Lost in Place

Remember when you had cooties? Remember when I would kick and scream and BEG mom to NOT make me take you with me places? Remember when I would pick on you relentlessly and be so mean and treat you like you were the biggest nuisance/inconvenience/twerp in all the world? Remember the golf tees? I am so sorry for all that. I was an awful big sister.

Watching Elena and Madeleine lately has given me a completely new perspective on siblings - specifically sisters. Sure, right now Madeleine thinks Elena is pretty cool and can't wait to share her things with her- her toys, her food, her clothes, her stories. But being a big sister, I know that's temporary. I look at Elena and the way she looks at Madeleine and she's only 6 months old but you can see the adoration in her eyes. You can see how much she already looks up to her big sister and thinks she's the coolest thing ever. That's not going to change nearly as quickly and her heart is going to be broken when Madeleine doesn't want her tagging along with her everywhere or doesn't want to share everything she has with her anymore.

We had some pictures taken a few weeks ago and we could not get Elena to look at the camera because she was too busy watching and smiling at Madeleine. Every chance she gets, she's watching her sister, laughing, giggling, reaching out for her. Madeleine can get her to laugh and squeal and giggle and calm down easier than anyone else. It's the most adorable thing I could have ever imagined. And yet it throws the reality of sisterhood in my face.

I hope in twenty-some years Madeleine can make this realization and tell her sister how absolutely damn cool she is and that she could never ask for a better sister and she's so glad they've grown up to be such amazing and close friends.

So thanks, sister, for putting up with me and not hating me for being the big sister that big sisters just sometimes are.

Posted by Kim at 12:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Our day care has the cutest little beds for the babies to take naps. I just had to share.

I just love going in to pick her up and seeing her locked up in these. It looks so cozy and secure and safe. And it's just really stinkin' cute.

Posted by Kim at 3:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

We were having a conversation at work the other day about how time seems to go by so much more quickly as you get older. And then even more quickly once you have kids. And even more quickly with each kid you have. I wouldn't disagree. WHERE did 2009 go? Oh right, I was pregnant and miserable the first half and then in new baby stupor the second half.... So trying to pin anything down at all is a little difficult and yet, I will try.

The 5 biggest events of 2009 for us were - well, wow, this was a really crazy year. Dan's company went crazy and a portion spun off to make a new company giving him an entirely different job. I got a new job after being lucky enough to have 5 months with Madeleine. We moved in to our own place after having been with friends and family for - what some days felt like forever. And, yes, I'm going chronologically and not by importance because of course the best part is having the little monster baby. ()Who totally rocks, by the way.) And the fifth biggest event? We survived. Intact. All still breathing, all still together, all still happy. And looking forward to yet another year. With just a little hope that this year is definitively better than the last two.

There are a few things I am looking forward to this year. While we have no grand plans, no big dreams or life-altering events in the works, there are a few small things that will be nice to see take place. We'll be moving again and oddly enough, yes, I am excited about that. I just wish it were an easy decision as to where. (Yes, it's still in Utah, we're not going anywhere.) I'm looking exceptionally forward to being able to put the baby down and let her do her own thing so I can get things done on occasion. But I am by no means going to rush that. (I often tell myself when she won't stop screaming or won't sleep or won't let me put her down that it will all be gone too soon so enjoy it, funny the difference that makes.) I also look forward to her sleeping schedule getting a little better so maybe I can get a little more sleep. And on that note, the other one's too. Maybe. That could just be a pipe dream. This is also the last year Miss M will be in day care full time. Crazy. And cool. But mostly crazy. I guess, mostly, I'm just looking really forward to moving. Yeah, that's the biggest.

I am not one for resolutions but there are a few things I would like to see myself do this year - a few random goals I guess. I really want to regain control of me and who I am. I feel like I've lost that. The goal really is figuring out how to do that so that I can. Debt reduction, of course. That's the biggest. By no means will one year give us a big stride, but baby steps is all I'm asking. I need to get out more. I have too much anxiety and fear to leave the house anymore and making friends is next to impossible but I have realized that is something that really does matter to me. So my goal is to stop making excuses and just go do it. I'd love to say "blog more" but we all know that would be setting myself up for failure. So instead, I'll make it a bit more broad and say write things down more. And take more pictures. Poor Elena isn't going to have any proof she existed. I need to work on that. Huh, I guess these are resolutions. I just needed to force myself to sit down and think it out.

And since an all text post from me is just pointless when I know most people who read this site anymore just want to see pictures of the stinkin' kids.....

This is how we brought the year in... December 31, 2008 Madeleine fell asleep at 11:55 PM, missed it by minutes:

And this is how it went out... Madeleine so excited, screaming the countdown with her cousins and awake for another hour and a half afterward:

And instead, this time, it was her sister who fell asleep at 11:55 PM after refusing for hours and hours and hours to only last 10 minutes and wake back up ready for more. And, of course, I got distracted on my way to take the picture and so didn't so there aren't any of her first New Year's Eve party. See. I suck. She does exist, I swear.

And this is how my demon-monster-angel-babies spent New Year's Day:

In their jammies. All of us, all day. What better way to bring in a new year than being completely lazy, watching movies and hanging out having a great day!

Posted by Kim at 5:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

A year ago today we packed our entire 3,000 square foot house

Put all of our things in boxes

Packed it all in a car trailer, a truck bed, a CUV and a sports car

And we headed west

This pretty much sums up how Madeleine and I felt about leaving our home and our friends:

She adjusted significantly better than I. I'm getting there. A year later.

Just yesterday, a life time ago, maybe just a vivid dream.

Virginia, and our people there, we miss you.

New jobs. New home. New friends. New baby. New life. New dreams. New goals. New perspective. Whole different world.

Posted by Kim at 7:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I saw the doctor on Tuesday and he scheduled an induction date for August 6. It was three days before my due date and the way he talked, he expected to see me Thursday morning - not sooner.

I left the doctor's office reading over the information about induction and started to cry. I didn't want to be induced. It was the pitocin. I was scared to death of the pitocin. Why would I want to voluntarily start contractions - and from everything I've heard, pitocin made them stronger and closer together but doesn't always really help labor go any faster. So I was terrified. I went back and forth for a few days about whether or not I would keep the scheduled induction. Friday afternoon I tried to call his office to cancel but they had already closed for the day so it would have to wait until Monday.

Or not.

Our plan for Saturday was that I would take Madeleine up to my sister's house so we could take the kids to the park for a festival. I had promised Madeleine we would get her face painted again after we had to wash her face so quickly after her last painting. We would hang out up there and then Dan would come up later and we would go to a friend's house for a party that night. But there was a glitch. My sister's kids had caught a nasty bout of the flu a couple days prior. I called that morning to see how everyone was feeling and turns out, she caught it and felt like crap. Being nine months pregnant, she could keep her plague to herself. Her oldest step-daughter had caught it the night before. Her oldest step-daughter is the daughter of the friend whose party we were supposed to go to that night. So both pieces of our plan that day were infected with the plague. We chose to stay home. I knew of another festival much closer to home that we could take Madeleine to for her face-painting. Since we had nothing else going on that day now, it would be a perfect, lazy afternoon.

Around 11:00 I started feeling a little... um... ouch? It didn't last long and then went away. But I paid attention. And about every 20 minutes, I'd have about a minute of ouch. They weren't getting worse, everything about them was completely consistent. So I just ignored it. I took it easy for the day, laid on the couch, played with Madeleine, made some lunch - lazy, easy day. I knew if I said anything, Dan wouldn't let us take Madeleine to the park. So I kept my mouth shut and just paid attention. Just in case. Besides, the doctor's instructions were "Head to the hospital when your contractions are 15 minutes apart and last for a minute each." I was at 20 minutes. I had plenty of time - IF they were even the real thing.

Around 2:00 or so, we took Madeleine over to the park for her face painting. We had to park a little ways from the park and walk over. That was fun. But I still said nothing. We made it to the park and found the face painting booth and got in line. Conveniently, two parties after us in line got to hold the "Closing Now" sign for the booth. We'd made it just in time. There were about 5 parties in front of us so we waited in line, taking turns holding Madeleine because she was being a clingy little monster. Contractions and holding a three-year old monster was not a good combination. Especially since my temperature would go up like a million degrees with each one. I think it was then I finally said something. In passing. Like oh no big deal.

Madeleine got her face painted - you guessed it, like a butterfly. And we headed back to the car. Maybe I would have pushed to wander around a bit more any other day. I think maybe that should have been the first clue. But we headed straight for the car. The tightening and pain level were getting a little worse. But they were still 20 minutes apart. So we headed home.

Madeleine fell asleep on the ride home so we had to carry her upstairs and lay a towel on her bed so she wouldn't get face paint everywhere. Once we laid her down though, she woke right up and naptime was gone. That was around 4:30. She and I hung out and played and just took it easy since I was kinda feeling like crap and I finally came clean that these buggers kinda hurt. But that it wasn't time yet. But maybe I should start paying attention and writing them down to keep track. But I didn't.

Between 6:30 and 7 I gave in. I knew I'd be going to the hospital that night - whether I ended up having a baby or not, who knew? I went downstairs and told Dan that if he wanted to have dinner, we'd better have dinner NOW. We'd planned a steak dinner that night and I had been waiting for it for days so there was no way I was going to skip it. So we made dinner. And I started officially timing and writing down. And there was no consistency whatsoever. A 30 second contraction here followed by a 45 second one 5 minutes later followed by a minute one 20 minutes later followed by a 20 second one 2 minutes later followed by 50 second one 15 minutes later. They were all over the place. But I could still talk and I could still walk. Knowing we'd be heading to the hospital and Madeleine's face butterfly being all smeary, I threw her in the bath tub to wash her off. I changed my clothes. I finished grabbing the few last things for my bag. I took a picture. I changed my clothes again. I started a load of laundry. I went and yelled at Madeleine to "Get out of the tub, we don't have time for this!" At which point I went and yelled at Dan that it was time to go NOW. RIGHT NOW! Poor guy. Wasn't ready at all. So while he took a few minutes (a few damn too many minutes, mind you!) getting ready, I took Madeleine out to the car to try to get her in her seat. She of course refused to listen as I'm doubled-over leaning against the car begging her to JUST GET IN. One of our neighbors a few houses down was outside working on his bike - he's an older teenager - and he noticed me and asked if I was okay. "Yeah, just in labor." Given Dan wasn't out there yet and I was still trying to get Madeleine in her seat, he asked if I needed someone to drive me. So nice! But I responded that no, my husband was just being really slow.

Dan gets outside and starts to get in the car at which point I realize we don't have enough gas to get to the hospital. So I mention that - to which he says, "That's not very responsible of you. Something something something" To which I say, (as I walk around the car having a contraction) - and under any other circumstances would never have said - "Now is NOT the time for a lecture!" I just have to take a second and say go me. That took a lot of balls for me to be that blunt and well - honest - for me and I did it. So yae.

As we were getting in the car, I still wasn't sure if I'd get to the hospital and they'd not send me home. I knew there was a possibility we might get there and it not be time (boy, am I a MORON). I just wanted to be sure I made it in time for the epidural at this point already. After I had spent a few weeks telling myself maybe I want to try without, I'll wait until the last possible second before it's too late again, maybe I can go without (again, I'm a MORON).

