Thursday, December 04, 2008


I have a friend who is pregnant, and has had a previous loss. I’ve been in contact with her almost daily via email. I haven’t heard from her since before Thanksgiving. I’m so torn as to what to do. Do I :
a) call her directly, thereby forcing her to give me bad news in person, when she may not have wanted to
b) email her and ask if everything is okay, thereby seeming like a needy, whiny person from whom she may want to run as fast as she can
c) ignore it, and hope that no news is good news

Ahhh, my neurotic friend phobias are coming to a head. This is why I have no friends. I analyze every move before I make it, and most of the time end up doing nothing, for fear of doing the wrong thing and scaring the friend away, like an almost tame squirrel. I’m already so afraid of having an actual phone conversation that the only way we’ve really become closer is through email. I’m always afraid of what I’ll talk about, and how long are you supposed to carry on a phone conversation anyway? I feel like there is some law that says you have to talk for at least 30 minutes, which usually results in my spouting out anything that comes into my head. Which is usually wildly inappropriate and/or offensive. Or, worse, incredibly boring.

In my teenage years, I wasn’t this way. I spent hours on the phone, talking about nothing. Somewhere, that changed. Probably when my friendships started to become based on more than a love of Sebago shoes and peace sign earrings. I need more friends, but their neediness scares me. And then my fear of being needy results in my being standoffish, which results in TA DA! No friends.

Ruthless cycle, that.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Someone was saying how scared they would be with no time to sleep, less time for sex, and no time for each other, about how their relationship would fare after having children. I’ll be honest; there is nothing that will test your relationship like having a child. But there is nothing that will strengthen it, deepen it or define it as much, either. We were married for 17 years before we had a child. I have learned more about my husband in the past 15 months than I did in all of our marriage before. Don’t get me wrong, I knew all of his stories, his sense of humor, that he was in an eighties hair band (when he was in high school) called, wait for it, “Hard Knox”, but I really didn’t know how he’d be in battle. And I have more respect, love and all out admiration for him than I ever did before.

Yes, there are times that I want to scream “I’m doing everything!” , and at times, I do. But the first time I came home to find him curled up with our son in our bed because our son was crying in the crib, I fell deeper in love than I could have imagined. Sometimes it feels just like those moments on The Amazing Race, the couples scurrying around, shouting blunt answers to each other. But the cool thing is that our relationship is so strong now (even stronger than it was, and that is saying A LOT), that we are able to forgive those things said under extreme duress.

I’m not saying everyone should have a child. It isn’t for everyone, and we didn’t think it was for us for a long, long time. I’m not saying it is easy, because it definitely isn’t. But it is an event that gave me a wildly different perception of life. It altered my priorities in a huge way. I’ve become a better person. I've become a better wife. We've become a better couple. I'm grateful for that. Because that little ninnymuggins deserves the best.

Friday, November 07, 2008

Tofurkey and my Imaginary Friend

I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but this morning when the guy in the cube next to me started into my cube to tell yet another story about either
a) his massive task of redoing the storm drains in his yard
b) something stupid that his wife said or did or made him do
c) something way more than I want to know about his bathroom habits,

I picked up my cellphone and acted as if someone had called me. I had a five minute conversation with an imaginary friend about how to prepare a tofu turkey (or tofurkey, as I referred to it). I don’t even know how to prepare one, but it was the first thing that popped into my mind. And I gave her advice about how to not offend her vegan guests by serving meat as well for her non vegan guests (“if they don’t want to be around it, then they shouldn’t come…”). I can’t believe I actually just did this, and had an entire imaginary conversation! I also gave her my pecan pie recipe. Oh my God, I so belong in the nuthouse.

And it totally worked, the guy next door was thwarted, forced to go regale another coworker with his tales.

I am laughing so hard right now. Especially at the random topic. At least it is a great exercise in creativity. And I will do it again! This has such a great array of possibilities. Car salesmen, the guy on the street that just "wants to take a minute to testify about Jesus", the woman in the elevator that has on the pink denim jacket that has been Beadazzled within an inch of its life....Bwahahahahahahahahahaha!

I wanted to disclose this in case you want to keep your children away from me in the future.

Thursday, November 06, 2008


Total rant and venting ahead, proceed with caution:

The place where I work, oh man, it is so funny and weird. The clerical whose cube (it is more open with a sort of “breakfast bar” type thing on the front) is right across the aisle from me came in yesterday and asked me if she could put her head down and go to sleep. In my cube. While I’m working. I feel for her, she’s pregnant, so I know she’s tired. But sharing a 6x8 cube with someone else sleeping behind me? Weird. And, if her bosses(my bosses, too) came into my cube and saw her sleeping on the clock (she’s paid hourly), I can’t imagine what would unfold. But, being the weenie that I am, I said it was okay. So she slept in my cube for an hour. Do you know what it is like to have someone snoring two feet behind you while you try to figure out how to choose the proper encryption algorithm?

And every time I get anything to eat, she comes in and asks if she can have some. I got some M&Ms yesterday, and I had to try and not make a rattly sound with the wrapper, because I was hungry and wanted to be able to eat them all. She’s a sweet girl I guess, but a little strange. It was hilarious; I would sneak out like five of them, and then hide the bag in my drawer. I used to eat cereal at my desk in the morning, but every time she heard me pour the cereal, she’d come over and ask for some. And it isn’t an issue of not having the money to eat; she just bought a new car. I’m all for sharing some, but come on! Oh well, maybe it’ll be good for me, if I don’t eat at my cube, maybe I’ll lose some weight! She could start her own company called “I’ll Eat Half Your Food”. Lose Weight! Feel Great! I’ll Eat Half Your Food! And then sleep with you within an uncomfortable radius.

