Seriously...I need to know.
So here's the background. After falling off the met wagon about a month ago, I decided that darn it, it CAN help you get rid of this entire other person that you're hauling around, so take it already! I'm up to 1500 mgs at this point, which is even better than I used to do during the infertility days. I've been paying for my rather rapid ramp, but I'm almost through the woods on that, so I just need to suck it up a couple of more days. I'm ultimately supposed to hit 2000mgs of the stuff, which I hope to be able to handle in a couple of weeks.
OK, so the delusional part. Granted, I've been hitting the treadmill on a very regular basis in the mornings, and have even added in some upper body work (treadmill push ups, but hey, its something). I've been upping the pace from where I started at a paltry 2.6 MPH to almost 3.2 MPH to keep my heart rate up. I've been eating better. Yes, I did indulge in "helping" the kids out with their substantial Halloween haul, but since Husband put it up so high in the cabinets that I need a chair to retrieve it (damn all 6'3" of him), I've been laying off. Seriously, having to exert physical effort to steal Halloween candy from your kids? Pathetic.
ANYWAY, the point is that I pulled out a pair of pants this morning that have been a bit snug for the past year or so, and viola! they fit great. They aren't quite where they should be to fit perfectly, but I'm no longer praying to the gods of thread strength that they hold together. I'm comfortable in them. Hooray!
The irrational part is that I refuse to get on the scale to see if this is just a matter of toning, or whether I have actually lost some weight. I'm down a cup size on my bras as well, but that could be attributed primarily to the fact that for the first time in four plus years I'm not pregnant or nursing. The last time we nursed was late June-while I still have an occasional drip once in a while, it is pretty much all gone. The scale is an object of scorn and desire all at once. I could get on it and have the highlight of my day; or, I could get on it and feel like a complete failure, even with the pants victory. And then I would do something to completely sabatoge myself. I've been through the cycle enough to know exactly what I'll do. Sad, but true.
I'm in a good rhythm now, and I think that I'm going to stay there. Maybe I'll check once these pants start getting a little loose. Yeah, that's it.......
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Monday, November 09, 2009
the churn
Ah, a lovely Monday and I'm pretty much completely moved into my new office with-get this-a window! Yay! You have to understand that this complex of patched together building that I work in is seriously short on anything resembling natural light. To be in an office area that actually gets it is a perk, but an office-oh boy! I had to downsize a bit, but that's OK. I've got lawn, a tree, and the occasional Canadian Goose flock to saunter on by. Nirvana for an office rat, I tell you!
We moved the entire department (including a file room of 2000+ paper files) last week, and of course, both of the kids were sick. Son crashed after trick or treating, and stayed down until Wednesday. BabyA was summarily dismissed from daycare with a temp of 102 on Wednesday afternoon, and stayed home the rest of the week. Son got the worst of it really-a high temp even on Motrin, and extreme fatigue. BabyA pretty much had the one day of a fever, and that was it. Both were more than a bit stir crazy by the weekend. The timing couldn't have been a whole lot worse. I was trying to get our department moved, and Husband was short a desk clerk, so he had to pick up desk shifts all week. I was able to be here all day Monday to pack up my office, and parts of Tuesday and Friday. I'm still a bit in boxes, as is the file room, but we'll get there. Eventually. I hope.
Survived SIL's shower on Saturday. Enough said.
We've also found another house that we are interested in-and Husband actually seems sort of vested in it. Based on the price, and what we could gather from the condition (from peering in at night with the car lights, and no, no one lives there), there has to be some sort of backstory. I'm going to be emailing the agent to get a little more info. If it does end up being something that we would be interested in, it may take a while to move based on the time of year, so we may have more time to think about it. Apparently I've been approaching this all wrong with him. It's yet another step in the right direction.
Since I'm being completely random, I was talking to my manager a couple of days ago, and mentioned how I was so blessed tired, and just starving (missed lunch, again). He asked if I was going to spring a maternity leave request on him. I'm telling you, I can't get away from it! I told him that it would cost me a lot of money and time in order to ask for another one; short answer, no.
Lots of other stuff, but probably not interesting enough to waste the key strokes on. Time to unpack another box.....