We head down the mountain, the gas station about 5 minutes down. I very specifically tell Dan to NOT fill the car, just put in enough gas to get us to the hospital. Yes, that's how bad they were. That's how quickly they were coming. So he does. By the time we reach the bottom of the mountain there is no doubt in my mind I would NOT be coming home tonight. I would grab the hand bar and breathe like hell just trying not to scream bloody murder with each contraction. That were no harder and more painful than hell and really close together. To the point that I was not only sure if I'd make it in time for the epidural but that I'd make it to the hospital at all. I was terrified. And poor Madeleine is in the backseat having no idea what was going on. I tried to stay as calm as possible, didn't really work but I think I did a decent job. I was able to calmly tell her that mommy was okay just hurt a lot because baby sister was coming and we're going to the hospital now. I had talked with her quite a bit about it beforehand - so that at least helped me feel better anyway. The hospital drive is about 20 minutes, though it felt like an hour with every light being red, getting stuck behind the slowest, stupidest drivers in the world, and the 8 trillion bumps in the road.

Dan pulled up to the doors (I had NO idea why he wasn't just parking - just get me IN THERE! then realized, less far for me to try to walk, duh) and stopped so I could just get out and go in and he could park the car and get Madeleine. I wasn't even sure if I could walk let alone stand on my own. But I did. I walked in the doors, that were locked because it's after hours and managed to reach the button. As soon as the nurse said, "Can I help you?" a major contraction hit, I doubled over and all I could mutter out was "Labor!" The doors opened and not two seconds later, a nurse flung the doors open from the stair way and grabbed me to help me to the elevator. The questions started immediately, "Which baby is this?" "TWO!" "How far apart?" "I HAVE NO IDEA! NOT FAR!" And the rest are a blur. We got to the second floor and they sat me in a wheelchair and wheeled me to a room that was way too damn far away (three doors down, maybe!) asking questions the whole way.

We got in to the room and that was it. I'd had it. They were too hard. I couldn't keep any remote piece of composure anymore and I would just scream with each contraction. They had to undress me and put the robe on me, I don't even remember getting on the bed. When I had Madeleine, the contractions were nowhere near this bad or close together when they told me if I didn't do the epidural NOW, it would be too late. So I was panicked. I wanted the damn epidural NOW! Pretty sure it took the anesthesiologist 8 hours to get there. All the while me screaming with each one. They'd tried putting an oxygen mask on me but that sent me panicking and I had to make them take it off so I could even think of trying to breathe at all. Finally we figured out that if I just held it in front of my face, it was much better. All I wanted to know was where the hell the epidural was. Dan and Madeleine got in the room and I only lasted a few seconds before I begged someone to please take her out. I couldn't let her see the fear and pain and HOLY TERROR I was in. She cried, wanted to stay with Mommy, and I lost it (as I am even doing now just as I type it) - the tears came. I knew that was it. She wasn't the only one anymore. I was never going to be just hers again and I would never be able to dote on only her. She very hesitantly went out with the nurse, not upset, not screaming but just little, quiet tears as she walked away watching me. Thank God the physical pain was so bad. I could focus on it instead. And it was bad.

FINALLY the drugman showed up. After what seemed like another 800 years (seriously, my last epidural took a matter of seconds, this guy took his time!), I had the drugs and it was just a matter of time before I could survive again. The contractions had been unbelievable. I didn't remember them being so bad the first time around. But then again, I had a little more time to gradually work my way in to the hard ones last time around. These just hit me out of nowhere.

Once the epidural took effect, I was able to let them bring Madeleine back in. So she came in and asked all sorts of questions and talked to me and was so very timid. She was calm and very friendly with the nurses. She was only in there a couple of minutes before they needed to check me again. So I had them send her back out with Dan. I was at a 9 and pretty much ready to go. Just as they were finishing up, Dan brought Madeleine back in to say goodbye because my brother-in-law was there to take her home.

The doctor kept talking to me about breaking my water and having a baby and I kept begging "no!" because the last time my water was broken it hurt like hell AND that meant the pushing part was right around the corner. I had the epidural, life had just gotten tolerable again and now they want to rush me along to the worst part ever??? So the doctor's response was, "Well I can just go home for a while and come back later if you want to wait. Or we can just get it over with already." Oh sure. Put it like that. So they broke my water - which didn't hurt even one bit this time. Wish I would have known that, I wouldn't have wasted the minutes arguing and whining about it! About ten minutes later, it was time to push. He'd asked if I needed the crash course on pushing again and I said yes because "I'm not so good at the pushing part. Well, the not screaming part. I'm really, really bad with the not screaming part." He and the nurse put the fear of God in me about screaming. And after last time, having screamed way too much and taking forever to get that baby out, I think I had it figured out.

After about twenty minutes of pushing, and no screaming!!!!!, a slimy, covered, nasty little beautiful, gorgeous baby girl was placed on my chest, screaming her little lungs out. I wasn't expecting that part. Nobody told me about that part. Last time, they immediately took the baby away, I didn't know that in normal circumstances, that's not what they do. I would have liked to have expected that because it kind of freaked me out. Yes, I quickly got over it and then they wrapped her up and whisked her away. It was 11:11 PM and I had barely been at the hospital for two hours. I was dilated to a 5 when I got there, by the time Dan and Madeleine had come in from parking the car, I was to a 7. It all happened so very quickly that it was a complete blur (which is exactly why I should have written this two months ago!).

I was very worried for the longest time that I wouldn't take to this baby as easily, that it would just be another baby to go the rounds with. I was completely taken aback by how quickly I fell in love with her. I was pretty sure the guilt from adding a sibling for Madeleine was going to make me distant and just go through the motions, I am sure every parent feels that way. I was so relieved that it wasn't that way at all. She was beautiful and adorable and mine and I didn't feel one bit guilty for it at all. (No, that would all come later.)

And since I have waited two months to finally write this up, I can add that Madeleine STILL talks about how "Mommy went to the hospital and breathed (she'll do the breathing here) and had a thing on her face and the doctor and baby sister" .... And it's the cutest story ever told. Maybe I should have just let her tell it.

Posted by Kim at 1:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I am entering into uncharted territory.

In 30 minutes from now - or, from when I started typing this - I will be pregnant for longer than I was with Miss Monster. 35.5 weeks. And no signs of any kid yet. I'm a little torn about this. Good that I apparently still have a little time to get a little more ready and get things together. But bad because I am so very tired of playing Host and just really want my body back - to be able to breathe, to move, to lay down, to bend over, to SLEEP - hahahaha, I know - who sleeps with a newborn? But that's not the point, to be physically capable of sleep is what I am talking about.

I think I got spoiled not having to do that last month with Madeleine and given she was so early, we've (including my doctors) have been pretty sure this one would be early as well. Not so much. A million other worries came along with this one, but now I'm sure I'm stuck going through this entire, miserable, HOT, awful summer big, fat and pregnant. There have been a few scares along the way - the time in March when I was pretty sure I'd lose the baby. The time at 30 weeks we were pretty worried she was just going to show up out of the blue right then. But after getting through all of that, and getting as ready as I actually am for this one, I think it has kind of jinxed it and I'll, with my luck, end up OVER due. (I know, "there's always something to complain about." And I should just feel lucky there haven't been worse complications and there are so many stories so sad and scary that I should just be grateful. But this is my space and I feel like complaining about how miserable this one has been.) I could have stayed pregnant forever last time around and she came early. This one, I wanted to be done pretty much immediately. And yet...

Time has flown by, really. It was the worst possible timing ever for us to get pregnant but I think it helped us shift focus from a lot of other things going badly because this was just the icing on the cake. And with Madeleine, I never had the chance to actually get "excited." I was too worried about getting ready and making sure everything was perfect that by the time I was getting around to relaxing about it and enjoying it, it was too late - she was here. With this one, I said forget it - I have no control. And now that I am a bit more ready than last time around, there are moments, slight twinges, of excitement. And then complete and total fear that somehow, between week 17 and delivery, she will change to a boy and we will be SCREWED! Not that we wouldn't want a boy (DUH) but uhhh... he'd have a whole lot of pink.

Posted by Kim at 6:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I think I have finally accepted that we have another baby on the way. So far, I've pretty much been going through the motions: taking the vitamins and supplements, visiting the doctor, buying the huge-belly clothes, getting annoyed at the non-stop kicks and flutters in my stomach - but never really admitting that there is another baby in this gigantic belly of mine or that we're going to have another kid to clothe/feed/keep us up at night.

In trying to get moved in to this tiny house we have, something just clicked this weekend and I realized I need to start getting these rooms ready for kids. Madeleine's room is a disaster. We've lived here four weeks and she's still in her pack and play as a bed and has toys scattered everywhere because we haven't bothered to put her room together. Part of it is because we were planning originally on putting her back in her crib for a while and then on a whim decided to just bite the bullet and get her a bed. Which meant her room needed to get cleaned up enough to move the crib from her mess to the other mess in the other room.

So I did that. The crib is now in the "Other Baby's" room (that's her name for now, by the way. We can't come up with anything better so that's what we're calling her), where it should have been all along. And I moved the bookshelf in there and the baby monitor and the more baby stuff I started putting in that room, the more I realized, holy crap - we've got a baby comin'.

Madeleine has been talking more and more about her "baby sister" and is so excited about the idea. I bet she has a major change of heart once she realizes what she's been talking about, but for now, she can't wait to share her toys and clothes and be so helpful and teach her all sorts of things. Seriously, endless conversations about what she's going to do with and for her baby sister.

I haven't bothered doing any shopping for this one yet (another form of my denial) but Madeleine put an end to that this weekend. She had about five outfits in her hand at the store this weekend insisting Baby Sister *needed* each of them. So I caved and let her buy one. And I honestly think that was the moment of truth. It was then it hit me that there is a baby coming - and soon - and still doesn't even have a name. Maybe that's why I've kept myself in denial. I just don't want to name this one. If she had a name, she'd be more real. Right? Either way, I need to get a move on with all this baby stuff. I've ignored it for too long and now feel like I will not ever be ready. And we're too close to there!

Posted by Kim at 1:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Walking in to Dan's building today, there was a very familiar smell in the air. Before I identified what it was or even recognized any possible association, I realized I had tears in my eyes. For no reason. Other than a smell. Of course, my first thought is WTF? And then take my brain through the process of figuring it out. First: Identify the smell: mulch! Freaking mulch! Second: WHAT? WHY? Apparently I associate the smell of mulch with Virginia. This time of year, no matter where you go, it's pretty much what you smell. Everywhere. Third: Tears? Seriously? Yeah... over mulch... I didn't really figure that one out. I guess my subconscious misses Virginia more than I really realize. And my not so subconscious is still having a pretty difficult time adapting here. I think it's getting better. It would sure help if the weather would make up its mind and let us go outside once in a while (without multiple layers and shivering). That they're giving in and laying fresh mulch had better be a sign! I know I just need to establish a "groove," get a routine and well - suck it up - and I am working on that. I just didn't know a smell I actually hate could trigger such an absolute random hormonal reaction. Good thing I have the hormones to blame! I'd hate to have to admit I really am just that big of a nutball!

Posted by Kim at 6:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

What is the one event you will remember when you look back on the year 2008 ? good or bad.

Oh good lord. If this isn't the loaded question from hell. Let's start with the bad: Moving from Virginia. Then move to the really bad: Not selling our stinkin' house after TWO years of it on the market. Then move on to even worse: Leaving a job I LOVED because I thought money was more important and ended up living six of the worst months of my life. And then, finally, move to the absolute worst: Both Dan and I losing our (really good paying) jobs within 6 months of each other. And the icing on the bad cake: Ending the year unemployed.

I know, I've got to sugarcoat it with some good. So moving home to family so they have the chance to get to know my demon-child, to have their support during the most chaotic time in our lives (to date anyway [hey, I'm a realist]). And... that's all I've got. But that's a pretty good one. Right?