Asshat (in the cube next to me) is having digestive issues again. God help me. I actually practically yelled “Putting on my headphones!” while he was giving details on his phone call approximately a foot away from my ear. There are certain things you don’t do in a cube farm, people. Digestive issues go on the “no-no” list. Step out into the hall, and use your cellphone. That, and you never, ever comment on a personal conversation someone is having, even if it was so loud that anyone could hear. I know about every fight that asshat has had with his wife, but I never act like I have any clue about it. It is an unwritten code.

I’m definitely starting to get more negative about this company, and I’m trying to do better. They are building a new campus with all of this state of the art equipment --the workstations are new, to allow light from all the windows, the monitors are on swing arms, everyone has their own vents so that they can control the temperature, they are going to have Starbucks coffee, water machines!, actual breakrooms with a sink! (and soon we'll get one of those newfangled light bulbs I've heard so much about), etc. Up until a couple of weeks ago, as far as we knew, we were going to be moving there in April. Then they told us that although everyone else in the company was going to the new campus, they hadn’t planned correctly, and there wasn’t room for us, so we are staying in our building, which was (I’m not kidding) last renovated in 1984. No light, urine colored walls, cubes, carpet (that has stains ALL OVER IT), the bathrooms are hardly ever in service, and oh, they are taking away the restaurant downstairs. Yeah, so I’m kind of bummed. Stupid little extras like that really go a long way. And no plans to renovate our building. Just be grateful you have jobs, was what we were told. Which is true, I know, but yeesh.
AND, every other team in our department has scheduled their Christmas party. Except us. I don't think we are getting one this year. Which is fine, as long as they let us have the half day off. Which they probably won't-- they probably didn't "plan properly" for it. At least I just mistyped "for it" as "for tit" and got a good, juvenile laugh out of it!

the ATL

M took me to Atlanta over the weekend to see Wicked and spend the night in an actual hotel, just the two of us. S spent the night away for the first time. It went really well. He loved it, Grandma loved it, and the two of them are nothing but trouble together. Such a team, those two. I always thought I’d be jealous of anyone else that my child loved, but it only makes me happy. Because it makes him happy. And anyone that makes him happy is okay in my book. Well, almost anyone. Richard Simmons? Probably not.

ANYWAY, it was so good to be in the city. I felt as if I were a sponge soaking it up – the diversity, the weird conversations I overheard, the traffic, the new buildings, I loved it all. And it hit me. I WANT TO BE HERE. WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR? We’ve thought about it before, we were worried about how big Atlanta has become. And indeed, it is large. We worried about the traffic. Yes, there is a lot. But it feels so nice to be there. We have a history there. That’s where we met, where we lived when we were married, where we went to college. I know that it is a large city with many problems. I know it is crowded, but I love it. And M does, too. It is close enough to the mountains, close enough to the beach, close enough to M’s aunt and uncle, and still close enough to all of the things a city has to offer. And now that I’m not in contact with my mother, I don’t have to worry about her running my life. I think that had to happen before I could fully embrace moving there. And I’m so ready.

So, we are going to start looking at jobs next March or so, and we are going to start researching good day care options now. We are still trying to figure out exactly where in Atlanta we want to live, and then I’ll pinpoint where to look for jobs. But we are excited. Rental prices are the same as here in Hooterville – and the selection is a lot larger.

I really think that we’ll settle in there. We’ve already shown a lot of progress in the fact that we haven’t run back to Denver, like we usually do. We know that neither of us likes the cold weather. I know that M’s aunt and uncle (we call them the grandparents) love S so much, we don’t want to take him away from that. If we didn’t try it out, we’d always regret it. And, we've got a reputation to uphold. Can't go more than a year and a half and not move, can we?

I'm giddy

I feel such a surge of pride to be in my country. I haven’t felt that in a while. And it feels good. Being here in the heart of conservative country, I can’t discuss it with anyone. I have to hide my joy. But even so, I’m very joyful. Just the thought that so many people in our country looked at the issues at hand, not at the color of his skin.
After seeing so many elderly African Americans at the polls, who made a great effort to get there, I realized just how much I take for granted every day. Yes, here in Hooterville, I am the victim of some forms of prejudice because I’m a woman, but they are nothing compared to what most of these people have faced in their lives, especially living here. And it is still rampant; the first thing my husband’s boss did yesterday morning upon coming in to work was to raise his hands in the air and declare “White Power!” – yeah, good stuff. Until you live in the heart of all that the sterotypes are made of, you don’t realize how little really has changed in all this time. This evidence that, for most of the country, this is a thing of the past, has given many people a tiny glimpse of hope. And what could be bad about that?

I look forward to the day that I can try to explain to my son what this election meant to so many people. I ordered a yard sign today (half price!), just to pack away and show him someday. It will probably take him a while to appreciate it, but I know that someday he will.

Not to mention that I fully believe this man can do it, and has the sense to surround himself with others that can do it, that WANT to do it. I’m excited to see what will unfold.


Tuesday, November 04, 2008

Please, please, let me get what I want

Election Day! I went to the local city hall. I waited for about an hour in line. The ballot was manual, meaning that I had to actually fill in the oval, like an SAT test. The people in line were all very pleasant, sharing pens, making polite conversation, laughing about how we all meant to apply for absentee ballots. And there is a bakery right by the city hall, so I was fueled by a cookie completely frosted with pumpkin colored icing. It really wasn’t a bad experience at all.

