The Mom Chronicles

Who knew?

2012-01-09T11:55:00.002-06:00

I felt like such a grown up this weekend. It's probably strange to be saying that since, you know, I'm 40 and all, but the majority of the time I still don't feel like I have this adult thing figured out too well. I mean, I have all of the attributes, right? Married? Check. Kids? Check. Advanced Degree? Check. Job? Check.

There are just some things that I haven't been able to turn the corner on, and having had two smallish kids for at least the last six years, there's always been a reason not to get it together. Too tired to consistently get the dishes done. Too busy with the kids to actually have a house that I'd let someone in. Too much kid STUFF to even think about attacking the mound.

This weekend wasn't earth shattering in that I made a ton of progress, not really if I were honest about it. But, I did manage to get all the laundry in the washer and subsequently into the dryer (where the last load is currently resting). I clean off the dining room table down to the point where we can actually eat at it and not have to look over a mound of paper/bills/magazines/homework to see each other. I'm one load of dishes/handwash away from having nothing in the sink. Did a small grocery run to fill in the gaps for the rest of week with lunches. Got almost all of my FSA submissions gathered and submitted. Maybe this speaks to the horrible depths to which we have descended, but I view it more as a sign that I'm actually catching up and not completely under water. Yep, that's what I'm going to do.

Yes, I know that it's only Monday, but I'd rather bounce along today than mope about what hasn't happened. YAY me!!

The Dental Gods shine upon us

2012-01-06T12:48:00.001-06:00

For the first time, in what seems like ever, Son had a good, no, make that fantastic, dental checkup. No broken molars, no abscesses, no trips to the U of MN at 10 PM due to a high fever. Just no cavities, three wiggly, soon to be departed baby teeth (to join the one front tooth that lost last week), and an appointment to seal his six year molars. Bliss, I tell you.

We go back in for LMT next week. I know that I will be brought down to earth with a bit more than a simple thud. We know that she has a cavity, one that the previous dentist didn't think too much of. The same guy that screwed up my mouth and was such a tentative guy that I wanted to slug him. Fortunately, he was too (insert adverb) to continue to work on Son and LMT after Son's howling first appointment (you know, the one where Son was sent home from school with pain in his tooth, and Husband let them work on him WITHOUT any Novocaine because they thought that would hurt Son more and just managed to traumatize him) and gave us a referral to a specialized kids dentist, whom I sincerely love. Howling kid? No problem. Little freaked out by the sucky thing? Let's turn it into a game. After wimpy dentist gave us the referral, the hygienist took me aside and told me that of the two, there was really only one place to go. I'm grateful for her input, because I really like this practice.

Me, on the other hand, I need to find someone very soon. I'm the worst example to my kids; I was never afraid as a kid, but it seems that my pain tolerance has actually decreased as I've gotten older. Maybe it's the whole unexpected nature of the pain when you're getting you mouth worked on. For example, contractions, other medical procedures are actually pretty predictable. The contraction will do this for so long. It will be over. The needle for the blood draw is coming now. It will hurt here, but no surprises. When someone is poking around in your mouth, and you're stuck in a completely uncomfortable position, blinding light in your eyes, and they have an oops slip-it catches you off guard, and there is no guarantee that it won't happen again. Oh, and the last "fix" I had made my pain worse, and has stayed that way for over a year.

Yes, I'm whiny.

Well, for today I'll be happy with Son's clean bill of health and ignore the certainty of orthodontic bills that the dentist referenced as we were talking about the departure of the remainder of his baby teeth. Please let FSAs be around when we get there.....

Let's see if we can make this work

2012-01-05T12:08:00.002-06:00

Again, another year has passed without me coming back here. I'm back at that place where I feel like I need it. Facebook just isn't the same-seems too hollow for some reason. Don't get me wrong, I've actually reconnected with some people that I have missed-and honestly can call them friends. Who knew?

However, I really needed to get back here again. I didn't mean to say goodbye (not that anyone is listening anymore), just had to re-focus. Hitting 40 is really beginning to sink in, the life change that it really is. I thought that after having two kids, even as an "infertile," I would really leave that in my rear view mirror, and never have to go back to that place. I find now that I can see the end of my reproductive days in the not-so-far distance, I'm having to confront all of that all over again. I had wanted a third child, and my husband shot it down with nary a look back. Which makes me feel all the more alone and even a bit crazy.

Maybe this just ends up being an online journal that is mine only-and that's probably OK. I need a place to talk this, as well as other, things out. I don't have many sounding boards, so at least I can get these things out, and maybe get rid of this completely unnerving, unsettled feeling. Its been chasing me for a while now, and I really would like it to break off pursuit.

Well hello Mr. Fancypants!

2011-03-29T17:19:00.003-06:00

I'm sure that this place is a wasteland now-I can't believe that it's almost been a year since I last posted. I goof around over at Facebook, but I've come to the realization that I miss actually POSTING something of substance as opposed to random status updates. I AM a lawyer after all-all concise output be damned! In looking at my last couple of posts, I suppose I could give some sort of short update...

Son did not go to kindergarten next year. Husband didn't dig in as deep as I thought, and in the end I think that he saw that this wasn't going to be a negative for Son. Also, he may have figured out that I was serious. I got some validation from his preschool teacher that both she and the other teachers that interact with him think that it was the right decision. He's reading pretty well right now, and is doing some double digit adding and subtraction. They are also mixing in some of the really basic concepts of multiplication.

We have also recently decided to keep him in the Montessori environment and found a school that goes from essentially pre-school (age 3) through 8th grade. Son hung out in one of the classrooms while we got the tour, and when we left he asked when he could go back. The staff is all Montessori certified, and very stable. They have several teachers that have been there over 10 years, some approaching twenty, and the lowest one on the totem pole has been there for five. Stability stability. It's also five minutes from my work and will cut off almost 40 minutes off of our round trip commute each day. We will have to be in the heart of rush hour on some of the busier highways, but we can use the express lane due to the more than one occupant (hooray, and I don't have to pay for a MNPass either!). All in all, it seems like a really good decision for us all the way around. Now let's just hope that they both can get in.

Other than that, things really haven't changed a ton. Still at my job, which remains a challenge. In some strangely masochistic way, I really do enjoy it. We're still understaffed, but I did get some nice recognition for what I have been doing via a promotion and nice raise (even more boggling in light of how the economy hit our industry). It really does make a huge difference.

I've started doing a group weightlifting class with one of my secretaries that I really have been enjoying. It's through our fitness center at work, and I don't have to pay a dime! I'm down almost 10 lbs from my worst point last summer, and while I have a LOOOONNNNNGGGGG way to go, at least I know that I can leg press almost 50 lbs more than the boys in the class! I'm also working on trying to run a 5K at the end of June. I need to focus more on the cardio work (which is also required to be done on our own as part of the group class) to get there, but I'm up to around two miles per session, so with almost 12 weeks to go, I should be able to at least survive and make a decent showing. I just want to finish and say that I ran most of it. I've finally come to the conclusion that beating myself up doesn't work, that one brownie is not cause to throw everything out the window and head to McDonald's, and that doing this with someone that I am accountable to is a good thing.

That's probably all that is fit to print at this point. I've missed this place....

2010-05-09T23:00:00.006-06:00

Reason No. 2.395.1 why I will be completely gray in the couple of years.

LMT has decided that the diving board at swimming lessons is the greatest thing in the world. Granted, she calls it a "teeter totter," but she certainly isn't afraid of it. The teacher that we have this session really isn't very good-she doesn't move around the kids very well, and there isn't any real direction. However, since we were 0nly about half the class, she asked if anyone wanted to try to go off of the diving board. The BIG diving board. The one that is in 11 feet of water diving board.

I'm not overly afraid of depths, and fairly confident in my swimming. I still felt a little leery about the whole thing, but since LMT vigorously agreed to go on this little adventure, so I wanted to encourage her. I dutifully went along.

The teacher walked her out onto the end of the board, and then dropped her to me. No mean feat to catch a 30ish pound child while treading water. Even worse when the catcher gets water up her nose. I thought that this was a one time deal-I mean, what child would want to be dangled over water like that?

Mine. Repeatedly.

She did it the first time, and I caught her (she did have a noodle tied around her quite securely, and I had one as well), and swam her over to the side back to the teacher. LMT then demanded that we do it again. The teacher asked me if I was up to it, and I went along with it. She did it again, but this time with even more of a drop. Again, nothing but squeals from LMT, and more water up my nose.

Fortunately for me, the class was over, or otherwise LMT would have been up for a third time. She was so excited and proud of herself. I was proud of her too. Her brother is anything but a risk-taker. It can be hard not to compare them; really hard. But for that moment, just for once, it was all about LMT.

I worry about her dare devil tendencies-the absolute lack of fear. I worry about how she will have to get really hurt before she figures out her limits. I'm thinking about gymnastics to try to channel some of that fearlessness, and at least give her the tools to be safe about it. I'm proud of her, but still have this irrational fear of losing her. I don't want to cloud these types of moments with that fear.

Regardless, it was one of those days that made me so happy that she was mine, that I was able to be there for her, to see her in her glory.

I hope that I can remember that look of sheer joy on her face. The blond curls dripping, the hot pink swimshirt, her pink noodle wrapped around her, and her telling Mama all about it. Please, don't let me forget.

LMTisms

2010-04-14T10:37:00.004-06:00

LMT is an interesting little thing. Stubborn, sweet, smarter than she should be, a demon, a good sister, you get it. Some of her recent gems:

an umbrella is now called "a rainbow"
when she's using the potty, she'll look up and tell me that "all the pee is gone!"
she can sing a mean version of zip-pid-dee-do-dah
she has a rather eclectic fashion sense; florals go quite well with stripes in a totally different tonal and color family. I fear I may be raising a "fancy Nancy" of my own!

There are moments when she just glows. My new niece was baptized a couple of weeks ago, and I was the godmother. We were at the service, and LMT was in a bright yellow sweater with daisy buttons, her hair was in all of it's blond curly glory, and she was sitting on my dad's lap. She was happy, and just being so good (not a peep most of the time). She was such a beautiful little thing, and with that munchkinesque voice of hers, she wins me over every time.

She can be a temperamental little thing; hell hath no fury like a two year old who has heard the word "no." The dramatics are Oscar worthy. At least for me though, hearing the "I love you Mommy" while holding my face in her hands are worth it all. I plan on enjoying it as long as I can.

Breathe.Repeat.

2010-04-12T16:50:00.003-06:00

Wow, it has been nothing but non-stop moving since oh, jeez, last Tuesday?

Breathe. Repeat.

For once, I got most of all of the fun weekend type stuff (laundry, find the bottom of the kitchen sink, etc.) done. Now, let's be clear-I still have two baskets of laundry that need to be folded and deposited where they need to be. But! But! I am proud to note that there is nothing sitting in the dryer. I even managed to wash a couple of small cat beds, and the dogs' blankets (such as they are-stained towels from Husband's hotel, but they seem to like them) and get them back to the kennels.

I still feel like I've been run over by a truck. I had a bunch of things to do for work that didn't get done, and ran out of mulch for my tree ring hosta beds. But for the first time in a while, I didn't feel like a complete and utter failure, which is a plus.

I knew that this week would be a bear, and it has been, a whole day in. Back to back meetings, various fire drills, pulling me out of meetings, running from one end of the building to another (twice), being short an admin....you get the idea.

However, BabyA, who I can't remember if I have renamed her here as LMT (little miss thing), has seemed to turn the corner on the whole potty training thing. Now, granted, just by virtue of me typing this I will get home tonight to find multiple bags of "mistakes," but she had a fantastic weekend as far as that went. We moved her to a big girl bed (making her crib a daybed) and she has done amazingly well. She hates to get her Tinkerbell or Fancy Nancy undies yukky, so her stubbornness may actually work in our favor for a change. She's also taking to water in an almost fish like manner at her swimming lessons. As opposed to the ordeal that we went through with Son, she looks forward to each Saturday, and can't wait to get into the pool. Son treated it as an eight week long punishment and did his best cat impersonation each time that he got into the pool.

Speaking of the pool, I'm actually in the water with LMT. I've managed to suspend my usual strong aversion to appearing in public in anything resembling to a swimsuit, but in this case, having LMT as a very cute accessory seems to work. Yes, there is one mom who shows up in a bikini, and another that looks like she has probably run for, and may someday win, Mrs. Minnesota (but also seems to be a genuinely nice person), but it has been remarkably free of angst despite it all.

Work keeps ramping up with little to no breaks. I'm short an attorney right now, and have to start yet another round of recruiting (blech). I'm loving all the stuff that is coming across my desk and through my door, but hate the fact that I can't seem to, or ever possibly, get it all done. I like the fact that I seem to have won over at least parts of the engineering community, and that I'm getting involved on a higher business level, and that they seem to care about IP at this point. I'm worried that if I don't find a way to get it all done, I will lose all of that momentum and good will, and it will end up blowing up on me.

The part that I'm having trouble finding the balance is that I really need to see my kids. It's not necessarily coming from the place where I know that my kids need me, but more that I need them. They center me, and seem to give me fuel to keep going. One of my favorite things at night is sitting on the love seat in LMT's room and talking to her about her day, or talking about the story that we had just read. Or, if I get the chance, to sit in bed with Son and talk about his day. If I were a good little employee, I would then log in and work for another of couple of hours. I'm afraid if I keep up this type of pace, I will fall apart rather quickly. When I have done this before, I turn into that shrieking, crazy mother that sends children into therapy as adults. I hate that-it does nothing but make us all miserable. Husband is not the most positive person when it comes to handling the kids, and I don't want to pile on top of that. Son is so sensitive, and keeps so much of it inside, that I worry that I will end up with a four year old with an ulcer. Not because I was that kind of kid. Really.

I've rambled all over the place, and probably should have closed several paragraphs before now. Time to pay attention to my call...you know, what I get paid for.

Yes, I am alive

2010-04-06T12:33:00.003-06:00

Really. I'm here.

Lately I've been having a problem being able to justify the time to write. I'm actually engaged in this job to the point that I don't usually deviate beyond reading Dear Abby every morning. Oh, and an occasional game of Bejeweled.

We are currently in the battle over what to do with Son next year. He missed the cutoff for kindergarten by four lousy days. Four. Being the daughter of a kindergarten/first grade teacher, I am very firmly of the mind that Son would do better to wait for year. I was the older kid in my class (I'm an October birthday myself) and never found it to be an issue. Same thing for my brother, another October birthday. Husband is afraid that Son will feel bad being the oldest, etc. Research that I'm aware of shows that boys tend to be behind the emotional and social curve by about a year until they catch up in the tween years. Son is certainly academically able-but is a really sensitive kid that just needs some more time to mature.

If you can't already tell, Husband is dead set against this. I'm entrenched on the other side. Like Hoffa in the endzone. I've given on so many things that are important to me-the house, the number of kids, different dreams. This decision will affect the rest of Son's life, which I don't think is an understatement. In order for him to be a happy and rounded adult, he needs not only the knowledge and education, but also the social skills and emotional security to function as an adult. Would pushing him into Kindergarten next year be fatal? Probably not-but it will make it a much harder road than it needs to be.

I love this kid so much, and I hate to see him cry. I hate that I seemed to have passed on my perfectionist gene that makes life hard. I hate that he has a father that literally had a master Sargent as a father himself, and that he simply doesn't understand, and is worried more about what people will think, rather than the beautiful kid that we have in front of us.

If anyone has any experiences to share, I'm all ears. I plan on digging in as far as I have to. I'm going to be meeting with his Montessori teacher and the kindergarten teacher at the Montessori to see what we should do. If they can keep him engaged and learning for the next year, we have nothing to lose.

2009-12-08T22:19:00.003-06:00

OK, so I have eight minutes before my self-imposed bedtime. I had a crappy night of sleep last night, and face a horrid drive tomorrow morning. I love Minnesota, but the first real snow of the winter always sucks.

We had our second round of interviews for a position that we have had open since August. Patent geeks are a funny bunch-and trying to find one in the right combination of experience and technical background WITH a personality has been a challenge. This time, at least, we had a good class to interview, and unlike the last go-round, we had two clear favorites, and appear to have settled on one. Huzzah! Even though it is another body that we desparately need, it does pose some challenges for my world. Hopefully this will work out-but really, the crystal ball hasn't been our friend lately.

We get to talk about fun stuff like budgets tomorrow morning-good times. For a person that doesn't even balance her checkbook, asking me to manage a six digit budget is more than a bit daunting. It has to be done, but we as a collective group have never been asked to be as involved as we are now. A good career skill to have, but the very thought of having to sit and hammer out numbers makes me want to curl up into a ball. I won't know if the kids' daycare will be open until tomorrow morning, so if anything, I can dial in to the call and suffer in the comfort of my own sweats on my couch while Son and BabyA catch up on their Peep and Caillou viewing.

Since I'm just rambling at this point, the funny thing about today was that the candidates that we flew in to good old Minnesota were all from warm weather climates; Texas and California. The look of terror on their faces with the thought of having to drive in the snow and wind to the airport was enough to make me feel bad that we had done this. Ultimately, the position will be officed in CA, but since we were all going to be in MN for other meetings, it made sense. Sort of. Who knew that we would get pummelled with almost a foot of snow and temps projected to be below zero? At least whoever gets the job will be grateful it's not here!

Good night!

Worth a shot

2009-11-11T16:14:00.003-06:00

We went and looked at the house that I mentioned a couple of posts ago. When will I ever learn that if the deal seems too good, it probably is? The property itself is nice-if we were horse people, it would be intoxicating.

However, the house. Oy vey, the house:

The in-law suite is actually a separate two bedroom house-maybe around 800 sq ft. It needs a new roof, new flooring, the bathroom needs to be gutted, and it needs to have a drain system and possibly a sump pump installed.
The main house has a strange layout-great room sizes, but horrendous flow. There are also issues with drainage around the house; all of it goes into the basement, which is drain tiled, but the sump pump hasn't been working for quite some time. It needs new windows and exterior doors, has water damage from some roof issues, etc. I don't think that they have even scratched the surface of the potential mold issues.

As a whole, it has a lot of potential, but it was at the higher end of our price range, and we don't have the bandwidth to fully exploit it. We have friends in landscaping, construction, and roofing, but even if they cut us a deal, it would be too much. It was sort of a bummer, but it was one of the few times in recent memory that Husband and I actually had a civil, focused, forward-looking conversation about things that we would want in the future. What we liked and disliked. Son even added his two cents. It was really nice, even though we didn't end up moving forward with the house.

There's another one out there that will fit, and at a better time for us. I need to get my salary back, and get some of our other matters in order. For once, I'm almost optimistic about this. Who knew?

Does metformin make you delusional?

2009-11-10T10:47:00.004-06:00

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.......

the churn

2009-11-09T14:23:00.003-06:00

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.....

Memories

2009-10-26T13:01:00.004-06:00

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.

If the 'dome is arockin'....

2009-10-06T21:40:00.002-06:00

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...

Jumble

2009-10-06T09:52:00.003-06:00

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!

2009-09-27T22:20:00.004-06:00

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.

And that's all I have to say about that.....

2009-09-09T10:00:00.002-06:00

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.

Habit Pt. II

2009-09-08T13:25:00.002-06:00

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.

How long does it take to make a habit?

2009-09-02T15:25:00.004-06:00

I'm serious, how long does it take? We are now on day two of-are you sitting down?-of being early for preschool. Organized "class" started back up after the summer break on Tuesday. They kick things off at 8:30, which doesn't really jive with our normal arrival time of 9:00ish. BabyA has been missing the whole coverage of colors, shapes, etc. (Insert guilty shuffling of feet on my part). Fortunately she has been picking things up at home from books and just common interaction; normal stuff really, but still, I pay quite nicely for this kind of of learning, so it would be nice if I could get my butt in gear to actually get her there on time. Son hasn't been missing much-but still.

So, I had made a small vow to myself, and to him, that once "school" started up again, we would be on time. Fortuitously, there was an article in my latest "Parenting" that had the "confessions of a tardy mom." To say that it resounded quite well with me would be an understatement. There were some basic ideas that I had never even contemplated before, but when I really thought about it, it made perfect sense. For example, focusing on a load time as opposed to when you need to leave to make it on time. For us, this is especially relevant, since there is always something that goes wrong as soon as we attempt to get out to the car; the dog goes on a walkabout, the kids need something special for that day and didn't tell me, I forgot diapers/milk/etc. It would help if I would get it all together the night before, which has eliminated some of these issues-well at least for the past couple of days. So far, so good.

Oh, and there is that whole thing about getting to work at a decent time too-I've been scaring my support staff! I suppose that it's about time I started acting like a grown up. I'm 38 next month, and I still feel like some goofy 20something that is still feeling her way around. I've got a mortgage, a husband, car payments, and two kids! When the hell did that happen?

Anyway, I just wanted to get up some self-congratulatory drivel. I'm usually only here when something is on its way down, and it's nice to finally feel like I've actually accomplished a silly little goal like being on time so my kids can get the most out of their opportunity to learn. I may get this whole adult thing down yet!

2009-08-14T09:26:00.002-06:00

No title today-just don't have the juice for some reason. It's been a looooooooong week, and I'm more than ready for it to be over:

OK, there was the whole endo issue. I mentioned it to Husband, who of course forgot that I even had an appointment, and he really didn't say a word. Thanks for the support honey! There are days where I don't even get a decent roommate out of this marriage. The world revolves around him, that's all there's to it. Just gets lonely sometimes.
On the up side I managed to get my third workout in this week. Son woke up at some unGodly hour and came down and kept me company, while being liberally harassed by the cats. Another human! He may pet us! Hooray!
I've got two job postings open, one here in the U.S. and another overseas. I have seen nothing but crappy resumes, to the point of approaching thirty. The problem is that for the U.S. position, I not only have to appease my boss, but also another highly picky attorney that will be getting some support from this new hire. He shoots everyone down. We've been at this for almost a month. Perfect doesn't exist. Lets try for competent, affordable, and decent enough that we would like to keep them around for a while. I'm so damn frustrated with the whole thing that I could scream.
Even after a solid eight (yes, eight!) hours of sleep last night, I'm more tired than when I started. On what planet does that make sense? Everything and everyone, except for Black Dog, who led me on a merry chase this morning, seemed to move in slow motion. It took threats, followed by movement to the door to leave without him, to get Son motivated enough to get.fucking.dressed.already. Grrr.

As is abundantly evident, I'm in a peach of a mood today. Oh, and I have to write evaluations today as well, or otherwise I'm going to be under the gun next week, and I'm just not up to it.

Happy Friday!

Things you never wanted to hear

2009-08-12T09:53:00.003-06:00

Today I got to spend some time with my favorite endocrinologist, Dr. M. Dr. M and I would probably be great friends if she weren't, you know, my doctor. Same sense of humor, her kids and mine are spaced about the same, and are ab0ut the same age, etc. etc. Her one downfall, which I mentioned to her nurse, was that it is a little tough to talk about weight issues with a doctor that I could literally bench press. Yes, she's that tiny.

