and values her family, and has functional, loving relationships with her family. She has a beautiful, comfortable home that she loves and is proud to bring everyone into. On the other hand, there’s my parents, who have no money concerns at all and could easily live lavishly until they died at age 120, but they are miserable, constantly seeking fault with everyone else, hate their relatives, and willingly choose to live in a dilapidated, cluttered, dirty home, a place where they hate having guests of any kind.

I thought about this for a while today. It really does not have to be an “either / or” situation, but in this case, it is. I’m happy for our nanny. I’m not happy for my parents… not in the least bit.

When forgiveness is not a possibility

I feel like I’ve spent most of my life trying to forgive my parents for all the wrong they have done to Ed and me. It began even before I reached adulthood. My mom would always say regarding my dad that, “his parents didn’t know how to teach him. You should forgive him. He supports you and puts a roof over your head” every time he said or did anything to hurt me or Ed. So, in other words, it was my responsibility as his CHILD to forgive HIM for things he did wrong, and that it was totally fine for him to continue wronging us simply because his parents “didn’t teach him” and he put a roof over our heads? That’s a pretty damn big request to make of your child, of any child, from an emotional and mental standpoint.

So I read this post from Yolanda Renteria, who is a somatic coach and speaker, on Instagram today, and it really resonated with me:

“Many people can’t forgive, understand, or make amends with their parents / caregivers because they carry the pain of the experiences they went through in their body. Even when logically, they may try to move on, the body pushes them back into safety. Repair can feel like a threat.

“This push and pull dynamic is a sign that things may have been processed logically, but not somatically. Logically we may know things are safe now, but the body has stored memories from the past that surface any time we are in close proximity to people with whom those memories were created. Repair quite literally can feel like a threat to a body that went through so much pain with a person who was also a source of love.”

The truth is that an apology in any form from either of my parents will never be enough to erase what they have done to Ed or me. Nothing will ever be enough to take away that pain or suffering. As much as I want to, a large part of me will never forgive them for all the things they have inflicted on us. And that’s just my truth.

The shitty apology, wrapped in more manipulation

Surprising to all of us, my dad sent a text message saying he was sorry. Granted, I said he had to call, so of course he isn’t going to call and proceeded to do the half-assed action of texting. The text reads like this:

“I apologized. How about sending some pics or videos of Kaia before she end of with a broken heart! She complained of chest pain.”

First of all, that doesn’t really sound like a real apology. There is no acknowledgment of wrong doing, no sentiment of reflection that they did wrong or no expression of “I will never do this again.” That would be an adequate apology for a 5-year-old, not a 74-year-old. Also, was it really necessary to wrap it up with even more manipulative crap around my mom’s health and what I would be doing to wreck it?

There is really no end to the level of manipulation and “it’s all about me” with my parents.

Constant threats and a deleted half listened to voice message

It was unclear what my dad shared with my mom, but something got shared. And my mom sent me a text message asking me to call her last night, which I ignored. Then, she called and left a voice message. It went something like this:

“Yvonne, it’s me. Why are you doing this? You know, my health is not too good, and you will make it worse. The Bible says that children who are disobedient to their parents will face consequences…”

The voice message went on for another 25 seconds, but I didn’t listen to the rest of it because as soon as I heard that last line, I hung up and deleted the message. She’s pulling more of her manipulative, “it’s all about me” tactics and trying to guilt me to call her by blaming everything on me, once again, yet again. It’s always about her faux health and how everyone else’s actions make her health worse. It’s never about how she can help herself. It’s always about how other people wrong her and my dad, and they are these innocent, perfect beings who are just harmed by literally everyone else. Sure, the Bible does say that children should be obedient to their parents, but why should that even be relevant in this conversation when there’s nowhere in the Bible that says that parents can mistreat and constantly abuse their children? What consequences do parents who abuse their children face? Parents should face consequences for the awful actions they commit against their children. What does she have to say about that? Nothing, of course.

She can threaten me all she wants, but until I get an apology, she will never get what she wants.

This may be the end of the rope

My mom had told my dad multiple times to share photos of the crib and high chair they got from Craigslist with me, but she said he was “too busy” and never did it. Well, the reason it was too arduous for him is that he forgot he can actually use his smart phone… like an actual smart phone, and take a photo with it and text to me. I reminded my mom that he didn’t have to use his digital camera, upload, and email, but I’m not sure she really understood what I was saying. They have had smart phones for over a year now and still have no idea how to use them. My dad still randomly and accidentally texts me my mom’s number at least once a month.

So he sent me photos of these baby items “from friends” (a lie) and also sent me the measurements of the crib. The crib is NOT a crib: it’s a bassinet that is just as small as the bassinet Kaia outgrew in June. It’s unusable for her given her size. My dad insisted it could be used up to 12 months of age; yeah, maybe for a midget baby? They have no clue how things work with babies because it’s been too long for them. I told him that this bassinet is NOT a crib, it’s too small, and that I already told them my friend was loaning her pack and play to me. I also reminded him that he doesn’t have to email me photos from his digital camera; all he has to do is snap a photo from his phone and text to me. What was the response I got back? This is what he wrote, word for word:

“There is no room for the crib. You should just stay at the hotel as far as I’m concerned. Don’t fucken tell me what to do, bitch!”