But all day, I’ve had a dull ache in the pit of my stomach. Please, please, please let Obama win. I honestly don’t know if I can take it if he doesn’t. I hate to sound like a whiny child, wanting to get what I want or pitch a tantrum. I know that is what it sounds like.. But let me say that I was so, so angry with the American people after the last election. I really couldn’t imagine what the heck happened. It was so clear to me. But all of my co workers were totally Bushified, and no amount of logic worked, so I’m sure the rest of the country was, too. I’m sure I wouldn’t change my mind because of something my coworker said, so I shouldn’t be surprised. Of course, today, here in corporate culture of fear land, no one says a word about which way they might lean. So, I’ll have to wait until tonight to see how things go. I’m nervous. I’m somewhat excited, but I was last time as well, only to be terribly, terribly disappointed.

Speaking of which, so, so, so not pregnant. Despite being 5 DAYS LATE. Bite me, whoever is in charge of that. Just …Bite me. And get me another frosted pumpkin cookie, post haste.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

A year ago today

A year ago was my last day at my old job in Denver. The movers were packing up our house. They came the next day and finished up, we must’ve run some errands, tried to clean somewhat, and then went to the hotel. The next morning we had to get up really early so M could take S and me to the airport. I remember that it was snowing, and we laughed about it, about how glad we were to leave the snow behind.

I remember that S was so small, but he seemed so big then! I remember having him in the over the shoulder baby holder sling. He was very, very good the whole time. Until the flight attendant on the plane to Chattanooga made me take him out of it during take off. He wasn’t happy about that. But then I put him back in once we got up in the air, and he was very happy. I think I fed him a bottle. And I remember the person next to me marveling at how I put the bottle together and mixed the formula with one hand. I hadn’t really thought about it, and then I thought “Yeah, that is pretty wild, I’ve really adapted to this!”

Mostly I remember how nice people were. The young college age guy offering his spot in line so that I could get through easier, saying “You’ve got your hands a lot more full than mine!”, the TSA guy that helped me with the stroller and diaper bag, by getting it all together for me and carrying it to a table from the conveyor belt. The nice older ladies that offered to help me while I was packing everything up. The wonderful men that helped me with the stroller pickup at the gates when we arrived. The man that carried my stroller for me up two flights of stairs at the Chattanooga airport. I was touched by these actions, and I hope I have the chance to show someone else the same kindness. I hope if I’m on a plane with a fussy baby, I have the ability and opportunity to help. To take the stress off of someone when they really need it, rather than roll my eyes and add to it. Each one of these people could’ve turned their noses up and gone about their day, but they really made an effort. And that touched me in a way nothing has in a long time. It is nice to remember.

In an effort to keep this nice feeling going, I'm going to try to list at least one nice thing someone has done for me this week. I focus all too easily on the negative. I'm going to make myself focus on the positive, for five minutes a week, at least. Then I can go back to bitching and moaning.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Just a little patience, yeah, yeah (with apologies to Axl Rose)

M got a job, by the way. We can now pay our bills, and actually put money into savings at the same time! The absence of that worry is sheer bliss. I cannot put into words the amount of room left over when stress and worry packed up their stuff and moved out. Hopefully to an Eastern bloc country, where they will never be granted permission to leave the country again.

Of course, I have a new thing to obsess about, but this is something I don’t really mind obsessing about…

So, I’m in the midst of the Two Week Wait. I didn’t really think much about it while we were actively “trying”, but now that I know it is a possibility, I’m very impatient. I tested yesterday and (so sad) this morning, but really it is too early. I’m not due to start until Sunday, why can’t I just wait and see if AF comes to visit? Because I can’t, that’s why! I am so freaking impatient about it. And after last time, you’d think I’d rather just wait a while, not get excited only to wind up crushed by another chemical pregnancy. But here I am, caught deeply in the throes of suspense induced craziness.

I keep thinking, I have this symptom! And this, and this! And then I realize that cramps, bloating and crabbiness are also signs that I’m NOT pregnant. So, I’m sitting here trying to talk myself out of testing tomorrow. I almost went and bought more tests, but I haven’t. The only one I have left is a digital, and I really prefer the non digital ones, as they are available for advanced Is That A Line analysis (this type of analysis is related to Could It Have Been A Line In A Previous Life, and Maybe That Test Is Defective, I Should Take Another One Just To Be Sure analysis).

So, I’m hoping that will give me enough to go on to wait until Friday. But probably not. Who am I kidding? If I had one with me, I’d probably be testing in the bathroom here at work (which I have done in the past, yes I have a problem) Why oh why do I do this to myself? Aaahhh! And how in the heck am I supposed to work while going through this? Oh that’s right, I’m NOT working, I’m writing this…

I’m sure I could make a short trip to Target without anyone noticing, right? Right?

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

The Eyes Have It

So, I’m part of a new team now, and my new team lead came over to have the introductory meeting. He is a very nice guy, but I am presented with a very stressful obstacle: the maverick eye.
Which eye is the one that actually has vision? Or do they both have vision and the fact that I’m focusing on the one eye that seems normal means that I’m discriminating against the other eye just because it doesn’t actually look at me? I found myself constantly switching back and forth between them.
I finally came to a place where I had some peace about just looking into the good eye, and willfully ignoring the urge to look at the bad one for a second (just like when someone says don’t think about elephants, and that’s all you can think about). I was reaching my optimum rhythm with the conversation and was discoursing on what particular areas I manage and how those could be optimized. I’m doing well, I thought. I’m great! Look at my communication skills! I was really gaining speed. And then, suddenly, IT happened.