Posted by Kim at 3:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

- Not having to buy gas every other day. Actually going almost two weeks without having to buy gas. That just rocks.

- Not hand-making my Christmas cards for the first time in as many years as I can remember. Probably in as many years as I have been sending them.

- Raising a toddler in other peoples' homes. No matter how "kid-friendly," it's just never as kid-friendly or "your kid"-safe as your own home would be.

- A three hour drive at 60 miles an hour (180ish miles) seems so much quicker and shorter than a 3 hour drive at 15 miles an hour (70ish miles).

- Not spending all day, every day online. And not really wanting to anymore. (But still missing blogging because there are a million things I want to get out there, I'm just too lazy to make the time to do it.)

Posted by Kim at 1:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

What is one personal characteristic you have that you would like to change?

Negative. Angry. Untrusting. Judgmental. Worrier. Whiner. Allow myself to be taken advantage of. Allow myself to be manipulated. Lacking ambition. Non-committal. No will-power. Procrastinator. Hypocritical. Bitchy. Impatient. Unrealistic expectations. Inconsiderate. Push-over. Paranoid.

Oh. Wait.

Just one?

That one would be how indecisive I am.

Posted by Kim at 10:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Four years ago, if someone would have told me it would be harder for me to leave Virginia than it was for me to leave Utah, I would have called him insane. He (or she) would not have been. I fell madly in love with Virginia. I won't lie, it wasn't love at first sight but it grew slowly and passionately over time. It was inevitable that it would end, I knew our stay there was limited. The pull of family has always been strong for us and it's very important to both of us that our child know her family.

When I was at the height of wanting out of DC, Dan called me and asked what I thought about potentially trying Vernal, just resetting a bit, get a good chance to get completely out of debt, have time with family, and all the other bells and whistles he touted on that call. My response was this: I would give *anything* to get out of DC, ANYTHING! But not that, NOT that.

You see where that got me? I temporarily warmed up to the idea (I guess I really did want out of DC *that* bad) and made room for the idea to be further explored. The second it became a "decision," I knew that was not what I had wanted. And now, here I am. Longing for the life I had, the life we had created for the three of us, the friends we made, the routines we set, the space we had but maybe not the insanity of the last few months. I am not sure of the trade off's or what's better or worse. I just know I desperately miss what I know I'll never get again for *my* family. But now we have our families around us, so we'll just see where we go from here.

I'll be posting a bit backwards for a while, I have a lot to get out there but needed to get this out there first so we'll just start here and go back over the last couple weeks.

Posted by Kim at 8:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Two large boxes worth.

I should maybe wear some of them every so often.

Posted by Kim at 11:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Or - Tired of the old shit, let the new shit begin.

There are so many directions I want to take this post. For the last 6 months, this quote has been able to sum up my life:

"The only pride in her workday was not that it had been lived, but that it had been survived."

(Funny that the book that I have been fighting with for 15 years can, in any way, sum up my life)

I am glad to say that is not my life any more. I no longer have that job - or any job for that matter. Which is, of course, terrifying for so many reasons. I don't want to sound flippant, I do recognize the doom and gloom, the gravity and reality of the situation in this economy and in my life. But at the same time, I cannot deny the sense of relief. In less than one day, my entire demeanor has drastically improved - I am already finding pieces of myself. Pieces I thought were lost. I may not have a job, but I have my soul back. Hence the ability to post again. It was a very short-lived break. I had expected it to be much longer. I indicated I was taking a brief pause because too much was happening that I couldn't get a grasp on, things just kept going wrong. So it seems a bit odd that yet another - a HUGE - step in the direction of "bad shit keeps happening to us" would be something that made all that a bit better. It was that "step" that made *me* better. I have no idea what I am going to do now. I have absolutely no idea how we will get by or where we'll end up. This should just amplify the fear, the frustration, the discouragement I have been feeling lately. Difference is, now I have the will to care. I was so angry and bitter and hateful and cynical and miserable before that I just couldn't allow myself to be optimistic, or even try to be. Now I have the energy to pick up the pieces and try to put them back together.

Posted by Kim at 4:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I, like so many others, was taught "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything." Now granted, I, like so many others, rarely live it. However, when it gets to a point where you find you have no interest to say anything to anyone because you're just swimming in a pool of uncontrollable absurdity and all you can do is bitch about it, maybe it's time to shut up. When you get to the point you find no joy or motivation or interest in anything, when you've reached your limit of optimism and hope and it's all dashed leaving nothing but bitter anger and hate, maybe it's time to take a break from feeling like you have to care and just take care of yourself. So much shit has hit the fan and continues to hit the fan that I really believe I have reached my breaking point. So. My point. I know posting here is sporadic on a good day but... it's been exceptionally worse lately and I will cite my absolute inability to see much to care about sharing or discussing as the reason. So along those lines, I am going to be taking an official break for a little while. Until I can get my head above water, my feet back underneath me, dig myself out of this enormous hole, find other clichés to hurl at you, or at least find some light at the end of this very long tunnel, I'll be quiet. I won't say silent because maybe once in a while I'll throw something out there. I know I don't have a lot of readers, mostly family checking in on the kid and the PSS bunch reading those topics, so it's obviously not a huge deal. I'm just letting those few of you who do read know. I'm sure I'll collect things to post and will definitely catch-up on all of the PSS topics but I just need to be MIA for a little while. Officially. So I don't feel guilty about not getting something new up, or finding the cute pictures to share, or whatever. I'll be back. Sooner probably than later. I just need to clean out some cobwebs in my brain.

Posted by Kim at 1:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Can you say "ew?"

I know she's a toddler. And I know toddlers are supposed to be messy. But I have issues.

I hover when she eats. I wipe up as she spills. I clean up and toss as she drops. Sticky, slimy, greasy, messy. I just can't do it.

Once in a while, I accept that I am a bit absurd - that I need to just get over it. Let her be a messy kid. It's rare. Very rare. And usually outside.

Posted by Kim at 1:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Yesterday I had something rather unsettling said to me. Today I turn 33 and everything I thought I knew - about me, about my skills, my abilities, my successes - is turned on its head and I find myself second-guessing every piece of me. I'm left with a gaping hole in me and I can't even pinpoint where it is because every nook, every cranny just feels empty.

Thank God for great friends and good food. While it sure doesn't solve anything, it certainly takes the edge off.

And hopefully, 33 will be much better than 32. I say it will be.

Posted by Kim at 3:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

What rule in journalism gives the okay to not proofread or spell check your work when writing for online publishing? Before you put your name on it and put it out there for millions of people...

I'm not talking blogs. Errors there are a given. I am talking about valid, official online news sources. It's very disconcerting to see so many "news articles" barely make sense because of the typos and the misspellings in them. Maybe I'm just reading more of them, but it really seems that it's just been getting worse over time. Like people have just stopped caring. On both ends - writers stop caring to correct (or look for) their mistakes and readers stop caring to complain about it. Drives me nuts.

(If you're wanting to point out that my writing isn't perfect, who I am to criticize? Don't bother. I never claimed to have an education in it and I sure don't get paid to put it out there. I'm not a writer. But I do put forth the effort to make it the best possible. It seems even I try harder than some "professionals." )

Posted by Kim at 12:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Do you ever wonder if you are on the entirely wrong path in life?

Posted by Kim at 3:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Things I am Giving Up On:

One sided friendships
My house ever selling OR renting
Gas prices ever being tolerable again
Real happiness
Fighting the fact that sometimes one really does need a little extra help
Being home before Christmas

Things that Give me Hope:

New friends
Relationships that don’t know my baggage
A toddler’s giggle
Nothing lasts forever (A little backwards, huh?)
A kind word from anyone

Things I will Never Lose Faith in:

My husband’s ability to amaze me (not always in the good ways, but that’s just fine too)
My daughter’s ability to amuse me
My sister’s ability to make me laugh (at her or with her, I have no preference)
My ability to keep going and putting on a good show

Posted by Kim at 10:55 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

What’s the point of being in the city with so many things to see and do at lunch time when you’re not allowed to get out to see and do them?

What’s the point of making enough to make ends meet when you’re so miserable you don’t even care if they meet?

What’s the point of having the perfect things when you have no one around with which to enjoy them?

What’s the point of working your butt off, double-checking everything and trying your hardest when it’s just criticized or over-looked anyway?

Pay no attention to me. I’m just being whiney and self-pitying today. Which I don’t usually do. Especially in public. What am I thinking???

Posted by Kim at 2:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

A few of us were talking to the boss's son today. He's 20ish and a bit of a "free spirit." One of the girls commented that he wouldn't fit well in an "office job," it just wasn't him. He said, "No, you lose your soul."

He is so not wrong.

Posted by Kim at 5:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

There are days when I would really like to give those who have to deal with me a migraine. Let them suffer through it for a while and then give them my medicine to take it away. Not because I am sadistic and mean (okay, not *only* because I am sadistic and mean) but so they can understand. So they can understand the pain that it is. But mostly so thy can understand all the side effects that come along with it. With the migraine, with the medication and with the migraine going away (I know. That sounds weird. But yes, there are side effects to a migraine going away). Then they may understand why I'm not always at my best. Why I'm not always chipper and kind and happy, happy, happy. And why sometimes I seem like there is no brain in my head. I found one person who "got it" (She'll be a friend for life for that reason alone!), I promptly ditched her for another company but for a short while, it made me feel a little, tiny bit less alone in this battle. That made a huge difference because I always feel so alone in this - no one gets it, no one has any idea. How can they? Why should they? It's terribly frustrating.

That's my rant for the day. And I'm finished.

Posted by Kim at 5:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Hi. Wondering where I’ve been the last few weeks? Why the posting has gone down the drain and there are no pictures to get you through your day? Well – let me sum it up for you….

I get up at 5:30. At 6:30, I get in my car and head for work. On good days, two hours later, I get there. On not so good days (which seems to be most days lately), it’s closer to 3 hours (or more! GASP!). Then I work – for real (not like the last 4 years) – for 9ish hours. Then anytime between 5:30 and 7, I get to head home. Luckily that drive is two hours. I have dinner, I clean up dinner, I put the child to bed and then guess what? Yep. I go to bed. By 9:30.

I know. I’ve done lost my mind.

I am a night person. I have never, ever been a morning person. 8 AM is too early for me. So 5:30? I hyperventilate just thinking about it. Going to bed before midnight is painful. I’m the most alert and productive and creative at night. Now I go to bed early and I get up early and my brain is mush because of it. So once I get a little more used to this crazy life that is now mine, I might be able to get you a few more posts and some more pictures – cuz really? What *does* my kid look like now? I couldn’t even answer that myself – given I hardly see her anymore.

Posted by Kim at 10:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I would take back every time I ever complained about being stuck with my child, about wanting "just 5 minutes," about Dan not just dealing with her. Every single time. I really would. If it meant I could go back to a month and a half ago and say, "No. Thank you. I'm just not interested."

This is going to take some getting used to.

Posted by Kim at 8:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

1. How to Knit.

I want to make scarves and hats, that’s all. Nothing fancy-schmancy. Just simple things to be cute and keep me warm.

2. Patience.

Really. I can’t do a darn thing to make my house sell any faster. I can’t MAKE a toddler understand adult logic any better. If my husband doesn’t want to take the garbage out right this very second, there’s not really a lot of harm in waiting a little while. (Really. There’s not. Put down the trash bag and CHILL.) I can’t force things to happen on my time-line just because I feel like it. I just need to learn to breathe and deal.