We moved the entire department (including a file room of 2000+ paper files) last week, and of course, both of the kids were sick. Son crashed after trick or treating, and stayed down until Wednesday. BabyA was summarily dismissed from daycare with a temp of 102 on Wednesday afternoon, and stayed home the rest of the week. Son got the worst of it really-a high temp even on Motrin, and extreme fatigue. BabyA pretty much had the one day of a fever, and that was it. Both were more than a bit stir crazy by the weekend. The timing couldn't have been a whole lot worse. I was trying to get our department moved, and Husband was short a desk clerk, so he had to pick up desk shifts all week. I was able to be here all day Monday to pack up my office, and parts of Tuesday and Friday. I'm still a bit in boxes, as is the file room, but we'll get there. Eventually. I hope.
Survived SIL's shower on Saturday. Enough said.
We've also found another house that we are interested in-and Husband actually seems sort of vested in it. Based on the price, and what we could gather from the condition (from peering in at night with the car lights, and no, no one lives there), there has to be some sort of backstory. I'm going to be emailing the agent to get a little more info. If it does end up being something that we would be interested in, it may take a while to move based on the time of year, so we may have more time to think about it. Apparently I've been approaching this all wrong with him. It's yet another step in the right direction.
Since I'm being completely random, I was talking to my manager a couple of days ago, and mentioned how I was so blessed tired, and just starving (missed lunch, again). He asked if I was going to spring a maternity leave request on him. I'm telling you, I can't get away from it! I told him that it would cost me a lot of money and time in order to ask for another one; short answer, no.
Lots of other stuff, but probably not interesting enough to waste the key strokes on. Time to unpack another box.....
Monday, October 26, 2009
Memories
It's funny what can be a trigger for memories. A scent, a date on the calendar, the clouds on a certain day.
For example, since I l ive in the great white north, none of the exterior doors to my building at work open right into the building, you have to go through another set. The gate that I tend to use is right next to the outdoor "smoke shack." I have to pause to badge in, and the smell of stale smoke and the outside always takes me back to the bowling alley in my little home town. My dad has bowled league pretty much since my conception. On the rare occasion that my mom wasn't home on league nights, I would get to go with, and that smell just takes me there. I can actually see it in great detail, one that honestly hasn't changed based on the last time that I was in there.
Then, there is the calendar. Both Son and BabyA were conceived in December, which means that I was usually cycling around this time of year. Trying to get downtown to my clinic during rush hour in the fall rain or early winter sleet, thanking God that I could get by with my bigger sweaters because I was all puffy from the progesterone and the injectables. It just seems strange, even two years later, to not be doing that again. There is a rhythm of sorts to infertility treatments. At least for me; if I couldn't have the predictability of a regular cycle on my own, it was of ultrasound, bloodwork, trips to the pharmacy.
So, alas, my thoughts turn to wanting to find that rhythm again. I had actually come to some sort of point where I was almost OK with being done. It still feels wrong, in a way that I can't articulate, to go through what we did, invest so much money, time, and emotion, and then just close and weld the door shut. Husband can't understand it; he thinks I'm nuts. Maybe since it was never really his body failing; barely sub-normal motility aside, he never had the feeling of failure and utter contempt for his body. The only way that I was able to at least push the majority of that aside was having kids, nursing them, in essence growing them.
I've been struggling a bit more with this since the announcement that my brother and his wife are expecting in January. I felt all of those weird, knee jerk reactions steeped in years of infertility, in addition to a degree of self-loathing that I was feeling that way STILL, even after two kids. Would this give me a baby fix that I seem to need so much, or will it hammer home that I'm not done? I'm old, I'm a repeat gestational diabetic, I could end up paying for daycare for three (!), and I'm a bedroom short. Oh, and the other half of the required genetic material, since he's not supportive of the idea.
To some degree, it almost feels like infertility all over again-wanting something that is so far out of reach, but feeling that it would be the last piece in the puzzle. It's not like my kids aren't good enough, or don't fulfill that part of me. That's not it at all. I just feel as though we aren't complete yet. Would I be crushed it we ended up staying at two? No. Not in the least. The two of them are more than I could have ever anticipated. I'm still amazed some days when I have to look back in the car and settle a fight between two talking, sentient beings.
That being said, am I tempting fate to expect another good outcome? The two previous outcomes were more than I could have asked for. What if, by wanting more, and not appearing to appreciate what I have, will I get more than I can handle? What if we don't dodge the multiple bullet? What if something goes wrong? I understand fertiles have the same issues, but because it was so hard getting here, I wonder if the stakes aren't a bit higher, at least in my own mind.