Anyway, I swallowed my trepidation and made an appointment yesterday. I got lucky in that she had a cancellation for this morning, so off I went. My sugars and everything are fine, but since I changed from the mini pill to a full blown birth control, my weight has continued to climb, and despite my best efforts and visits to my beloved treadmill (no, seriously, I do love it) at ungodly hours in the morning, nothing has improved. I'm frustrated, to the point of tears. I'm sick of this.

So, I asked, against all of my better judgement, for Metformin.

Yes, this is the same evil stuff that I suffered with during my infertility days. I hate the stuff, at least when I'm amping up the dosage, but in the past it has made a difference in managing my weight, almost to the point of me not even trying. I'm at the point where I'm willing to pull out all the stops. I'm hoping that it is a step in the right direction. Now, I want to be clear here-I don't expect this to be some miracle cure. I know that I still have to be vigilant about what I'm eating, I need to keep my early morning appointments with said treadmill or Wii. I know that. But if my body is going to fight me on this, like it has on just about everything else, I want all of the tools in the arsenal. I've played this video game long enough to have amassed all of the weapons.

She wrote me the prescription, and then pushed back from her desk and gave me a look that made me know that she wanted to talk about something. She offered up the option that even if I am doing everything right, I follow the rules and things still don't change, that I may want to consider gastric bypass. Insert longish pause. I didn't know what to say. She quickly followed up that it does not mean that I have failed-its just trading one disease, obesity, for another, malabsorption. One that could ultimately kill me, for another that will inconvenience me, but let me not to have to see her on a regular basis. I never thought that I would be in the position, allow myself to be in the position, of even having this put on the table.

I asked her under what circumstances she would advocate me really thinking about this. Basically, whenever I want to. However, I need to give everything else an honest effort for six months, and then we see where we are.

I don't know what to say. I don't know what to think. I'm in such a state that I can't even cry, although I know that its lurking there. How did it all go so wrong?

2009-04-27T21:33:00.003-06:00

Ah, all of my woe of last week took an unexpected turn today. Over the weekend some things occurred that I can't get into here, but suffice to say, got me doubting everything that I was thinking, everything that I was doing. I was extremely worried that things were going to become a disaster, sooner rather than later. However, after today, at least on the work front, things are going to be OK. Actually, I think that things may end up being better than OK.

I talked to my uber-calm, almost grandfatherly manager on Friday when I was so wound up about it all that I was nearly shaking, and again today, and we've hit upon a solution that I think will work.

One of our main issues is that while we have one position in our support staff, the qualifications by those that have it are all over the board. Part of the problem is that the requirements to become a certified paralegal vary widely by state. Since we have sites in four states, four sets of rules, four widely varying qualifications. Which can cause some serious strife among the ranks. For example, in one state, a two-year associates degree is required. In another, a six week on line course is good enough. Cue the in-fighting and general sniping. I hate how women can treat each other sometimes. Hell, who needs the stereotypical white male to screw us over? We have ourselves.

But I digress. Soooo, Manager B and I were talking about the disparity, and what we could do to try to end it and the revolving door that appears to have been installed at the site that I currently oversee. While our HR has been remarkably supportive, they really don't get what we do, that we are specialists among specialists. For example, it seems like no one was aware that the ABA has for all intents and purposes, an accreditation program for all paralegal courses. That approval also has some base educational requirements. So, pending HR's blessing, we now have a uniform baseline that we can have everyone adhere to. Why this wasn't picked up ages ago mystifies me, but it is what it is. This should make life easier going forward, but may pose some problems for those that are in the position, but don't have the education to back it up. We currently have a tuition reimbursement freeze going on, but Manager B has no intentions of grandfathering anyone in. This may cause more problems short term, but in the end, will be better for us long run.

If you've survived this long, thank you. Basically, there has been a silver lining to this entire mess with Superstar leaving. We may end up better for it, which is more that one can usually ask for when losing a good employee. It helped to shore up the confidence that got pretty beat up when she gave her notice. I tend to be highly self-critical, and I spent most of the weekend beating myself up. Did I do the best that I could have from a managerial standpoint? No, but I didn't completely screw up either. Was I deluded to think that I have the chops for this job? No.

Overall, a day that I had been dreading and almost worked myself into another migraine over ended up being a good and positive step forward. Now we need to talk about that "temporary" pay cut.....

Happy Monday...oh, no wait.

2009-04-20T15:09:00.003-06:00

On the up side, no visit to the ER or any other medical professional this weekend! Score one for the Chronicle household. All of the laundry (you know, that minuscule and unessential task that I pretty much devote myself to on the weekends, and no, I'm not holding a grudge) was washed and dried, and some even made it out onto my neighbor's line.

Did I mention that for the first time in over three years we filed our taxes on time? AND did them by ourselves this year, saving $350? Oh, and that we actually get a refund this year? Oh, oh, and the other good thing last week? I paid off two of our three credit cards without touching the tax money. Yea for me! I was on a role.

Then my superstar admin gave me her notice this morning.

She gave me two weeks, but man, does the timing suck. I've got a major, major project that won't be buttoned up by then in the works, and its one that I can't put on the back burner, since time is really against me. There were a lot of issues, money, environment, etc. that were out of my control, and I totally understand the reason for leaving. But it sucks. It's not a personal thing at all. I'm not really upset per se, but more wound up about how I'm going to have to shuffle things around a staff that is already stretched to, and in some cases, beyond their limits, but yet still get the job done.

For some reason the Admin expected me to yell, get upset, something. I just went into my normal crisis management mode, which is fix the problem, and get solutions in the works. It's all I know how to do. Part of it is a coping mechanism, part of it is based on knowledge that if I don't get moving now, I'll be paying for it later. So, I shut down all but the most pragmatic parts of me, and just plow ahead. She came in later to ask me if I wasn't going to talk to her for the next two weeks. I just told her that I was getting done what I needed to-nothing personal, but I have to fix this hole rather quickly. After all was said and done, I really don't think that she understood that. I have no intention of holing up on my office; I simply don't have that option. I just need a little space to figure out the next move.

Its one of those things that makes me think about how women and men handle these things, and if we (as in women) deny that emotional part of us, are we doing ourselves a disservice. I've been reading, on and off, a book about women in leadership, and how we are, as a whole, vastly underrepresented in government in comparison with other nations, including those we would view as second or third world. It talks about women being viewed as successful by others if we subvert our intrinsically feminine viewpoints, yet how that diminishes what we bring to the leadership table. OK, so that was a tangent of unprecedented proportions, but it still figures in. Sometimes being a girl isn't that fun.

So, after I finish up my number crunching for the day, I'm going to go home and curl up in a ball and play Lego with my kids. At least they can't leave me for more money.

And did I mention that I'm supposed to get a period this week? Oh yea, this is gonna be fun.

2009-04-13T12:10:00.005-06:00

You know, I'm going to opt out of almost all holidays. I really should. 'Cause they never really turn out the way they are supposed to.

First off, my parents were supposed to come down on Sunday, we were all going to go to Mass (the kids are old enough to be up for this), come home, have lunch, play, call it a day. Go to bed early.

Instead, here's how it really went:

parents show up two hours early, and inform us that they went to a sunrise mass (at least for me, 7:30 in the morning on a Sunday counts as sunrise). The house, while in commendable shape for us, was hardly inspection worthy.
lunch went off with nary a hitch. Even the hollandaise sauce turned out OK.
played outside, walked down the block to the pond, watched the ducks and geese. Ms. Independent demanded that she walk most of the way. Its about a half mile round trip-quite a way for such short little legs!
while parents are outside with Son and BabyA, Husband informs me that he doesn't think that I do enough at home. That he pretty much does ALL the cleaning and that I basically don't do anything to contribute to that. What I had thought was a fairly equitable division in labor (I do six to eight loads of laundry a week, fold it, put it away, feed children, dress children, take children to school, pick up children, bathe children and put BabyA to bed) is far from it. Never mind that I have been feeling completely overwhelmed and inadequate before. All I could do was cry.
parents leave around 4:00 for their three hour drive home. No major battles between my mom and Husband. Huzzah!
we leave on a little roadtrip to check out a playsystem that we are looking at getting for the kids, and Husband needed to stop by work to get some reports to get his Monday report mail out. I start not to feel so great-I just figured that I was tired (even though, if you ask Husband, I really shouldn't because, you know, I sleep in later than him every day, never mind that he is in bed a good hour or more before I am). On the way home, I was scrolling through his iPod to pick out a movie for the kids, and I felt my stomach do that maneuver that makes you know that reverse is the gear that its going to be engaging in. He asked me if I could make it home-heaven forbid something bad happen to his beloved caddie-or if we needed to stop. I told him to just take me home.
Instead of taking me home, he takes me to the emergency room. I now have a full blown migraine, with all of the lovely light and smell sensitivity. I sent Husband and the munchkins home, and curled up into a ball back in the family conference room in the ER deciding whether to throw up. Ultimately deciding to stop fighting. Some Zofran later, I was feeling better, but then my head started to throb.
Finally get back to a room after an hour, and then waited another hour in a blessedly dark exam room, with the Zofran finally kicking in. Doc finally comes in, we start the eval, and he gets called away...for 45 more minutes. My nurse finally sent up a flare and got him back, and got my meds ordered.
An IV of all things painkiller and anti-nausea, and withing 10 minutes I'm out cold, only to be awakened by Husband and my now bathed and pajama'd kids. I finally get released, but have to wait almost 45 minutes to finally get out of there with my prescriptions and go home.
Kids got to bed almost two hours late.
Parents get to bed at almost the same time-drugs like Ambien and Benadryl are fantastic.

Since this is the second time in the past year that I've been through this, the doc (who I found out was the head of the ER department) said that I really do need the meds to have on hand to try to head these off when I feel them coming, since Ibuprofen isn't working right now. So far no injectibles, but we'll see how it plays out. He also suggested a visit to a neurologist to make sure that there is nothing other than crappy genetics behind these. I'm what I believe is the fourth generation of migraine sufferers, so I'm pretty sure that yet-to-be-discovered genetic link is my main problem. It can't hurt, so I'll be making an appointment.

In closing, holidays seem to be a recipe for an ER visit. So far, we've hit Memorial Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, and now Easter. I fear for the fourth of July. Oh, and if I ever even SEEM to be happy about my lack of medical disasters, smack me. Please.

Welcome to the Chronicle Infirmary!

2009-04-07T13:58:00.002-06:00

Yep, after having some smugness about how we managed to miss any major sickies over the winter, I managed to get smacked around but good. However, considering that we got three solid inches of snow last weekend (it's APRIL people), I should have seen it coming.

First up on the well-beaten path to the pediatrician was Son. He had been nursing one of those deep and barking coughs for a while, but it was only really happening at night. My immediate, non-medically educated thought was that we haven't been very good about making sure that there is water in his humidifier, so maybe it was just dry. The day before we ended up at the doctor's office, he had spent the entire day outside, running and playing. Imagine my surprise when the kind doc told me that yes, he does have something going on in his lungs, and how does pneumonia in the right lung sound? Wonderful. Zithromax for five days, and a couple of really long naps, and he was back to his old self. He still maintains that he has "a bad cough," but now it is just to avoid going to daycare.

Next stop on the tour was Husband, who is actually worse than Son, at least on the horrible patient scale. Loads of snot, couldn't really sleep lying down for almost a week, headaches, dizzy, coughing fits. He has a history of sinus infections, so we were pretty sure that he would go in, get a Z-pack, and it would be over. Instead, they told him to do a nasal rinse (and yes, it looks worse than it sounds) without even examining him. It took a grumpy phone call to finally get anything, and an insinuation that Husband was an abuser of antibiotics. OK, I know that I'm not a doc, but in what I do, I have to look at all of the facts to try to come up with a conclusion. Over the past three years, Husband had been on an immunosuppressor for his psoriasis, which caused an abundance of sinus infections, and some other weird stuff. If said MD had looked further down on his medication history, she would have seen that.

The final stop was for BabyA. She was summarily dismissed from daycare on Wednesday afternoon with a fever of 101. We spent Thursday confined to the house, with her alternating from sleeping for three hour stretches at a time, and me chasing her around the house with a box of tissue wiping her nose of the neon yellow goo that was escaping. She had been coughing, but it really ramped up on Thursday. So much for my "its just a cold theory." Friday morning, back to my favorite pediatrician's office, bronchitis. Chronicle family member #3 on Zithromax. I should have my own express line at the pharmacy at Target.

Somehow, by God's grace, voodoo, or some other unknown phenomena, I've remained the only semi-well person in our house. I did sneak in one nap over the weekend. Son made the beguiling offer of "just lay down with me" on his uber comfy bed for a nap, and, well, three hours later we were both quite refreshed. I have to admit, that after suffering through Husband's near seismic snoring lately, hearing Son's soft purr was a relief. And he's a much better snuggler with no ulterior motives.

I've managed to disinfect most of the house, and all seems to moving towards recovery. Now if it would just stop snowing......

18 Months

2009-03-13T10:41:00.002-06:00

BabyA had her 18 month appointment today. She was her bright and perky self-insisted on walking to the exam room, which was ALL.THE.WAY at the end. She moves quickly, but not that fast. That hallway has never seemed so long.

Anyway. We did all the basic stuff, height (32"!), weight (23 lbs), and head circumference (19). She's still fairly skinny and tall (35 and 70th percentiles, respectively). The exam was pretty uneventful, but I do love to watch her face. Our pedi is great-we've finally found the right fit. She sat on my lap as Dr. S. checked reflexes, etc. BabyA looked at her knee in shock as her foot shot out after the tap. She was completely entranced, but very, very serious. I couldn't help but chuckle. She was checking Dr. S out quite thoroughly. No crying, but intense interest. Those big baby blues were following everything, her brow slightly furrowed.

Just one shot, her tetanus booster. She didn't even cry. Girl felt sorry for her mommy. Overall, we are once again blessed to have an uber healthy little girl. She's OK at her weight right now, and we just need to keep her there. She's still a little picky, but she will try new things, at least a little bit. She's a unique little creature, this now toddler of mine. Once again, a baby in my house has performed a vanishing act. I'll always miss the baby she was, but I can't wait to see the person that she becomes.

Sweetest thing...

2009-03-06T11:27:00.002-06:00

Last night when I picked up the kids from daycare, both of them were out in the large muscle area. I came through the gate, and BabyA was there, arms up, saying "up, up!" I picked her up and was talking to the director about a bite mark that had materialized on BabyA. We finished up, deciding that somebody got away with one, and I turned to see Son getting into it with another kid over a toy.

The teacher broke it up, and Son came over to me, crying. It was a case of a tired kid, another kid grabbing onto his toy, and the end of the day. ANYWAY, BabyA, who I had put down when I heard the squawking from Son, came over to Son, and wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him the biggest hug. I haven't gotten a true hug from her yet, but yet Son gets one. He sort of ignored her, and just clung to my legs. BabyA, being her usual determined self, was still worried, so she went around him and hugged him from the back. He calmed down, and she felt that everything was OK enough to let go.

It was a show of empathy that I hadn't seen from her before, and made me so happy. It was one of the reasons that we had two children-so that they would have each other, be able to lean on each other, play together. They still have their moments, and I would be surprised if they didn't. However, it was such sweet, pure concern for Son, that motivated her.

I pray that it doesn't change any time soon. Just another reason for me to thank God for having her in my world. Our little family would be less without her.

Ouch.

2009-03-02T16:53:00.003-06:00

OK, I have to fess up. One of the very few things that I DON'T mind about having PCOS is that a lack of periods really isn't that big of a deal if you don't want to get pregnant at the time. Really. Oh, I know, there is that whole facial hair issue, and the weight combined with the diabetes risk, and then the infertility thing. But other than that? Not so bad.

As a matter of fact, I was at my yearly OB/GYN visit a couple of months ago and after the damn scale (cursed thing!), the nice nurse asked the date of my last period. When I replied, "December 1, 2006" she just looked at me with a funny look. I explained that I had a 15 month old (at the time). She just asked as she handed me the pee cup, "Are you worried?" I had to laugh, that laugh reserved for infertiles when encountering someone that doesn't know their history. I just told her that it would require an act of God for me to be worried. I don't think that she even checked.

At that appointment, my GYN wasn't quite as glib. She looked at me from over her glasses, and told me in no uncertain terms that I wasn't allowed to wait much longer. She had all sorts of good medical reasons. We also discussed the fact that I was down to one, maybe two, brief nursing sessions a day, and really wasn't that protected anymore (in addition to the mini pill that I have been on since BabyA was six weeks old). Again, I pulled out my laugh. She upped the ante by telling me about one of her patients that was in the same boat, with the same absolute belief that it would take divine intervention, and was now 36 weeks with twins. You know, those stories that any infertile hates. I have to admit, that I took a bit, just a tiny bit, to heart. As previously discussed, now would not be the right time to have the oops that I occasionally happily dream of. My luck just seems to work that way.

No, I am not leading up to any announcement, other than PMS sucks. I've been spotting off and on for a couple of weeks now, and I just started the "real" pill last night, and I feel like crap. I always get a bit nauseous when I start out on the pill, and this time is no exception. I also feel all bloaty, my back hurts, and I just want to crawl into bed. Oh, and isn't it SOOOOO convenient that this was the way that I felt each time I was pregnant? I'm pushing it far to the back corners of my mind, although I might pull out a test in a couple of weeks just to make sure. Faced with the reality of a third, it does scare me a little bit. What an odd feeling, an infertile afraid of being pregnant. I just feel to some degree like I am "over it." I don't have that driving, desperate need anymore. If we don't have any more, we could be OK. I just need to find a way to accept it if that is the end result. It just feels really strange to worry about something like this, when my reality has been so different.

Blech. I'm going home to find a salt lick and some more caffeine. And then as many Advil as possible. This being a girl stuff isn't so much fun....

Catching a break?

2009-02-18T22:49:00.004-06:00

Today the powers that be were kind enough to send out what we employees call Company spam regarding the lovely "temporary" base pay reductions. The check that we get on Friday will be the first at the reduced level. After the obligatory groan, I logged into our nifty online payroll system, and compared the amounts. The total difference after taxes was less than I had counted on,which was a pleasant surprise.

Basically, it comes down to, on a per check basis, about $400 less per pay period. The part about maybe, possibly, catching a break? With BabyA moving into the toddler room at daycare, my overall daycare bill has been reduced by $300 a month. So, that means that I only have to find a way to make up $250 per pay period instead of $400. Husband got his bonus numbers in a couple of days ago (his company uses some convoluted formula based on about four different variables), and we should be able to knock out at least one credit card, if not two. If we can manage that, we get back to goodness in about six weeks. We may even come out ahead-those two credit cards alone can make up the difference, and then some.

I was pretty worried about this whole thing, based on what my estimated numbers gave me. However, now that I have everything in front of me, we should be able to make it. We had been living within our means at the first level, and now we'll adjust to the new level. As long as we play our cards right, we may even emerge from this in a better financial place than before-a strange by product of the whole economic downturn. I guess that it sometimes just takes a pretty firm kick in the butt to finally get our act together.

Just six more weeks.....

No little boy

2009-02-17T12:02:00.004-06:00

I had one interesting, unsettling, discovery this weekend.

Son has discovered that his penis, who he has named George, has a function other than to pee with. This will be funny a couple of years down the line, but right now, I don't know what to think about it.

So here's the deal. It's Sunday morning, and since we were all going a bit stir-crazy, we decided to get out of the house. That entails wearing something other than PJs. I sent Son into his room to get dressed, and had his clothes laid out on the bed. Son went into his room, closed the door (which he normally does to keep BabyA out), and I went off to put in a load of laundry. I came back upstairs after a good 20 minutes, expecting to find Son at least partly done getting dressed. He's three after all, and well, it usually takes time.

I open his door to find him sitting on his bed, naked, with, um, George, standing at attention, and Son looking a little guilty. I ended up being as flustered as he was, so I retreated, closed the door and told him to get dressed through the closed door. I went out to talk to Husband about whether this was normal, and all he did was laugh. I was mortified. Finally, 40 minutes after he first went in, Son emerged. Husband tried to talk to him, and told him that if he had any questions, Husband would try to answer them. They did this rather discretely, and that was about it.

Needless to say, this happened a couple of more times that day. He hasn't done it since, and I haven't had a desire to revisit it. I mean, I understand that he would be curious at some point, and that he would eventually figure it out, but I was holding out for him to be, oh, say, 13, not three. I don't want him to be shy or feel guilty; it's a part of his anatomy, and this is how it works. It's just hard for me to see my son in that light-that someday he will be a sexual creature. I want him to stay my innocent little boy, dammit!

I never really considered that this would be part of being the mother to a son. When it comes to BabyA, I should be able to handle this-I have the same equipment and biology, so we're in it together. However, not quite so much the case with a boy. I have an even bigger appreciation for single moms that have to deal with this.

I know, I know, just a part of growing up. But, I, but....oh geez.

Short and not-so-sweet

2009-02-13T14:22:00.004-06:00

I'm just in a crappy funk today-I feel like I want to cry, but I can't tell you why. It feels like it would be cathartic, just to get me out of this.

THE house appears to have sold. It's not that we really could have handled it financially, but it was a nice little dream to have, at least for a while. For once, restraint prevailed, which was probably the best thing. I can't help but be a little bummed. Husband, the great empath that he is, told me that I shouldn't be upset, since we could never have it. I just am, and it would be nice to have him understand, just ONCE.

Why, even though I know better, does Valentine's Day still fill me with dread? Husband doesn't do this stuff too well, and after 10+ years I shouldn't have any expectations. No cards or anything; probably won't even acknowledge it. He does this with our anniversary and my birthday. He's not a card guy, I make my living with words. Not always a compatible mix. It's too much hassle to find a babysitter, and just too much in general. I'm just as much at fault. I guess that I just want to be taken care of, be pampered once in a while. You know, by someone else other than me. I suck at it, but my mental health could really use it.

I have different things that I need to get done today, but I have zero desire. Maybe I just need a nap. Or something.

its all just bullet points

2009-02-12T14:59:00.002-06:00

Blech...I have about four different posts in my head, but if I don't use the next two workdays that have yet to be populated with any type of meeting whatsoever, I will hate, hate, hate myself, so, here's the abbreviated version. Maybe between dog baths on my lovely Monday off next week (because, hey, who wouldn't want to be covered in wet, stinky dog hair?), I'll hit them up. Maybe. Between coughing up hairballs.