3. Just because someone else doesn’t like/prefer something, doesn’t mean I’m wrong for liking/preferring it. It just means people are different.

There are the parents who mock or criticize the “character-themed anything.” Or pink/blue. Or actually having proof that there are toys in the house. Just because I like some character-themed somethings (and even put them out for others to see!) doesn’t make me a bad person. Or a worse parent. It just means I have different tastes. I need to realize that, accept that, and stop thinking that because I don’t think the same as other people out there that *I’m* the weirdo. (I used to pride myself on that, what’s up with that?)

4. How to be a better friend.

Or, I guess, in general – how not to be such a slacker. I have the best of intentions. But the worst follow-through.

5. How to get my eyebrows just – exactly – so. On each side. Perfectly symmetrical.

Seriously.

6. How to be a morning person.

I am a night person. I am the most productive/creative after 10 PM. That I have to get up in the morning is horrible. That I have to get up early – that’s clearly a death wish.

7. How to drink (and like) coffee.

See #6. (Any suggestions?)

8. How to do a little girl’s hair.

Li’l miss M is getting hair now. I’m a little worried. I don’t even know how to do my own hair!

9. Where to keep my car keys so I a) don’t lose them b) don’t get all the way to the car and then realize they’re at my freaking desk or still in the blasted house.

10. To just breathe.

Posted by Kim at 12:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Now that I have a child, the one thing I want to do more than anything in the world is be a mom. If I am responsible for her, I would like to be the one responsible for her. (Meaning: if she learns something horrible at day care, I’m still responsible for it. So I would just rather be the one teaching her the horrible tricks myself.) I realize that’s not an option for us at this point and I come to terms with that daily. (Which, yes, means I get all pissy about it daily as well.) But that’s what I want.

And yet…

The one thing that scares me more than anything in the world? Raising a freaking child. Oh my holy cows! I just sat through a “Raising an Ethical Child” parenting class. There are too many things that can go wrong, too many ways I can fail. It’s simply terrifying. Sure, I can deal with “toddler.” But a child? A teenager? What the hell was I thinking??

And then… As I was walking out of the doctor’s office this afternoon, overhearing one of the doctor’s reading a study from his computer screen to the nurses standing around that 1 in 4 teenage girls has an STD. I think I wanna go cry now.

Suddenly, I’m taking comfort in being able to place blame for her insanity, her misbehaviors, her brattiness on day care.*

*She has a wonderful day care. I am not saying they are doing anything wrong or damaging her in any way. In truth, they are why she is so well-behaved. I sure as hell haven’t had anything to do with that!

Posted by Kim at 3:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

(I'm probably going to regret asking, but... )

No, we’re not actually started this yet. (Could you IMAGINE? Gasp! Choke! Hyperventilate!) But…. Li’l Miss M has taken serious interest in “potty” and “going potty” and attempting to tell me when she somehow thinks she might, maybe, probably not wants/needs to go potty. So obviously I don’t have a lot of time left (before I want to just DIE already!). When it comes to the process of, I’ll rely on books and tips and tricks from those I know and whatever – pretty much like I do everything else. But right now my concern is – what kind of “potty” is better to start out with? The kind that sits on the toilet seat itself? The kind that sits on the floor? Pros? Cons? Ideas? Suggestions? Recommendation? Any advice at all? I need to start shopping for one I think but don’t want to buy one just to find out later I should have bought the other one. But… if it’s anything else like “kid gear” each kid is so picky and individual I’m going to end up buying them both. What did you do? Or, what are you planning to do? What worked best for you?

Posted by Kim at 2:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I’m sure everyone has heard all about the photo shoot Lindsay Lohan (you'll wanna wait til you're not at work for that one) did recreating the last photo shoot of Marilyn Monroe. Oh? You haven’t? Which rock are you living under these days?

I’m not here to discuss the nakedness (or the nudeness) or talk about the morality or the Lindsay-drama or any of that. No, I simply want to address something it made me realize. Looking at a few of the pictures, I thought, “Huh. You know, that just doesn’t do anything for me. There’s something just not right. They’re actually kind of ew.” But then I realized that I *liked* the pictures of Marilyn. So what’s the difference? A few dress sizes.

Apparently Marilyn Monroe was a size 12. I’m sure Lindsay Lohan is a size 4, maybe a 6 TOPS (after downing about 10 cheeseburgers). Lindsay was too skinny. That’s why the pictures weren’t attractive to me. That's why they seemed "off." To have a contrast like that really opened my eyes. To see someone with a fuller firgure in direct contrast with one of the teeny-tiny starts of now. And the teeny-tiny was just wrong. That makes no sense. I’m not a gigantic person, I’m certainly not a small person. I don’t find the Nicole Richie, Calista Flockheart bone-thin grossly-skinny even remotely attractive. But slender, thin, truly healthy, sure. Would I think a size 12 would be just that? Not really. I sure didn’t when I was a size 12. And it’s not that Lindsay looks unhealthily thin in her pictures. There’s just something about Marilyn’s full figure that worked. Much more so, apparently, than the size 2 we’re being force-fed these days. I may be alone in that thought. I’m okay with that. It just caught me by surprise that I, the one who would love to be a size 6, found the size 12 much more appealing than the size 4 or 6 or however freaking too-small she is. That’s all.

Posted by Kim at 1:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Today is the kind of day that makes me want to give in and commit to taking a pill a day. Just to be a little stable, a little tolerant tolerable. It’s not like I have anything against medication – or taking it – I don’t really know why I haven’t already decided to take that step to make my life (as well as everyone else’s around me) a little better. Except for the fact that I can’t commit to doing anything – let alone daily. But I digress… The day… I’m in a colossally shitty mood and I guess, technically, it started yesterday. Remember how much I love Mondays? Yeah. Yesterday was no different. Here’s the rundown for you:

The third Monday of every month is Cleaning-Lady day. I worked my ass off all weekend to get everything picked up and put away so she could do her thing. It was also a holiday so I was off work and Twerp-Baby was out of day care. So we got up extra early and got dressed and out of the house so we wouldn’t be in Cleaning Lady’s way. Twerp-Baby (as she will be known in this post because GRRRR Twerp!) hadn’t slept the night before which meant I hadn’t slept the night before so I was pretty sure it was going to be a long day from the get-go.

We dropped off the dry-cleaning. Hey, that went smoothly. Woo!

Continue reading "Days Like This" »

Posted by Kim at 4:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I am behind again. Surprise surprise. Last week’s question was “If you could meet anyone – Who and Why?” Given that it was my question, you’d think I’d have a good answer – or an answer nonetheless. I don’t. One of my biggest pet peeves is meeting someone over and over again and them never remembering they’ve ever met me before. I remember everyone I meet, maybe not by name but by face at least. So I hate casual “meetings” that mean nothing. Working for executives, you get a lot of that. We’re the peons, the unimportant ones, the little people. So I don’t care to meet people who have no interest, desire or need to remember the fact that they’ve met me. Eight times already. (Really, I’m not bitter.)

Would Walt Disney remember me if I gave him a big hug and said “Thank you” through teary eyes? Not likely. Would Hillary Clinton remember yet another woman excited about and proud of what she’s doing? Ummm... probably not. Would David Duchovny remember me if I asked him, “Why won’t you love me?” Not a chance in hell. I could go on and on but you get the point.

If I were to meet anyone, I would want it to be more than a “meeting,” more than, “Hi, nice to meet you. Love your work.” I enjoy getting to know people, learning what makes them tick, how they’ve become who they are, and then milking them for all their life tips and tricks and how they get through the day to day. Yes, I love to learn from people.

Today I would love meeting spending some time with and getting to know any of these people:

Sarah from Whoorl
Heather from Dooce
Heather from OMSH
Brenda from Secret Agent Josephine

These are all women whose lives I get to spy on and see in to their personalities, their lives, their opinions and choices. And would still care to know. Each of them has personality traits, habits, ideals that I can completely relate to. But more importantly, they each have skills and qualities I admire. Things that I would love to sit and pick their brains about for hours and hours. I don’t know if it’s selfish, or natural, or what it is, but I like having people around who help me be a better person, who help me be better at what I do, who can teach me new things and help me develop new qualities/talents/skills/perspectives. And could totally help me be a better mother! I’ve been reading (too) many blogs for years and these four women are my four favorite. So if I could meet anyone in the world, they would certainly be on the top of that list. Yes, even above David Boreanaz or Dave Grohl or Ayn Rand or Nicole Kidman or Barbara Walters. Seriously.

But only barely above David Duchovny. (What? A girl's gotta have an obsession.)

Posted by Kim at 3:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I love to travel. I really do. I get very excited for it and I usually have a great time while I’m at wherever it is we’re going. Except. About a week before I’m supposed to go I start to panic. I get very anxious about traveling and I freak out with all the “worst-case scenarios.” I hate to fly. I hate to fly alone. I hate to fly alone with a toddler. I really, really hate to fly. But it’s only for the few days before I have to do it. Other than that, I couldn’t care less. There are a number of other anxieties that go hand in hand with traveling – especially without Dan – but that’s the one that keeps me up at night. And makes me sick to my stomach. And gives me migraines when I’ve been thinking about it too much. Like now.

Add to that the weather for where I’m going and the fact that I will be having to do a whole lot of driving in it and I’m left to wonder… What the hell was I thinking? Maybe I should just stay home.

And after realizing that it's a whole 50 degrees colder there and I'm whining about the cold here.... Yeah, what the hell *was* I thinking?

Posted by Kim at 1:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

You see, July 25th is the day this gets released. Do I need to tell you how excited I am? I didn't think so. (Given that I'm posting about it 6 months in advance, I kinda figure an explanation is not necessary.)

I'm not one to get dressed up for a convention. I don't write fan-fiction. I don't go to many of the extremes that other SciFi fans do. But I am a pathetically, insane freak when it comes to The X-Files. And I'm losing my touch. Sometimes I don't recognize a guest actor in something else immediately. Sometimes I forget which episode a certain quote was used. I've even started not recognizing which episode it is in a split second. I'm slacking.

So I figure, if I watch 1.05 episodes every night between now and July 25, I'll be completely caught up and won't miss a thing in the new movie.

I'm on episode 5 and man... they are SO bad. I cannot even tell you. I knew they were. I've gone back and watched early episodes a number of times. But man! They are SO bad! We'll see how far I really get. If I can even make it to the later episodes.

Either way.... I'll still be finding a sitter for opening night.

Posted by Kim at 4:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Killer Garlic Rolls from C&O Trattoria in Marina Del Rey, CA

I have no idea what the heck this was called but I lovingly refer to it as "Heaven on a Plate" from Del Fresco's in NYC.

I guess now all I need to do is find somewhere in the middle to get a really good steak. Cuz that would be hard....

I'm hungry. Maybe I should have eaten lunch.

Posted by Kim at 2:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Dan says: It's your super-human strength.
I respond: Super-human stupidity is more like it.

And that was first thing this morning. As the day has gone on, my statement has become more and more true. Is the universe pulling a nasty trick and today is really Monday? Because man - it sure feels like one.

Posted by Kim at 4:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

This is the fourth Christmas we’ve been in Virginia. It’s the third time we’ve spent it here instead of going home to spend it with family. It’s the first time we’ve spent it here with a baby. It’s the first time we’ve ever done Christmas not on Christmas Day. It’s the first time I’ve just not been able to get in the Christmas spirit no matter what I do. It’s the hardest Christmas I’ve ever had. Today is one of four days of the year I would give up everything we have here in a heartbeat to live back in Utah with family. Tomorrow makes it two of four.