My fear is that time will just pass us by, and by making no affirmative decision we really make a decision with no thought, no discussion. Big talks like this don't usually go too well at my house. Despite my best efforts, I get all emotional, which tends to hold less weight with Husband than something that I can lay out in the type of ABC logic that he seems to require. I get pissed off that he doesn't "get it", and that if he really knew me at all he would and he's so mean....you get the idea. The whole issue that I can't really point to one particular factor doesn't help my cause. I read an article not too long ago that pretty much said that if you are wanting another baby to fill a personal void-companionship, a need for attention, etc.-you are doing it for the wrong reasons. I don't think that I fall into that camp but since I'm the type that can analyze things to death, it keeps pecking at me.
So. It's fall. I'm thinking about babies. And unable to make any decision at all.
For example, since I l ive in the great white north, none of the exterior doors to my building at work open right into the building, you have to go through another set. The gate that I tend to use is right next to the outdoor "smoke shack." I have to pause to badge in, and the smell of stale smoke and the outside always takes me back to the bowling alley in my little home town. My dad has bowled league pretty much since my conception. On the rare occasion that my mom wasn't home on league nights, I would get to go with, and that smell just takes me there. I can actually see it in great detail, one that honestly hasn't changed based on the last time that I was in there.
Then, there is the calendar. Both Son and BabyA were conceived in December, which means that I was usually cycling around this time of year. Trying to get downtown to my clinic during rush hour in the fall rain or early winter sleet, thanking God that I could get by with my bigger sweaters because I was all puffy from the progesterone and the injectables. It just seems strange, even two years later, to not be doing that again. There is a rhythm of sorts to infertility treatments. At least for me; if I couldn't have the predictability of a regular cycle on my own, it was of ultrasound, bloodwork, trips to the pharmacy.
So, alas, my thoughts turn to wanting to find that rhythm again. I had actually come to some sort of point where I was almost OK with being done. It still feels wrong, in a way that I can't articulate, to go through what we did, invest so much money, time, and emotion, and then just close and weld the door shut. Husband can't understand it; he thinks I'm nuts. Maybe since it was never really his body failing; barely sub-normal motility aside, he never had the feeling of failure and utter contempt for his body. The only way that I was able to at least push the majority of that aside was having kids, nursing them, in essence growing them.
I've been struggling a bit more with this since the announcement that my brother and his wife are expecting in January. I felt all of those weird, knee jerk reactions steeped in years of infertility, in addition to a degree of self-loathing that I was feeling that way STILL, even after two kids. Would this give me a baby fix that I seem to need so much, or will it hammer home that I'm not done? I'm old, I'm a repeat gestational diabetic, I could end up paying for daycare for three (!), and I'm a bedroom short. Oh, and the other half of the required genetic material, since he's not supportive of the idea.
To some degree, it almost feels like infertility all over again-wanting something that is so far out of reach, but feeling that it would be the last piece in the puzzle. It's not like my kids aren't good enough, or don't fulfill that part of me. That's not it at all. I just feel as though we aren't complete yet. Would I be crushed it we ended up staying at two? No. Not in the least. The two of them are more than I could have ever anticipated. I'm still amazed some days when I have to look back in the car and settle a fight between two talking, sentient beings.
That being said, am I tempting fate to expect another good outcome? The two previous outcomes were more than I could have asked for. What if, by wanting more, and not appearing to appreciate what I have, will I get more than I can handle? What if we don't dodge the multiple bullet? What if something goes wrong? I understand fertiles have the same issues, but because it was so hard getting here, I wonder if the stakes aren't a bit higher, at least in my own mind.
My fear is that time will just pass us by, and by making no affirmative decision we really make a decision with no thought, no discussion. Big talks like this don't usually go too well at my house. Despite my best efforts, I get all emotional, which tends to hold less weight with Husband than something that I can lay out in the type of ABC logic that he seems to require. I get pissed off that he doesn't "get it", and that if he really knew me at all he would and he's so mean....you get the idea. The whole issue that I can't really point to one particular factor doesn't help my cause. I read an article not too long ago that pretty much said that if you are wanting another baby to fill a personal void-companionship, a need for attention, etc.-you are doing it for the wrong reasons. I don't think that I fall into that camp but since I'm the type that can analyze things to death, it keeps pecking at me.
So. It's fall. I'm thinking about babies. And unable to make any decision at all.
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
If the 'dome is arockin'....