You would think that after all these years of being yelled at, criticized, put down, and name-called by my dad for the most innocuous comments or actions done that I would be unfazed by this. But when I saw the email in my inbox, my face was burning hot, and I could feel my blood pressure rise rapidly. In that moment, I was reminded of the time when maybe 12 years ago, our dad screamed at Ed for something stupid as per usual at home, and even though Ed had gotten yelled at far more times than I ever did, Ed was in tears. My 30-something year old brother was in tears because of his dad. Just think about that for a second, and think about how absolutely heartbreaking that sounds. My dad’s screaming could drill my 30-something brother to tears, in just seconds. That’s the power he had over him.

In that moment, I decided that enough was enough. I had endured more uncalled for, wrongful treatment from them ever since I was a child. I had been name called, verbally and emotionally abused, wrongly accused of things I never did, gaslit, and made to feel like the worst daughter that ever existed. I was constantly called spoiled just for having the bare minimum. This was not the first time my dad had called me a bitch; in fact, I can’t even count on one hand the number of times it had happened. And it’s not the only bad word my dad had ever called me. I stuck by them through Ed’s suffering and death. I allowed them to be a part of my life, even when I really wanted to cut them out completely. I let them be a part of my wedding and even said really kind things about them in front of everyone they knew. Yet nothing I have ever done for them has been enough. All I have ever wanted is for them to be happy and proud for me. But no, that’s an impossibility. They are incapable of happiness or peace. They will never be happy. They will continue to live in their chosen clutter and dirt and squalor in that rotting and dilapidated house until the day they die — not because they have no money or options, but because they just love to be miserable and depressed.

So, this is the last straw for me. I’ve had to endure far more abuse than any one person should for the last 36 years. Broken promises, lies, accusations, name calling, constant insults. Enough is enough. And so I wrote this to him:

“All I did was give a suggestion. If you want to have that type of attitude at a simple suggestion, then you are the problem. What kind of father calls his daughter a bitch? I will not tolerate it. You have NO power over me. You will never meet Kaia with that attitude unless you apologize.”

My dad has never apologized to anyone in his entire life. He doesn’t even know what the word “apology” even means. He’s never been held accountable for anything he’s ever said or done, and like my mom, he thinks everyone else is the problem, not him.

So I realize this could mean that I’m actually, finally cutting them off, but maybe this is for the best. I am so sick of constantly putting their needs ahead of my own, compromising my mental health. I have a baby to care for and raise now. I need to set a good example for her, and I don’t want her exposed to this constant bullshit. This intergenerational family dysfunction needs to end HERE, right NOW.

The truth is that it’s not even just my parents’ behavior that disgusts me; they disgust me as human beings. It’s a sad thing to admit, but it is true. I’m disgusted and embarrassed by them. And I’m tired of always trying to honor them when I get treated like garbage in return.

They have no power over me. They will have no power over me.

Mom being separated from baby and pumping

Given that my friend had to be hospitalized for postpartum hypertension about two weeks after giving birth, this meant she had to be separated from her baby. And when you have the intention/desire to breastfeed, this means that to keep your milk supply up, you will need to pump if baby is not physically there with you to nurse. Somehow, a nurse said that her blood pressure spiked a bit after each pumping session, so they suggested that she not pump for two days….

She said she felt fine, and I’m not 100 percent sure that not expressing milk for two straight days in the first two weeks postpartum is a good idea if a mom has explicitly said she wants to breastfeed her child. Where do people come up with these awful suggestions? Do they ever listen to mothers’ desires… EVER?

Postpartum hypertension

I went to the hospital today to visit my friend, who had recently given birth about two weeks ago, but had to get re-admitted to the hospital for postpartum hypertension. She realized something was wrong when this past weekend, she had a lingering, painful headache that just wouldn’t go away. She had a blood pressure monitor and used it, and the result was far higher than anyone would be comfortable with, so her doctor told her to go to the ER and get admitted. She is being monitored closely now and on medication, but she is unsure when she will get discharged. I also visited when my friend, her husband, was also there with the baby, so the added bonus I got was seeing their newborn for the very first time and holding her.

The scary thing that most people don’t realize is that child birth.. is VERY TRAUMATIC on the female body. It’s actually considered physical trauma. Most women tear to some degree in their vagina or even outside of that when having a vaginal birth. A caesarian section cuts through something like 8-9 layers of the human body to take the baby out. A lot of complications can happen, such as postpartum hypertension, which is one of the most common side effects after child birth. Hemorrhaging is extremely terrifying and common, and these conditions can result in seizures, strokes, and even heart attacks. A friend’s friend got a brain aneurysm as a result of the birth of her second child and was in the ICU for over four weeks. These conditions can happen as late as up to a year after the birth of a child. But no one talks about this. Women’s healthcare in this country is just beyond abysmal. No one proactively tells you this; you just have to Google search it all and figure it out yourself.

When your parents fight over photos and videos of their grandchild

Texting my parents is not something that is particularly fun. Since they got smartphones, all the “texting” that happens is pretty one-sided, as in, I text them photos and video links for the baby, and they receive them and rarely acknowledge anything. I don’t mind this, but it’s not a “text conversation” in the way that people typically expect texting to work.

I was on the phone with my mom today, and she said that the two of them fight over the phone when there’s a photo or video of Kaia. “We fight!” she said gleefully. “Sometimes you send just to Daddy or to me, and then he’ll ask why he wasn’t sent the video directly. Then, we fight to see who can watch the video first!”

My mom expressed how much my dad loves Kaia. Well, isn’t that cute? My dad actually is capable of affection and love! My dad never hugged, kissed, or praised Ed or me growing up, yet now, all he can do is praise Kaia for her development and cuteness and tell my mom how much he loves her. It’s amazing how people change as grandparents versus as parents, isn’t it?