The crazy thing is, up until today – I didn’t care. I didn’t think it would bother me. I didn’t think it was bothering me. We did Christmas early and it was a pretty last-minute decision so there was no “night before/Christmas Eve” in there anywhere. Madeleine doesn’t get it yet so that’s really not a big deal. But realizing today is Christmas Eve and there is just nothing there, nothing anywhere, there is a hole in me. I never thought I was much of a Christmas person. I had no problem whatsoever the other two Christmases we spent out here. I actually really liked them that way. I guess having a baby now, wanting my family to be involved with her at Christmas, makes all the difference. To me, that’s all Christmas is about. Family. I don’t think I ever felt that so strongly and deeply until today. I’ve always known it, I’ve always felt that, but bringing the baby in to it and not having family there with her, that just brings it home so much more.

I’ve been having issues with the whole Christmas thing this year anyway. I know this is a big part of it just like I know there are so many others. To be so grinchy to begin with, to do Christmas not on Christmas and then to not be with my family makes it seem like it’s not Christmastime at all. Like I’m missing it. And then that it’s so sunny and almost warm outside? Seriously. Where’d Christmas go? I know it’s just me. I’ve lost Christmas. And I need to get it back. It’s just hard to do when being homesick makes you so lonely. And Christmas is the last time anyone should be lonely.

I’m not down on anything - Christmas, myself, my family, whatever. I know it’s all what I make of it. And it was a great Christmas as far as the giving and receiving and experiencing it with Madeleine – even if we couldn’t get her within 5 feet of Santa this year. I just think I need to acknowledge that it’s not quite as easy as I try to make it look. That I do care a lot more than I tend to realize or admit. And while we won’t open presents in the morning, we’ll still follow through with our other Christmas Day traditions and focus on this new family that we have. Because that’s what it’s about. Here or there. I have family around me, two people I love more than anything. While we may not have our parents or siblings here, we have the new family that we will grow with, create new traditions with and make lasting memories with. So maybe I haven’t lost the Christmas spirit entirely, I’ve just misdirected it a little.

I hope yours isn’t quite as schizophrenic as I’ve apparently made mine. I hope that even if you’re not with the ones you love, you can still let them know you’d like to be. I guess that was kind of my point here. Otherwise, I really don’t know what my point was here, y’know? Oh, yeah. To say "happy holidays." I hope you have a couple o' great ones.

Posted by Kim at 11:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

We did family pictures over the weekend.

Disaster. For so many reasons.

But at least she looked cute. Even if that bracelet was the source of many a meltdown. (Hers as well as mine.)

Posted by Kim at 3:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

1. Put gas in the car
2. Go to the post office
3. Go to the bank

I hate them. I really do. I avoid them until I cannot possibly avoid them anymore. (Though not having a bank in Virginia has made avoiding that one a whole lot easier. Though it's just been replaced by going to the ATM. Won't do it. Refuse. Hate it. No idea why.)

Last night, I was about 40 miles from the next gas station when I looked down and noticed I was about out of gas. Like less than an eighth of a tank almost. So being a stereotypical girl, I call the man.

"Am I going to make it to the gas station?"

Dan pays attention to this stuff. I really don't. Mostly because I am really bad at math so it probably wouldn't make a difference if I tried. Also because I'm just too scatterbrained to let something like that take up permanent residence in my head. And because I'm lazy.

So after driving half way home with the "you really need to get gas right now you idiot" light on, wondering how the hell I would manage running out of gas with a child, in the freezing cold dark, I think I finally accepted that I need to move on from my hatred of putting gas in the car.

This time was entirely accidental, I had plenty of gas when I went to get Madeleine, knowing I'd easily make it to the gas station on the way home. I didn't take into account that I also had to go to the post office (I know!!! Two in one day. It hurt.) and grocery shopping. I guess that takes more gas than I'd thought it would. These things aren't usually accidental though. I deliberately avoid going to the gas station until the light comes on. I've never actually run out of gas. I don't know how. This was a habit I started before I had someone else depending on me in the car. And no way am I getting stranded somewhere with a grumpy toddler. Cuz that wouldn't just send the stress levels through the roof. No thank you.

I'll still avoid the post office and banks/ATMs though.

Posted by Kim at 10:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I am a week behind. I thought I would have access to do this one while I was traveling, but I didn’t. So I am playing a bit of catch up and will have two entries for this this week. Oh well. We’re finished traveling now (hopefully) so I can stay on task.

For last week, Shane gave me the following topic:

As a working mother you have many roles to play throughout the day; Mom, Wife, Business Professional, Friend and just being yourself. Which of these roles is most important and which would you like to be most important?

My first response? Why doesn’t anyone ever ask this question of a man? Seriously? You never hear, “As a working father, how do you balance the many roles you play?” Nobody cares if the man balances well. Nobody expects him to have a stellar performance in every single role all of the time. And yet, if a woman falters in even one of hers, maybe she can’t take it. But really, not even going the comparing route, the balancing act of the man just isn’t discussed. Is he expected to just take it and run with it, never evaluate it, never judge it, never want something different, never acknowledge it? I don’t understand that. So? I’m going to do it. Turn that table, ask that question. So Shane, for this week: As a working father, with all the roles you have to play – how do you balance them all and which is most important? And a step further – which one could use the most attention?

I think that’s a question that if everyone asked of themselves, there might be a little less tension and stress in their lives. But that’s just me on my soap box. Self-evaluation is a big thing for me. Though I know it really isn’t for most people. So this question, while Shane may have thought he was throwing me a curve ball is actually a very good one for me. Because I’ve asked it of myself a number of times and I hope to never stop. It’s when I stop that things will get muddled and I’ll get completely lost.

I have this thing, and I know it doesn’t work for most people and most people will thing I’m a crazy-psycho-person (most already do, this will just cement that theory in their heads), but I believe to make a family work well long-term, it’s family, spouse, self. That’s the hierarchy of what’s important. You take care of your family, then your spouse, then with what you have left, you take care of yourself. Now before you go all “You’re an idiot, you need to take more care of your self before others,” shut up. I’m saying you work harder, not make room for neglect. But like I said, it’s my thing and I know most people aren’t that way. Not even my husband. Which makes for a very interesting relationship, I’ll tell you that. So to that point, the role of mother and wife are at the top of my “most important roles” list. And if I had to pick one to be at the very top, since Dan can take care of himself if he has to, mother would come first.

I never expected to be the mother that put her child before all else, even herself. My mom did that and I always thought she was robbing herself of so much. I am the first to admit that I am a very selfish person so to give everything I have to someone else seemed daunting at best. But it’s not like that. Mother is easily the most important role on that list for me. Followed very closely by wife, followed by friend/sister/daughter (which I admit, I am totally sucking at lately), with business professional at the end. (If I weren’t so stinking greedy, I would love for it to just fall off the list altogether for a while. Though I’d still probably replace it with student or something.)

I know that’s not the case for everyone, and it shouldn’t be. It’s just how I see it for me, what works for me. To each his own, right?

Oh? See how I left self off that list? It’s cheating. I feel like if I can balance the others the way I want them and feel successful in the way they’re handled, that I am fulfilling my obligation to myself. I don’t entirely neglect myself, I do put myself to the side a lot more than I probably should but that’s something I have been trained to do. And really, making others happy is what makes me happy. And god only knows I need a ton of therapy for that.

The problem is, I may feel successful in the ways I am handling each piece, but am I successful if the people involved feel like I am not meeting their expectations when it's entirely likely theirs are very different from mine? I guess that's the real dilemma.

Posted by Kim at 11:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Having checked the weather before I packed, seeing it was supposed to be in the low 70's, I packed warm-ish clothes. I packed only warmish clothes, But it's not low 70's. It's not mid 70's. It's 8trillion degrees instead. So all the warmish clothes? Hell. We're going to have to do way more shopping than I had wanted to do - especially on clothes.

I dropped Dan's brand new, very expensive camera. Twice.

I managed to lose the only sippy cup I brought.

The day isn't even half over.

Please let it get better...

**Updated to add: It so totally didn't. I ended up leaving the restaurant from dinner, before even being able to finish my dinner, almost in tears because my child is a demon. Who, of course, as soon as I got her back to the room, was so full of giggles she couldn't breathe. Maybe tomorrow? Please? Tomorrow will be better?

Posted by Kim at 12:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

After years of whining that I never get to take a real "vacation" (sorry, going home for any amount of time is NOT a vacation. Never will be. I love yah, but seriously!), I kinda can't stay home right now. Now I'm whining I have no time to really get anything done because we're just going, going, going. Though that's the extent of the whining because my, how I love to travel. (Though I could do without the flying part of it.)

As I have briefly mentioned, we made a road trip to Nebraska last weekend. As I have yet to mention, Madeleine and I took the train to NYC the weekend before. And as I have also not yet mentioned, we are flying to Disneyland next week. All giving me plenty of blogging fodder and yet I haven't been able to find the time to do any of it with all the travel. Hopefully over the next few days I can get a bit of it up here. And I have my Project: Say Something! entry to get up for this week as well. Plus next week's needs to get written since I certainly don't plan on typing while I could be riding Splash Mountain, or eating at the Blue Bayou, or watching Fantasmic!, or shopping at the World of Disney.

So yeah... now that I've publicly promised these posts maybe that will force some accountability so I actually do them. Maybe.

Posted by Kim at 2:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Remember when I was eight years old and I broke my arm really, really bad? And when you took me to the emergency room I screamed and cried that I just wanted my dad?

I do.

I am so sorry.

Love,
Your crazy daughter who never could have known how much that must have hurt until she had her own child.

Madeleine smashed her head on the door frame at day care on Wednesday. Her poor, little head had a lump the size of a golf ball on it for hours. She was pretty mellow and blah for a while and slept the whole ride home. Who doesn't want to just take a nap after crying their heart out for 45 minutes? The swelling went down rather quickly. By the time I had her home, it was about half the size it was when I'd picked her up at day care. Once her dad got home though, she didn't want anything to do with me. Just Dad.

Hurt kid. Doesn't want mom. Ouch.

Not so long ago, I would long for the time when she would spend just a few scream-free minutes with her dad and not have to come to me. Everyone told me that soon enough, she'd go to her dad and the first time she rejected coming to me, it would break my heart. And then she'd only want her dad and that would break my heart. Even though it was all I wanted, just a few minutes to myself please, it would still be a jab in the heart when it happened. Yep. Ouch.

And how silly is that?

Posted by Kim at 12:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Girl: Mom, what does “spoiled” mean?
Mom: Why did someone call you that?
Girl: No. Someone called YOU that.
McDreamy Voiceover: Hey – Kim? Kim! Pay attention here. Buy a Mazda. Buy THIS Mazda. Come on. You know you want to. It’s “cute.” Come on, you can do it. You know you want this car. Buy this Mazda NOW. Think of all the things and people you could fit in it. You know you want one. Get it. You can do it. All the cool moms are doing it. Besides, I’m McDreamy, you have to do what I say. You want this Mazda. You will buy this Mazda. This very one. Psst. Come on. Just do it.

Hey, who am *I* to argue with a McDreamy voiceover?

Posted by Kim at 4:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Remember my wonderful start to last week?

Maybe I shouldn't fault Mondays so much as my own, growing absent-mindedness.

Yesterday was a very long day so I wasn't looking forward to this morning from the get go. Apparently for good reason.

Madeleine wakes up an hour earlier than usual when all I want is for her to sleep an hour later than usual. On top of that, she's really grumpy and whiney and needy and whiney and grumpy. The migraine I had since yesterday afternoon is still tormenting my head and I just want to go crawl in a hole.