Two for two...sent the Packers back to Wisconsin and Detroit to clean out their lockers...
GO TWINS!!!!!!
My attorney AND paralegal bailed on me early this afternoon to go and scalp tickets-I sure hope that they were able to get in. Since grumpy (aka Husband) doesn't like sports, and I couldn't find the game on TV, I was stuck checking Yahoo for the final score. Doesn't matter-playoffs are a good time around here, even if the Yanks aren't classy enough to delay the start of their series...
GO TWINS!!!!!!
My attorney AND paralegal bailed on me early this afternoon to go and scalp tickets-I sure hope that they were able to get in. Since grumpy (aka Husband) doesn't like sports, and I couldn't find the game on TV, I was stuck checking Yahoo for the final score. Doesn't matter-playoffs are a good time around here, even if the Yanks aren't classy enough to delay the start of their series...
Jumble
The past week or so has left me feeling off balance, like I'm floating above it all, or more like getting blown away by the wind, while I try to grab onto whatever solid thing I can, but getting ripped away each time.
Things at home are still touch and go some days. He's tired and cranky, so am I. I can't talk to him about all of the stuff that is happening at work, since he doesn't understand (or have enough patience to learn it so he can understand) what I do, and that some of the angst and conflict is based around legal ideology and theory in a small specialized field. It's not enough for him to just try to understand and see that I'm a bit shaky in the confidence area right now, that I just need some faith in me, since I'm having a hard time finding it myself right now.
I had a colleague make it very clear to me last week that he thinks that I'm a subpar attorney, and he called me out on it in front of the entire department. This was someone that I had trusted, someone that I had let me guard down to. The worst feeling is to be at the point of tears, being the only woman in the room, being pissed off at the person and pissed off at yourself because you can't make the tears disappear, and knowing that you have to suck it up for two more days. To say that the relationship is damaged would be accurate. He will never acknowledge that he was out of line for doing it, and will continue to believe that he was righteous. I'm still mad about it, and still shaken. I talked to another friend/mentor type, and he understood, since he knows us both, and was even my manager for a brief while. Some of the points made had merit-I'm not as strong as I should be in some areas, but I'm pretty certain that I'm not approaching malpractice. I haven't been submarined like this since high school-still don't like it too much.
There was a healthy, six year old boy that died last week from H1N1. Scares the living bejesus out of me. He looked a bit like Son. I'm trying not to feed into the panic, the worries, but I'm worried about my kids. Worried that someone will send a sick kid to daycare, that sick kid will end up being OK, but mine won't. The very possibility of that is unfathomable to me. I'm doing what I can-they are going to get both shots when they become available (BabyA had the nasal flu vaccination last week). Hands are being washed religiously. Vitamins and sleep are in pretty good supply. I don't normally succumb to this sort of stuff, but I'm more than a little bit scared.
The stupid thing is, I'm worried that the law of probabilities is going to catch up with me. Things have been going too well lately-the shoe has got to drop at some point. Despite my bitching here, things have been going pretty well. Up until last week, I was really having fun at work. I was being challenged, building a team that I think can be here for the long haul, learning. The kids have been so much fun lately-BabyA is speaking in complex sentences (albeit not always intelligible, but she's getting there), Son has had another leap in development. I got sucked into believing that this is the way things are supposed to be.
The first thing that dissuaded me of that fallacy was the ambush at work, what's next? Maybe it's self-fulfilling, but this has happened to me more than once, and I'm trying so hard not to be blindsided, to have the emotions knocked out of me, that I've got my guard up too high.
I should really go and try to be productive-my jug of Diet Pepsi is the only fortification that I have right now-charge!
Things at home are still touch and go some days. He's tired and cranky, so am I. I can't talk to him about all of the stuff that is happening at work, since he doesn't understand (or have enough patience to learn it so he can understand) what I do, and that some of the angst and conflict is based around legal ideology and theory in a small specialized field. It's not enough for him to just try to understand and see that I'm a bit shaky in the confidence area right now, that I just need some faith in me, since I'm having a hard time finding it myself right now.