The eyes switched. The bad eye became the good one, and vice versa. I was a goner.

Friday, October 10, 2008

Why didn't I join the Army when I had the chance?

My cube is right next to the clerical’s desk, and the supply cabinet is almost directly behind me. This incredibly desirable location comes with many features like:

1)Hearing every phone call the clerical receives and initiates. This includes those wonderful personal conversations. She’s pregnant AND has a kid she is trying to toilet train. No conversation before 10 in the morning should include the word ‘grunt’, you know what I mean? And I’m not really interested in the state of your bowel movements, thank you. I was pregnant, too, and no one except for my poor beleaguered husband was clued in to the state of my intestines. And, believe it or not, if you repeat something exactly as your kid says it twenty times, it just isn’t cute. It may, however, result in a stapler being thrown over my cube wall and **accidentally** embedding itself into your forehead.

2)Being a part of every trip to the supply cabinet. The cabinet is metal, so when the door is opened, it makes a loud clanging sound. Then, if the person stands there for a few minutes, the clerical will ask them if they need some help finding something. More times than not, it is something that they would NEVER find in the supply cabinet. I’ve heard people looking for stamps, toilet paper, clothes hangers, nail clippers, nail polish remover, and Vaseline(I don’t want to know).

3)Providing visual stimulation to my coworkers. If the clerical is busy, and someone is waiting for her to become not busy, they like to stand directly in my cubicle “doorway” and stare over my shoulder at my monitor. I installed a mirror on my monitor after finding one too many of them standing there, silently, and completely without my knowledge. Creepy.

In addition the person in the cube right next to mine is a real class act. He likes to talk about EVERYONE behind their back, is extremely paranoid, and loves to talk FOREVER about things you don’t want to know about him. I know when his wife had her IUD removed to try for another child, I know the night that they tried, and that she is pregnant now. I know the entire plan for his big drain rerouting project in his yard. Every time one of the bosses comes by to speak to me about something, he always comes over to tell me all of the bad things that the boss has done to him in the past. Yesterday he announced that he was “going to go poop”. Either they won’t talk to me at all, or they talk WAAAYY too much.

Wednesday, October 01, 2008

The economy is falling! The economy is falling!

The economy is spinning like a hippie girl at a Grateful Dead concert. All of this hoopla over the bailout of failing banks, insurance companies and trading firms has me feeling very conflicted. Part of me says, “Let ‘em fail, I don’t need credit!”, but I think the issue is deeper than that. From what I gather, when we start looking at no one having the ability to borrow money, it is going to cause a lot of companies to fail. Some companies use credit on a daily basis, based on a profit they will make in the future, or some companies use credit to make payroll, finance new construction, etc. If these companies fail, people lose jobs, and don’t have as much money to put back into the economy by buying things from other companies, and then THOSE companies fail, and the dog that the old lady swallowed to eat the cat to eat the mouse to eat the frog to eat the fly (I don’t know why she swallowed the fly, I guess she’ll die) will fail, too.

NPR had an economist on and he was part of a group of economists that don’t believe a bailout is necessary. His argument was that credit would be available, but it would be harder to get a loan, and interest would be higher. People would have to pay CASH for things, my goodness! And he did have an interesting point. But I think at this point it is all just opinion, no one really knows what would happen if no bailout occurred. Maybe it is safer to spend the 700 billion just to be on the safe side. I like eating, you know?

But it really does tick me off that these executives are walking away with millions and billions of dollars. I think they should be forced to have very, very low incomes if they are to be bailed out, and heck, why not through in some community service, too? And make them do a chicken dance on national television. Something along those lines. Because I don’t think they should get off scott free. I don’t think they should be allowed to keep their Manhattan penthouses and limousines, they should have to do as we did, and move to an armpit, so that they can afford to live.

When I got pregnant with S, we were having some financial difficulty, and had been for a while. We were making the mortgage payment, but not some others, and it was iffy every month. We knew when S came along, we could not afford day care, and that one of us would have to stay home. I spoke with the mortgage company on many occasions, explaining that we were looking at being about 500$ short of our payment amount (on a 2,000 payment), and was there any way to make reduced payments until our son got old enough to make day care more reasonable, say like a year? They wouldn’t even consider it. Nope, we won’t do it, I was told. They wouldn’t even ACCEPT part of a payment. I couldn’t fathom that they wouldn’t take some money, even if it wasn’t the whole thing. No wonder the fing banks are failing. Hello?!

We tried to sell the house, but with no luck. So, we packed up and moved to a much smaller, cheaper town across the country. We were lucky enough to do a short sale, and the bank took a $10,000 hit on the loan. But they weren’t helpful at all when I asked about the short sale program. I talked to three people and got three different explanations. Luckily, I was contacted by a realtor who specialized in short sales, and he handled everything.

I would love to still be in Denver, I miss it so badly some days. But we did what we needed to do to be able to live. You would think the mortgage companies would show the same flexibility – but I guess not.

Friday, September 26, 2008

Over it!

So, my relationship with my family is weird. Strained, disjointed, and weird. I have a brother 3 and a half years older than me, I haven’t seen or spoken to him in over 13 years.