Dan leaves angry at me and I am running much later than I had wanted to be because I cannot even function. Migraine, exhausted, sunburned so bad I can barely move, and just generally really not wanting to get going for the day. But I do.

Grumpy-baby keeps pointing to something on the counter and grunting and whining. After handing her the toothpaste, the toothbrush, her toothpaste, the brush, the comb and the toothbrush holder, I give up, put her on the floor and let her cry while I try to put on my clothes. She continues to cry and reach for whatever invisible thing on the counter it is that she HAS TO HAVE while I dig out clothes for her.

We go downstairs to have breakfast and clean up and she melts down when I put the waffle in the toaster. She keeps crying while I try to find her cups and bottles and food for day care. I can't find a clean lid to a sippy cup so I make a mess of the cupboard hoping there's just one somewhere at the bottom. We're late already, I don't WANT to wash dishes! As I am packing her bag, I realize I haven't washed her blankets for day care yet since we were gone all weekend. I haven't been grocery shopping for the week, so she has no bananas for her snack. Or any other fruit for that matter.

I finally get her bag together and grab my bag and head to the door to run those to the car before taking the baby out (who, by the way apparently had been hoping there was a waffle on the bathroom counter because since giving her her breakfast, she hasn't made a peep and is walking around the house happy as can be. Boy I can't wait until she has WORDS.). But. Wait. Oh no! My key! My key is in my purse. I was so tired, I left my purse in the car last night. The car is locked. Oh darn, I'll just call it the crap day it is and take the day off. Oh, but wait! My phone is ALSO in my purse. I can't call work. I can't call day care. I can't log in to IM anyone because the key I need for that is - wait for it ... IN. MY. PURSE!

Dumping multiple drawers, I hope to find the valet or swimmer's key that haven't been used since ohhh... the summer of 2002. Well before the move out here. Well before the million re-shiftings of junk I routinely do. And yet I do manage to find the valet key. So I take the bags out to the car and do a couple of quick searches through my purse for my key. Which I don't find. But that's fine, the valet key will start the car and I can get to work. I'll worry about my key when I get there.

A quarter of the way in to work I realize that, no, my key is not in my purse. It's in my freaking pants pocket from Saturday with my debit card. So now what am I going to do for lunch? Oh well. Who needs lunch? Let's just hope I don't fall asleep on the way to work.

After what feels like a hundred years from being so tired making that drive, I get to day care and then get to work. And not ten minutes after I get settled, my phone rings and our house will be showing tonight. At exactly dinner time. Of course. And oh - I left dishes in the sink and Madeleine's books she dug out while I was getting ready all over her floor. Nice. Immediately after that, the IC guy stops by to install the software I've been waiting for for over a month. But - oh - I was supposed to delete mine beforehand. Oops. I forgot all about that. Not being able to use much of anything while that uninstalls, I lose about an hour of time and force the IC guy to come back later so that I can waste even more time for the install.

But instead of waiting for the install, I go to lunch. I figure that will be a semi-productive way to spend the downtime. I've been saying I'll buy a forward-facing carseat for a week now (since woo!! 20.8 pounds as of 1.5 weeks ago. YAE) so I do. On my way back, I reach for my hip to grab my badge to get back into work and it's not there. It's not in the console where I always put it. It's not in the seat which is the second choice. After finally finding it at the bottom of my purse, I get back to my desk to have my already grumpy at me husband tell me he'd thought we hadn't yet agreed on which car seat to get and he was leaning toward the one I didn't get.

Remember that hole I wanted to crawl into right after getting up this morning? I am going to go find it now before something ELSE goes wrong...

Posted by Kim at 12:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I read this post. And then I read this post. And then? I read this post.

It’s been playing on my brain for a while now. My biggest fear at this point is simply being a parent. Knowing all of the trials and questions and doubts and problems and changes and difficult situations that are ahead of me as a mother, I am scared stiff.

All my life I’ve wished through everything. Starting from when I was really young, I remember wishing to be just a bit older. I wished my life away. I would always look to the future and was so excited for it to get here. It would never come fast enough.

Then I had a baby.

Thinking of the future, of what the road ahead holds for me, scares me more than the biggest, hairiest spider, more than any creepy noise in the dark when I’m home alone, more than anything I’ve ever been afraid of in my life. Thinking about the situations I face in the years to come as a mom, there is an overwhelming sense of panic. I get so anxious that my brain just shuts down and I can’t even think anymore. No more looking to the future to me. No more wishing time away. And you know what? I don’t think that’s entirely a bad thing.

I am now forced to live in the now, live for the moment. It keeps me sane. It keeps me breathing. It allows me to appreciate what is going on right now instead of wishing for the next phase. Life can take it’s time now. I love where I am, I have no desire to rush through it and for the first time, I enjoy taking life day by day. So while it is an overwhelming fear, one I doubt I will ever overcome, it does have its advantages.

Though the first time I have to play the actual parent role? I’m running for the hills.

Posted by Kim at 10:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Today was the first day I had to worry about actually getting anywhere without Dan. He leaves much earlier now and that leaves me preparing for the day and getting Madeleine and myself ready to go. Please. Please let today just be "one of those days" ...

I woke up later than I had wanted to this morning.

The baby woke up crying just as I had gotten in the shower.

I couldn't find my car key.

My breakfast was horrible.

I had forgotten to pack the bag for day care.

I couldn't find my car key.

I had a perfect plan to get out of the house with the baby and all the bags and then realized the car seat was still in the car and that alone ruined the entire plan.

Tearing off her banana for the day, I ripped another one open and she didn't want a banana for breakfast.

Already extremely late, I notice waffle pieces all over the floor.

Where the hell is my car key???

Starting the day by already getting a headache - not good.

Finally found the key after half an hour looking for it and text messaging Dan to see if we - by ANY chance - have a spare hiding anywhere.

Everything is in the car... except wait, I forgot a cup and bottle for day care.

Take the WRONG freaking exit for day care and add yet another 5 minutes to how freaking late I am.

Forget to tell day care that I will be coming back to get M for a doctor's appointment later in the day.

Get to work and cannot for the life of me remember when my doctor's appointment is and cannot find where I had written it down but had a terrible feeling it was for today.

It wasn't and that was where I stopped. I want to climb in a hole and not come back out again until tomorrow. I hate when Monday's are holidays. It throws off the entire week.

Posted by Kim at 11:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I just finished reading this article. Just from one article, maybe you don't have the reaction I did. But this is certainly not the first article of this nature I have read recently. And I know it won't be the last.

The attitudes of people not traveling with families kill me. They all come from a family. They've all, at one time or another, had to deal with small children (yes, even those who don't have kids of their own). Why create such a hostile environment out there between family and non-family travelers? If one could ditch the attitude of "Oh God, please don't let the people with the baby sit next to me," and instead, be a little more open and pleasant, chances are, the entire flight will be a little more pleasant. Whether the child acts up or not.

I don't know why I have such a strong reaction to this. Madeleine has never been the "terror child" on a flight. In fact, every flight she's been on (and in only one year, it has been quite a few - probably more than I had been on in the first 25 years of my life), we've had numerous people comment on how amazingly well-behaved she was. So it's not like I'm being defensive or feeling guilty - I've never been the annoying, obnoxious family. Yet. But I guarantee you - the next time I am on a flight and if she does decide to have a fit - I won't be freaking out because she's freaking out. I'll be freaking out because all you family-haters make me feel guilty as hell that I am just as entitled to travel as you.

I really don't know why I am so impassioned about this but I get so frustrated and angry by the negative attitude of families and flights. Yes, I have been one of those people who have thought, "Please, please, please make that baby stop crying," or "If that damn kid does not stop kicking my seat..." But I have never felt more entitled to - or deserving of - a flight, space, quiet, etc. Families have to travel to and even before having my own child, I knew that sometimes it's not always possible to keep a child/toddler/infant quiet/happy/entertained for long periods of time. Hell, I go nuts on long flights. People just have no patience anymore. They have no interest in how to make things easier for everyone instead of just themselves. Grrrrr.

All this over one silly article. I know. But it seems every other week or so there's another one of the same nature. People just need to chill. And now I am going to take my own advice and try to do the same thing....

*It's not the idea of Southwest boarding families last. That's fine. It's the attitude of some of the people quoted in the article. Just to clarify.

Posted by Kim at 9:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I am not a gambler. I am not a risk taker. I hate surprises (unless they are really, really good ones – which how are you going to know that AND make it a surprise??). I like knowing, predictability, having an exact idea of what to expect. In other words, I’m really boring.

So when my husband leaves the company we’ve both been with for over ten years to go to a start-up, you can imagine my complete panic. What if? What about? But? Well? How? Oh god, talk me down people. Talk me down.

I am excited. I am terrified. Either way, I support him 100%. This is a big deal for him. It’s something he’s wanted for a really long time. It puts him in exactly the direction he wants to go and is an amazing step for his career. I know, you’re waiting for the “but.” But there isn’t one. This simply is a great move for him.

For me? Oh hell. There are so many things I worry about. So many scenarios playing out in my head of how this could be a bad, bad thing. But that’s me, the eternal pessimist. If it can go wrong, it so totally will. Of course, I don’t dwell on those. Which is something I would normally do. I’m seeing the good here, the potential, the fact that it really is a move in the right direction. But there is still that part of me, the part that hates change, the what if it goes horribly wrong part, the part that wonders what will happen and desperately hates not knowing. I’m trying to shove a sock in her mouth so she’ll just shut the hell up. Because really? This is exactly what he needs. And he deserves it. And will probably be even better for *us*. I just hope he likes it. And they like him. (Though I’ve come to learn that once you get to know him, it’s impossible to not. So not really sure what I’m worried about.)

*He actually caved and bought a suit for the interview. When paying for everything, the $95 dollar tie incorrectly rang as $19. The manager let it go so the salesperson dubbed it the “lucky tie.” He really wanted the job. Looks like it was pretty lucky after all.

Posted by Kim at 3:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I don't mind that Madeleine has to go to day care. It's a much more healthy, sane alternative than staying home all day, every day with her. However! Our day care has been a little light on the adults for a little while - for whatever reason, I don't know nor have I really cared yet. Every time we drop her off, one of the ladies takes her from us and she is 99% of the time, completely fine with that. Except that today when we dropped her off, there was one lady in the room with about 6+ kids and she had one screaming in her arms. Of course, it was the one lady who doesn't speak a word of English and my tenish words of Spanish could in no way put together "Are you taking her from me or am I putting her on the floor?" She kept motioning somehow and saying something, but like I said, I'm working on maybe ten whole words of Spanish - if that - and significantly less when I'm only half awake. So I had no idea if she was trying to take Madeleine or telling me to put her on the floor. Since the woman is TINY, I figured she probably wasn't going to want to take two upset 1-year olds. So I put Madeleine down on the floor. Let's just say I got out to the car and *I* cried because of how upset she was. I can deal with a few tears or some general grumpiness when I drop her off - but today? No. Today you could have sworn someone took her puppy away (oh. wait. we did that already). Seriously - she has never thrown a fit like that when dropping her off yet. It was heart-breaking. And of course I'm just emotional and venting and will be totally rational and fine once I calm down but it's just a little disconcerting when the one lady in the room is overrun by kids and I have to just drop my barely woken up doesn't like to be put down baby on the floor to start her day. Of course, just as soon as I was closing the door one of the other ladies walked in so I am sure she went straight to Madeleine to calm her down, but still. I'm just grumpy. And not exactly the way I wanted to start my day or my week.