My company, who, like so many others, has subjected its employees to layoffs, has put pay decreases into effect for low level managers and above, are now refusing to pay for the classes that I need to take, as in statutorily mandated, to keep my license. It's not a perk people, I'm not going to these things for the overwhelming enrichment or to pay for parking downtown, or to be subjected to really, really, rotten coffee. I need them to be able to do my job legally. You know, to fulfill my job requirements. So, as I bitched and moaned to my boss, and his boss-because what fun is it without a gratuitous CC: or two-I now have to pay to keep my job out of my now 2005 level salary. Very rarely have I ever questioned this company, or how it was run on a large scale, but to say that I'm pissed doesn't even cover it. Like I really need to put $400 on my personal credit card, since I have to take the rest of my required classes prior to the end of June.
We are still talking about THE house. Husband has even referred to it a couple of times as "our house," which is really telling. His best friend was up over this past weekend, and they were able to walk in and look around. God, how I hate this company.....
On the up side, I called and checked on a credit card balance, and I've paid it down over 50%. OK, well I had, until the CLE mishap. But still-yea! With Husband's bonus, and this lower balance, we can pay off the majority of our credit card debt, with only one to go. That alone almost makes up the lost income due to the pay reduction. I'm happy about that.
Husband's friend also asked while he was up whether we were done with kids. He acted as though the answer would be, of course, "no." My response, was "maybe," although I know that I've told Husband that I'm not up to closing that door yet, and Husband, as usual was "yes." It must have been rattling around in Husband's head since then, because a couple of nights ago he asked me whether I was serious about wanting more. As I've mentioned before, I'm really on the fence. On the one hand, we have beautiful kids, and we've been lucky twice-why push it? Just because we dodge multiples twice doesn't mean that would would again. I'm getting older, and so is he. On the other hand, we have beautiful kids, and wouldn't it be great to have another little person to only make it even better? There are all sorts of pros and cons, and the whole thing DOES scare me at some level. This would be a different conversation if I were in my early 30s, but IF took that option from me.
The "get your shit together before you fall apart" campaign as it applies to my overall health and weight issues is going OK. I haven't seen an appreciable change on the scale (anyone else notice that the Wii is just a hair short of insulting you when you do your body tests?), I've been on the treadmill on a fairly regular basis for almost three weeks now. I even ran a couple of nights ago, with no soreness the next day. My lack of a decent exercise bra was evident, but it felt so good. It really wasn't that bad, and with the heart monitor, I was able to gauge things a bit better. I get to watch Burn Notice tonight, so off I go.
BabyA is 17 months today. Where did my baby go?

OK, off to get something done. I've got one deadline that I've got to shoot for tomorrow to get clients happy. Someday I want to be the client....

Tales of the day....

2009-02-02T16:01:00.003-06:00

Just the daily minutia:

**It's four, yep, count 'em four, degrees out, and while walking down the hospital-like hallways of where I work, there is a song on the muzak that uses steel drums. That's not even nice.

**I go on a Target run over lunch for cough drops, and disinfecting wipes (one of my admins won't come into my office due to the return of "the hack"), and I'm so proud of myself for remembering my re-usable shopping bag. Yea for Chronicle! Then what do I do? Get a plastic bag to try to keep my pizza from the cafe warm until I get back to work. Duh. What does that get me on the environmental footprint map??

**NOTE TO THE RESIDENT 16 MONTH OLD OF THE CHRONICLE HOUSE: thou shalt keep thy butt in bed all night long. No 3:30 wake ups for Mommy, based solely on the fact that you had misplaced your Binky in your crib, and a desire for yet another reading of "Panda Bear, Panda Bear." Thank you, The Management

**NOTE TO THE RESIDENT THREE YEAR OLD: You made my morning when you came into my room and said, "Hi Mommy, it's me, C." Of course it is, and I'm happy to see you too. Thank you for not wailing during the process of getting dressed this morning, for plying your sister with grapes and blueberries while I took black dog out, and for still wanting to hold my hand.

God has a strange, twisted, sense of humor

2009-01-29T10:48:00.008-06:00

So, this payday on Friday will be my first with the base pay reduction. I've done some of the math, and know enough that we need to tighten up even more. We've been doing basic stuff, but now it needs to be more concentrated. Between our taxes and Husband's bonus (yes, he still gets one-it's performance based), we should be able to get rid of two pieces of credit card debt, which will help. We've just got to suck it up until the late March/early April time frame, and it may get a little easier.

Why the title then? Um, well, the house that I gushed about a couple of posts ago? The one that Husband actually likes and can see himself in?

They dropped the price another $18k.

I so want this.

If I were making the same amount, I would be up for trying to find a way to (a) sell our house and (b) find other sources for the rest of the down payment so we don't have to pay PMI. If we could accomplish that, we could get a whole lot more house for about the same payment as we have now.

But I'm not making the same amount. It also took our neighbor over six months to sell her house. She bought at the top of the market, and from what I can tell, took about a $30k loss on the deal. Still, if we could get what she ultimately did, we may be in business.

It will probably be a moot point in a week or so anyway; this house won't be around much longer at this price. The timing is all wrong. However, when I talked to Husband about it today, he did point out that since when has our timing ever been right, or more to the point, have we ever paid attention to it?

Part of me is almost antsy in the anticipation of trying to make this work-in five years it could be one of the best things that we could have done. However, the fear of what could happen if something goes very wrong also makes me twitchy. One of loses our job, some major health incident where one of us can't work, and we're gone.

Sigh. As Bill Cosby said, God has a sense of humor. At this point, I think it is a pretty wicked version.

Right around $400/use...

2009-01-27T22:26:00.002-06:00

...on my treadmill. You know, the one that I bought last fall with aspirations of smaller sizes and no more excuses? Yes, that one. For some reason, it finally clicked that maybe a little physical activity would get rid of some of this funky cloud that has been floating over my head for a while. And, if it would help to allow me to begin to include myself in family photos again, all the better.

Well, I have to say, those expert people may be on to something. I've been attempting, not always successfully, but still trying, to do something at least a couple of nights a week. That "something" is either the treadmill or our Wii Fit that Husband got me for Christmas (best.present.ever that wasn't jewelry). I was so damn sore from the Wii last week that I decided that maybe something a bit more gentle with sustained heart rate would be a bit better, hence the treadmill the past couple of days. So far so good. I've slept better, and I have to admit, I've always loved a good workout. You would never be able to tell from looking at me now, but at one point, I was an honest to God athlete. Honest! I've also found that I tend to be a bit more focused at work the next day-I don't know if it is because even though I'm not getting a full eight hours every night, what I AM getting is better quality, or that I've burned off some of those toxic hormones. Regardless, this is one habit that I may enjoy picking up. Now I just have to dump the chocolate chips straight out of the bag habit....

The silly thing that seems to be motivating me (other than the absolutely heinous family Christmas picture?) is that there is pretty good TV on at around 9PM, so I can do double duty-wind down and watch whatever I want on basic cable. Husband even found a nice 19" LCD TV with an integrated DVD player to mount in front of the treadmill, and hooked up some spare speakers. I don't think a realtor would count my little space in the unfinished part of the basement an exercise room, but it seems to be working. The cats get up on their perches and offer commentary as well, so I don't feel too isolated down there. Drac even walked with me for a while!

So, if I look at it from a purely financial point of view, if I keep my act together for at least a couple of months, I might be able to whittle down my per use cost to the double digits. Yep, that's me-fiscally responsible!

Seeing ghosts

2009-01-22T14:52:00.003-06:00

Well, despite my doom and gloom about the financial situation, Husband and I went and looked at a house on Sunday. The listing had come up on an ongoing search that I have running on a realty site. I had found it interesting because I had literally watched it being built, since it was on my way to work. Son had a birthday party in the same town, so we dropped him off, and I mentioned that since we were in the neighborhood, maybe we could drive by.

Husband saw the house, and liked it enough to pull into the cul-de-sac to look a little closer. He noticed the open house sign, and made a point for us to make the time on Sunday to go and take a look. (Knock me over with a feather.) Which was probably a mistake.

In short, we loved it. Everything about it was what we wanted. A dedicated office away from bedrooms, a decent sized kitchen with double ovens, a master suite, and decent sized kids rooms. Oh, and an actual laundry room-with storage. I can't tell you how much I want this place.

The only reason that we could even consider this home is because it's a foreclosure. From what we got out of the listing agent, the current list price is at least $150k less than what it was built for, which would explain some of the nicer finishes, etc. Since it's only a couple of years old, there really isn't too much wear and tear, just some stains on the carpets (probably a small dog), and some grout that could use a little attention. The thing that made me remember that a family had lived here, that they had probably seen this as their dream home, was something really small. I opened up the pantry (!! more love), and saw a single, petrified marshmallow on one of the shelves. A fictional family came to mind-kids who wanted marshmallows, hot chocolate, that type of thing. Shoes in the storage seat in the mudroom.

I guess that it just got me a little. Some family may have lost everything, and there I stood, picturing myself in their place. Almost seemed presumptuous.

We aren't in any position to do this right now. Even with my pay cut, we could probably swing it, but if anything, and I mean anything, were to go wrong on the financial side, we would end up in the same position. We also need to fix our credit, and oh, there is that little issue of selling our current house. Regardless, I still feel the ghosts when I look at the foreclosure lists. We'll see what the future brings-I just don't want to end up being one of the ghosts.

How did Twain put it?

2009-01-14T22:27:00.002-06:00

Oh yea, something along the lines that reports of my death are highly exaggerated. Or something like that.

Anyway, long time, no see. I've been out there lurking, but that is about all that I've had the time to do. This job is sincerely kicking my butt. I've gone from relative anonymity to having direct reports and meetings with muckity muck VPs who want strategy!numbers to manage to! Just keep the vision of a deer and headlights in your mind, and you've got where I've been lately.

Oh, and the real fun has just begun! Today was black Wednesday-8% of the workforce at my particular site were laid off today. Company wide it came out to about 6%, but still not a happy day. Oh, and now I'm even more irked about the whole more responsibility but no title or pay grade change. Since everyone needs to feel the pain, I had was told that my base pay will be reduced by 10% for the foreseeable future. I make plenty, sure, and we have survived on far less, but it is still unsettling. Yes, I still have a job, and it could be so much worse; just ask those people today who were told that their last day would be Friday. We'll need to adjust some things, put some others off. The house hunt, the one that I have been tenderizing Husband for (and one that he actually seems to have warmed up to), is probably on hold, at least for another year. BabyA is entertaining thoughts of escape from her crib (at 16 freakin' months! Son never even thought about it). We both are driving cars that are 8 years old and have over 130k on them, but prayer at the alter of regular oil changes and rotations seem to have helped. Let's hope it holds up for just a while longer.

I've got to go to bed now-I'm beyond deprived,and if BabyA gives me another 5AM performance, 'm giong to need all the help I can get. G'night!

I've lost it

2008-11-03T16:13:00.002-06:00

I think that I've officially lost it.

I went to Target today, bought an exercise ball, said "no" to the big package of Moose Munch, and showed great restraint overall. This is not my usual MO at all; usually an unsupervised visit to Target results in bags upon bags.

Either I'm finally becoming a grown up or I'm just too tired to muster up the energy for the dash during my lunch. And I said no to chocolate covered popcorn. Someone check my temperature.....

Step one

2008-11-02T22:44:00.003-06:00

I finally got up the courage/lost my will to avoid the scheduler at my endocrinology clinic and went in. Yuck. Got the weight lecture. Yes, I get it. (But just for the record, my fasting morning sugars were at 89, and the cut off is 100. So there. I probably won't be as smug about the lipd panel, but we'll cross that bridge later.) Yes, I've been getting it all of my life. Blech. Of course I did this on Halloween, so what do I do? Rebel in some stupid way and let loose on all of the candy that we won't be giving out.

That said, I finally got a little bit of sleep this weekend, so I wasn't ready to curl up and die around the kids' bedtime. I threw in a load of laundry, put on my shoes, and on the treadmill I went. Considering that we've had it for almost three weeks and this is the first time that I've used it, I suppose that it isn't that big of a deal, but it felt good to finally sweat again and actually enjoy it. We splurged and got the one with the wireless heart rate band, which is supposed to be a lot more accurate than the grips, and not half as irritating. Husband found a small flat screen on a open box special at local big box electronics, and has that mounted right in front of the treadmill, so that's good too. At least it was one good purchase out of my bonus money.

Final stats for the night-35 minutes, a hair under two miles, and about 290 calories. Yeah me!

My girl-the genius

2008-10-14T10:04:00.002-06:00

...'cause I'm not biased or anything. However, I continue to be astounded at how fast BabyA's vocabulary is expanding. She's pretty much voted to screw the signing, I'll just learn the word! Some of them tend to sound the same, but there's just enough differentiation to be able to try to get what she is screeching at you. But she's still pretty darn cute. Not that anyone asked (or cares, but hey, this is MY sandbox after all) here's what she can say at one year, one month:

uh-oh
all done
more
kitty (both the two that patrol the house and her stuffed amur leopard from the zoo)
doggie
ducky (her favorite stuffed one)
b-byl (for the cat, Cybl)
juice
shoes (her favorites)
apple
purple
night night
bye bye
Amber (otherwise known around here as yellow dog)
mama
dada
out
up

We're at that point where we identify everything, but it's not that much of a chore, since she'll make an honest effort to try to say it. I wish that she would try the signing, but she's just not that into it. The new head teacher of her room isn't that into it either; the previous one really was (she was the one that taught Son when he was this age). The prime example was that I was feeding BabyA some applesauce during lunch one day. I had the audacity to try to eat my own lunch at the same time (we're working on patience here people). She kept reaching and grunting at the applesauce on the table. I signed and said "more?" She pointed, face all scrunched up, and said "apple." Got it. Pretty clear communication there.

She's still the most amazing little bug-I can't imagine not having her here.

2008-10-07T15:16:00.002-06:00

crappy day. too much, not enough hours; not enough to get it all done, not enough in one stretch with my eyes closed.

miss my kids, worried about the boy, worried about my choices hurting him. happy until I tell him that he has to get ready for school (daycare/preschool). cries every morning. the drama of being three or something else? conferences next week.

little girl is literally running away from babyhood, and not looking back. learned two new words this weekend; apple and purple. loves her purple stripey socks and my ginormous striped umbrella in the rain this morning. sang all the way to daycare; didn't want to let her go and leave. still did, but still not happy about it.

strange dreams lately; last one was of a view of two embryos, perfectly dividing, in some sort of xray/MRI view of me. I was happy-twins! no fear. sad when I woke up and realized that there was no chance of the dream being a way of my body trying to tell me something. lots of baby dreams. we can't-no space, no money, too little time. I'm old, he's old, and they are still so small. I worry about being there for them when they need us the most.

husband's cardiologist appointment tomorrow; i'm terrified. the cardio MRI wasn't good, and he doesn't seem to comprehend how bad it all could be. he says he's worried about me. I don't have time to worry about me, i've got the three others. i'm avoiding the pixie-sized endocrinologist who keeps calling to get me to make an appointment-it's been a year after all. because it's always fun to pay someone to beat me up about what I already do.

just stop for a day world-just let me stop.

Disappearing Act

2008-09-23T13:22:00.003-06:00

Yes, it's been a while. The only thing that I ask is that I get a dispensation for being horrendously busy, and sucking at the whole work/life balance thing. Work gets half, kids get half, and then there is that Husband guy, and the fuzzy occupants of our house. Me? Um yeah, I'll get to her someday. Maybe.

That being said, we had another milestone in our house a couple of weeks ago; BabyA turned 1! She's a walking, almost running, starting to talk, little whirlwind of a girl. She's been taking steps unassisted since she was about 10 months, two or three here, five or eight there. But in the past couple of weeks, she's started traversing entire rooms. A couple of nights ago we were playing and I was chasing her, and she tried to run! It was so cute and funny. The song "Drunken Sailor" came to mind. I'll give her this, she's a very determined little creature.

She can say "mama", "dada", "kitty", "b-byl" (the cat, Cybl), and, get this, "all done." We've been working on signing, and since she has pretty good fine motor control for her age, I've been trying to get her to do her thing. She looked up at me, and clear as day said "all done." With a big smile. She brings something to our family that is so uniquely her-her smiles and giggles, her stubbornness, her insistence on being heard and paid attention to. I don't think that I'll have to worry about her being a wallflower.

I do admit that I worry about her-not for any concrete reason that I can point at, but I know what it's like to be a girl, and I'm really trying to not pass on my hangups to her. It certainly would be a gift; my mom did a dozy on me. I just want her to grow up and be sure of herself, to not question every little thing; to be confident that she is good enough. Good enough to do whatever she wants, good enough to be treated well, good enough to be happy and comfortable in her own skin. Its reduced me to tears more than once. I just want so much for her. I don't want her to have to deal with what I did.

Regardless, I'm still quite smitten. Son is too; although now that she's mobile and as squawky as a grumpy parrot at times, there have been some instances of "mine!!!!" MOM!!! Which I expected at this point. He's still so great at trying to make her happy when she cries, he'll go and find a binky (I know, I know, but she's a junky-one step at a time folks), or give her one of his blankets. He's more than I had ever hoped for.

As for me, we're still nursing, and I'm not quite sure when I want to bring that to an end. This is very likely my last baby, and I don't want to lost that last link to having a baby. She seems OK with it as well, and hasn't shown any sign of wanting to wean. We may just see where it goes. I'm looking at nothing past 18 months, but we'll see. Some days I really wish that I didn't have to pump, but when I get my 20 minutes with her before she goes to bed, it's all worth it. It's the only time that she stops moving.

I've got to get back to being productive-no rest for the wicked!

Another day, three years ago.

2008-09-05T12:46:00.004-06:00

I am forced to keep this brief, since the pile is looming, and I'm going to effectively out for 2 1/2 days next week.

Son turned three today. For some reason, this one seems more momentus to me, a little sad even. When he turned one, he was still effectively a baby; still nursing, retaining some of that wonderful baby softness but yet not quite so needy as before. When he turned two, he still had a bit of that baby left. Granted, I was a bit pre-occupied with the baby that would come a week later, but still, he had the wispy hair and curls.

Now when I look at him, no vestige of that baby is left. He is a little boy, plain and simple. He still needs his mommy, still wraps himself around me on the bad days. However, he is tall and able, and I don't even change diapers anymore. He has opinions, and is learning how to voice them. He sleeps in a toddler bed now, and will probably move up to a full size bed before Christmas. He holds my hand because he wants to (or is forced to in order to save him from himself in a parking lot) not because he needs me for support.

I love his smile, his giggle, the way that he watches out for his sister. How he wanders out of his room in the morning with his bear and fuzziness. How he gets excited about going with his dad somewhere. I admit that there are days where life would be easier if I didn't have a kid or kids, but I never, ever will regret what we went through to have him. The four years were so worth it.

Happy birthday little man.

Just a quickie

2008-09-02T12:24:00.004-06:00

Ok, so it's been a while. This new job is kicking my ass, to put it bluntly, and I feel guilty for even taking my former usual detour to Dear Abbey in the morning.

I have a full-blown post coming one of these days; stuff about getting my hands around this job, feeling more than a little taken advantage of, glass ceilings, my lack of a sex life, nursing past one year, the disharmony in my house about how many kids is enough, the disharmony in our house about our house, and other stuff. You get the picture.

My two little moments today are this:

Son started pre-school today. Uniform and everything. Not very happily. Son hates change, and while he has been transitioning from the toddler/twos room into one of the preschool rooms, it just hit him today when he didn't start out his day in his previous classroom. The one that he has been going to for over the past year. I know that he'll be OK, and that this is a good thing, but still. It feels different somehow, like his baby/toddlerhood is officially over, and that the title "little man" is more reality than a nickname. I didn't get misty, but I still felt a bit unsettled. I'm going to try and sneak out a little early today to go pick him up, just in case it didn't go swimmingly.
Son will be three on Friday. Three. What the hell? Where did this semi-articulate, stubborn, sweet, beautiful, 95% potty-trained boy come from? Where is my baby? Now I'm starting to get misty....

BabyA is also on the train out of babyland, and I swear that she's on the bullet train. Walking, a few discernible words, signing...

I'm too old for this......

Living dangerously, PT II

2008-08-11T14:12:00.005-06:00

Son, if you haven't already gathered, is an independent, stubborn, opinionated squirt. Part of that is a function of being on the cusp of turning three, the rest is just his basic personality. This child may drive me to drink once I'm done nursing.

So, yesterday we had to make a 90 minute drive north to meet my parents halfway to drop off Son for a week with them. They have been hassling me about it all summer, and I always thought that we would be able to take a long weekend and deal with it that way. It's not that I don't trust my parents with him, but rather that he's a very schedule oriented kid, and since we had such a good thing going on the potty front and elsewhere, I really didn't want to screw that up. However, for a variety of reasons, I relented, so we decided that this would be a good week. My dad was able to take off Monday and Tuesday, Mom has a couple of weeks before school starts again, and the weather should be nice.

OK, yes, I do have a point. We were all packed and ready to go, and were just waiting for Husband to get home from work (yes, stuck working another weekend due to a flakey employee-GRRRR), and I asked him if he would put on a pullup for the drive. There aren't a whole lot of places to stop, and he had just had lunch. He looks at me in all earnestness, and says "no, thank you Mama" and proceeds to walk out of his room to go put on his shoes. Again, me following him down the hall, pausing by the bathroom, "are you sure? It's a long ride..." "No, Mama, I wear underwears." So, reluctantly, I strapped him into the carseat, hoping and praying that the peeing four times before we left had done the trick.

It did! Mom and Dad were going to stop about an hour away on their way back home, so he had a chance there as well. As far as I know, he did it! Oh, to think, a trip to Target that doesn't entail $40 for diapers each trip. The joy, the freedom, the minor return of disposable (no pun intended) income!

The true mom chronicles

2008-08-08T10:25:00.002-06:00

Lots has been going on in chronicle land, but as I've plead earlier, I've been up to my eyeballs trying to get this new job of mine under control, and either I am in the midst of a sleep-deprived delusion (damn style channel) or it is really getting better. I am by no means out of the woods on this one, and may not be for quite some time, but it hasn't been even remotely as heinous as predicted. However, the reality need not be known publicly; from the people that I've talked to at my old site, I'm up for sainthood. How cool is that? I just had to move to a different location, but no horrible death. Hmmm....

Son has been doing extremely well on the potty training front. In the two weeks that I have been sending him to DC in underwear, he's only had a couple of accidents. I asked the teachers if they thought that we were pushing things, and they said that they thought he was doing great, and to change anything would probably cause things to backslide. We're still struggling with the whole poop thing-he'll do it at home, but it's iffy at daycare. He's been a little constipated-yes, I know that y'all really needed to know that-but I think that may be causing some of our problems. He does fine with getting in enough fluids, but I'll need to make up another batch of Husband's fantastic bran muffins to help things out. I'm not kidding, they are really, really good.

Anyway, he's been doing so well, that he's been "visiting" the pre-school room, and has been handling it pretty well. I can tell that the change is on his mind-he wants to re-join his old friends that are older than he is, most of whom he has been with since he was a baby-but yet he's not so sure about this whole big boy thing. It helps that one of the teachers that he loved in the toddler room is now in one of the pre-school rooms. This whole development, however, has raised quite a question on our part however. Since my job location has changed, and the current daycare is actually quite a way out of the way now, do we move him before he gets too settled into the pre-school environment (which he should be ready for by the start of the "school" year after Labor Day), or, since I still have to cover my old site for a while, leave him there until we absolutely have to move? Part of me thinks that it is worth the extra time and miles because he is comfortable and is doing so well. He knows most of his letters, and I heard him sounding something out a couple of days ago. He didn't get it quite right, but he was working on it based on what he knew. Oh, and did I mention that my tuition would go down again? Probably enough to justify the gas? But then again, winter is coming, and if they close, neither Husband or I are very close. I really don't want to deal with this, but I know that I will have to eventually.

