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.
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.
Two large boxes worth.
I should maybe wear some of them every so often.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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." )
Do you ever wonder if you are on the entirely wrong path in life?
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
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???
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
(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?
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.
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!
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.)
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.)
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.
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.
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?
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.
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?
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?
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...
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...
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.
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.
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.