Posted by Kim at 10:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

How did the party wind blow?

Let me count the ways:

The wind was unbelievable.
There were no decorations. Because of the wind.
No cupcakes were put out. Because of the wind.
There were hardly any balloons. Because of the wind.
The presents weren’t put out. Because of the wind.
The favors weren’t put out. Because of the wind.
There was no yummy, pink punch. Because of the wind. (The favors had to go in the punch bowl so they wouldn’t blow away.)
The whole tradition of the first time the baby gets frosting and cake was ruined. Not because of the wind.
Nothing that I waited to get because why pack it all the way across the country?? was sold in that town. Also not because of the wind.
The present-opening didn’t work very well because we couldn’t put anything in front of her because it would blow away. Because of the wind.
No one could hear anyone else. Because of the wind.
The wind totally blew. In both senses of the word.

Grrrrrrrr.

I had started planning and working on this party months ago. Anyone who could ever possibly think the first birthday is for the child, is smoking crack or just simply an idiot. Of course it’s not for the child. She got a spoonful of cake and frosting so it was a total success in her eyes. Her eyes are not the ones that had to see everything that went wrong. Nope. Those were mine. It was supposed to be nearly perfect. I was planning it from 2,000 miles away so I knew it wasn’t going to be completely perfect. But for it to be a total disaster was not at all what I had in mind.

It was supposed to go like this:

One table with a pink table cloth for the cake and cutely setup cupcakes. A punch bowl with pink punch and ice. Pink cups, pink plates, pink utensils and pink napkins set up around a large pink centerpiece for a first birthday.
Another table with a pink table cloth for the presents. The presents wrapped in pink wrapping paper with pretty pink bows and pink gift bags (that were mostly NOT sold in ANY store in the ENTIRE city). The little favor bags of pink jelly bellies with cute pink “thank you” tags stacked nicely, next to another pink, first birthday centerpiece. A silver and pink banner draped along the edge of the table that read “Happy 1st Birthday!.”
Balloons were supposed to be attached in bunches to the edges of both tables. A banner was supposed to be hung with streamers.
A third pink covered table, with decorations for people to sit at and enjoy their adorable cupcakes and yummy ice cream while they watch the adorable birthday girl, in her PERFECT birthday outfit bathe in cake and frosting while she tasted it for the very first time ever cuz that’s what the first birthday is for you know.

But… that is not how it played out. Not at all.

Want to know what happened to all those decorations and banners and things? Well hopefully my sister feels like throwing a PINK first birthday for her baby because they were useless for mine. They sat in a bag, under a table, that ended up having Sprite dumped all over them because – oh, imagine that, the wind blew over the cups that were left unwatched.

Needless to say, I was very discouraged, disappointed and pissy. However, that did NOT stop me from loving watching that little kid with her first cupcake. Or watching her munch on a spoon covered in cake and frosting for a good half hour. Or watching her not give a damn about all the cool presents so long as she had that spoon in her mouth and everyone’s attention. So – while the first party was a disaster, the spirit of it was a complete success. And so were her outfits! She had a cute pink dress for her party and then, to get all messy and covered in frosting, I made her a onesie and bib to go along with the cupcake part of the theme. Which, really, was such a good idea. I can’t imagine trying to get frosting out of anything else, or at least cleaned up enough to put her in a car, and she had it EVERYWHERE. Granted, she didn’t get in the cake like I had hoped (since that’s why I even made it), but she sure did get frosting everywhere from the cupcake she devoured.

At least there are some adorable pictures that came from it. And she had such a blast, she passed out at the end. And really, isn’t that how EVERY good party should end?

Posted by Kim at 1:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I said I would post a final picture of the fancy, schmancy living room once we had everything back in its place. I know I did. Don't look at me like that. I will. Once I get the picture taken. Which was entirely my intent when I said I would post one. But sometimes, well - things just don't always turn out like you plan. Oh? They do for you? You should go away right this very second then because you're no longer my friend.

Dan got home from work, we put everything back in its place and then had to rush over to pick up the car that had just been inspected before the shop closed. Once we were over there, we figured we'd just grab some dinner then go home and finish the living room. The ride home from dinner totally threw the rest of the night for a loop. Madeleine got so sick. She threw up all over herself and her carseat in the back seat. So I spent the night cleaning up throw-up from the car, the car seat, the base, the baby, myself, the chair, the floor, going through so many changes of clothes on both of us, I finally gave up and just kept wrapping her in new towels each time. Which was about every five minutes. I had a newfound understanding of the phrase, "What we don't do for our kids" once that night was over. Which, while in the midst of it, seemed like it would never come. The next day she was mostly out of it and didn't eat or do much of anything but sleep. But by that night, she was much better. So sure, it was probably just the stomach flu, or quite possibly the jar of baby food I had fed her was bad. It wasn't expired but another one I bought with it looked nasty and just got tossed. Maybe I should have done it to the whole set of them but they all looked fine. Who knows what it was. All I know is that I never, not in a million years, thought I'd be fishing through throw-up with my hands. I'm just glad car seats come completely apart. I would have had no idea how to clean it otherwise. That, and I never really believed the projectile vomit scenes in the Exorcist. "That could so never happen." Oh I was so naive.

Anyway, the point is - the night got derailed with a sick baby so the picture has yet to be taken. But I promise, once it's taken, I'll get it posted. Cuz it rocks. There is actually light in the room and it doesn't look nearly as cluttered and dark and dank and nasty and ew! And the furniture even looks better in there. And the bricks for the fireplace actually look good. Damn! Why didn't we do this two years ago? (Because then it wouldn't look new now that we're selling it and all the excitement would have worn off and I wouldn't have had time to hate the old carpet so very, very much in order to like the new stuff this much, I know.)

Posted by Kim at 12:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Tonight was the first normal night we've had in this house since the baby came. It was unbeleivable. She played on the floor for hours just hanging out and getting into everything while Dan and I went about our lives. It was really kind of weird. I could get used to it. Although, I am certainly not getting my hopes up that it will ever happen again for a very long time. I dunno - maybe her mood has something to do with the fact that she actually slept through the night (mostly, she didn't go to sleep until 11:30 but she didn't wake up until 7 - so that counts for me!!) for the first time ever. But I won't get used to that either.

While she was playing all happy and friendly and by herself, I got a crafty, productive bug up my butt and decided to attempt making a hair bow. We're having a pink/cupcake themed birthday party for her next month so I thought I'd be pathetic and make her a matching hair bow. For my first attempt, I don't think it's half bad and it was pretty fun. I'm sure there will be many more to come. Especially if she ever does learn how to not have to have 100% attention 110% of the time.

Posted by Kim at 11:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

But I think I could get used to this.

Day Care is closed all week so I am working from home. I know it's only Monday and we did get off to a bit of a bumpy start but I think I could like it. Though I am terrified and 100% certain I will be more than ready to go back to work next week.

(...As she's sitting in her swing, hidden behind the arm of the couch, spraying her bottle everywhere... Yeah, ask me again on Friday)

Posted by Kim at 2:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Way back when, I thought putting my finger in a baby's toothless mouth would be so very gross. Soft and slimy and EW! and creepy! Now? Putting my finger in a baby's mouth with little bumps of teeth? EW! That's so gross.

And completely unrelated, my friend, Malena, sent her this fairy dress when she was born. She loves it. The sparkles in the skirt keep her fascinated for - well - minutes. And that's a long time in baby time. And it's so cute so who could complain?

Posted by Kim at 2:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Tomorrow my little demon baby turns nine months old. This is of note for reasons other than the obvious (like the one that holy crap! she’s freakin’ old! how’d this happen????) which I will get to later.

When I was pregnant, like anyone, I had a million fears. #3 on that list of fears was breastfeeding. Some days when I was semi-comfortable with numbers 1 and 2, it would take front seat and send me into states of panic like I had never known before. What if I couldn’t do it? What if it hurt so bad like other people had said? Or as hard as people make it sound? What if there were problems? How do I feed her in public? Why does everyone have to judge so harshly either way? What if people judged me? What if I did have to give her formula? What if I had to only give her formula? Am I a bad mother if I can’t do this?

Now that I look back, I think I was probably more afraid of breastfeeding than I was of labor and delivery. There is just such a divide between breastfeeding and formula feeding and people are so passionate about it they forget it’s not really their business and don’t care how much they hurt others with their overzealous opinions. It’s bad enough that a mother doesn’t know what she’s doing, but when another mother – who should understand and support through the battle – starts attacking? How is that a good thing? So yeah, I was terrified for a billion reasons.

Before Dan and I had ever even thought about possibly, maybe, someday trying to think about having kids we would have the breastfeeding fight. He would say I had no say in the matter, I was doing it. I would say, “hello! My boobs! My body! My time! Ultimately MY choice. And, besides, doofus, what if I can’t???” To have a MAN make you feel like less of a woman or mother by telling you that you HAVE to breastfeed their child, I’ll kick his ass myself. I get that they are entitled to their opinion, they’re the dad, they’re certainly involved and expressing their point of view is certainly welcome. But to feel like he will see you as less of a mother, less of a woman if you can’t breastfeed, or even choose not to. I don’t even have words for the lack of support, tyrant ass that man would be. Anyway… So we had that fight for years. Then it went away for years and was never discussed again until we found out I was pregnant. During a conversation very early on, it somehow came up and I made some comment about breastfeeding. About absolutely wanting to do it – to try. (Mind you, the fights before were never because I didn’t want to, they were because I felt like it should ultimately be my choice since I was the one who was going to have to do it. It wasn’t his boobs that were potentially not going to be able to feed the baby. He will never know that fear.) He was taken aback thinking that I wasn’t going to even bother. So then started the conversations of how terrified of: what if I couldn’t it? People are so mean about it. People will be mean to me and make me feel more incompetent than I know I already would anyway.

Good thing my husband rocks. He was nothing but supportive in my decisions with all this. He still is.

So now…. I know…. Four hours later… I’m wordy, what can I say…. My point….

It has been hard. It’s been so fulfilling and wonderful and great and bonding and really kind of easy but it has been so. very. very. hard. I have had to supplement with formula already and I thought I was a terrible mother who was going to breastfeeding hell the first few times. But it’s that or my child starved. I have had a hell of a time with having a significantly low milk supply the entire time I’ve been nursing. It’s not been fun. It’s not been easy. We’re at the point now that she has to be supplemented at day care so she can get enough. Her entire life, whenever she’s with me, she’s eating constantly because there just isn’t enough. I read books, I consulted with lactation consultants, I tried old wives tales and supplements, I’ve done everything I can come up with and still never have enough.

In my head, I knew I wanted to go a year. But what if I couldn’t even get started? Or what if there were problems along the way (which, for the record, I never once even considered the problem I would actually be having. Just my luck.)? So I decided to be a little more realistic and actually set goals that I knew I could reach and break it down a bit. So my goals were like this: Goal 1 – Be able to do it. At all. Establish a successful latch and see how it goes. Goal 2 – At least the first month. Do NOT give up. Make it at least one month. Goal 3 – Get through the first three months. Goal 4 – Go to six months. Anything beyond that is gravy. Just get to six months. Easy. You can do it. Goal 5 – Nine months. Anything beyond this and you rock. Goal 6 – A year. Nice goal. If you can get there, by all means, have at it.