On happier news, BabyA took her first steps this week. And I missed them. One of the sucky things about being a working mom. I appreciate that the daycare ladies wrote it down on her report to let me know. However, the little stinker hasn't repeated her feat at home yet. She can stand independently for a long time, but just isn't quite certain that forward movement is a good thing. She does this weird little plie type of move, like she's trying to wind up or something, but usually all that results in is that her legs get tired and she plunks down on her diapered bottom. She's still my light-her smiles are worth everything. She even has decided to grow some hair! Not as much as Son had at this age, but she isn't a cue ball anymore!

There is certainly more that I need to prattle on about, like how much longer I plan on nursing, Husband's run in with my dad (he's now 2-2 with pissing off my parents), and all sorts of other fun stuff. However, I do need to get some work done so I can possibly entertain the thought of sneaking out for a quick shopping excursion before I pick up the kids. Happy Friday!

My Monday of living dangerously

2008-07-28T12:26:00.004-06:00

I don't know what made me do it. Avoidance of the nearly inevitable meltdown when I said no? The strong desire to get to work at a somewhat decent time? Sleep deprivation?

My bad act? I sent Son to daycare today in underwear. Cute little Thomas underwear. With a solemn promise from Son that they would return still dry at the end of the day. He hasn't managed it yet at home, but maybe since daycare is a bit more structured, and there is a bit of peer pressure involved, I'm hoping for a victory. Really, really, really hoping for a victory.

Potty training blows, it really does. He can be doing so well, and then things just go haywire. I've told him that once he runs out of the diapers that we have at home, and all of the pull-ups, he's done. No more.

Gah. Oh, and did I mention that I realized this morning when I dropped him off that his backup clothes were no longer there? Because he had already used them? This could be interesting...

UPDATE: He did it! All day dry! Even through his nap! He also did great at home-but didn't make it through the night, which is OK. Finally some progress! And being the little man that he is, he just acted like nothing monumental had happened.

news from the front

2008-07-17T11:35:00.002-06:00

Just one bit of bitching to get in for the day.

Since I am splitting my time between work sites, and thusly lactation rooms, I had been lugging my good 'ol pump in style with me to the new site, because I didn't have a second set of accessories for the work-provided Lactinas (yes, this is one instance where we are spoiled).

So, realizing that this split schedule may very well continue on for a while, I ordered a second accessory from one of the local hospital networks health and care stores. The person that I ordered it from told me that everything was sold piece by piece, but that she would put it together, and even send it by courier to one of the network's pharmacies near my original site, and on the way home, no less. All is good.

I picked up my little package a couple of days ago, and made the idiotic mistake of assuming that all was well. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong...wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. (Sung to the same tune as used by Dr. Cox). I happily traipsed off to work this morning, happy that I wasn't lugging around my old pump. I also happily traipsed down the lactation room during one of my few breaks this morning, put the damn thing together, only to find that it was missing the seal that creates the necessary vacuum for it to work!!!!!! How do you send out an assembly that is missing parts!? When I explicitly said that I needed the whole thing, just not the tubing. Tubing and seal are not equivalent terms here.

So, here I sit, about ready to burst, with meetings until the end of the day, and no way to sneak out to go home or even down to the other site, since that will be over an hour round trip. I'm so pissed I can barely see straight. And I look like a Dolly Parton wannabe. Grrr.

Where to begin?

2008-07-16T13:44:00.002-06:00

For once, I actually have something I could blog about, but now have no time to do it. Damn double edged sword.

OK, so the short version is that my work issues have resolved themselves to a large degree. I am now in charge of an entire R&D site, at a different location. This pretty much what I was doing before, but without people reporting to me. I have two admins, an attorney, and another open attorney slot that we will be filling in as soon as we can.

However, not all is wine and roses. Since this move was necessitated by the departure of yet another person (for anyone keeping track, that is five out of twelve since the beginning of the year), there was no one to backfill for me at my current location. The original plan had been to do a job swap between myself and the more senior person at the other site. That, of course, did not come to fruition upon his announcement at our offsite that he was giving his two weeks and heading for the hills. So, now that he has gone, I am now covering three sites: two in my state, and a third in Asia. Not fun.

The plan is to replace me at the original site with two (two!!) people, but again, it takes time. So, I am trekking all over the damn metro, and have way too much to do, with a commute that has doubled due to having to drop the kids off at one location, and then drive another 15-20 minutes to the new location. I haven't looked into a new daycare, but will need to eventually, since to keep going to the one that they are at is really out of the way. I hate to do it, really I do, but the cost in time and just plain money-both in gas and in increased tuition if I try to split things up-just can't be justified. Of course, we are also in the midst of our yearly review cycle, so I've seen nothing along the lines of compensation or promotion. The head of our department is currently still in an "interim" role, so he has no visibility into what is going on. It makes me somewhat crabby to have to respond to questions about a promotion with "not yet." I'm not a moron, really.

However, despite all of my grumping above, I'm actually enjoying the madness to a degree. It would seem to be that I needed the change-I actually find it a bit invigorating. I'm learning a new technology, and taking charge of a new business unit. I get to hire a new attorney, and I have a small empire! Basically, I have more than just a hint of control-I can actually make decisions and craft things to my liking and do what I need to do to get things done. I've really needed this. It's a pleasant change from feeling trapped and fairly impotent. The work load is huge, but I've been given the green light to bring in whatever outside resources that I deem necessary. I'm trying to be responsible, but I'm doing what I need to. I figured that since I've asked for budget numbers, been given none, so I'm off to do what I need to do.

Life is a bit hectic-BabyA is toying with walking; she can stand by herself for over 10 seconds, but she is happy to cruise and crawl right now. Son's potty training is progressing-he's now tall enough to pee standing up! He's even graduated to taking showers instead of baths. All sorts of firsts that don't normally end up in the baby books, but still notable. He's so funny in that he is so proud of himself. It seems to have re-invigorated the whole effort with potty training. so I'm grateful for that. Some day I'll be able to escape from Target without buying two boxes of diapers!

I should go and pay attention to my staff call-I may actually have do something!

My morning

2008-07-09T13:31:00.005-06:00

4:32 AM: wake up with a start to Son sobbing from his room. Launch self out of bed to make sure that the child is not in mortal danger. Calm down, tuck back in, back into bed.

4:48 AM: Son is crying again. Kick Husband in shins and tell him that it's his turn. He tries to weasel out of it, keep kicking until he gets his ass out of bed.

4:52 AM: Son is crying again. I get up and bring him into bed with us, with a small glimmer of hope that maybe he will sleep. He had a horrid nightmare, the same recurring one that seems to show up when he is stressed (we've been hitting potty training pretty hard lately).

5:05 AM: Husband gets up for the day.

[insert five minute stretches of nap between squirms from Son, who can make a King bed feel small]

5:45 AM: Alarm

5:53 AM: Alarm after vicious snooze activation

6:11 AM: Wake up after alarm was turned off. Son is finally asleep, so I slip out of bed to get my day going, since it isn't going to wait for me.

6:22 AM: Son wakes up alone in our bed and loses it. He is honestly terrified and scared, so the point of what almost resembles an anxiety attack.

8:50 AM: Finally get into the car to go to work. It has been a loooooong morning.

9:10 AM: Son vomits all over himself and the carseat no more than five minutes from daycare. The menu? Goldfish and grapes.

9:50 AM: Arrive at work at new location (more on that when I can find some time to breathe), exchange Son with Husband, who will stay home with him that day. Extract stinky carseat from my vehicle, to avoid it fermenting in my dark colored car on a 80+ degree day.

10:10 AM Finally get into my office.

Am I having fun yet?

Well, that's new

2008-06-19T09:23:00.003-06:00

Maybe God has been poking at me lately for my admittedly skewed view of myself. I've really been struggling on the whole self-esteem thing lately, and have been in dire need of a sense of humor. However, the following two interactions that I have had with complete strangers this week have left me scratching my head about how I present myself. I just don't know what it all means....

Date: Tuesday
Site: Hospitality Private Preview of new museum exhibit
Scene: making small talk with Director of Sales (DS) of local hotel at the reception, while Husband stepped away.

DS: [after discussing kids, etc. DS is a grandmother] "So, are you a stay-at-home mom?"
Me: [thinking that I really should have changed out of the jeans and knit pullover] "No, I'm a patent attorney at X Technology in far-flung suburb."
DS: "Oh." [silence]

I'm not disparaging SAHMs here, but I was a little unsettled by the automatic assumption that all lawyers need to look like they just stepped out of Law and Order. At this point, I don't even own what could be considered a real suit. Don't need one. Actually, we quietly mock those outside counsel of ours that come down for their obligatory face time with us and show up in suits. However, maybe the image could use an overhaul. Anyone want to sign me up for "What not to wear?" (I do have a bit of a crush on Clinton, for reasons I don't understand.)

Date: Thursday morning
Site: Convenience store across from work
Scene: After a horrid morning, stocking up on the big bottle of Diet Pepsi, and some sugar in the form of glazed blueberry cake donuts. (Ignore this bit when I post my uber-whiny weight post). Checking out with normal-looking, non-grungy 20ish male clerk (BC). Me making small talk:

Me: "After the morning I've had, I need my sugar and caffeine."
BC: [smiling] "Are you sure that's enough?"
Me: "Well, maybe not, but they tend to frown on what I really need." [kidding, totally!]
BC: [weird interested look on face] "Are you a seller too?"
Me: "Um, no." [Beats hasty exit out nearest door]

What the...? Was I just solicited for drugs? While in my sensible blue shoes, 50's-inspired cardigan, and my work badge prominently displayed? I still can't make heads or tails of it. If anything, I don't think that I'll be headed back there anytime soon. I've been assumed to be a lot of things, but never a drug dealer. Not even when I was picking up fertility drugs and syringes in a plain brown paper bag in a neighborhood where I very likely could have been a dealer, regardless of getup.

See? God is poking at me, but I have no clue what the message is. Must mull it further....

Nine months

2008-06-18T10:14:00.005-06:00

BabyA turned nine months last week. As I've worried before, my baby is disappearing.

However, due to some scheduling difficulties, she had her nine month appointment yesterday. Of all the things in my life, I tend to be the most punctual about my children's respective well baby/child appointments. Well, at least the scheduling part. Getting there at the appointed time, or, as I've heard that some people do, getting there prior to the appointed time, is a different story.

Regardless, we made it there in one piece, and she was fairly happy. She's been sleeping pretty rotten during the day lately, and I was a little worried that my choice of a 3:30 appointment wasn't all that wise. For once she cut me some slack (she really is a little taskmaster), and was happy and charming, except for the nurse who did the blood draw for her lead screen and hemoglobin. Big bottom lip, one dainty and dramatic tear down the cheek, looking piteously up at Daddy. Such a princess.

Everything seems to be clipping along with her. She's a bit over 18 lbs (49th) and 28ish inches (88th). Her ears are still OK, and all of the other important parts seemed ok. I did raise my concerns about the near constant runny nose, now approaching three months worth, and the rash that she seemed to have developed overnight. I appreciate that babies have sensitive skin, but I seem to have a sensitive sensitive baby. She's also been running a low-grade fever off and on for quite a while, which has been worrying me about a compromised immune system, or some infection that we were missing. The pediatrician's verdict? Teething. I have a hard time with that, since the next set are nowhere on the horizon/gumline. However, she has been a drool machine lately, so that may be it. I'm just worried about her. I'm going through Motrin like it's going out of style. She always seems to feel so much better with it, it just seems to me like there may be something else in the background. I'll give her another month or so, so we'll see.

Other than her medical status, she's a pretty happy little girl. She has become more brave in her adventures in the crawling arena, and has started to track me down when I plunk her down with her toys and disappear to do something extravagant like go to the bathroom or get ready for work. Very rarely does she complain, she just sets out, little fuzzy head down, and grins up at me with I'm found. She adores her brother, plain and simple. She pulls up on anything remotely vertical, and has only had a couple of good bumps. Funny thing is, most of them have been her toppling over while sitting and managing to miss the rug and hit the hardwood. I hate that little thump noise. She's also bound and determined to be walking before she's a year. Right now she is cruising up and down the couch or ottoman, and will hold on with just one hand, more for stability than anything, sort of like a dancer at the bar. She can stand on her own for a couple of seconds, but that is about it.

She has a ready smile, with or without the binky. She likes her Daddy an awful lot, but just likes to play with him across the room. If I am around, she likes for me to be close, which means that she wants me to hold her while she is flirting with someone else. She loves Cybl the cat, and thinks that Dracie is pretty darn cool too. Whenever she hears Cybl, she looks all over excitedly to try to find her. While Cybl complains a lot, she won't leave when BabyA yanks on fur or gets hold of a tail. We're working on "gentle," but overall she's pretty good with her.

She is terrified of the dogs, which I can't understand. She was subjected to a small bath from Yellow Dog once while she was in the carrier, which didn't seem to bother her too much at the time. However, Yellow Dog did startle her not too long ago and she has been scared ever since. Its not a matter of just giving the poor creature dirty looks from my arms, its clinging to me and being near tears. It makes me upset that its this way, since I had always imagined that the dogs would be integrated into our lives more than they are right now. It really is a case of too small of an interior space for two adults, two small children, and two bigger dogs. Outside is a different story, since the dogs can then reach speed and run over the small children. They aren't being mean or aggressive, just being big dogs. Sigh.

All in all, she's still my little light, even though she still occasionally requires me to burn the midnight oil. I can't imagine our world without her.

Musings

2008-06-16T12:04:00.002-06:00

As usual, I have some wonderful, deep, soul searching posts that I need to write. Also as usual, I have even less time than normal to write said deep posts, so I will have to do what I have fallen into the bad habit of doing...a laundry list of junk.

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I hate weekends. Really. I always end up crabby and frustrated. I never get all of the laundry done, I seem to always end up with at least one irrationally screaming child, and also have a husband that thinks that Sunday afternoons are made for nooky time during that small window of time when kids are both napping. Does he not see the piles of laundry still mocking me from the hall? Smell the litter boxes that need to be cleaned? See the weeds that need to be pulled and the new mulch put down where you can see the landscape cloth? I turn into this grumpy, scowling shrew who ends up missing that time that I really need to just be with my kids and husband, but life just keeps screwing it up. So, I end up back at work today even more tired than I was before, even after the diet cola with the zippy caffeine and ginseng, and just wanting to cry. Blech.

**********
We did manage to get out and attempt to test drive a different car to replace the caddie. When I say attempt, I say so in every nuance of the word. We tried to get a sitter for Saturday morning, but no luck. So, being reasonable parents, we decided that we could bring children with, since the test-driven car needed to be able to accommodate two car seats for the foreseeable future.

We managed to get one, yes, one, drive in. It took almost 15 minutes for Husband to move and install both carseats, and then deal with a screaming Son who was afraid that we were abandoning the Jeep FOREVER. "I don't yike dis car. I like Mommy's truck. Whiiiiiiine." Eventually he ran out of steam and calmed down. Despite the trauma (and a very understanding salesperson a local Toyota), off we went. And for once, we really liked what we tried. If our finances had been in order, we probably would have ordered one on the spot. However, we exercised great discretion and restraint, and drove away, albeit with longing stares. To paraphrase Wayne, it will be mine. Oh yes. It will be mine. Just not real sure when.

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BabyA has shown us that she has issues with strawberries. Damn. I gave her some of those apple/strawberry baby puffs over the weekend, and by Sunday she was one broken out mess. It doesn't seem to bother her too much other than for the skin, and it doesn't affect her digestively, but she looks like she is entering puberty. Poor thing. We have her nine month well baby appointment tomorrow, so I may be able to wrangle some hydrocortisone for her. Looks like they are off my menu too, which stinks because I just got a 1/2 gallon of strawberry sorbet that is really, really, yummy. Sigh.

**********
I'm thinking about calling my primary doc to see if I can get my happy pill dosage increased. I have been pretty horrible for the past week or so, and no one at home is liking me too much. Intellectually, I know that Son is an almost three year old that is picky, stubborn, and developing an independence that can be exasperating to watch, let alone deal with. However, I have been snapping at him way more than I should, and I know that it's getting bad when Husband has to tell me to back off. That's not the mom that I want to be. I've even been getting short with BabyA, who is asserting her mobility at the worst times lately (cue wiggling and trying to roll over and stand up during a particularly goopy diaper change, all the while fussing and complaining). Husband has been pushing buttons that I used to be able to ignore. What scares me a little is that Son was about the same age as BabyA is now when I hit a really rough patch the last time. Since I'm already on medication, I can't even manage to cry the tears that I know are there so I can't get any release there. I can't relax enough to even think about sex, let alone even want to have it. Husband's patience can only go so far. It just feels like one more burden. I just feel as though I am spinning a bit out of control. There are days where it feels like everyone would be better off without me. It isn't all doom and gloom, but seems to be outweighing the good stuff lately.

**********
Despite being the newest incarnation of the shrew, Husband and I are supposed to have a date night tonight. My SIL has volunteered to try to take on the two darlings. Husband made it a little over two hours at work this morning before going home sick. He keeps maintaining that we will still be able to go tonight. I'm not getting my hopes up on that one. Damn.

**********
Yep, I'm all goodness and light lately. Makes me think that I really need to follow up on my observation to work husband (ever after referred to as WH) that I really need some time off just to get my head re-organized and to purge all of the crap that I've been hauling around. I've tentatively set the week after the 4th. We'll see how it works, but I'm thinking that I probably could use it.

not yet

2008-06-11T15:13:00.002-06:00

Today was a momentous day for BabyA, although I don't' think that she appreciated it.

Today was the first day that she was not schlepped to daycare in her carrier. As in, she's outgrown her infant carseat and is now officially ensconced in her brother's former digs-a lovely Britax Roundabout. She was not happy. Not.One.Bit. For eleven miles, all screaming and hiccuping and huge tears. It was at the point where I was almost there with her.

Tomorrow she will be nine months old. NINE months. She's almost ready to stand on her own, and has taken to initiating some tentative cruising activities up and down the couch. Last night she was in the bathroom while Husband gave Son his bath. Son was playing in the tub, and BabyA had pulled herself up and was doing her best Kilroy over the edge. Husband was sitting on top of the toilet, held his hand out to her, and she grabbed it and just walked to him. Easy as pie. My infant is rapidly disappearing, and I have no way to even go and look for her, since she doesn't exist.

She's been subject to the downside of being the second child-there really aren't a whole lot of pictures. To be fair, Son hasn't been the subject matter of very many either. We've just had our hands full trying to keep them in one piece. I just feel so sad at the thought that I will have so very few images of her at this age. This soft and warm age where everything that she sees may be for the first time. She's already asserting her independence, and I fear that she may be giving me signs that she will be ready to wean by the time she is a year. In three short months. Despite the fact that I've been her favorite teething ring lately (who knew that so much pain could be inflicted with just two little teeth?), I don't want to lose those 20 minutes before bed when she is all mine. Relatively no wiggling, just quiet, just us.

I don't want her to leave this place just yet-I don't. I won't get to do this again, and it makes me so sad. Sad that one day they won't need me anymore, that I will be an obligation to them, and not the first person that they want when they hurt or are sad or scared. I know that our goal as parents is to raise little people that grow up into adults that will take care of this world and each other. I just wish that I didn't have to let go of them to do it.

The demise of the great V8

2008-06-09T15:13:00.002-06:00

Husband had an epiphany today, after paying almost $80 for gas. The caddie may need to go by the wayside. All of those glorious northstar eight cylinders may need to be used on a much more sporadic basis. Husband drives over 60 miles a day roundtrip, plus all sorts of in town running. The beast is actually getting way better mileage than my Jeep (22 vs. 15), but still. Prior to things getting all wacky with gas prices, we had decided that 22 wasn't that bad, the thing was paid for, and we could suck it up for another year or so until we really had to get some major things done to it, which have been pretty minimal considering that it has 122k miles on it.

However. For the long haul, is 22 really good enough? Or, on the flip side, is the 22 bad enough to justify picking up a car payment? I have to admit, it's been nice to not have one of those for almost two years now. If we had been smart, we would have been saving at least one of the payments for just this type of event. We aren't that bright sometimes, and we decided to have another baby instead. I still think we came out on the positive side of that one.

Regardless, we get to have that fun conversation tonight. I hate money, I really do. I've become pretty good at squeezing more and more out of every single dollar, but I'm afraid that we are approaching that point where there is simply no more to squeeze. We are saving for our retirement, but we haven't really started anything for either one of the kids. Unless they get a full ride somewhere either for academics or otherwise, we are going to have to pick up the tab. For some reason, sixteen years doesn't seem anywhere close to long enough to have to get all of that together. Then there is the guilt and panic incited in me when I screw up and something doesn't get paid, or when we have to put off something that we need. Gah. I hate it.

OK. Time to be a grown up and face this one. Right?

What's the name of that Goddess?

2008-06-05T10:02:00.003-06:00

You know the one, the one with all of the arms and hands, with the calm and serene look on her face? That one? I can't remember the name, but I could have used her this morning.

BabyA threw a massive wrench into my routine this morning, and I really needed another adult around. Son does a more than admirable job of trying to keep her busy (there may be an Emily train in this for him), but when she is grumpy, and goopy, and just being a baby there is not much you can do. Plus, it's not fair to ask an almost three year old to run interference.

You see, normally, BabyA sleeps up until we are almost ready to leave, prior to the toy negotiations with Son. That means I am showered, prepared, and dressed prior to retrieving the little princess. Not so today. Up at 7:15, right after I got out of the shower. For those of you who have tried, putting on makeup with a grabby nine month old on one hip is not fun. I tried to put her down, but since she wouldn't let me be out of eyesight, and the tile and the tub and the toilet and the pedestal sink are not horribly forgiving, I had to hold her or listen to her scream.

She grumped through a bottle, she grumped through two, yes TWO, poopy diapers, and then promptly snored on the drive into work. You know, over 45 minutes later than normal. Sigh. You'd think that since I have almost half a year into this juggling act that I would get better at it somehow. But, to the contrary, it just gets worse.

Thus far I have restrained all of my urges to thoroughly throttle Husband for so happily tripping off to work, with his only responsibility being taking care of himself and taking out and feeding one of the dogs (yes, I get the other one). He's at work early, with his only worry being that the starch may not have worked so well while he was ironing his shirt. Meanwhile, I look like I am taking a leisurely stroll every morning, despite feeling wiped out before I even get here. Not a promotional bellringer I tell you.

Sigh. I need a vacation.