I had a colleague make it very clear to me last week that he thinks that I'm a subpar attorney, and he called me out on it in front of the entire department. This was someone that I had trusted, someone that I had let me guard down to. The worst feeling is to be at the point of tears, being the only woman in the room, being pissed off at the person and pissed off at yourself because you can't make the tears disappear, and knowing that you have to suck it up for two more days. To say that the relationship is damaged would be accurate. He will never acknowledge that he was out of line for doing it, and will continue to believe that he was righteous. I'm still mad about it, and still shaken. I talked to another friend/mentor type, and he understood, since he knows us both, and was even my manager for a brief while. Some of the points made had merit-I'm not as strong as I should be in some areas, but I'm pretty certain that I'm not approaching malpractice. I haven't been submarined like this since high school-still don't like it too much.
There was a healthy, six year old boy that died last week from H1N1. Scares the living bejesus out of me. He looked a bit like Son. I'm trying not to feed into the panic, the worries, but I'm worried about my kids. Worried that someone will send a sick kid to daycare, that sick kid will end up being OK, but mine won't. The very possibility of that is unfathomable to me. I'm doing what I can-they are going to get both shots when they become available (BabyA had the nasal flu vaccination last week). Hands are being washed religiously. Vitamins and sleep are in pretty good supply. I don't normally succumb to this sort of stuff, but I'm more than a little bit scared.
The stupid thing is, I'm worried that the law of probabilities is going to catch up with me. Things have been going too well lately-the shoe has got to drop at some point. Despite my bitching here, things have been going pretty well. Up until last week, I was really having fun at work. I was being challenged, building a team that I think can be here for the long haul, learning. The kids have been so much fun lately-BabyA is speaking in complex sentences (albeit not always intelligible, but she's getting there), Son has had another leap in development. I got sucked into believing that this is the way things are supposed to be.
The first thing that dissuaded me of that fallacy was the ambush at work, what's next? Maybe it's self-fulfilling, but this has happened to me more than once, and I'm trying so hard not to be blindsided, to have the emotions knocked out of me, that I've got my guard up too high.
I should really go and try to be productive-my jug of Diet Pepsi is the only fortification that I have right now-charge!
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Another weekend down-it's Sunday night and far too late, but this is the first time that I've stopped and just sat. Seriously. I busted it to get laundry done so we could make it (with clean clothes) to a late afternoon wedding on Saturday. We were 15 minutes late, despite a bunch of good efforts. We took the kids, since the groom is their godfather. I hear that Husband had a good time-I spent it all chasing BabyA. No easy task in spike heels at a semi-outdoor venue. Son was sooo good-I was so proud of him. It was a small wedding-50 guests, tops-and the bride and groom have six kids between them, so no one batted an eye when BabyA was being a two year old. Good thing for her that she's so darn cute.
Husband woke up pissy this morning, yelled at me for taking his least favorite dog in the Caddie (my Jeep was still at work since Husband picked me up on Friday), and was a general asshole for most if not all of the day. I don't think that we said more than a few sentences to each other. I don't know what his problem was. I told him that I was going on a walk-the kids weren't up yet, and the weather was really nice, and the dog and I could use some outside time. Apparently, Husband thought that I was just going to go up and down our street. Let's see, I've been spending at least half an hour almost every day all week for a while now. Why would I go up and down the street for fifteen minutes? He was also kind enough to inform me that the Caddie was HIS car, and how dare I...blah blah blah.
Hmmmm-seems like I made the majority of the car payments on that thing. Oh, and you have the new, nice car that I'm not ALLOWED to drive. Two words for you: Fuck and You.
He went on and on about the woman that was the date of one of the men that was at our table at the wedding. Yes, she was beautiful. Yes, she seemed like a genuinely nice person. I stuffed myself into three inch spikes, spent $300 on the new outfit, and he didn't say a fucking word. I had felt pretty good in the dressing room. Right now I just want to tear it to shreds.
He went to bed without me. Turned off the light and the TV. He never thinks to leave out PJs or anything for me, so I'll get to search around in the dark or improvise. I don't even want to go to bed, don't even want to share the same space, since it feels like he thinks that I'm not doing anything but taking it up. I'm so tired of feeling stupid and not good enough and tip toeing around my own house.
I know that we need to talk about it, maybe actually be together. Last night, I found myself thinking over and over that I wished that we could just be grown-ups and enjoy the night, not with Husband working the room and me chasing down two kids and ending up with the kids meal smeared on my sweater.
I'm frustrated, I'm tired, and desperately trying to make sure that I steel myself against having a huge letdown when he blows my birthday this week. I should be better at this than I am. I don't have the time to dig in either, which adds this almost frantic edge to my anxiety. I'm interviewing seven people for the position that I'm hiring for. My boss and the rest of the department is in all week. Early, early mornings, and later nights. I should be reading resumes and going to bed. Blech.