My mother and I, oh my goodness I don’t know where to start. Basically, every once in a while, we kind of function. The rest of the time, she is either trying to make me feel guilty for not doing what she wants me to do for her, or is putting down my husband (who, by the way, is really pretty AWESOME) or my father. She also likes to spout off about how whatever I think or believe is wrong. She is seriously crazy. Very unpredictable, and sometimes quite scary.

M’s aunt and uncle have been in the picture quite a lot lately, have taken quite an interest in Sam. I’m quite surprised by our relationship with them. It is so easy. There is no constant drama . His aunt actually called to check on me this week, just once, not enough to worry me about invading my privacy, to make sure I was doing okay with M out of town. I’m speechless really when I try to convey to them how grateful I am.

I think they think I am joking, they just can’t imagine that I’ve never had someone with whom I didn’t have to constantly be a diplomat, trying to pick out the correct way to say something so that it couldn’t be twisted against me. I had to take a “personality” analysis for my employment here, and my top skill was diplomacy. They were quite impressed at this, as I guess it was a fairly rare skill to have in the technical field. I wasn’t surprised at all.
Since about 7 years of age, I’ve had to carefully construct anything I had to say, or it would be used against me. She could be tender, loving at times, but you never knew when. Some days, she would wake up, push my brother and I out the door, and say “I don’t want to be a mother today, get out and don’t come back!” I’m not exaggerating.

Luckily, we lived on a bit of land, and my brother and I would explore for a while. Sometimes we could come back and listen and tell if she was asleep, so we could sneak back in and get lunch. I became so afraid of making her mad that I lost the ability to show anger. About anything. When I went to drug rehab at the age of 16, they tried everything to get me to show anger, even falsely accusing me of doing something against the rules that resulted in my losing privileges. I just couldn’t do it; I didn’t realize how weird that was at the time.

When I was about 11 or 12, and my father moved out, my mother quit being a mother completely. My brother, who was disgusted by my very existence, and dealing with the trauma on his own, was no comfort or help, nor should he have been. I started cooking, doing laundry, cleaning, etc. I dreaded when I would have to tell her that we needed groceries. She was the only one with a driver’s license, so I didn’t have any other options.

It was a horrible time. I felt lonely, abandoned. I couldn’t do much socially, as she would get so angry if I asked her to pick me up from anywhere. I’ll never forget a slumber party I attended once. She got lost on the way there, and had to call for directions. When she got there, all the girls from the party and the parents were standing out on the front porch. The other parents that had come to pick up their children came up and introduced themselves to the party giver’s parents, and thanked them. I was waiting for her to do the same, but instead, she rolled down the window and said, “Get in the Godd****d car!”. Everyone shuffled around nervously and avoided eye contact as I made me way to the car, dreading the verbal assault that awaited me.

I think that lasted about three years? My father wasn’t any help, he was newly married with a new baby, and really didn’t want anything to do with his old kids. It probably didn’t help that our mother had us call him to ask about the alimony payments if they were a few days late.

When she finally decided that she was ready to come out of her bedroom, she wanted to be the Mom again. It ticked me off. It still ticks me off. She left us to be on our own for years, and then suddenly, we’re supposed to respect and obey her again? Maybe that is the crux of my problems with her; I’ll never fully forgive her for it. I feel guilty because I don’t feel any real love for her, and she is a pitiful person. So, I try to act the part even though I don’t feel it.

And since then, she’s “sick”, which translates to her doing nothing but smoking, sitting on the couch playing video games, and collecting money on disability. And complaining. This has gone on for years. Every time she doesn’t want to do something, she’s “sick”. She didn’t attend my wedding or my college graduation. She was “sick”. Maybe that should be my excuse for not dealing with her. I’m “sick”. And tired of her!

I haven’t spoken with her for almost a month now, and this has been one of the most peaceful months I can remember.

I remember being worried about being a good parent for Sam, before he came along. And now I know that it won’t be hard to outdo my childhood.

Thursday, September 04, 2008

Know When to Hold 'Em

I hate to think of missed opportunities. With all of the times we’ve moved, I feel like we’ve missed out on so many things that could’ve materialized if we had stayed put. Friendships that could’ve become strong, the paths of our lives could’ve taken different turns if we had been somewhere else. I wish I could say I was one of those people that said ‘I wouldn’t do anything different, where I ended up is where I’m supposed to be”, but I’m not. I’m not talking about my marriage, or my son. Both of those things are the best parts of my life. But I suffer from a constant second guessing, always wondering what if we had stayed here, or not moved here, I had taken that job instead of this one…

It is such a contrast to most of the people here. Most lived here all of their lives, went to school here, got a job and have stayed in it for years, and plan to stay there for years. It never occurs to them to look for something different. I’m not sure if they are perfectly happy with the way things are, or they just don’t think there is anything they can do about it. While I have been able to experience and see things that most of these people don’t even know exist, I envy them their stability. And I sometimes think that if I can just make myself stay put for a while, it will “stick”, and I won’t want to go anywhere else. But then I get a little nudge, a little scratch in the outer edges of my mind that says, “do not settle”, and I start questioning why we are here, why I am doing what I do for a living, etc. And I wonder how to change it.

I guess you could say I’m wiling to gamble on new opportunities, I mean having a baby is the biggest gamble of all, and that paid off BIGTIME. What I’m trying to figure out is if I will ever get to a point where I’m ready to count my losses and step away from the table. And if I should event try to get to that point.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Cue the goats

I don’t dream often; usually I go right into deep sleep, since I never get enough. But when I do dream, it is pretty entertaining. Take my last one:

Playboy calls me and says they are doing a “spread” (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) on the “everyday” woman, and they want me to be a part of it. The dream did not address how they got my number, or the fact that I never answer my phone if I don’t know the number, but anyway… So, I talk to my husband, and he’s all “Yeah, my woman’s going to be in Playboy!” , and it’s all set. We go to the shoot, and they slather makeup on my body, and while they’re doing it, I’m not self conscious at all about being naked, but then I look down. And realize that I forgot to shave. Not my legs. And it is this huge, 70’s era porn bush that looks as if a shitzu is sitting on my lap.