What a difference a nap makes

2008-05-27T14:58:00.002-06:00

For BabyA, not me. She slept until a little after 12:30! When I went in to get her, she was back to her smiley self, chatting away, although a bit distressed about the absence of her binky. She ate a great lunch, and played for a while. It was nice to finally be able to just sit and play with her with no other demands-that hasn't happened in a while.

Regardless, she went back down for a nap at 3:00, and hasn't stirred yet an hour later. I'm a little worried that all of this shut eye could make for a difficult night tonight, but I have a sneaking suspicion that she hasn't been sleeping very well for at least a couple of days, maybe more, so she is really just catching up. Even though I'm a bit tired, I'm really happy that we got this taken care of last night-she is a different kid when her ears aren't driving her nuts. She was still messing with the infected ear while she nursed this afternoon, but it isn't going to completely go away in less than 24 hours. At least she is on her way back to being my smiley little girl-all that I could hope for!

Had to happen

2008-05-27T09:05:00.002-06:00

Just a quick synopsis of last night:

BabyA started to melt down (and melt everything around her due to the heat radiating off of her) around 6:00 PM
Ate around 7:00 after a late nap, craaaby baby
7:45 PM-took temperature and approaching 104. Melting baby with goo coming out of her nose and eyes. Cool bath was a disaster. Screamy baby, where even the always reliable binky didn't work. I could feel that little pang of panic/fear. She was just so different than normal, and I knew that the night would be painful if we didn't get something done.
8:25 PM-registered at ER Husband stayed home with Son, since the thought of crabby baby and crabby almost three year old was enough to make my head spin.
10:05-finally back in an exam room in the peds ER By this point, the motrin that they had given her when we were triaged had kicked in, and she was in a pretty good mood. Gah. Great, make mom look even more neurotic than usual. I'm a second timer-I should have ti more together, right?
11:10-see doc for grand total of five minutes. Pretty bad ear infection in one ear, lots of congestion that is forcing goo out her eyes. Oh, and in the interim, we roasted in the back exam room that was more than tropical. I ended up stripping her down to a diaper since she was warming up again. I almost wished that I could too, but that may have been frowned upon....
11:30-waiting at Walgreens for amoxi and baby motrin. I had to drive ten minutes away from the Hospital, since out here in suburbia, there seems to be a dearth of 24 hour pharmacies. At least she was happy as we were waiting, and the Walgreen's muzak has improved. (In a past life, I dated a Walgreen's pharmacist for a while, and spent A LOT of time waiting for him.)
12:00-BabyA fed, medicated, and in bed.
12:45-Mommy fed, medicated, and in bed.

She was back up at 6:35 this morning, goopy but hungry. I hit her with another shot of the amoxi and motrin, and after some decent booby time, she was back out. It is now 10:10 and she is still out. Poor thing. Mommy is thinking about taking some time to catch a couple of winks herself. Just a long night, after a long weekend. (I don't want to talk about it-I'm just so damn frustrated I cannot stand it!)

At least she seems to be feeling a little better-she just looks like hell. I'm only going to do enough work to not have to take a vacation or sick day, but that is it. My baby needs to be babied a little.

Just a few notes

2008-05-22T09:29:00.005-06:00

It's funny how the random little things are really what compose the substance of your day-but yet get so very little attention. So, for the day, I'm going to try to document the little things that strike my fancy today. Could be nothing but extremely trivial and boring drivel, or a compelling insight to my psyche. I'm voting for the first part, but we'll see...

Husband stayed home this morning and actually helped! Oh the joy! He's working from home today, and had some very nice Rush concert tickets fall into his lap, so he'll be gone tonight. Some guilty conscience at work? Don't care, I got to work earlier than normal this morning.

A ruling just came down on an infringement case that I had been messing with last year. A patent troll (a company that just seeks to enforce patents, but doesn't actually produce anything, just sues companies for infringement) had been sniffing around a couple of our suppliers, causing all sorts of angst and reading of indemnification clauses. Said patent troll and its client lost! Hopefully that means that I won't have to deal with this again. Well, until the next client comes troll's way.

BabyA stood up all by herself last night (yep, probably should have been higher on the list). She crawled over to Husband who was sitting on the floor, put her pudgy little hands on his leg, got her feet under her, butt in the air, grabbed on to Husband's hand for some stability, and stood up. Just like that. She's not taking that not growing up too soon request very seriously.

I sent Son to daycare today in sandals with socks. He demanded that he wear his new sandals, and since it isn't full-on sandal weather yet, I let him go for it. Hey, he's two. Who's going to question that fashion sense?

Has anyone every seen a list on lactation room etiquette? Gah. A couple of weeks ago, we had a new addition to the user pool of the lactation room at work, and it has mucked things up a bit. OK, rule #1: clean up your drips. They are everywhere! I usually wipe down the table after I rinse my stuff out, but it irritates me that I have to clean up after her. It just seems gross to me. I don't know why. Rule #2: do not usurp someone's position in the refrigerator. We share a dorm-sized refrigerator, and my spot has been taken by the new arrival. I like to put my ice pack closest to the minuscule freezer compartment to try to keep it as cold as possible. I've now lost that spot. Rule #3: there is a five minute grace period beyond the scheduled period. So, if it's 3:01, and my scheduled time ended at 3:00, please don't be knocking on the door while I'm fumbling to put myself back together. The meeting ran late, I got in late, and so on. Don't do this especially when your scheduled time has come and gone, so it's not like you are doing the breastfeeding equivalent of the potty dance out in the hall. Finally, Rule #4: Always, always, make sure to change the "in use" sign to "vacant" when you leave (no kidding, we have a sliding marker outside of the door) so there isn't that awkward, should I go in or not, moment. (See Rule #3). If it's used consistently, you'll know if the sign is for real or not. There are rules, people!

Speaking of rules, after last night, I think we have a new house rule: no single parenting on bath nights. No exceptions. They both ended up in bed, but it wiped me out, and got me drenched.

Well, off to a long weekend. Any by long I mean laundry, groceries, litter box cleaning.....

A new milestone

2008-05-21T10:26:00.002-06:00

BabyA, like her brother, has a flair for the dramatic. Son started walking on the day of his first birthday party. By the end of the day, he was walking across the dining room, rather steadily. However, it was almost a week after the party that he did it again. With no audience other than mom and dad, where was the motivation?

BabyA started to crawl about a week ago, just little moves. A couple of feet, stop, rest, and sit up, grump, crawl some more. Husband's mom was up on Sunday, along with his sister and two girls. Having four under the age of four in my house was an experience to behold. It also taught me that having three may be a bit more raucous than I had bargained for. (Just for the record, it doesn't scare me, but may cool my baby lust a bit, at least for a while).

Anyway, BabyA put on a crawling symposium. All over the place, little head down with the concentration of effort to move forward. She is a little funny in that every third or fourth set she has to lift her left leg so her foot helps to propel her along, as if she needs a little turbo. She takes really small "steps." Son would make these large, grand movements, but my little flower takes her time, rather petitely. Nevertheless, just like Son, she turned on the charm for the crowd.

However, unlike Son, she has continued on. Yesterday she crawled to me across the play area in her daycare room, motivated by the glint and jingle of my keys. What can I say, the girl likes the shiny stuff! Her main focus usually is to get to something vertical so she can try to pull up. Fortunately for me, she hasn't done it yet. She can get to her knees, and even manages to get one foot under her, but she doesn't have the leg strength yet to get all of the way up. Once she does though, we are done for. She's too tall to leave the crib where it is, so that will have to go down, and I'll have to the balance on the front rail act to put her down at night (yes, I still nurse her to sleep, and no, I don't plan on stopping anytime soon).

She's leaving babydom behind so quickly. One of her daycare ladies told her to slow down and not grow up quite yet. She's a stubborn little thing, so I don't think that she'll be honoring that request anytime soon. I sure wish that she would.

Marginalized

2008-05-14T13:34:00.003-06:00

Request received today:

"Please cut down everything you do regarding intellectual property for a technology dense company in an very competitive industry into four powerpoint slides. Thank you."

I want to rip something apart.

Let's see, I was also told that "patent stuff really isn't relevant" to most of the new hires, even if, as far as I can tell, most of the new hires are related to our research and development. You know, the one that we pump millions of dollars into a year (way more than our closest competitor) and then can't adequately protect because of resource (not enough lawyers) and knowledge (engineers that aren't educated about the process because some moron in some staffing committee decided it wasn't relevant) scarcities.

Argh.

I probably should give background. For several years, we have worked with HR to put together a presentation for new hires at their day one orientation. Basic things about how the patent process works, confidentiality agreements, etc. I've cut it down severely in the past couple of years. It's now been changed that someone in HR, with no IP background, gives our presentation. I could ask them to tell me the difference between the rights that are provided with a patent application (none) and an actual patent (over a decade of enforceable rights) and all they would do is blink at me. I know that it's not their job, but if you don't understand it, don't try to dictate to me what is or isn't important.

It's just another hit in a long line lately of being told that we are oh-so-important by our CEO yet not important enough to deal with our current resource crisis or address any much-needed growth in the future. It's sort of like being the other woman and hearing-I'll leave her next week-only to have it be two years later with nothing changed, yet years of your life are gone.

At least I get to decide which four slides I get to keep. How about the last one just being a picture of one particular finger extended, with an extreme close-up? Feels about right.

Stuff

2008-05-06T09:37:00.004-06:00

No more grumping (at least for now, I always reserve the right), as I am actually in what could be termed a good mood today. I don't know if it is the fact that spring has FINALLY arrived, with temps in the 70s today, or the good 80s tunes on the radio on the way in, or what.

**********

I have survived 3.5 days of being a single mom to two under the age of three. I don't think that I'll get any points for grace or perfect parenting, but I've managed to achieve the basic thresholds: they are both still alive, have been fed on a regular basis (with only one trip to Wendy's at Son's request), bathed, have clean clothes, and have been put to bed at a semi-decent hour. They have even been on a walk or two, and spent one afternoon listing to MPR and playing by themselves. I'm hoping the MPR and PBS will cancel out some of the other stuff.

**********

While I was getting ready this morning, Son climbed up on the bed and was doing his best yellow lab impersonation-panting, and, ewww, licking me. Often. I moved to get away from the little goon, and somehow he managed to head butt me (in his defense, completely unintentionally) squarely on my rather large and previously beat up nose. I heard that god awful noise of something moving in my nose, and boy, did it hurt. After my eyes stopped watering, my cursory inspection revealed nothing broken, but good lord, that kid has a hard head! Assuming that since my nose was throbbing, Son may have hurt himself too, I asked him if his head hurt. He looked at me with a rather confused look and said "no" and continued to look at me like I was an idiot. I banned him from the bed and sent him out to finish watching Clifford (see, use of PBS!)

**********

Husband came home last night. Hooray. Sort of. He was stressed out about what he will find at work after being gone for five days (the short answer? A mess of a remodeling project), and tired and just plain grumpy. Oh, and did I mention that we are going to be driving almost five hours on Saturday down to Iowa? Good times I tell you, good times.

**********

Son never ceases to amaze us in smart he is. In this instance, a little scarily so. Husband was home last night, and we were watching a slideshow of his pictures on the HDTV (it has this cool feature where you put in the memory card of your digital camera and it will pop up a slide show in 52 glorious inches). Son walked up to Husband, asked to be picked up, and says very earnestly, "I really love you." Hold off on the awwwws. He then proceeds, in the next breath, to say "I have a poopy diaper." Stinker.
**********
Oh, I love my real estate website that updates me on listings that I have been following! Husband and looked (as in peered in the windows while standing out in the rain) at a huge house that is bank owned, and has been gutted back to the studs. Apparently, the bank didn't believe in winterizing (duh, winter, Minnesota) and a pipe burst, and the first floor and previously finished basement had to be stripped of everything except the framing. ANYWAY, it was originally listed at $379,900 (it's over 5,000 sq. feet) but they reduced it today by $64,000. If it drops a bit more, we may seriously consider it. It would need about $100k of work to make the first floor and the second livable, and we could leave the basement until we were ready (pending of course, the bank's approval). The yard isn't that great, but the space...oh my God the space. It has a three car garage, and then a tuckunder four car attached to the basement. Oh, the things that we could do.

Of course, there is the small matter of selling our house, which in this crap market may be tougher than even I can imagine, but still, it's really worth thinking about. I've got a list an arm long on the things that we would need to do to make ours ready-minor stuff like repainting the upstairs and stairs walls, finishing the landscaping on the one side, etc. Of course, I get my usual anxiety whenever I think about taking on a bigger mortgage, and losing my big yard. But then again, losing our big yard but gaining some much-needed space would be good. The biggest perk to this? Husband is more than 50% on board with this. After all the fights about this, he is finally figuring out that we are getting space constrained, no matter what we do. How much clutter I throw, there just isn't what we need. And BabyA is only eight months!
**********
So, there's my week. How was yours?

Maybe Brittany had it right

2008-05-05T10:17:00.002-06:00

Maybe this place is toxic. Really. (But no, I will not be dancing around in virtually nothing with a large snake. I have a phobia about snakes. Terrified of them).

I just don't get it. I get back into this office, and I hit a wall. I had a fairly decent weekend, all things considered. We had to drop Husband off at the airport on Saturday morning rather earlyish, so I had two tired kids, but they both did pretty well up until bedtime. On Sunday, I was able to do a little work out in my flower beds and around the yard while the kids slept.

Then I walked into this place, booted up, and want to do nothing more than run in the opposite direction.

I even went to a continuing education class on Friday that was really interesting and engaging. I was almost looking forward to going back to work on Monday. Now, I wonder what chemical they were pumping through the vents to make even begin to think that coming in today would be a fulfilling experience. I need to get myself more of that stuff, whatever it is.

Just have to trudge through, but I won't be winning any employee of the day awards.

2008-04-29T21:51:00.003-06:00

Spring is supposed to bring hope, joy, all of those good things associated with fresh starts and blooming flowers and baby animals. If it is supposed to be all flowers and sunshine, why have I been spending the past couple of days at the point of tears on a regular basis?

I really can't think of what is causing this, or at least pin down one specific trigger. Yes, work still sucks. There has been some movement at solidifying things at the top, but no one knows what that means for the rest of us. It's been a rough almost six months now, and it's only getting worse. I'm getting so tired of getting beat up for not getting things done, when even if I were three people, it still wouldn't get all done. My jokes about job security are beginning to ring hollow right now. I can't shake this feeling that my optimism about finally getting some sort of recognition for all that I have put in over the past several year was misplaced. That I'm going to end up in the same damn rut that I have been in for a while now. The work is still fun to some degree, but the sheer volume of it is beginning to tear me down. I have decided that I suck at being superwoman, and don't understand why I even tried.

Another thing that has really been bugging me is the fact that Husband has been pushing me to find a urologist to set up an appointment for the final snip. It makes me so sad to think that I'll never have another baby in this house, never get to feel those taps again. After all that we went through to get here, battling infertility and all of its associated demons, that we are just going to shut the door with such finality. There are all sorts of pragmatic, good reasons why we should stop here. There is the fact that I'm not getting any younger, and would be a lot closer to 40 than I am to 35 if we had another. My body didn't fare well last time either-my lower back is still giving me some trouble, almost eight months later. A third pregnancy with GD would make later onset an almost certainty. We cannot afford daycare for one more; with the housing market the way it is, while we could afford a larger home, the likelihood of selling ours for anything much more than what we owe on it is really a crapshoot. I know all of that.

I can't seem to articulate to Husband how or why this is bothering me so much. I know that all kids grow up, and that babies never stay that way. I know that. But, and I hesitate to write this, since I never thought that I would have the chance to, I like being a mom. I do. I really would like more. It was when Son was about the age that BabyA is now when I got the urge to have another. While the two of them are a handful, it just doesn't feel complete to me. I'm not stuck on necessarily having another biological child, although I have to admit that I really think that I blew it with both pregnancies by not stopping to just be in the moment, in the experience. However, that's probably a pretty crappy reason to have another child. Husband is dead set against any more, and since he has to be on board, I guess that I'm stuck.

Both situations have got me feeling rather powerless, like I'm being dragged along by the current, and I have no way to control where I end up. Like nothing that I do really makes a difference in the eventual outcome, because I've lost that control. Other people control things, and there is no way that I can wrest that from them. With work, all I can do is my job, and tell those above me what I want (a major victory in itself I suppose, since I've never advocated for myself before) and let that bitch called fate take its course. Husband is a force of nature, the tornado that you can't control, but that can rip you apart. I wish that I could make him see how hard this is for me. How big a role that infertility and our subsequent family has played with me, with how I see myself. Even though I use words as a weapon, and as a way to support my family, I always seem to fail so miserably when I try to get them out to him. I don't even need to sway him to my side, but it would be a relief of sorts for him to be able to honestly say that he can understand why I would feel that way. He has already said that he can't, and in his world, that's it. No attempt to empathize, or to try to see it through my eyes. Just slam the door and don't look back.

It probably doesn't help that I've been so tired that I could cry lately. I've been coming home, doing all of the fun stuff like dinner and baths, and then have been working for another couple of hours after everyone has gone to bed. I hate slinking into bed and having to cling to my edge. I miss just being able to sit and watch a movie, or one of our late-ish night favorites. But if I don't do it, the bottles will never get washed, the dishes won't find a home in the dishwasher, clothes won't get folded, and oh, that little thing called the job that pays the mortgage and everything else won't get attended to.

I've just been battling up this hill for so long without a break of any kind that I just have run out of reserves. I need a husband that gets me right now, someone who understands what I am trying to do, and why I feel compelled to do it, and can just support me. I need to get something, anything from him (that doesn't have sex as its ultimate end goal) that can help bring me back on keel. I just don't see it coming. He has to travel for work beginning on Saturday and won't be back for five days, so I don't see any downtime for me anytime soon.

I know that so many go through so much more than I do, have so many other hurts and haunting grief that they carry with them. There are times when I use that thought to try to put it all in perspective, and it just makes me feel worse for being so weak that I can't just handle all of this and get one with it already. If I didn't have Son and BabyA right now, I would be sunk. BabyA really has been my light as of late-she doesn't care what I do, just so long as I can hold her, and provide a binky. In return I get smiles and giggles and snuggles, with no demands. Son is very good at being almost three, but he also has those moments that cause me to wish that he would never grow up-just stay this sweet and beautiful boy. I know that can't happen. I also know that it's not fair to place the burden of providing emotional solace for their mother on them. But right now, there are times where they and the animals in the house are all that I have.

I just feel as though I am failing at every turn. I just want to crawl into a hole and only come out when things become manageable again. Somehow I don't think that is going to work.

Used Husband, free to good home

2008-04-21T12:04:00.002-06:00

Yes, it's been that kind of day-already.

It really begins last night. Son has been sneezing and chasing a runny nose for a couple of days, but yesterday he woke up with a squeaky voice, which only got progressively worse. While it was sort of cute, I could see that this was going to head down a bad path. By that night, he was in near tears because his throat hurt. He wouldn't eat his dinner, and practically screamed when he tried to get some juice down.

Husband volunteered to take him to the pediatrician this morning, but not without desperate need to somehow get a medal for doing it. It is supposed to be warm today, so he first complains that he can't find a short sleeve shirt. Yes, they are in the closet on the left hand side. What about shorts? Yes, they are in the closet on the left hand side. What socks? Good grief-where they have been for the past 31 months of Son's life? By this point, I'm at the point of telling him to get the hell out of the way and just let me do it (which I think was the desired outcome). No, no, no he protests, I can do it. Finally, he heads out the door, and I asked him where Son's coat was. Yes, it is supposed to be in the mid-70's today, but it is only 55 outside right now. He's sick. He needs a coat.

What followed was a symphony of slamming doors and cars peeling out of the garage because they were allegedly going to be late. (They weren't). It was my fault that Husband didn't find Son's coat out in the back seat of his car, where he had put it yesterday. I was so damn mad at him I could barely see straight. I'm still ticked off. I do all of this stuff as a matter of course, just because it has to be done. I don't buy into the whole attitude that my chromosomal makeup allows me to have my act together as it applies to parenting more so than Husband's. It's just because I pay attention. Husband can't be bothered with the small details like what the weather will be like, or where the clothes go. Because, heaven forbid, he would pick up a laundry basket and actually do something with the contents other than just deposit said basket in front of me. Never mind the whole full time job thing. The job that needs a bit more attention than it is getting now-I need to do more than just tread water right now. I need to be able to show that I can handle it, but having to have another full time job at home on top of it makes me extraordinarily crabby.

Oh, and one more thing, since I'm bitching. He doesn't get how I'm wound up so tightly right now that I can't relax long enough to breathe, let alone be an enthusiastic partner in intimate encounters. I'm not doing this to punish him, really. I just have zero desire to do anything along that line. It took me longer this time to heal from birth, even though it wasn't quite as physically traumatic, it was just tougher overall. Two years can make a huge difference. Anyway, between the work demands, the pressure to keep things together at home, plus the whole downshift in attitude due to the happy pills, I'm just not horribly engaged right now. On top of that, when he comes to me right after the alarm, and I'm listening to the monitor for stirrings from BabyA, and to the room across the hall, it's hard to have any focus on the task at hand. He's frustrated, I'm frustrated, and no one is happy. I just want to curl up into a ball and cry some days. I just feel as though I'm stuck in a vise between everything, and it just keeps getting tighter and tighter, and I get more and more compressed.

Happy freakin' Monday.

Is this thing on?

2008-04-15T21:01:00.002-06:00

Argh. ARGH!!! I don't know what to say, although profanity laden would be the choice. I'm not horribly fluent, so I'll spare everyone.

OK, here's the deal. NewManager took a leave of absence over the past couple of weeks, for no disclosed reason. He was supposed to be back on Monday. He hasn't shown up yet. The big hope was that, dependent upon whether he came in or not, we would finally get a resolution of this whole mess and be able to move on. Hire to fill the gaping holes, find some sort of relief from the crushing workloads.

Radio silence. From everyone.

I've been getting phone calls from other sites asking for a status update, since NewManager is at a site in the same area. I have nothing to tell them.

We were hoping to see something from OldManager on Monday, and certainly expected something today. If not a full explanation (oh how the theories have flown around here), then at least a status update. Nothing. In OldManager's defense, we kinda sorta filed a lawsuit on Monday, so he's been just a touch busy. The waiting is killing me. I just want to know and move on. This isn't like Christmas and knowing that the biggest box is for you and having to wait t open presents. This is waiting for your sentence.

Spring is a'comin'! II

2008-04-14T13:40:00.002-06:00

After having a near miss with a lot of snow over the weekend (my parents got hit with over six inches on Friday-the school had a snow day for crying out loud), I found even more reassurances that spring is coming. It's been a very long, cold winter.

my crocus in both the front and back yards are up, and some have even bloomed. My tulips are also poking their heads through.
my tulips are also in jeopardy from the booming bunny population in the back yard. The neighborhood has only one outdoor cat that is of any use, and he's only into the occasional bird or squirrel, not Monty Pythonesque bunnies. If they murder my tulips or sedums again this year....(and no, my cats are of absolutely no use, since they are both declawed AND don't like the feel of grass)
My neighbors the country club horticulturalist and golf course superintendent were out cleaning out their perennial beds yesterday. If they are out, then I can go out. Forget the Farmer's Almanac, I've got S and T!

