Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

Ah, Fall, you've finally arrived. The title of this post thus has two references -- one, to the changing of the clocks (a.k.a. Daylight Screw-with-Parents-of-Small-Children Time), and two, to the fact that I am now in my third week of weaning off Zoloft. Emotionally, I am doing just fine, and I am enjoying experiencing the full range of my emotional choir again. Physically, it has really been a drag. Beyond the typical withdrawal symptoms of tingling hands, dizziness, mild nausea, and insomnia, I have had an almost-daily migraine since I lowered the dosage two and half weeks ago. I am following the doctor's instructions so that the whole weaning off takes a month, but I had not counted on the headaches. I don't know for sure that they are caused by the change in chemical levels, but it seems like a good culprit. I am just hopeful that this is a temporary situation as my body adjusts. If it turns out that I need an SSRI long-term in order to avoid these constant migraines, I suppose it is a small price to pay, but the fact is that I haven't felt like myself since I became pregnant and I've been very much looking forward to feeling normal again. I am very grateful that the Zoloft was available to lift me out of my post-partum depression, but I missed the highs and lows of my emotions without mood elevators. Yes, I get more irritable and sometimes even more melancholy without the medication, but I like the intensity and rawness of my sadness without medication, the sanguinity of my happiness in its unmediated state.

In other news, we had a fantastic Halloween. Last weekend was the neighborhood Halloween Party at Delcazal Park. I presciently volunteered to man the "big kids" inflatable, since it turned out that's where Henry spent all of his time. Then I went home and watched the Saints rise like phoenix to topple the Giants. We had a pretty quiet week (a good thing, given the migraines), but did squeeze in an open house at one of the three schools we are applying to for first grade. One is a Montessori; one is foreign language immersion; and one is full-time gifted. All are public, which means that every parent in Orleans Parish who gives half a care about their child's education is applying and admission is by lottery. We'd be happy with any; we're just hoping he gets into at least one.

Friday night I took the boys to Tout de Suite for a Halloween shadow puppet show. "Miss" Jill made candy-corn colored pizza slices for all the kids, and it seemed like every kid we know in the neighborhood was there. When we all took our seats, the weather outside was unpleasantly warm, but during the brief performance, fall arrived, raining and chilly. Luckily, the kids were all in costume and baring skin is generally not the costume norm in the under-10 set, so they were plenty warm on the walk/ride home.

Yesterday I took Dean to the thrift store and bought warm jammies for both kids. Then we carved our jack o'lanterns (Matthew's had swine flu and was barfing its guts all over the front steps; I carved fire and traditional triangle eyes into Henry's, and mine was a happy little feline-face). We met up with Max and Chloe for trick-or-treating. Dean was all bundled up in a little bear costume we got from a friend -- it was a little small on him so I had to cut the "head" off and attach it to a hat, but he was cute as a button touring the neighborhood in the Bjorn strapped to Matthew's chest. Henry had a blast. Did we ever seriously worry about this kid's shyness? It has evaporated, along with every trace of his baby fat. At the puppet show, he was right up front yelling at the puppets during audience participation time. Last night he put on his mask at every house and showed off his "Spiderman moves" to anyone who would watch (it's a very fine line between web-flinging and giving the sign of the horns, but no one seemed to take offense). At the end of the night, as we gave out the last of our candy to some weary trick-or-treaters (Henry invited them to "Help yourself, take whatever you want, we have tons"), Henry announced it had been not just the best Halloween ever, but the best DAY ever. At age five, I envy him the lovely experience of having reality match the expectation that things just get better and better. Not that I don't also expect life to continually improve, but I sort of look at it like long term investing in the stock market; Henry looks at life like a day trader, and he always manages to buy low and sell high.

Dean is doing well. He just got his first tooth, a shy little sliver of white on his lower right gum. I will miss his gummy smile, like I miss every day of his babyhood that passes. We have a bit of a mutual adoration society going on right now. I just can't get enough of his bright eyes and wet grins, the way he understands almost everything these days, the way he reaches for me when he's in anyone else's arms, the way he smiles up at me in the morning after he's finished nursing next to me in bed. The only thing I could possibly complain about is his yelling as a form of communication, but I really see that as motivation to work on new baby signs and keep giving him new experiences. We recently switched from three naps and five breastfeeding sessions a day to two naps and four feedings. Spending three hours straight cooped up in the house is a recipe for frustration, for both of us. On my days as primary caregiver, I try to work in a midday errand. Today we all went to breakfast at Jill's, something we haven't done in months, and it really ate up some time before that first morning nap (plus, Dean loves to stand at the play table and watch Henry build legos). Between the mornign and afternoon naps, I took the boys to one of my favorite stores, Brad and Dellwyn's Flag Shop, on Magazine. I can't think of anything more visually stimulating for a baby than being in the store, with flags festooning every inch of ceiling, wall, and floor, plus all the wind chimes and rainbow catchers. We picked out a "Who Dat!" flag, just in time for tomorrow's Monday night football game. Can't wait to eat some dirty bird.