Husband woke up pissy this morning, yelled at me for taking his least favorite dog in the Caddie (my Jeep was still at work since Husband picked me up on Friday), and was a general asshole for most if not all of the day. I don't think that we said more than a few sentences to each other. I don't know what his problem was. I told him that I was going on a walk-the kids weren't up yet, and the weather was really nice, and the dog and I could use some outside time. Apparently, Husband thought that I was just going to go up and down our street. Let's see, I've been spending at least half an hour almost every day all week for a while now. Why would I go up and down the street for fifteen minutes? He was also kind enough to inform me that the Caddie was HIS car, and how dare I...blah blah blah.
Hmmmm-seems like I made the majority of the car payments on that thing. Oh, and you have the new, nice car that I'm not ALLOWED to drive. Two words for you: Fuck and You.
He went on and on about the woman that was the date of one of the men that was at our table at the wedding. Yes, she was beautiful. Yes, she seemed like a genuinely nice person. I stuffed myself into three inch spikes, spent $300 on the new outfit, and he didn't say a fucking word. I had felt pretty good in the dressing room. Right now I just want to tear it to shreds.
He went to bed without me. Turned off the light and the TV. He never thinks to leave out PJs or anything for me, so I'll get to search around in the dark or improvise. I don't even want to go to bed, don't even want to share the same space, since it feels like he thinks that I'm not doing anything but taking it up. I'm so tired of feeling stupid and not good enough and tip toeing around my own house.
I know that we need to talk about it, maybe actually be together. Last night, I found myself thinking over and over that I wished that we could just be grown-ups and enjoy the night, not with Husband working the room and me chasing down two kids and ending up with the kids meal smeared on my sweater.
I'm frustrated, I'm tired, and desperately trying to make sure that I steel myself against having a huge letdown when he blows my birthday this week. I should be better at this than I am. I don't have the time to dig in either, which adds this almost frantic edge to my anxiety. I'm interviewing seven people for the position that I'm hiring for. My boss and the rest of the department is in all week. Early, early mornings, and later nights. I should be reading resumes and going to bed. Blech.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
And that's all I have to say about that.....
OK, enough already about my mornings. Today wasn't a good one, but I know that we'll get back on track tomorrow. Son admitted that he likes getting to school early, and that maybe, just maybe, it would help if he would just get dressed when told to life would be easier. Hmmmm....maybe this is all sinking in.
Life in general has been moving along at a predictable, albeit hectic, pace. Work has calmed down a bit-the group that had been making life very interesting for almost a year was officially disbanded in mid-July. There is another project of a much smaller scope coming up, and I'm looking forward to it. For some reason, crazy seems to make me feel needed around here. I really need to talk to someone about that....
Other than the kids getting a year older this month (ack! sob!), things at home have settled into something resembling a schedule. I'm trying to be more active with the kids, trying to be more engaged. I hate having to spend Saturday mornings sorting laundry and cleaning cat boxes and unloading the dishwasher and taking out the dogs while they sit and watch all of the recorded kid shows from the past week, but if I don't, we are sunk. It's an ongoing battle, one that I'm hoping I can find a strategy for. As I've mentioned before, Husband usually manages to disappear during this time. I honestly can't tell you what he did last week-really, I can't. But, if you ask him, I don't do enough at home. I try not to get snippy about it, but I can't help but let it boil over once in a while. He just looks at me like I've lost my mind. I'm sorry, but mowing the lawn DOES NOT COUNT. He just sits and watches TV, and while Son will curl up with him, I really wish that he would find a way to actually DO something with him. It's an ongoing point of contention, and one that is growing, at least in my mind.
Honestly, there are days where I just don't like Husband that much. I never thought that I would be in this place, since what had pulled us together was a shared background, and he really was a good listener and made me feel valued. That really isn't there anymore, and there are days where I'm actually happy that he isn't there-it's just easier than having to accommodate all of his dislikes and triggers. We have a two year old that doesn't have a volume control. She is loud and just wants to be heard. She's TWO. He doesn't get that, and yells at her. I'm stuck between wanting to cry, wanting to yell at him for being such an ass and prima donna, and being full of resentment that he doesn't get that I don't get any downtime either. And that makes me even crabbier than before. I don't think that we're at the point of no return, but it feels like we are looking down the slippery slope. The sad thing is, I don't think that he sees it. I'm just always there, always taking care of things, so he doesn't have to worry. I found myself thinking about how nice it would be to have my clothes folded and put in a place where all I have to do is put them away. Where someone else makes sure that I have the basics taken care of. To just be taken care of. I just don't foresee it ever happening.