However, not a single decent sized lake has any decent amount of open water yet. The opener is less than a month away. Oh, and our boat still isn't done yet. Sigh.

Milestone-I think

2008-04-08T09:10:00.003-06:00

Today was a biggie for Son. I finally came to the realization that while he is staunchly refusing to be potty trained at home, he IS doing pretty darn well at daycare. Regular poopy and even more regular pee. Which is very good. I think that it has helped that he has moved to the group in his toddler room that is now preparing to go into preschool. Most of them are potty trained, so for this one brief instance, peer pressure may be a good thing.

So, I sucked it up and bought the gold-lined (not really, but has anyone really looked at the price of these things?!) Cars (tm) pull-ups (TM) for him to have at daycare. If he doesn't take advantage of them, he'll be right back in diapers, but I thought that this may be the kick-start to getting the whole thing rolling. Part of the problem at home is that he gets so into what he is doing that he doesn't want to stop and go potty, even though he can recognize that he has to go. I haven't been horribly good at making a point to have him try, but when he is vehemently denying that he has to go, I feel like I'm pushing too hard, and may be doing more harm than good. However, at daycare, he routinely tells them that he has to go, and then does. It's great in one aspect, because he's really trying, but also lousy in another, since he doesn't do that at all at home. I'm trying not to get frustrated, but argh! Somehow it seems wrong to have conversations involving long, compound sentences while changing a poopy diaper. Sigh. I just hope that I'm getting broke in with the tough one, and that BabyA will make it look easy. Oh please, let that be the case.

I've cut him some slack, since he very rarely, if ever, wakes up dry from naps or overnight. His body just isn't quite ready for that step. He's so darn smart though, that during his waking hours I know that he can do it. I should just resign myself to the fact that with this, along with all of the big milestones, he will set his own schedule, and that when he is ready, he will just up and do it. For now though, we'll see if he can pull this off (absolutely no pun intended). Cross your fingers!

Baby needs some new shoes

2008-04-07T11:31:00.005-06:00

OK, so she doesn't crawl, let alone walk, but those little tootsie's of BabyA's needed some protection from the elements. Really. Now that it's getting warmer out, and she can sit by herself, she will be going out on walks in the big stroller at daycare. I wouldn't go out on a 55 degree day in just socks, so why would I ask my baby girl to?

So, really, it's all Stride Rite's fault. I mean, they send me the postcard telling me about the buy one, get the second at 50% off, and hey, what am I supposed to do? Son goes through shoes like there is no tomorrow, although now that he is approaching three, he has finally slowed down enough that he is no longer outgrowing shoes before they even look like they are worn. We are now officially on our third (!) pair of sneakers in toddler size 9. He also got a pair of semi-dressy brown shoes for his spring program at daycare, and for the pictures that I need to book sometime today.

Anyway, back to BabyA. So, it's not only Stride Rite's fault, but Husband's as well. We had to wait a good 15 minutes to get our name called, so by the time that we were done with Son, he was beyond antsy. So was Husband, who can't stand crowds or lots of people in a small space. The little store was packed (lots of people with my same affliction no less), so he and Son bolted as soon as we got Son's old shoes back on. In my defense, I had told him that I wanted to get a little something for BabyA for said walks, etc. However, it was his fault in that he left me unattended.

So, we finally got down to business with BabyA, who was being beyond cute-all smiles, and shy little head bends. First, we discovered that she has tiny little feet. Someone her age would run around a size two, maybe even a three (God knows that Son did). Not my girl. She's in a size 1-that's for newborns! Well, at least she has been saved from having her mother's flippers-I'm all of 5'2" but wear a size 9 post pregnancy, and I've got no inkling of an arch. Soooo, I got her these:

oh, and since I *had* to get a second pair, these as well:

I am such a sucker. However, the first pair were really meant to be. Really. I was hanging up some clothes for this spring/summer in BabyA's closet, and came across a pink, brown, and cream outfit that I had forgotten. The whole thing together was adorable. BabyA looked at me like I had lost it when I was beside myself this morning after I got her dressed, but geez, is she one cute kid!

Don't judge me. Even if I will never be able to enter the cute Olympics, my kids certainly can. It's just so much more fun to dress them than this two kids in three years body. Almost as expensive, but much more rewarding.

Spring is a'comin'!

2008-04-04T09:50:00.002-06:00

Two signs of spring (three if you count that most of the snow that we got last week has disappeared):

outside of the gate that I use to go into work, there are three dandelions in bloom. No spring bulbs, but the weeds are back. Hooray!
the boat storage place across the street from work has now taken out all of the boats and they are all lined up against the fence, in either their shrink-wrapped white glory (yes, up here we shrink wrap our boats over the winter) or with their tarps all still firmly attached. You see, its the horse race track that uses the stables to store the boats over the off season, so soon we will see the horses out on the exercise track and walking in their circles.

Next stop: the fishing opener!

And the hits keep on coming

2008-04-02T23:09:00.004-06:00

After receiving an email tonight, by the end of April we will have lost 30% of our attorney staff since December. So, let's see, how many people do I have to be now, on top of just handling my job?

I picked up my former manager's prosecution load upon his resignation
I'm covering for the contracts attorney who is out on maternity leave, and has accepted another position within the company, with only a 50/50 shot of her being replaced
We are losing our patent agent in the Far East at the end of April, so I'll pick up all of her agreement work and support for all of Asia, where we have one R&D facility, and multiple manufacturing groups in several different countries.

Oh, and let's see, in the past three years, I've had another manager quit, so I picked up half of his job, and then my partner in crime quite two year ago, which resulted in me picking up the other half of the manager's job. None of these people have been replaced. I don't know if I should cry, get pissed, or give up. I can't wait until I hear what the plan is now.

For some reason, the whole hiding under the covers thing is sounding more and more appealing....

If only

2008-04-02T09:25:00.003-06:00

Just a quick summary of how this week has been going.

The slow simmer of a possible positive change in the situation at work has been completely obliterated. I don't know how we are going to emerge from this. My previous musings about finding another job were more fanciful than anything-I harbored the hope that something would finally click here and we could get back to being what we were-a strong, cohesive group that was making significant inroads to making a positive change in the company. I like who I work with, and the work is stimulating, but the environment is horrible right now. I'm not so sure that thoughts about leaving are that out of the realm of possibilty now. I think that I'm moving from fanciful to pragmatic and serious.

Needless to say, all I have wanted to do for the past couple of days is hide in bed and pull the covers over my head until this all passes (I hope) in a couple of months. For some reason, they won't pay me to go into emotional denial, so here I sit. It's beginning to take a toll on me, all of it. The insane workloads, the side conversations, the uncertainty of what hit we will take next. I'm having a tough time sleeping, and my shoulders are so tight I have to make a conscious effort to put them down instead of having them hunched up by my ears.

Husband for some reason doesn't get the stress right now, even though we have been in a similar place with him at other jobs. I just need a distraction, a hug, a squeeze of the hand. Instead, he gets mad at the situation, which really doesn't help me too much. His staunch refusal to even consider me getting a different job isn't helping either-I hate feeling trapped, but right now, that about sums it up.

This sucks.

Prayers

2008-03-31T15:01:00.002-06:00

I've gotten into the habit, pretty much since the day that we brought BabyA home, to say a prayer over her as she sleeps on my lap after her bedtime feed. I started because I was so worried about her when she came home. She didn't have any major issues, just flirting with jaundice, but it still scared me. So, I say my prayer when she is so peaceful and beautiful on my lap, usually with a small hand holding onto my shirt, or resting so softly on the breast that helped her to find that slumber that only babies can have.

I'm not what anyone would consider highly religious. I'm a pathetic Catholic at best-I manage to hit the major feast days, and both of the kids are baptized Catholic, because, what if? I would like to actually make it to church more often. When allowed, when I can just be in the moment, I come away recharged to some degree. The whole mass is a meditation of sorts to me. The predictability of it all. The prayers and invocations that I have been reading/saying since I was able to read the monthly missal in the pews. It's comforting-it's always a place that I can go and know just what to do.

I'm embarrassed to some degree that I can't seem to manage to make it with two small kids, since I watch the mother of four under the age of 10 that pulls it off with no problem. Meanwhile, I am trying not to commit a cardinal sin when my terrible two almost three son cannot.sit.still. I want him to be able to find that same comfort, that same peace. I suppose that he will have to find it for himself, sort of like I did. I was raised Catholic in a small town of 750 where there were four Lutheran churches. I went because I was dragged by my parents. I chose a Catholic university for undergraduate, with the secret hope that I would finally be part of the majority for once, among a community with a shared history and background. Eventually, I participated in campus ministry. Nothing more than a twice a month lector, but still, I found my faith to some degree.

After college and law school, I lost that focus. Constant moves and all that came with it. However, upon entering the fourth year of struggling to have a baby, I had what can only be called an epiphany one night while laying in bed after yet another IUI. I had been up for what seemed like hours, staring at the ceiling, my mind not shutting off. Am I or aren't I? What if? What now? All of those questions that flow so easily through an infertile's mind. Through all of our treatments, which weren't half as extensive as some, I had always had some spectre of hope lingering in the background. At first it was the naive, "well, of course and IUI will work right away, the timing is dead on!" Then I progressed to "I'm due for a break here" to "IVF won't be that bad, really." However, that night, for some reason, I was able to still my mind enough to realize that everything, all of it, was really out of my control. I had done all that I could-I had given myself the shots, gone to the ultrasounds, trusted my Husband with the huge needle for the trigger, and had laid on the exam for the requisite 10 minutes. That a higher power now controlled my destiny, one that was probably happening as I lay there 12 hours post IUI. I just decided to give it up to that power. That even if it hadn't worked, that I had done all that I could. Even though the Church doesn't condone treatment, some of what I had been taught had come through to give me that moment of peace, of clarity. Was it a coincidence that was the cycle that Son came about? I don't know. All I know is that the biology of conception makes me believe that there has to be something else going on.

Of course, my theory has plenty of holes in it, I know. What about those people who get children and then do something horrible to them? What about those much wanted, much loved children that are lost before they are even born, or after? What about them? I don't have an answer. All I know is that I offered up my worry, and was able to find some sort of peace, maybe even a bit of strength. A good friend, who is also a Baptist deacon, had said something along that line to me, and in that instant, it made sense, but it took me a while to let go of that illusion of being able to control everything. I still struggle with that, and I try to identify the things that I really can do something about, and the things that I can't.

I was in the same place when we had that blip on the radar when I was about 8 weeks with BabyA. It was amazing how one tiny, and I mean tiny, clot could throw my whole world into a spiral. What would I have done if something had really happened? It was a couple of weeks after the whole incident, and again, laying in bed thinking about all of the things that were happening, and what was going to happen. Would this pregnancy make it? How will this affect Son? How can we pay for this? Will I ever want to eat again? This may sound completely out there, but I swear that I heard a voice in my head tell me that "it will be alright." I actually fell asleep not too long after that. I swear that I haven't gone off the deep end, and it hasn't happened again. It was just one of those moments that gives me a bit of pause.

Needless to say, I say my prayer over BabyA every night with the hope that someone is listening. I give thanks for the gift of my precious little girl, for her brother. I ask for patience. I ask for the protection of babies like Simone over at Flotsam, and to heal the hearts of those that haven't had the chance to feel the slow breathing of a contented baby on their lap, or who have and had to suffer through a loss of that small soul. My heart hurts for them, and it makes me realize just how lucky we are to have two healthy children asleep in the house. I really hope that someone is listening.

Tigers, cloud leopards, and sun bears, oh my!

2008-03-31T09:11:00.004-06:00

Yesterday, we actually did something as a family which didn't involve running errands to Fleet Farm or Target. And, get this, it actually went well!! Who'd thunk it?

Husband's best friend B was up with his daughter, C, who is about 6 months older than Son. They have played together before when we would go down to see B, and they get along pretty well. Son is pretty social, and was more than happy to have someone else other than me or BabyA to play with. C doesn't play with a whole lot of other kids, so it took her a while to warm up. For some reason she seems to be pretty leery of me, which I don't get. B is going through what can only be termed a hideous divorce, with lots of accusations and manipulations going on, and I wonder what C's mom said about me to her. For God's sake, she may not like Husband, but sheesh, she's seen me with her kid and mine before. She should be happy that I'm around.

Sorry, minor diatribe. ANYWAY, we all went to the Zoo yesterday. Son is now old enough to really enjoy it, and he really did. Our initial intention and motivation to go (even though it's only about 10 minutes away from our house) was the seasonal exhibit of farm animal babies. We also thought that it would be fun for C, and help with B's cause that he isn't the world's most awful father. However, by the time that we got to the area of the exhibit, it was nothing but a disturbed ant hill of people and strollers and screaming kids. Nope, not gonna do it. We walked pretty much the rest of the zoo, only missing the dolphins, which we can get to this summer when they do the shows and all of that. Son had a blast-the flamingos were a big hit, and so were the red pandas. But the tigers-oh my the tigers. We got to see two of the big males walking in their exhibit, and they got rather close-Son's eyes about fell out of his head. He also liked the camels and the moose. It was so much fun to get to watch him hold Husband's hand and get all excited about what was the next thing around the corner.

BabyA even got into it a little. When we went through the tropics exhibit, there were all sorts of plants and birds flying overhead that she could see from the stroller. She took little catnaps here and there, but overall, she didn't sleep much. She was happily looking around and flashing a grin or two at anyone that would look her way. Not a single grump out of her the entire three hours. She was great!

Overall, they both were so good that I'm encouraged to try another outing in the near future. I'm turning into, gah! a parent!! Seriously, it was almost, gee, relaxing. It was a really nice day out, overcast but in the upper 30s, and with all of the walking, a spring jacket was all that you needed. After the long winter that we've had, it was just nice to spend some time outside and enjoy it. Watching Son having fun, and Husband being right there with him was good too. Hmmm, what should the next outing be? Science museum, Children's Museum......I could get used to this.

What I should remember

2008-03-25T13:01:00.003-06:00

Hopefully no one felt overly contaminated by the last post-I still am in the process of taking a flamethrower to our bedroom. I'm not too enamoured with our bedding anymore, so who cares? Oh, and the missing closet doors? Not a result of said flamethrowing but a pregnant temper tantrum with Son. Damn things wouldn't stay on their 40+ year old track, so I sorta kinda tore them off. Oops.

Anyway, in the middle of the viral maelstrom that was our house last week, a fairly momentous thing occurred. I got to hear my kids laughing together for the first time. In some people's world that may not be a big deal, but in mine it was. Just prior to the giggle fest, that week in fact, the thought had crossed my mind that almost four years ago, I had sat in that very living room, crying my eyes out after a really, really bad RE appointment. Amongst the tears, Husband and I had discussed the very real possibility that we couldn't, wouldn't, have children. Husband was adamantly anti-adoption, and it all had felt so bleak. It had been so bad that I swore off fertility treatment for the rest of the spring and all of the summer. I just couldn't hack the never ending disappointment, and my husband said something about wanting a fertility drug free wife (not that I'm normally all wonder and light, but those of you that have been there get it).

Instead of all of the bleakness, here I sat, four years later, with my toddler standing before me, an infant on my lap, and they are laughing at each other so hard that they are nearly in tears. You never could have told me four years ago that this would be the case. The cause for all of the merriment? I was sitting on the armchair with my feet up on the ottoman with BabyA, and Son was tossing a small ball to me. His aim was a bit off, it hit my foot, and bounced back to almost smack him in the noggin. Being a good sister (yikes), BabyA started to giggle, which got Son going, and so on. She would get going every time that he threw the ball, regardless of what the outcome. She adores him, and he played into it to the absolute hilt. This went on for over 15 minutes. I call Husband out from his self-quarantine in the bedroom, and he recorded it on his cell phone. It was so simple, but yet such a wonderful moment. This was why we wanted a child-this is why we wanted children. To watch and hear the two of them enjoying each other made it all worth it. I hope that the virus' were entertained, because we sure were.

Emerging from the viral haze

2008-03-21T15:33:00.004-06:00

The past couple of weeks have been filled with the plague at the Chronicle house. First, BabyA came down with something, part cold, part flu, part demonic possession last Wednesday. Thursday and Friday night saw me sleeping on the rather small loveseat in her room all night, both nights, because it just made more sense than getting up every 30 minutes to hour when she would fuss and fuss some more. I did feel for her. You see, she's a binky addict. However, this addiction becomes a problem when you can't breathe through your nose, so you have to breathe through your mouth, and then can't suck on your binky, or, even worse, have it fall out! Her fever got up to in the mid 102s, but was pretty much gone by Sunday. It got her out of her shots at her six month appointment, and two days of daycare. She looked absolutely miserable, and there wasn't much that I could do other than attack with the nose sucky thingy, dose with Tylenol, and let her nurse as much as she wanted. Just as a note, she does feeble very well.

However, my grand total of three hours of cumulative sleep each night did not help me much-I ended up a quivering ball of sleep-deprivation induced migraine and chills. The actual cold hit a day or two later, but I just couldn't function. Husband actually stepped up-he took both Son and BabyA out for a couple of hours on Saturday afternoon so I could sleep. He also schlepped them both over to my brother's for a couple of hours on Saturday night. His thought was that I would feel better by then and we could just get a couple of hours for us, which have been in extremely short supply lately. To give you an idea how lousy I still felt, I actually fled the kitchen when the appetizer plate from Applebee's arrived. Normally I'd fight you for it. Eventually, I tried to eat, but managed to recycle my crackers and water pretty rapidly. It's a good thing that morning sickness never really hit me that way-I'm terrible about getting sick.

I ended up better by Sunday morning, the cold had hit, but I could stand to be in the light without threat of vomit. However, Husband got hit by the flu that afternoon. He didn't get back to work for a full day until that Friday. I actually made him an appointment with a doctor the next morning (using the recently completed clinic five minutes from our house-hooray!), and the doc actually diagnosed him with influenza-not just some random virus. She prescribed Tamiflu, and wow, does that stuff work. I've never encountered an anti-viral that actually DID something. Within two hours of taking it, Husband felt somewhat human, and after the second dose, he was actually able to sit up and eat. It wasn't a cure, but it sure made it all the more bearable. Son had a hard time staying away from Husband, but even with the flu shot, there was no way that I was going to risk it. Ditto that for BabyA. We managed to dodge the bullet, for which I am eternally grateful. Son was very happy when he was finally able to give that hug to Daddy.

I'm still fighting the cold, but its now in that irritating, blowing your nose every five minutes with a cough, that is easy enough to handle. I'm not what one would call 100%, but I'll take what I've got right now. Knowing my luck, I'll probably just get over it in time for my spring allergies to kick in. Because I'm weird, I've managed to develop some not so fun seasonal allergies that only seem to get worse as I get older. Thank God this will most likely be my last spring nursing-bring on the prescription-grade stuff! But then again, it would have to stop snowing for any spring allergies to pop up. Since we got almost a foot right before Easter, I think that I've got a couple of more good weeks. Nothing like having to excavate your vehicle before you leave in the morning. Blech.

ZZZZzzzzzz.......

2008-03-11T23:02:00.001-06:00

Pushing midnight, working on agreement since 10:00, still not done. BabyA has been stirring due to binky malfunctions. I'm going to be a real treat tomorrow.

And the kicker? The agreement isn't even mine. The flu has hit our department, and the responsible attorney has been out for the past three business days. Of course, this thing needs to be done by the end of the week. Along with everything else.

Yuck.

Happy Friday my eye

2008-03-07T10:33:00.002-06:00

It's gonna be one of those days. Now, I know, I'm creating a possibly self-fulfilling prophecy here, but its not even 11AM and I am at the point of very likely killing whoever comes through my door next. Everything is grating on my nerves-and I don't know why.

OK, maybe I do have a bit of an inkling. First off, BabyA hasn't slept through the night once this week. The last time that she did it was last Friday night. I don't know what the deal is there. I did take her bumper out of her crib, since she's rolling at night now and I'm ultra paranoid about her getting stuck and being smushed up against it with dire consequences. I can't get it out of my head, rational or not, so I'm going with my gut. Unfortunately, I don't think that BabyA likes the change in scenery. Also, her binky has fallen through the slats on the crib, and Lord help us if a binky is not around. She can find it and put it back in like a pro, but without it, yikes. I'm not used to this. Add all of that to a couple of nights of staying up way too late to get some work done after the kids went to bed and I got the bottles washed and the laundry folded and washed my face, and it isn't pretty. I'm at that point where I'm getting shaky. Part of it is due to the near IV stream of caffeine that I have been pumping into myself to merely function, and part of it is just the sheer exhaustion. The rather high stress levels are catching up to me as well. I just need one morning to sleep and NOT be hassled. I'll give you a hint when that may happen-when Hell and Antarctica become one and the same.

Grrrrrrr.

Go figure

2008-02-27T11:38:00.002-06:00

I just had to get this one down.

I was dropping off Son at daycare this morning (later than late) and he was all excited about getting in on story time, since it was "If you give a mouse a cookie." He looooooves those books. Anyway, the teacher had to take a break to round up the wandering toddlers, so she came over to say good morning.

She also had an interesting observation. Apparently, Son is proficient in identifying numbers, but in Spanish only. Hunh? If you hold up a flash card with a number five on it, he'll happily tell you what it is in Spanish. Ask him to do it in English? Nope, he is still getting them a bit mixed up. The closest thing to bilingual in our house is the dusty German dictionary from college next to the good 'ol Merriam Webster. But still. I must ask him to count for me tonight. I can barely understand his English some days, so Spanish should be a real kick!

How about something new?

2008-02-26T17:22:00.006-06:00

I'm tired of talking, thinking, or even somewhat contemplating my job crap. Tired. Manager's last real day is tomorrow, and then all hell will break loose. I've had four, count 'em, four conference calls today. My last one is in five minutes. Well, at least I can't say that I'm lacking for anything to do.

So, I have noticed that I have been remiss in sharing the cuteness that is Miss Thing, aka BabyA. I have to admit that we have been guilty of the sin of not taking half as many pictures of the second child as the first. I don't take all of the blame-Husband insisted on buying the bazillion dollar SLR camera, and I'm almost afraid to take it out of the case, let alone use it. These were taken by my mom before "the incident" between she and Husband. I'm still not quite up to talking about it yet. Put it this way, I don't know if Husband will ever go with me back to my parents. I'm not quite sure how any of that will ever work. Sigh.

Here are the two culprits together. I can see a resemblance, but they are certainly different in some areas:

Here is Son with his all-time favorite-"yightening!" The kid just about had a coronary when he saw this thing. Our picture turned out better than the one that we paid $5 for, but hey, at least they allowed us to take our own pictures (thank God for radio station interns that haven't met legal yet!) and Son has something in his room that makes him all smiley.

Finally, here is BabyA in all her glory. I have some better ones where you can see that smile that can light up a room, but I have to wrest those off of the memory card in said bazillion dollar camera. 'Nuff said.