I’m all like ‘Oh my God, I forgot to shave!”, Yeah, for like ten years, apparently. So, I’m trying to be all non chalant and giving my husband the “Hey, come here” head movement, and I whisper to him the situation. At which he looks down (why he wouldn’t have looked before I have no idea) and has a reaction exactly the same as if he’d seen a lion gnawing on my leg. I excuse myself to the restroom, and go through the drawers and find a razor. The size of a postage stamp.

Luckily, I woke up after that. I’m not sure what would’ve happened, as it would’ve taken a herd of goats a week to get through that.

Monday, August 18, 2008

What a really nice weekend. And very busy, but I felt so satisfied on Sunday night. I hate those weekends when you end up rushing around trying to get things done on Sunday night, like coming up on a deadline for a term paper that you’ve put off until the last minute. And even though I hadn’t ironed clothes for work, or put our clothes away, or completed a multitude of other tasks, I still felt very…contented, I guess you would say.

We had a great 1st birthday party, our child could officially start his own eBay toy store. And it seems that most of them talk or sing to him, which he loves. I wish we loved it as much! It was fun watching him dig into the cake. He didn’t like it very much, which prompted my husband to ask for a DNA test, post haste. We both love sugar so much that I’ve contemplated building a shrine to it in our bedroom. Made entirely out of sugar cubes and gum drops. Sort of like the house in Hansel and Gretel. But without the oven baked children, thank you very much (how did that not freak me out when I was a kid? I don’t remember even being particularly scared by it)

Because of the proliferation of electronic voices in our house, we decided to go low tech and get him a sandbox and an outdoor swing. Both of which will be big hits, I’m sure.

In other news, I moved the horse to a closer place, which is stressful for me and him. The barn where I keep my tack is completely empty, and it is so strange, the only feeling I can compare it to is this: once, when a bored and reckless teenager, a group of us broke into the school one night during summer. It was very eery… a place that is usually so full of noise and commotion was entirely and perfectly still and quiet. It was very unnerving. As was the custodian who busted us. Oops.

A barn is usually very noisy, horses stomping, whinnying, snorting, etc. And in the main barn, that is exactly how it is. But in this one, it is full of the Scooby Doo haunted theme park vibe. Very silent. Lots of empty stalls where many, many horses spent a good bit of their lives, back in the day. There is a room with a hot walker in it, and if that thing starts going on its own one day, God help me. I’m going to store away a Bible and crucifix, just in case. And make sure that I'm with a cuter, scantily clad girl. They always bite it first.

But aside from that, it is a very nice place, with lots of great hayfields and pasture to ride in, wide open, which I really like. And they have a huge arena, which will be great for working on my riding and getting Charlie back in shape. And it is ten minutes away, compared to the hour I was driving. I was gone a total of 1 hr 40 minutes yesterday, had time to unload my tack, groom him and ride and then drive home. Compared to the three and a half to four hours it used to take me. I found myself trying to drive really fast to get home, and I had to stop myself, to remember that it was only a ten minute drive. And I literally felt a weight come off of my shoulders. It is amazing how you can get so used to carrying around a 25 pound ball of lead and not even know it.

Here’s to shedding all of those weights I’m unwittingly carrying around. And hoping I don't replace them with doughnuts. Or, more likely, birthday cake.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

A Year Ago Today

A year ago today, I went to my appointment, where they stripped my membranes and said if something didn’t happen by the end of the week (this was on a Monday), they would start to consider inducing. When she said this, I actually teared up. I wanted to have this baby already! This was my due date, after all. They did the non stress test, due to blood pressure issues, and something made them check with an ultrasound, to see amniotic fluid levels. The nurse said it looked like I was going to get my wish – and ten minutes later the nurse practitioner was telling me to check in at the hospital, and the doctor’s name, and Mike was frantically calling the kennel to see if they had space for the dogs, and realizing that I STILL hadn’t finished packing my bag (even though he had nagged me about it for weeks), and wow, and ohmygod, and wow and this is the last time we’ll ride in this car alone for a long, long time, ohmygod, call my boss to say I’m having a baby today, ohmygod, wow.
Checked in, got into my pimped out suite, changed into my gown, and Mike went to take the dogs to the kennel, finish packing my bag, call everyone to say ohmygod we’re having a baby, ohmygod, and worrying that somehow I was going to have the baby during the two hours he was gone. I remember lying there, thinking, let’s get this show on the road! They gave me a iv of fluids, which kind of sucked because I wasn’t able to walk around when the pains really started up. They did it so I’d be hydrated for the Pitocin. But guess what? I didn’t need the Pitocin. They inserted misoprostol, the contactions came, and boy! Were they close together, and STRONG! Fast forward to csection, and hearing our boy cry for the first time. It is unbelievable that a year has gone by. Our lives are completely and totally different. I thought I would miss our old life more, and there are times when it is hard to want to do something for yourself, but something with him at the same time, but we love being his parents. We love his little melon head, the vision of the top of it floating by as he crawls around the den, usually carrying a toy in one hand, and headed for the next place to pull up and cruise. I love seeing him first thing the morning, standing up in his sleepsack, all sleepy eyed, and his face bursts into a smile upon seeing me. I love watching him in the bath, splashing, and trying to grab the water in his hand and drink it. I love hearing him say “hey” to the cat and dog, and his mangled pronounciation of the words “kitty” and “doggie”. I love that no matter how hard I’ll try to get him to say “MaMa”, he’ll look me right in the eye and say “Daddy”. Most of all I love that fact he exists. Our lives are so much better for it. Our lives have more joy, more worry and more meaning now. I love him honestly more than I could have even imagined. What a year! And I hope we have many, many more.