I'm tired, but at least I have my kids. I know that they shouldn't be providing all of my emotional validation, but they are. I'm trying not to rely on them for that, but I have to say that it's nice to get a hug from them and know that there are no further aspirations or expectations. They do it because they love me, they need me. I just can't seem to get that anywhere else lately, and I'm feeling a bit depleted. The moronic thing? I still have this ember glowing inside about wanting to have a third. I've gone over all of the reasons why this is nuts, but it's still there. Sigh.
One of these days I'll have my act together, but I'm not counting on it.
Life in general has been moving along at a predictable, albeit hectic, pace. Work has calmed down a bit-the group that had been making life very interesting for almost a year was officially disbanded in mid-July. There is another project of a much smaller scope coming up, and I'm looking forward to it. For some reason, crazy seems to make me feel needed around here. I really need to talk to someone about that....
Other than the kids getting a year older this month (ack! sob!), things at home have settled into something resembling a schedule. I'm trying to be more active with the kids, trying to be more engaged. I hate having to spend Saturday mornings sorting laundry and cleaning cat boxes and unloading the dishwasher and taking out the dogs while they sit and watch all of the recorded kid shows from the past week, but if I don't, we are sunk. It's an ongoing battle, one that I'm hoping I can find a strategy for. As I've mentioned before, Husband usually manages to disappear during this time. I honestly can't tell you what he did last week-really, I can't. But, if you ask him, I don't do enough at home. I try not to get snippy about it, but I can't help but let it boil over once in a while. He just looks at me like I've lost my mind. I'm sorry, but mowing the lawn DOES NOT COUNT. He just sits and watches TV, and while Son will curl up with him, I really wish that he would find a way to actually DO something with him. It's an ongoing point of contention, and one that is growing, at least in my mind.
Honestly, there are days where I just don't like Husband that much. I never thought that I would be in this place, since what had pulled us together was a shared background, and he really was a good listener and made me feel valued. That really isn't there anymore, and there are days where I'm actually happy that he isn't there-it's just easier than having to accommodate all of his dislikes and triggers. We have a two year old that doesn't have a volume control. She is loud and just wants to be heard. She's TWO. He doesn't get that, and yells at her. I'm stuck between wanting to cry, wanting to yell at him for being such an ass and prima donna, and being full of resentment that he doesn't get that I don't get any downtime either. And that makes me even crabbier than before. I don't think that we're at the point of no return, but it feels like we are looking down the slippery slope. The sad thing is, I don't think that he sees it. I'm just always there, always taking care of things, so he doesn't have to worry. I found myself thinking about how nice it would be to have my clothes folded and put in a place where all I have to do is put them away. Where someone else makes sure that I have the basics taken care of. To just be taken care of. I just don't foresee it ever happening.
I'm tired, but at least I have my kids. I know that they shouldn't be providing all of my emotional validation, but they are. I'm trying not to rely on them for that, but I have to say that it's nice to get a hug from them and know that there are no further aspirations or expectations. They do it because they love me, they need me. I just can't seem to get that anywhere else lately, and I'm feeling a bit depleted. The moronic thing? I still have this ember glowing inside about wanting to have a third. I've gone over all of the reasons why this is nuts, but it's still there. Sigh.
One of these days I'll have my act together, but I'm not counting on it.
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Habit Pt. II
I know that little things make me happy-but here we are at week two, and we were....drumroll.....EARLY this morning! AND I even had to get gas.
Hooray for me! Son actually hasn't been fighting me getting out the door, and BabyA doesn't care as long as I have a sippy with some milk for her. It's liberating to actually get there and not be the one screaming in at the last minute, or having to watch Son trying to sneak into group time. They both seem to be more engaged. I also get to work at a decent time.
So far so good.
Hooray for me! Son actually hasn't been fighting me getting out the door, and BabyA doesn't care as long as I have a sippy with some milk for her. It's liberating to actually get there and not be the one screaming in at the last minute, or having to watch Son trying to sneak into group time. They both seem to be more engaged. I also get to work at a decent time.
So far so good.
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