Well, my calls are over, and I have six agreements to edit when I get home tonight. But I must tend to my loverly children for a couple of hours before I deal with monster software vendor. Gah.

and the beat goes on

2008-02-22T14:02:00.004-06:00

Thanks to those that commented and offered their wisdom on my quandary. It's still an ongoing issue, and doesn't appear to be anywhere near resolution. I found out earlier this week that an agreement of sorts has been reached. The "co-conspirators" have been asked, and agreed to, give GC two to three months to fix the situation. By "fix" I'm assuming make a decision about how this group will be managed and configured. I'm assuming (ignoring completely what that can do) that will also mean that my fate will also be decided at that time.

I haven't yet submitted my resume to the other two companies, and at this point, I don't know if I will. If anything, the situation here will be much more clear by late spring; at least I hope so. Husband's resounding lack of support for any change hasn't been helping either. That irritates me to no end; I've supported several job changes, and even a different job outside of his career path in order to make him happy. While maybe it was easier then because we didn't have human kids (we had the dogs, but hey, they don't go to college and require much beyond food and an occasional bone or collar), and even then, Husband was the secondary wage earner, but why can't I be entitled to a little consideration too? I know that he's scared that by changing we may lose the stability that we've had for so long, but at what point does my sanity figure in? He doesn't see me as a competitive person at all so I think that it's hard for him to understand that I still have that fire lurking below the surface. I also think that he doesn't think that I'm very good at what I do-even thought I've been good enough to help him with some agreements, he tends to silently endorse his mother's "she's not a real lawyer" mentality. I've told him that I've wanted to talk about this, and his comment that I hadn't really even included him in my decision to look elsewhere was right on. However, when he consciously avoids it, I think that he forfeits his vote. That's what its like to be married to a poli sci major. However, the thought that this will fly in a marriage probably is misguided, at best.

So, we managed to avoid the topic all weekend. I avoided all thought of it after getting off of the phone with my brother on Friday night (he would get a $1000 referral bonus if I would actually get hired at one of the jobs-fat chance, but let him have his dream). Then, this morning, it all hit me again. That jittery, way too much caffeine before the big final type of flutter inside. The just on the brink of an anxiety attack feeling. (Note to self: must call doc to see about upping that dose.) The main instigator called to let me know that the requisition to replace my manager had been approved. I didn't check to today to see if it had been posted yet internally. Part of me is scared to, because it just might give me the answer to my quandary, and I'm not sure if I'm ready for that. If it 's a posting for a director level position, then it would seem pretty clear that I'm not in contention for it at all. If it's just for another attorney, then I may still have a fighting chance. I'm pretty sure that I want to at least explore the option. I'm just hoping that the option hasn't already been pulled.

I guess what it all boils down to is that I'm feeling more than a bit out of control, and when it comes to work, I hate that. I also hate the fact that I'm getting talked about (or, more painfully, not talked about) when it comes to the future of this group. This kills me. Old manager K is out of the country this week at some far-flung "team building event" (read: boondoggle in a really beautiful place) so I'm not going to hear anything from him. NewManager isn't talking either. I just want an answer, dammit, that's all! The sooner the better, because it may take me a while to lick these wounds. I just have a bad feeling about all of this. Sigh.....it's going to be a looooong couple of months.

Regardless,

What to do?

2008-02-12T14:22:00.002-06:00

OK, I've been in a bit of a funk lately. Admittedly, I have what could be termed a rather full plate-2 young kids, a job that is more demanding than I want or care it to be, and just trying to hold myself together in spite of it all can be a full time occupation if allowed. I'm not even sure if anyone really reads this thing, and despite the fact that I have repeated to myself over and over again that I'm not Sally Field at the Oscars, and that this is just supposed to be my place to vent and rejoice as the situation calls for (albeit in a public forum), I'm wondering if I'm not just another boring voice contributing to the overall din of the internet. Am I just another one of those self-indulgent idiots that just types to read their own prose?

So, if you're out there, I could really use some chiming in on the situation I'm about to explain, because, quite honestly, I'm more than a bit in a quandry. The sad thing is, this is really one of the least of my problems, but it is the one that I can actively work on by myself and find some conclusion. At least I have some control-that's not the case in some of the other things that have been going on. But I digress.

As I mentioned a while ago, we've had a substantial shake-up in my department at work. I had thought/hoped/prayed that things would settle down and that we could all get back to just doing our work. The work loads are large-someone in a firm would most likely blanch and fall over. In a nutshell, we have waaaaaay too much to do to be engaged in high school theatrics. Apparently, I'm the only one who views it this way.

So, last week we were all in the same place for the first time since everything happened, including NewManager. He's still trying, with very limited success, at pulling all of this off. I don't know if he has any idea about the tumult going on around him. If he does, he's pulling the most adept acting job in the group. Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure that I'm wrong on that point. Regardless, one of the co-conspirators, DL, had been talking to me prior to the meeting, and kept telling me that a "bombshell" was in the works, but that honor and a promise to the third party to keep quiet prevented him from telling me what it was. I shopped around some theories, but none of them seemed very plausible. We have a small cast of characters here, soI couldn't for the life of me figure it out.

All was revealed to me by said third party on our last night; he's leaving to go join our former boss in Europe to take, what is in essence his dream job, working for someone who is very respected in our field. He's lived abroad before, his wife is European, and he wasn't interested in staying here to see what happens. I should have known that this was the case; he's usually not one to cause waves, but he had been pretty quiet, even for him, since this all broke open. I can't blame him. It is a great opportunity, and after being passed over for the job that NewManager has (at least provisionally for the time being), he didn't see the point in staying.

All of this will cause me considerable grief. Since our coverage areas were in the same technical area, but simply split up, I'll most likely end up with all of his cases. The portfolio isn't huge, but since I already have the second largest chunk (which should scare everyone, by the way) of the entire portfolio, adding more is not something either I or my admin are looking forward to. Secondly, he has substantial responsibilities in the support of a new business effort. This particular business unit is a challenge, and is still very much in flux. They are a conglomoration of small companies that we have acquired over the past two or three years, and to say that they aren't used to having in-house legal is an understatement. Honestly, it could/would be a lot of fun to handle-I like the challenge and getting in on the ground floor to help shape strategy and put processes in place. However, if piled on top of everything else that I have to deal with, it comes down to being stretched too thin-to the point of tearing.

OK, so it comes down to this. When I was in California, I told the head of the legal group about my concerns. I hope that he took me seriously, since I usually am the one that puts my head down and trys to make the best of whatever situation I'm in. One of the concerns was that with this change, the career advancement/growth that my manager and I had talked about was probably going to be hitting the skids. I've always had a problem with touting myself-I'm a great advocate for others or for a cause, but for me, not so much. The head of legal, K, told me that he had considered that I might fill the empty director's spot that NewManager had vacated. Part of me was thrilled, but the other part is worried that I won't be allowed to really manage the group, that NewManager, since the site used to be his baby, will micro-manage me into ineffectiveness. Oh, and the kicker? One of the other attorneys who is at that site has already said that he doesn't think that I deserve the position, since he's a far better lawyer than I am with more experience. In my defense, he may have more years, but since NewManager doesn't delegate anything, OtherAttorney hasn't seen half of what I have. It hurt to hear that. On top of some of the other things that I've been dealing with lately, it was enough to push me into a sniffle-fest on the drive home. What the hell do I have to do? Not like I'm not insecure enough about my abilities.

The other option is the director's position that will open up when my current manager, D, leaves. He's at another site, but if we could fill his position with a another lawyer, it wouldn't be a problem for me to take that spot and stay where I am. To me, this makes the most sense-I have a familiarity with the clients, and they with me. I wouldn't have to change technology focus (which I would have to in order to take NewManager's slot) and it would really be an easy transition. However, I'm not overly hopeful here. An email went out from NewManager today announcing D's departure at the end of the month, and that the powers that be were "analyzing" what the next steps would be. I wasn't in the office today, since I was home with BabyA due to a daycare lockout (she vomited twice yesterday, and she had to stay vomit-free for 24 hours before she could go back), so if anyone tried to get hold of me, they were out of luck.

So, what is my quandry? Well, it can be broken down to a couple of different things:

do I even want the job? It will require more time and effort, and I'm struggling as it is. However, part of the struggle has been from a lack of motivation. Why continue to bust my ass when I don't ever get anything resembling an 'atta girl? You can only continue to give for so long. It may be different if I can actually control my destiny, at least to some degree. It would also be fun to have a chance to expand my skill set with some new challenges. However, it may also mean more travel, which is not something I am prepared for right now. I know that we could make it work, but my babies....
what if I don't get one of them? There are a couple of openings at other companies in the metro. I've also been presented with an open door to work from home and write for one of my outside counsel. One of those deals where I work as much as I want to make. I'm just not so sure that I have the discipline to do that. There is also the down side of no benefits. I've been self-insured before, and well, it sucks.

I guess it comes down to having really been thinking about what I want-40 is looming, and what have I done? I used to be a rising star, and then things stalled out. Did I get complacent? Does it even matter anymore? I don't want to be absent from my kids, but there will be a point when they don't need me that much anymore, and then I'm afraid that when I look up, I'll be beyond the point of making anything of myself.

I just don't know what to do. Some of it is out of my hands, and that is the hardest thing to handle. I plan on kicking the tires on the other positions at the different companies, if anything to brush up on my interviewing skills (if I can even manage to get an interview-most places have a hard time with with me not having an engineering degree, one of those things expected from a patent attorney. I still think I'm doing pretty darn well as a self-taught engineer, thank you.). I just don't want to continue on continuing on. I think I may deserve more than that.

The great adventures of Chronicle

2008-02-07T01:15:00.000-06:00

As I may or may not have mentioned before, I have to travel for work the first week of , this month. While exciting to some degree, it also comes fraught with a bag of mixed emotions and challenges. Since I’m only going to have bits and pieces of time, this will end up being an entry that covers several days. If anything, I’ll have this as what I hope is an example of my worries being nothing but that-worries

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The first stop on the fun train was getting both Son and BabyA packed up for a full week at Grandpa and Grandma’s. My mother, in an uncharacteristic show of charity (or motivated by fear for her grandchildren) volunteered to take them both while I’m gone. Husband’s work can be erratic-the joys of being in a 24/7/365 industry-so there were concerns about how he was going to juggle getting kids to work and handling any emergencies that would come up. I wish that we could say that it doesn’t happen often, and at this property it hasn’t been as frequent as at others, but it still does happen. An employee that doesn’t show up for an overnight shift, the water isn’t working, the boiler is broken. You name it, it has happened.

Anyway, it just wasn’t going to be the most practical solution. Husband loves his kids, no question, but he is a little, er, challenged in the juggling multiple screaming children with widely different needs. He can handle Son for the most part, although the whole being two thing can be a true test. He hasn’t done much in the way of care for BabyA. Partially because she intimidates him a little, and partially because when we have to divide and conquer, the one who is the food source defaults to the consumer.

Since BabyA isn’t even five months yet, I’m in no position to start solids with her, and I have no desire to wean her yet. So, that entailed me freezing almost, get this, two and half gallons of breastmilk for this week. All in uniform, glorified ziplock bags. Despite the rather impressive (at least to me) number, BabyA will probably still need at least a little formula along the way. I started giving her one feeding a day last week, and while she didn’t eat all of it, she didn’t have any adverse reaction, so I think that we’re safe.

My parent live a good 175 miles away from us, so this weekend was a blur of driving, unpacking, last minute instructions, and me almost flipping out in the car as we were leaving. Mom wouldn’t come down to Suburbia, since she’s terrified of driving in the metro, and I don’t think that either she or Husband would survive together for that long. They barely tolerate each other as it is. Once we got back on Sunday night, it was a mad dash to the mall to pick up some last minute things, watch the best part of the Super Bowl (with a beer!), pack, do a last load of laundry or two.

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We managed to get out the door and to the airport at a semi-decent hour this morning, and I was at the gate well in advance. I have only missed one flight before, and that was due to mechanical failure-the car that we were driving overheated somewhere before the Eisenhower Tunnel on our way to Denver. Just a s note, if you are ever late to the Denver airport, just re-book the flight. It’s a nightmare.

I also managed to get my pump through security without a whole lot of hassle, which I was very grateful for. I’ve only flown twice since Son was born, and both times there was no need for a pump. I was actively weaning the first time, and the manual pump that I have was fine. The second time, I was very newly pregnant with BabyA, and it wasn’t even an issue. I did get a separate x-ray and swab, but it was handled very well by the TSA. I had been envisioning getting some creep who, not knowing what it was (or knowing darn well), would demand that I show how it worked. Again, my rather creative fear manufacturing at work. Hurdle #1 over-I almost skipped to the gate.

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I also got to add to the list of interesting places where I have pumped. Let’s see, there was the bathroom at my CLE course (to their credit, when they had built the bathroom, they put an outlet and shelf in the handicapped stall, but still), the empty conference room where I had a retired judge walk in on me (which took some effort, I had propped a large chair against the door that couldn’t be locked), and a vacant jury deliberation room at the courthouse during jury duty. I can now add the bathroom of the MSP to San Jose flight. So, somewhere over South Dakota, I asked the flight attendants if it would be OK to tie up the bathroom for 10-15 minutes, and they were OK with that. I had been watching to see if there was a high volume of use, and I was pretty sure that I timed it right.

I went and did my thing, even though the plug-in didn’t work (grrr). Thank God the two year old batteries in the battery pack still worked. Due to the noise of the plane, no one could really hear it. If I hadn’t been, um, attached, I don’t think that I would have known that it was on. We did hit some turbulance while I was in there, so my overactive imagination started to worry about getting bounced around unceremoniously in the bathroom, milk everywhere! Didn't happen, but I'm sure if anyone had seen me trying to brace myself while perched on the toilet and pumping would have either laughed or been horrified.

After working so hard to freeze as much as I could, it was painful to pour almost nine ounces down the drain, but there really wasn’t any other option. Of course, when I emerged, there was a line waiting for the bathroom. I’m sure that the guys were wondering what the hell was taking me so long, and what’s with that enormous purse?

In the end , it wasn’t that big of a deal. The other nursing mom in our group elected not to attend the meeting, since she was sure that she couldn’t make it through the entire flight from the mideastern U.S. to the west coast. I have to admit that it irked me more than a little. It is one thing to ask for some accommodations (a break in the schedule, which I got in the mornings but not in the afternoons), etc. But to miss the entire trip? Not so sure. It’s that tightrope that we have to walk; do you want to do anything that makes you appear to be less because you are a woman, or force the powers that be to recognize that their entire group is not made up of middle aged men? I haven’t been able to find a good answer. It’s sort of like trying to deal with the later parts of pregnancy. In order to take care of yourself and your baby, you have to slow down. Your body screams it at you. However, how do you handle that in a workplace that is primarily men, without having to deal with the repercussions of the thoughts that you aren’t “pulling your weight.”? I guess that it bothers me that Colleague said to me that there was no way that she would pump in an airplane bathroom. I guess that I just looked at it as doing what had to be done. It’s not like the milk would be consumed anyway. Pump, dump, and be done.. Its crappy that we have to make those kinds of choices, and I don’t want to be here, but it is what I have to do. My family depends on me for the bulk of our income. There is a good chance that I will be in a position to move up a position or two in the next couple of months. I have to do this, not just for me, but for them too. Oh, and the glass of wine with dinner may help, just a little.

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It’s been a interesting few days. Solid, networking, even something close to pleasant. Really. In the end, the event organizer managed to get me a room that is literally 30 yards from the meeting room, so running back to pump during breaks has been easy. Yes, I was worried about how I was going to do this, but so far it hasn’t been more of an issue than it has been at home. I just hope that BabyA decides that I’m still OK instead of a bottle. I've missed our nightly bedtime rendezvous-I miss her, period. I talked to Son this morning, and if I wasn't so sure that I was going to be too tired to do it, I would almost consider landing at home on Thursday night and getting in the car and driving up to the two of them that night. Sanity will prevail of course, but I can't wait to hold them both again.

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Well, I’ve just ordered room service, since dinner was far from satisfying. The food was good, but since it’s Ash Wednesday, and I’m Catholic, well, it didn’t go too far. I’m still avoiding meat, but I thought that since I’m near the water, the crab should be OK. Certainly will be fresher than what I can get in the middle of the freaking continent.

OK, not so sure that it was worth $15.95, but very yummy none-the-less. Other things are afoot, and I really need to hash them out, but that should go in a different entry.

sniffle, snork, honk

2008-01-28T13:44:00.000-06:00

Home today sick. I feel a little silly, since I feel a ton better today than yesterday, but I needed the day to just take it easy, and get a little work done, believe it or not. Since no one can call, walk into my office, or otherwise interrupt, I actually can manage to get some work done.

Yesterday was awful. I woke up feeling fairly crappy, not helped by an extremely whacked out night with Son. Just as an aside, he went down for what I thought would be a brief nap at around 3:00 on Saturday afternoon. He slept until 11pm, got up for a new diaper and to get changed into his Pjs, and slept until 1am. He woke up then, and Husband was convinced that if Son came into bed with us, he would sleep. To quote Paul Sr., "delusional." After coughing and sniffling and blowing my nose since I had become vertical when I got up to bring Son into our room, and getting kicked in the back one too many times by Son, I lost it and started to get up with him. I was ticked at Husband for trying to ignore the squirming 35 pounds in our bed, especially when he knew that I felt lousy. Especially since I let him sleep in on Saturday morning until almost 10am.

To give him about 1/32 of a brownie point, that was enough to get him up. Son hadn't had dinner, so I'm assuming that Husband fed him, and that's about where I lose consciousness. I woke up again around 5am, to find Husband and Son not there. Husband went in to work to pull some reports, and took our DVD player with to keep Son amused. They got home around 6:00, and both went back to bed. Of course, BabyA was up at 6:55. Ugh.

I only got progressively worse. In order to allow Son and Husband to sleep without cranky BabyA, the two of us headed out to Target to pick up a bunch of things for their stay with Grandpa and Grandma next week. I started out with a pocket full of tissues. In the end, I had to rip into the travel pack of tissues that I had picked up while I shopped. It was either that, or look like a toddler. I voted to keep at least a little dignity, even though I was on day three without a shower. (I did manage wash my face, and the clothes were clean, but ewwww.) BabyA was great-she talked and played with her bug, and was in general just charming.

By the time that we got back from going to a car show where Son could get his picture taken with a life-size Lightening McQueen (oh the joy! Son was beside himself, and that made the trip worth it in and of itself) my eyes were watering, I wouldn't go anywhere without having a box of tissues with me, and all I wanted to do was curl up in bed and whine. Funny thing is, that option appears to have disappeared the moment that "mom" was added to my biography. We did manage to get both of the rugrats down early, and to bed earlyish ourselves. Amazing what seven hours of sleep can do. My secretary threatened to douse me in Lysol if I came in today, so here I sit. Back to work!

Need to remember

2008-01-24T22:23:00.001-06:00

Tonight was one of those nights with BabyA that makes me not want her to grow up and stop being the sweet, precious baby that she is.

She started rubbing her eyes (a new one for her, but when accompanied by a yawn, pretty darn conclusive of a sleepy baby) around 7:30. I finished up Son's bath since Husband was in the doghouse with him, turned over the dressing duties to Husband (by then the transgression had been forgiven by Son), and headed downstairs after retrieving the backup binky from her swing.

Getting her ready for bed can be a lot of fun. Just time for hte two of us. I undress her, change her diaper, put on her lotion (she struggles with some dry skin issues), and get her dressed. While we are doing this, she is talking to me, plays with her toes, and will grab on to my hand and insist that she gnaw on it for while. I'll take that for now, since her teeth on very much on their way. Anyway, she was in a great mode. Very smiley and just charming.

I fed the hungry little vampire, but she wasn't horribly settled. She would wiggle around, unlatch, look up at me with that little half grin, latch back on, and repeat. By the time that she is done with both sides and burped, it is clear that someone isn't even remotely sleepy.

Husband came in for a wardrobe consult (poor guy is color blind, and things can get a bit, well, interesting), and while it wasn't the most clear thing, it looked like she reached for him. This made Husband glow, since he has been convinced that she doesn't like him. He held her, and all sorts of smiles. She has mirrored closet doors, and while she isn't sure who that baby is in the mirror, she sure thought that the one that she saw was awful entertaining. She was still very awake.

Husband went upstairs to bed, and BabyA and I settled into the loveseat in her room to watch Iron Chef and just snuggle. I had the lights dimmed down, and BabyA on my lap sideways. She can sit by herself pretty well when supported, but she nearly immediately leaned over to the side and snuggled her head under my chin. it was a little cold in her room, so I wrapped a blanket around her. She started to make her content noises. I found myself stroking the fuzz on her head that is sprouting up now that she's losing her newborn hair. I realized that for that moment at least, I was happy, and so lucky to have the two beautiful kids that I do. I thought about the mom who hasn't been able to touch her son yet due to a freak accident in the nursery a couple of days ago.* I said a prayer for little Maverick, and said a very heartfelt thank you for BabyA and Son. I wrapped my arms around her, and she just snuggled in closer, her breathing evening out, and only occasionally punctuated by a repositioning of her binky. Later on I layed her down, fairly awake, and I haven't heard a peep since then.

I suppose that this doesn't seem too earth-shattering, but it was such a wonderful feeling to have my healthy, beautiful baby girl on my lap, snuggled in, happy to be with me. For just those few moments, everything felt settled, good. Those moments are very hard to come by some days. I'm so thankful that she decided to share that one with me.

*If you haven't seen this story, go to www.startribune.com. Basically, a newborn, 12 hours old, was in a warmer in the hospital nursury with an oxygen hood. For a reason not yet known, the hood ignited and the baby was burned, with second and third degree burns over roughly 20% of his body. Fortunatley, a nurse was nearby, and was able to extinguish the fire very quickly. He's in critical, yet stable condition at the state's best burn unit. He is the youngest patient they have treated-he was 14 hours old when he was airlifted from the hospital where he was born by c-section to the burn unit. For some reason, I can't get this get little boy out of my head.

Scattered tidbits....

2008-01-24T10:55:00.001-06:00

Lots of little things....

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I was wrong about BabyA's length-she was actually 261/2 inches long. I can't believe that she's grown almost five inches in four months. No wonder I felt like I could see her growing before my eyes. She's almost too long for her 3-6 month sleepers at this point. Pants don't fit in the waist since they are too big, but they are almost too short! The thing is, she is so proportional that you don't really notice how big she is. It struck me while I was feeding her a couple of nights ago that she now stretches completely across my lap (let's not get into the diameter of my lap, but still) and the Boppy.