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

Worth It All

We are struggling. Money is so tight right now, we actually gathered up change last night to deposit into our checking account. Luckily, there was quite a bit of change, but what if there hadn’t been? We are so tired of living paycheck to paycheck. It wasn’t always like this, and it is hard sometimes to remember “back when”. But jobs changed, salaries changed, and our debts stayed the same. Much of our drive behind moving back here was that the cost of living was so much lower, it would be easier to get back on our feet. We have gotten up almost to our knees a couple of times, only to be beaten back down. We have come to the realization that M has to find a job. And there are no jobs in his field to be had here in this small town.

I’ve got three more months until my obligation to my employer is finished, and then I’m free to move if need be. And I think we’ll have to. I really am not thrilled at the thought, but I’m not sure what else to do. Literally, we are down to our last bit of money. We were supposed to start daycare on the 11th, and we don’t have enough for that even, so we have to put it off. This current crunch is because a commission check that M should’ve had a week ago still isn’t here, and it doesn’t look like it will be here for a while. But even without that circumstance, we are still living very precariously. And we are both tired of it. So, if we have to live somewhere not so great for a while until we can actually get on our feet again, so be it. I just hope we can get there before it is too late.

S turns one a week from tomorrow, and I can’t believe it. One! After all we’ve been through, I don’t regret one second of it. It was all worth it. Every time I look at that little boy’s face, my heart grows two sizes. I mean it. As mushy as it is, he really does make it all worthwhile. And when I look at his face, I know that the struggles we face right now will get better. And it will all be worth it.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Waiting to settle in

We are renting a house in a very trendy area of Chattanooga, it is very close to a lot of the things we like. It is also a little too close to things we don't like, for instance the house next door that gets rented out nightly for parties. We were unaware of this situation when we rented the house, and the first weekend after we moved in, we noticed that the formerly empty house was suddenly inundated with cars and people. Every weekend, and some weeknights, there has been a large gathering. And almost every gathering has required that my husband go over and ask them to keep it down, as the baby's room is practically part of the house next door. Usually, folks are apologetic and usually quiet down, or take it inside, which solves the problem. Sometimes, it doesn't work out that way, and we have to call the police. I could handle it if it happened once a month, but every single weekend is really not good.

So, we're moving again. We found a GREAT place, very large, screened porch, a little more out in the country, large lot, more separated from neighbors, and very close to baby's daycare. It seemed too easy, and we are both worried that something will fall through. Provided that it doesn't, we move in about two and a half weeks. We found the house about two weeks ago. So, we've been living with one foot here and one foot there, so to speak. This is beginning to wear on us, we're tired of this ready-at-a-moment's-notice type of lifestyle. I hope this place provides us a more permanent state of mind.

Monday, June 23, 2008

Nashville Star Confessions

I am going to make this terrible confession: I am hooked on Nashville Star.
I am currently watching. I love to root for my favorites, and I love to criticize the ones I don't like. Who could ask for more?
Gabe is my favorite. I just LOVE his voice, and he just seems like such a sweet guy.

I'm watching Melissa, Justin, and Tommy stand there to find out who is going home. Melissa was looking at Justin like "If I get sent home, I'm going to kiss you square on the mouth." I really like her, though. I hope she doesn't get voted off. As a fellow big girl, I have to root for my team, you know. She's doing True Colors. I'm a little afraid. It sounds really good, I'm not sure if it will be "country" enough. I'm crossing my fingers for her, because homegirl can SING!

Yea! She did well, the judges basically fell on the floor and rolled over to get their belly rubbed by her.

It is down to Justin and Tommy. M and I are both hoping that they won't let them sing again. Do they sing again, or just get booted? I can't remember.c?!

Oh no, they do let them sing again. What is up with those awful really low vneck tshirts? They are horrible. Girls just want to have fun -- oh dear God. No way, he can sing! No way, no way. This is really good! I really didn't think he could carry a tune. Did Geoff really have to eat the paper? Jewel honey, why are you wearing Saturn's rings on your ears? I had to turn my negativity on the judges, I was so ready to unleash it on Justin.

Tommy: OMG. Maniac?! Wow. Oh my. He can't sing. At all. This is BADDDDDD. BAAAAAAAAAAAADDDD. The backup dancers! So bad. I can't wait for the judge's comments.

I personally can't sing at all, short of lullabies to S. That makes it even more fun to criticize. Just like those gymnastics commentators. I LOVE them. They are always jumping on any sort of mistake, "Oh Elke, that is going to cost an entire point, that is just unforgivable at this level. You know when I was in the Olympics in 1964, you would've just gone out and lit yourself on fire if you had done that." It is the greatest.

I actually watched the gymnastics Olympics qualifier thing last night, and I always go into it thinking I just want to watch the mistakes, and then about five minutes into it, I start wincing when they make one. I'm such a big cheeseball, I really want all of them to do well. And were it not for my love of watching Olympic gymnastics, I couldn't have perfected the Kerri Strugg hop when getting up from the couch while 9 months pregnant. Yes, it got funnier every time.

