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.

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?

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.

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.

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.