So I’m at goal 5 (phew! 20 paragraphs later and I am finally to my point). We’ve made it nine months. I know that so many people would have given up by now, would have realized it wasn’t worth the hassle or the stress and just gone to formula. And that it would be okay if I did. I hit six months and even the pediatrician said anything beyond that was just icing on the cake. But in my head, there are still those people out there (sadly, some in my life which I think is why it bothers me so much) that will think I’m less of a woman and less of a mother if I don’t make it the full year. But I’m drying up. I don’t get nearly enough for the next day when I pump anymore and it’s driving me crazy. I tell myself it would be so much easier if I would just let her go to straight formula and not have the stress of not having enough, of having to pump freaking constantly. But it’s also something I really value with my baby. So do I let day care feed her straight formula and when she’s with me nurse? I have no idea. Three more months. That’s it. That’s all it takes to reach my ultimate goal. Even if I only half-nurse her that far, it’s more than I ever really thought I could do, so is that good? I know so many mothers, mothers whom I admire and respect much more than anyone I know who preaches ONLY BREAST, who supplemented long before now if not went solely to formula long before now. So why can’t I just get over it and do it? In my head I feel like I will see myself as failing if I give up before June. I’ve made it this far – I have NOT failed. So what’s up with this?

Posted by Kim at 12:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Yeah, so my list is really a mile long... I’m only addressing one today.

At some point along the drive home at nights, I completely panic and think, “Oh shit! Did we stop at day care? Did we get the baby?” I am certain one of these days we’re going to get half way home and realize we never stopped to pick up the baby. I am still constantly catching myself thinking, “Do I have the baby now? Should I have the baby now? Where is the baby supposed to be?” At work I have moments my head feels like it’s going to cave in from fear thinking she’s sitting in the car because I forgot to drop her off.

I thought I’d be used to this by now. Does it ever go away?

Posted by Kim at 11:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

-Where the hell was all the traffic tonight? Was today a secret holiday no one mentioned to me?

-Why are some dads babysitters? What is up with that? They're parents too. The child is just as much theirs as the mothers'. And yet...

-Why we deliberately do things to hurt and upset the people we say we love instead of doing things to make them smile.

-How some peoples' houses never have dust. Anywhere. Ever. Hello! Share that secret!

-How one thing out of place in a room can make the entire room look messy.

-What type of person could possibly fall in the target audience for shows like this?

-How anyone could possibly be pro-Grissom/Sara. Ew. Seriously. And more than that, how anyone could be pro-Sara. The only person worse at delivering sing-songy, rhyme-y sounding lines is cootie-man.

Posted by Kim at 8:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Reading this entry took me back to a very traumatic day in my life. I believe it was the first day of kindergarten. (If not, it was one of the first few days of kindergarten.)

I came in the door from riding the bus home from school and started to cry. I told my mom I never wanted to ride the bus again and I couldn’t ever go back to school. Being the loving mom that she is, she looked at me like I was nuts and then kindly asked why. So, my little five-year old self told her -

I rode the bus home sitting next to a boy in my class at school and he told me he was going to marry me! I don’t want to get married! I’m only five years old! I can’t get married, Mom. I’m too young and I’d have to move away and live with a boy. Mommmm! Please don’t make me get married. I can’t go back to school! Ever again. He’ll marry me. I – can’t – get – married.

Yes, I was a drama queen even at five. As you can imagine, my mom didn’t have a whole lot of sympathy for me. I did go back to school and I did ride the bus again (but very consciously choosing where I sat for a very long time). I went through the next twelve grades with him and never had to get married to him.

I reminded my mom of this story the other day, who laughed just as hard this time as she did twenty-six years ago. Turns out he recently became an FBI agent. And even still – I am so glad I didn’t have to get married and move away WITH A BOY! at age five.

Posted by Kim at 3:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I’m doing it all wrong. I just know it. Every where I look I feel like the world is screaming I’m a bad mother. No, my baby is not an unhappy baby. She doesn’t cry all the time (really, she doesn’t). She’s not unhealthy. She’s never put in any threatening situation or certainly isn’t neglected. But the things I do, the decisions I make, the ways I react and the feelings I have all make me feel like a horrible mother.

Reading books and magazines make me think I am doing all the wrong things. Reading the blogs of new mothers and talking to my new-mom friends just makes me think, “What the HELL am I doing so wrong?” and “Why can’t I be better at this?!”

It’s not like I’ve had anyone tell me I’m a bad mom, or point out anything I am doing wrong, or question my decisions or actions. I just feel like maybe I’m really no good at this and wasn’t cut out for it. It’s really hard. I knew it would be – I never expected it to be a walk in the park. But no one tells you how you will never again feel confident in anything you do. I would like to say it’s just the post-partum depression talking, I really would. And who knows, maybe it is. I know it’s normal for mom’s to constantly question and doubt and that it never ends no matter how old the child gets. But this bad? To seriously doubt the simple capability that you will ever do anything right no matter how hard you try?

Maybe I’m just projecting everything else in my life into the one thing I know I want to be good at and putting that under a microscope where nothing is ever safe. Why can’t I be better at it? Why can’t I do it right? Do I just feel like I have a lack of support? Do I just need reaffirmation that I really am doing okay?

I don’t know how to make it better or make it right. But that certainly doesn’t mean I am going to stop trying.

Posted by Kim at 11:55 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Years ago (what often seems like a lifetime ago), I was kind of, well, insane. (I know, you’re thinking, “Years ago??? Woman, you need a reality check, you’re still insane!” But let me finish…) I used to have a bit of a knack – for lack of a better word – for getting noticed. I would wear the craziest things, do the craziest things, say the craziest things. All for attention – for the shock factor. All too often, it worked – it worked very, very well. Debate tournaments, concerts, dances, school newspaper articles, speeches, stories, anything that could allow a chance for a reaction, I took it. And to the extreme on a number of occasions.

Like I said, a lifetime ago. Now I’m Nancy Normal who wouldn’t go out in a knee-length skirt let alone a mini-skirt, a tank top let alone something strapless, say anything that might be remotely attention-catching, do anything that could possibly be considered “egdy” and my hair? Oh no! My hair must be as normal as normal can be. Who the hell is this person is what I want to know!

Dan and I went to a Tool concert over the weekend. A while ago, I would have felt right at home. I would have been one of the people I looked at and thought, “Oh? My God.” Granted, there was a wider variety of people there than you could probably find anywhere else and we weren’t anywhere near the youngest (no surprise there) and no where near the oldest (which was extremely surprising. 60 years-old and listening to Tool? Something is wrong with that picture), we were among the most plain and normal. And while I wasn’t the most conservative looking person there (ew? Me and conservative in the same sentence, what is the world coming to?), I was sad to realize that I am nowhere near as daring as I once was. And it’s not even because I’m a mom now. Over the last few years I have mellowed out something fierce. I’ve gotten boring. It’s so sad. To throw on a corset, a little black skirt and some thigh high boots? Oh God, not on your life! And yet I’m sad that I’m not that person anymore. That I care what others’ perception of me is. That I no longer have the confidence to pull it off (or the body anymore for that matter) even if I wanted to.

While seeing some of the girls there, knowing I used to be one of them – with the insane hair and the barely there clothes and the intense attitude – I realized my time for it really is gone. That’s okay, I’m old, I had my turn and I did have my fun. But now? NOW?! Oh good lord, now I’m going to have to go through it with my daughter! Let’s just say: Mom? Dad? I am sooo sorry! Even she’s half the nut I was, I am in for it. And yet, even if she is as bad as I was, I will be so lucky. Because while I may have been a bit crazy, I knew what I was doing, I knew who I was and I knew where the boundaries were. So while it scares the holy living hell out of me that my daughter just might be the girl with the purple hair, half-shaven head, ripped clothes, pierced god only knows what, knee high boots out with people ten times scarier than that – I will have a small sense of comfort in a: knowing she really is MY daughter and b: she is confident enough in herself to do it and pull it off and strong enough to not care that people look at her and think, “Oh? My God!”

Posted by Kim at 2:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I watched one of the most disturbing things I've ever seen tonight. I can't even process it. Tonight's episode of Criminal Minds freaked me out on so very many levels. Some people are sick and wrong and I cannot believe the things they are capable of.

All my life I have been very sensitive to TV shows or movies or anything - fact or fiction - showing harm (or even possible harm) come to a child or an animal. It's the only thing I really cannot handle. Watching scary movies or violence, all I can think is "don't hurt the kids" or "I hope the puppy is okay." Pathetic really, but I never could have guessed how intensified that feeling would be when I finally had a child of my own. (Yes, even having dogs of my own increased that feeling for animals, I should've seen it coming with a kid.) I know I can't live a life of paranoia but good hell! How can one not? Sure, the show tonight was fiction but the stories, the concepts, ideas, topics - ugh - they're so real. And so discouraging and disappointing and disenchanting of the human race.

I think a small bit of paranoia can be healthy, just being conscious of what's out there - you know, the saying "better safe than sorry." I know not all people are bad and I am sure, on the whole, most people are good people. I know I need to look for and find the good in people. And I do. But that doesn't mean I don't acknowledge the bad out there.

I just hope I can raise my child to be a good person and to see the good in people ... and not trust a damn one of 'em.

Posted by Kim at 11:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

When I was three or four, living in Germany, my parents had to go away for a night and they left me with some family friends. There were a bunch of kids who were sleeping at their house that night, I don’t remember why. I do, however, remember sleeping in a room with large holes in the ceiling. The kids who lived at the house were slightly older and spent the night telling me that when I fell asleep, the giants who lived in the ceiling would come down and eat me. (This paired with my parents telling me that if I didn’t go to sleep, the big dogs from upstairs would come down and eat me – no wonder I have sleep issues!) I don’t remember much from my childhood, but I remember this. I was itty-bitty, of course I believed and trusted the older, cool kids.

So when, a few weeks after having the baby, the ceiling started leaking and the plumber came to fix it and cut a big hole in the ceiling and just left it that way… I was not a happy camper. Yes, I’m 31 years old. Yes, looking at the large, gaping hole in my ceiling makes me wonder when the giants will be coming. (And the spiders, but that’s another issue altogether.) We’ve been meaning to get a dry-waller in here to patch it up but it’s been one thing after another and a major case of procrastination. But since we’re really wanting to sell the house, and soon, I really need to get it fixed.

My giant portal:

Tomorrow. I’ll call the dry-waller tomorrow. Really.

Posted by Kim at 11:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Yep, that would be me. I started this site a couple incarnations ago - a couple years ago - to keep my family and friends in the loop of my life after moving across the country from them. As you can tell, it's not been very well utilized for that - or much else. Then I got pregnant and thought I could use it to share the "joys" of pregnancy once we told everyone. But by the time everyone was told, well - it was too late. And THEN I thought that having the baby would give me some serious motivation to use it. Obviously not so much. I procrastinate. I am non-committal. I am never satisfied with anything I do so if I can't do it perfectly, I'll well - procrastinate or just not do it. And mostly, I am just boring. I do nothing with my days but get up, go to work, come home, feed baby and go to bed. And the only difference between now and pre-baby is that I wasn't feeding a baby in that very boring routine. And who wants to hear about that?

I'm making some changes; making some commitments, things I am going to stick to; actually trying to find some structure and some "life" in this life of mine. So I'm going to dig really deep because by-golly-gee, I WILL use this website.

...Says the girl who can't commit to anything in the world.

Posted by Kim at 12:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I get working lunches, lunch meetings, whatever you want to call them. I really do. I appreciate that people have to work and have to eat and sometimes have to do them at the same time. But when you go into a meeting with your lunch and sit next to someone who is not eating and you spend the next hour chomping and smacking right in his or her ear with your mouth wide open – well, that’s just not very considerate of you.

Posted by Kim at 3:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)