Poor Justin! He did so well this time too. Oh well, he still has his modeling career. Oh Billy Ray, the words need to stop coming out of your mouth.

Time to hit the hay --

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Actual conversation today

Driving down the road:
Me: 10 to 1 that is a camel toe situation!
Me: Actually, I'm calling camel toe fanny pack combo...
Him: I'm saying a definite camel toe -- I'm a maybe on the fanny pack.
Me: I think if it were both, it might be a sign, you know, like that white buffalo and the Native Americans said it was a sign that they would come back to power?
Him: So, you think that camel toe/fanny pack people would rise again?
Me: It's a distinct possibility.

I'm so glad our son isn't old enough to repeat what we say.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

My old pal the Pill

I haven't been on the pill since October of 2005. I didn't realize it had been that long, but apparently it has. I start up again this Sunday, and it is a strange feeling. Like the end of an era. I've been either obsessed with trying to get pregnant or keeping a pregnancy for two and a half years, or in ovulation obsessed years, forever. Now that I have a baby, that era is over. I honestly think that is why EVERY month I convince myself that I'm pregnant. It has become a way of life for me. And I'm finally ready to let it go, to get back to being myself. If I can remember who that was. And hopefully she's been away at a spa all of this time, and is thinner, happier and incredibly popular.
Did you see the spot on the Today show about the lady who's metal ornament on her thong flew off and hit her in the eye? She is suing Victoria's Secret. Boy howdy.

My job is quite the interesting place -- the men there want nothing to do with the women there. Some of them talk to me, but only about as much as they need to. They go to coffee every day, but never invite me. I've started saying completely weird things out loud, just to see if anyone will say anything, like "Why would you want to do THAT with a cow?" and so far no one has gone for it. I need to get more creative, I guess. I love a challenge.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Crazy comes for a visit

Wow, it has been too long. We went on a fantastic vacation to the beach. It was fabulous, wonderful, and everything a vacation should be. We were nervous about traveling with the little bugaboo, but overall he was great.

In our true fashion, we immediately decided we should move to the beach. And of course, I started posting my resume. And of course, had a phone interview which resulted in the company asking when I could fly out to interview. And ASTOUNDINGLY, we talked about it and decided to ride it out a bit longer here. Here's to being an adult -- at least for now.

I'm watching the coverage on the announcement that Tiger Woods is going to be out for the rest of the season. They are interviewing all of these other PGA guys about it, and they all have the same look in their eyes, the one that says "Hey, maybe I'll actually make some money this year!", while they are saying how sorry they are that he'll be out. I'd love it if someone would just come out and say that. It would be much more interesting!

Tell me why if I'm two days past my usual period start date, even if I've used birth control and don't particularly want to be pregnant, I feel compelled to take the darned test. And I still feel a little disappointed when it is a negative, even though I was VERY worried that I might be. I really can't wait to get back on the Pill. It leaves so much less window for Crazy to sneak in.

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Bad Week

Monday May 12 8:15pm
Positive pregnancy test. Mike goes out to get more, just to make sure.
Yep! They are all positive. We are very happy, and very in shock.
Tues May13
ask a coworker about what doctor she used when she had her baby. She of course asks if I'm pregnant, and after swearing her to secrecy, I tell her.
I make an appointment with the doctor, two weeks from now.
Wed, Thurs
still pregnant, starting to get a little excited about the prospect
Friday 9pm
That afternoon, I tell my husband that I have a bad feeling about this pregnancy for some reason, maybe I'm trying to be cautious. I go to the bathroom. Bright red blood, clots, etc. Cue the violin music.
And the bleeding begins. I'm cramping, not terribly so, and bleeding, not terribly so. This is definitely a LOT easier than miscarrying at 16 weeks. I'm sad, but the timing sucked, and if it had to go, I'd rather it go earlier rather than later. We're talking about trying maybe after Sam turns a year old.
I'm okay. Sad at times, but then I look at my sweet little baby boy, and I know we'll be okay.

Saturday, February 02, 2008

Catching Up

I can't believe how long it has been since I've posted. My workplace shut me down, so I have been so incredibly lazy about updating my own blog. But I think it is time to start up again. And I want to reinvent it somewhat, make it more than just a daily journal. I'd like to try out my storytelling skills. Believe me, I'm in the land of good fodder for all kinds of commentary. God help me.
I just saw a preview for a show called Criminal Minds. The criminal was shown rubbing his face on a woman's feet, and saying "they're softer than I remember". Does having a foot fetish make you a scarier ciminal? I know nothing strikes fear in my heart more than having someone rub their face on my foot. Although I would immediately think about how long it has been since I washed my feet. So my fear of foot rejection would be stronger than my fear of strange foot fetish man doing something strange with my toe cleavage.
This is not an irrational fear, I'm looking at my three week old nail polish, my toenail that still hasn't finished growing out completely from the Broken Toe Incident a year ago, and I have hairs growing out of my toes. Yes. Like a Hobbit. I do shave them, once a month whether they need it or not. I'm a high class lady.
I want to start posting pictures, but we moved two months ago, and I still can't find the cable for my camera. Or any of my jogbras. Or half of my tshirts. I did locate all pets and the baby. So, I'm farther ahead than I could be. I'm sure I'll find these items just in time to pack them all up and move again.

I'm obviously trying to find my rythm here, and it may be a little bumpy until I get there.