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Son has yet another sinus-caused ear infection. Poor kid. Yesterday I got a call from daycare saying that he was at the point of tears during snack time since he said that his ear and throat hurt. Of course, I got worried about strep, since he's due for his annual bout, and went and picked him up early. We ended up at urgent care, which turned into an emergency room visit (the local hospital's urgent care didn't open until 6pm, and they run it through their emergency room anyway). Diagnosis: a definite ear infection, but that his throat looked worse than the ear. Since the ear was bad, there was no need to do a strep swab since any antibiotic for the ear would knock out the throat problem. Good thing, since trying to get Son's mouth open for a strep swab is nearly impossible. Treatment: an antibiotic that I've never heard of before, but at least it's only once a day. He was pretty chipper this morning, so he seems to be feeling better. He had mentioned something about his ear bugging him a couple of days ago, but I chalked it up to toddler hypochondria. Hand the dumb mommy award this way please.

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Did I mention that I've felt pretty crappy for the past couple of weeks too? I have a hunch that Son and I have been trading this for a while. I just can't seem to shake this. It would help if I could have a day or so to catch up on some sleep, but we all know that WON'T be happening anytime soon.

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It was -14 this morning on my way to work. At 9AM. It's been like this for most of January. Yes, I know that I live in Minnesota, but geez. You know its bad when the news keeps repeating things about the extremely short time period that flesh can be exposed before IT FREEZES in a literal sense. Husband doesn't have the really cold weather (up to -35) washer fluid in the caddie, so it is all frozen up in the line and you can't wash the windshield. Sort of a problem when there is enough salt on the roads that they are no longer even remotely asphalt-looking, and its nothing but a slushy mess. I had to pull into an auto parts store parking lot to wash off the windshield so I could see, which lasted a whole quarter of a mile, tops. Funny thing was that it never occurred to me to go in and buy the right washer fluid. We are way beyond the capacities of the blue stuff-bring on the purple. I was very happy to have my Jeep back this morning.

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I have to travel for work for the whole first week of February, which leaves BabyA a week short of being five months old. Which sucks. I missed our all hands meeting in October due to being on on leave, so I'm pretty much obligated to go to this one. We're going to be at a resort on Monterrey Bay, so I can't complain too much. Regardless, I've been going along freezing milk as much as I can to try to have enough to not have to supplement while I'm gone. I've been a bit afraid to do an inventory, since I was pretty sure that I wasn't going to have enough. As of Sunday, I had 120 oz frozen. Problem is, at BabyA's current rate, that's only about 3 days worth, and I'll be gone for right around 5 days total. I am not happy about this. We know that she has a problem with dairy proteins (her eczema only flares when I've eaten relatively unprocessed dairy like milk on my cereal-cheese on pizza, for example, doesn't seem to be a problem). I've now got to try to find a soy based formula that she will tolerate and hopefully not react to. I've got to get on that soon, since I don't want to leave my Mom with a cranky baby away from her pediatrician. I'm just disappointed that I wasn't able to have enough. I'm also worried that not physically nursing for almost a week is going to pose a problem. During the work week, we only nurse once, maybe twice a day, but that is our snuggle time, and I really don't want to lose that. I just hope that we don't hit any significant issues because of this.

**********
I managed to not get my happy pills refilled for about four days last week. Since I'm on such a low dose, I had wondered whether I really needed them or not. After four days without, the answer is a giant yes, I do. Feeling much better after my trip to the pharmacy. Even with my return to my chemically-induced "normalcy," I'm thinking that I still may need to up the dose. I'm on the lowest one as it is, but I wonder if it is subtherapuetic.

**********
OK, I've managed to waste most of my morning on this. Time to get some work done.

4 Month Appointment

2008-01-22T12:00:00.000-06:00

BabyA had her four-month appointment (a week late, but oh well) and all is well.

She was 24 1/2 inches long (99th percentile) and 13lbs, 10oz (66th). I was only partially kidding when I said that I married Husband for his genetics. So far, I have two kids that are above the 95th for height-but then again, I was in the gigantor category up until I was 13, and then, well, things ground to a startlingly quick halt. All 5'2" of me is hoping and praying that BabyA leans towards Husband in that regard.

She had four big, scary, shots and the second of her rotavirus doses. The shots were not at all enjoyable. She started to cry prior to even getting stuck, and after the first one went in, all we got was the silent, purple-faced, howl. I felt so bad for her, knowing how much they must have hurt. I can guarantee that the tylenol will be flowing pretty freely tonight for her poor little legs.

Son was with for this excursion, and contrary to everything that I thought would happen, had a grand old time, and didn't even react to her crying over the shots. He still freaks out when another kid or adult gets too close to her, but a nurse carrying a tray of needles didn't even cause an eyelash to bat. Silly kid.

There's a bunch of other things that I want/need to get down and out of my head, but after being out all last week on jury duty and being selected for a trial, I'm in the weeds trying to get out.

Could this be a trend?

2008-01-14T10:37:00.001-06:00

This Monday morning was much, much better. NO howling, whining, yelling, or carrying on.

I've discovered which of the three PBS stations that we get on cable has Thomas & Friends on in the morning, and Son was absolutely beside himself when I told him it was on after Curious George (even though it turned out that on the HD station the programming is different). Once it finally came on, all I heard was screaming and bouncing in his chair in the living room. It kept him occupied while I dressed and fed BabyA, and just made things go a bit smoother. Get this, I was even able to satisfy his toddler mind by telling him that I was recording it AND Bob the Builder, so he could watch it if he had a good day when we got home tonight. All sorts of smiles, and a cooperative exit out to the truck.

I even managed to program the DVR to record the whole series for both of them, so at least I'll have some available as a treat or reward for good potty behavior. Way cheaper than a DVD, and since we are more than a little thin in the money department, this is a very good thing.

He even used the potty successfully this morning. And slept through the night without even a wiggle, which wasn't the case the night before. He was also in bed by 7:00-that NEVER happens-so he was actually well rested. I even got a lunch made last night, and it made it to work with me!

Oh, and the last hooray moment? I was three pounds lighter that I was last week! Who cares if it was on two different scales and my scientific self is beating on my wall of denial to scream something about baselines. Regardless, if I keep my act together for the next three weeks, I may be able to go and use my gift cards for some new duds before my trip out to California in February. Hooray!

Oh, it just gets better

2008-01-11T10:13:00.000-06:00

To complete my tale of woe from Monday, to say that Son has had a rough couple of weeks is an understatement.

When I dropped him off on Monday, I was told that there was an incident report for me to sign. Sick as it was, I was praying that it was that Son had been the victim. Easier to deal with a child who is the victim, right? Nope, Son and his archenemy got into it again, and Son bit him. Fabulous. Considering that archenemy left a great dental imprint on him a couple of weeks ago, it didn't surprise me much. Not that I like it, but those two have been butting heads for a while now (Archenemy is near Son's age and is just about his size, so the two are at least compatible, right?).

Yesterday (Thursday) I walked in to find a sunny Son playing in the large muscle room, and I let out the exhale and thought that he had had a good day. Far from it.

I had let him bring two of his matchbox cars that day. He kept them in his pocket, and things were OK. Well, not so much. Apparently, one of the younger kids wanted to look at the car, and out of the blue, Son just whacked him over the head with said car. To the tune of bleeding, and a trip to the ER for liquid stitches. I almost cried right then and there. Where is my sweet little boy? The same boy who had, just the night before, consoled a cranky pre-toddler who had been wailing away in BabyA's room while BabyA had been changed. The same kid who went and found a toy and offered it to her, and stood next to the exersaucer she was parked in to make sure that she was OK?

Son has been a holy terror lately, and I'm afraid that he has inherited the innate tendencies towards having a temper like Husband and I both do. I don't want him to feel that he can't show anger-that's just begging for other issues to pop up, but we really need to find a way to help him control it. I talked to the lead teacher of Son's group this morning, to see if this is an escalating trend, or if it was an off day, or what. She said that he hadn't eaten that day (strange), took a really long nap (very strange), and just was off. He had a timeout for running when he was told not to (pretty much the same routine that he pulled at BabyA's baptism, a tale that will scare anyone from having more than one child). She's pretty convinced that he's just going through a tough phase right now. I shared with her that he had woke up screaming last night after a nightmare, and that it had taken over an hour to get him calmed back down. He woke up pretty chipper this morning, but said that he didn't want to go to school, that he wanted to go see Daddy at work. We had yet another dropoff where he had to be peeled off of me. It hurts my heart to see him in pain, and really torpedoes my day. By the time I left, he had calmed down (I can see into his room from BabyA's infant room) and seemed to be doing OK. It's a good thing that its Friday.

I don't know how to handle this. On the one hand, it could be a phase, and he is struggling, like most toddlers do, with the concepts of sharing, and he is pushing every limit that he can find. Normal, yet infuriating, two year-old behavior. On the other hand, is he on his way to being one of those aggressive kids that other people blog about hurting their kids? If I were his victim's mom, I would want Son's head on a platter, regardless of any base understanding of toddler behavior-he hurt my kid.

I don't want to make the punishment go overboard, and last night there were no cars to play with, just dinner (ate like a bird again-1/4 of an apple and some milk), bath, and bed. The bath was horrible, screaming and uncontrollable sobbing. I ended up taking over for Husband, who clearly was nearing his limits, got Son calmed down and dressed. Husband then took over (BabyA needed to go to bed too) and read him a few books and put him down.

I think that the whole thing was bothering him, as well as our reaction. I don't want to go overboard on it, because he's smart enough to sense when we are mad. He's actually said in the past that "Daddy is mad at me" and that because he was mad, "Daddy doesn't love me." We have to start operating on the understanding that he is assimilating a whole lot more now, but doesn't have all of the skills to process it. That means that Husband has to think, actually think, about what is on TV, what he says. It finally sunk in last night that Son does pick up on it, that it does make a difference. We will be making some changes, and hopefully that, with some time, will help us over this hump.

However, the nightmares are beginning to freak me out a bit. He keeps talking about a "man" in his room. He can't articulate what scares him so much. This morning he was talking about how the man scared him, and how he told him "no." No to what I don't know, and he wouldn't/couldn't say. I have a feeling that he is having a recurring nightmare, but can't tell us enough about it to clear it from his mind. I understand how vivid they can be at this age-I still remember the one that I had around his age and a little older. It actually resurfaced while I was in law school. Obviously, it made an impression on me, and I can't help but wonder if it isn't a similar thing. Last night was the first night that he hadn't slept through since before he was a year old. I'm not liking the idea of a major sleep regression here. Hopefully, if we start to stick to the routine a bit more strictly, and work more on the winding down once we get home at night, it will help.

I'm just worried about my little boy. I love that creature so much, and miss that happy face. This whole parenting thing forces you to wear your heart on your sleeve, and boy, mine is sure getting beat up.

It doesn't have to be a Monday, but it sure doesn't hurt

2008-01-07T12:52:00.000-06:00

Argh. Grump. Obscenities muttered under breath, obscenities loudly spoken when no child ears are present. Yep, another fantastic morning/weekend for me. Good grief this is getting old.

I'm hitting that wall again, the one that makes me think that I may need to up the dose on the happy pills. I'm frustrated, tired, stressed out, and just not good for much of anyone. Hell, I don't even like my own company-I can't imagine what I must be like for everyone else. BabyA is the only one that likes me right now. Just goes to show that when you are someone's sole food source (and pacifier), you have one captive audience. It also helps that she doesn't talk yet.

Son is embracing the terrible twos with gusto. Enough so that I have entertained thoughts of just strapping him to the luggage rack on top of the Jeep and calling it good. The morning went something like this: up waaaaay too early (note the oh-so-fashionable bags under his eyes), whine about juice, whine about breakfast bar, whine about toy that won't open as it should. All before 6:15 AM. Finally finish breakfast, drag (literally) into room to get dressed. "No, no, no, no, don't yike that shirt. Noooooooooooo!" Wrestle with child, showing more patience than I ever thought that I could have, to finally get PJs off, and real clothes on. Fight for 15 more minutes over putting on shoes. "Nooooooo! Too tight!" "No, not too tight. Brand new. These actually fit you." [Screaming] "Nooooooooo!!" [Hysterical sobbing-Son, not me]. Oh, and velcro is not your friend when a two year-old wants to remove his "too tight" shoes. Oh no.

Go down and get BabyA, who actually slept through all of this. Once this kid is asleep, nothing short of nuclear war will wake her up. She actually likes me, even as Son is upstairs banging on the gate and still pitching his fit. Get her dressed, and take her upstairs to feed her the bottle that has been pumped for her. Sit down in the chair, insert bottle, happy baby (thank God, I don't think that I could have handled another unhappy kid). Son still whining, "I want Cars. No, no, no, not in Daddy's car, here." The Cars DVD is in Daddy's car, thank you, and no, you can't watch it my little hellion. Call it parole.

At this point we're pushing 8:30. Shit. I burp BabyA, who is still happy as can be even with the chaos around her, and get her strapped into her carseat. While putting her in, I ask Son to go and get his coat, since we have to leave now. You can guess the reply. By this point, I'm desperate to just get out of the damn house, into a vehicle, and to work, and cursing Husband for not taking any part in this. My sole ambition at this point is just to get to work. I finish getting BabyA strapped in, pack up the daycare bag, and move towards the gate to go downstairs and out the front door. Son is now doing the toddler swandive onto the kitchen floor, his coat is still in the living room, and it's now 8:45. Double shit.

While I may be fostering abandonment issues, I cheerfully wave to Son as I start down the stairs. Ah, finally some movement. The coat is on, but that is it. Son doesn't believe that I'll go out the door without him, and I try to call his bluff. I go outside, put BabyA into the car, feed the dog, and go back for Son. I find him sitting on the stairs with no intent to go anywhere, especially with me. I pull everything out of my bag of parental tricks to get him moving. Nothing.

By this point, the dog is done eating, has had his morning constitutional, and is ready to go inside. BabyA is getting restless, and a look at my watch says 9:00. Good God, where did the time go, AGAIN?!? I finally had to resort to picking Son up like a sack of potatoes, and slinging him over my shoulder, screaming and kicking, closing the door behind me. Oh, and to top it off? Two neighbors are out for their morning walk to witness me giving Son the riot act.

The trip in was more of the same.

Drop-off at daycare sucked as well. BabyA was her normal cheery self. There are perks to having at least one non-speaking child.

Anyone want to trade a day with me?

We made it to Friday....

2007-12-07T16:33:00.000-06:00

Whew, what a long week. I'm officially pooped. I'm not quite sure what I would have done if BabyA hadn't been such a good little sleeper this week. I am so looking forward to be alarmless tomorrow morning it isn't even funny. Now, if I can ignore my over-inflated mammary glands at 5:30 AM, I'll be in great shape.

I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing, but it really didn't take much to get back in the groove again. Part of it may be that I kept in touch a bit more than I did last time. There still have been some changes, but nothing that totally threw me for a loop-well, at least not yet. The jury is still out when it comes to the management change. I sat through a staff meeting on Wednesday, and it was, in a word, painful. Not so much the content, since it was pretty normal, run of the mill stuff. It was rather that NewManager was trying really, really hard. He's not what I would call a great communicator, and it was obvious. OldManager was the exact opposite, with a pretty sharp sense of humor. Just two totally different creatures. My manager, one of his other direct reports, and another attorney didn't even bother to show up. Not cool. My theory is that even though you may not like it, it is what it is, and you still have to function within the current situation. I fear that this may get much worse before it gets better, or at least stabilizes. At this point, I've already got enough work on my plate to keep me busy and not leave much time for the drama. If I'm asked for my opinion I'll provide it as the situation calls for it. Otherwise, I've got too much to do to rock the boat too much.

On other fronts, Son seems to be liking the shift in routine. He's been getting up earlier, and now he has been napping pretty darn well at daycare, which is a relief for all of us. While I was on leave, he would be so tired that he would have bags under his eyes and be a holy terror. He also seems to understand that I'm going to work now, and not just taking BabyA and going home. It may sound silly, but he seems to have noticed that I'm wearing my work badge too, and so he knows what I'm doing. He's been really good at dropoff lately too-no melt downs or clinginess. Overall, this has been a good thing for him.

BabyA seems to be adjusting as well. She has been officially pronounced as an "easy" baby by the ladies in the infant room, although I guess that they were on the fence after Tuesday, when she let them see her horns all day long. She's sleeping OK there, although a solid nap pattern is still not quite there. She seems pretty solid for a good 1-2 hour nap after noon, so I guess that we'll take that. She's sleeping well at home, although she's been tougher to get down than normal. I'm hoping that will settle down as things become more routine for her too. All of this could be shot to hell if she's teething like I think she may be. She's been gnawing on her knuckles to the point of them being raw, and has turned into a drool factory. Son cut his first tooth at four months and some change, which I guess is pretty much the same time frame as my brother and I did, so I'm expecting BabyA will follow that pattern too. Time to stock up on the baby Ty*enol!

As for me, it hasn't been that easy. I'm just plain and simple tired, and I hope that I can get used to this soon. Getting up between 5:00 and 5:45 and not getting to bed until 10:30ish has been tough this week. However, if I don't wash the bottles and make the lunches before I go to bed, I know that my morning is shot, so I don't have much of a choice. I have to admit that last night I actually took five minutes and flipped through a magazine after every one was in bed (including Husband). Ah, the freedom! After almost falling asleep in the chair, I had to make my way to bed, trying to avoid every single freaking creaky floor board. Have I mentioned that I strongly dislike this house sometimes?

It's almost five, and I think that I've done enough for my first week. I would love some time with BabyA, since I feel like I never get to see her when she isn't hungry or ready to crash for the day.

Back at work

2007-12-04T12:42:00.000-06:00

Yesterday wasn't too bad-crammed full, but not too bad. Let's see, up at 3:30 AM with BabyA, put back to bed, sleep for 45 more minutes, get read, get kids ready, two kids out the door, fed, clothed (it even all matched!), dog in the back of the truck.

Stop at vet, drop off Yellow Dog of the Double Ear Infection and A Massive Allergic Reaction to Target Rawhide for a recheck. Drop off kids (good God, I really do have two of these creatures-who knew?), get to work, boot up laptop, blue screen of death.

Call IT, bad hard drive, new hard drive, delete 800 emails-no, I'm not kidding-pick up Son's pictures, pick up kids from daycare, pick up Yellow Dog from vet, go home, feed BabyA, feed myself (sort of), watch 15 minutes of Nemo, put Son into pj's and bed, feed BabyA and put to bed, wash bottles, make two lunches (which of course Husband promptly forgot this morning), make up bottles for tomorrow, wash face, collapse into bed.

Today back up at 5 AM when Husband got up, BabyA started to fuss around 5:15, and we were back off to the races. I should probably be tired by now, but I'm not. However, the mandatory Diet Pepsi this morning may have helped. I still need to go get gas and clean off the truck once before I leave. It's been snowing again since around 7:30 this morning, and when I leave, I just want to get home. I have a feeling the roads aren't going to be a whole lot of fun.

So, that has been about my last 36 hours. How are you?

Final Countdown

2007-11-26T12:30:00.000-06:00

Here we are, in my last week of maternity leave. I don't know what to say, other than it seemed to go way too fast, and it only seems that recently that BabyA woke up and became more interactive. Once she started the whole social smiling bit, she just seemed to take off. I don't want to let someone else have those moments. She's been an absolute bear lately at night, and darn it, I want some of the good stuff too!

She still is refusing to go to bed before 10PM, which isn't that big of a deal now, but once I go back, I need that hour or so after bedtime to get things done like make up bottles for daycare for the next day, wash my pumping bottles, pump once before I go to bed, etc. She has been getting up once a night for the past week or so (the through the nights are history I think, at least for a while) at 4:30. Which wouldn't be bad, but since she doesn't go back down until 5:00-5:30, it poses a problem. By my calculations, I need to be up at 5:45 to allow me to shower and get ready before Son gets up, and still have time to get one more feed into BabyA before we leave and begin the 30 minute commute/daycare dropoff and still have me get to work at a somewhat decent time. I also need to feed and let out one of our dogs since Husband is refusing to do so due to some issues that we are having with Black Dog. Oh, and I get to do it all alone.

My mother has been insisting that I put my foot down and make a point to communicate to Husband that I need help. I don't see the point. Husband really ends up being more of a pain in the ass than anything. First, he doesn't know what to put on Son for clothes, then he gets into a power struggle with a two year old over putting on a diaper (for God's sake, just dig through and find the friggin' Elmo one already!), and in the end, just makes me inherently crabby. Oh, and then he has to mess with me when all I want to do is dry my hair and, gasp!, make it look better than if I had just rolled out of bed.

The whole dog issue has added even more onto my plate. So, now I'm not only worried about the work situation (see my previous post and after talking to my admin last week, I'm going to be walking into an absolute shitstorm), worried about getting two kids and myself out the door in a somewhat presentable state, and now, I have to part with my dog. Husband gave me the wonderful "him or me" ultimatum over the weekend. It broke me heart, and has managed to break through the Prozac-induced absence of crying. Black Dog is high needs-he needs to be walked, needs to be with his people, just needs. If he doesn't get his exercise, he starts barking, peeing in the kennel, you get the picture. I'm lucky if I can just get through the day sometimes, and while I would love to have the time to do the walks, I just don't. Husband hasn't made it any easier since he won't do anything to help. Yellow Dog is a different creature. When she barks, its for a reason-potty, something outside, not for attention. She's just as high energy, but it's manageable.

I know that this is the right thing for everyone. Black Dog needs a home that can give him all of the things that he needs, along with a fenced in yard (he tends to wander off or chase squirrels, or anything else that moves, but will bark incessantly if put out on a tie out). Our house has become too small for two large dogs and two small kids. If he finds another home, we can dismantle the kennel, and get a room back. Yellow Dog can be trusted to have the run of the house, and isn't the accomplished garbage diver that Black Dog is. She's not as good with kids in that she just forgets how big she is or where her tail is, but she has a great personality, and with some work, it can be fine. I've missed having her around, but I wish that her pass from the kennel didn't have to mean that Black Dog would have to leave.

The whole thing is really bothering me, since Husband made me get rid of one of our cats a couple of years ago as well. Same sort of thing-very sweet personality, but just some problem behaviors. While I can intellectualize all of this and tuck it all away behind a curtain of reason, it still hurts. Hurts because I feel as though I failed; both him and myself. Hurts because I really do love this creature, and will miss him. He's one of the few things in my life that doesn't make direct demands, and wants to please ME, not the other way around. I couldn't sleep last night thinking about it, and managed to finally cry myself to sleep. No one that I know will take him, so in the end, if I can't place him soon, he'll have to go to the humane society, or if they have room, one of the no-kill rescue groups. I don't want to do this. Then Husband asked me why I was so quiet yesterday. Duh. I just really don't want to deal with him right now. It just seems that I always have to lose what I love and what loves me. I'll forgive him eventually, but I can't do that right now, and I know that he'll never understand that.

ugh

2007-11-15T22:49:00.000-06:00

I know that this blog, if any of you are still out there and haven't been bored to absolute tears, has become horribly stuck on one topic-kids, kids, and more kids. Hell, I'm tired of it too.

What follows is a rant, plain and simple. If you're an infertile, you may want to look away, since the subject matter is how my kids are sucking me dry right now, how desperately I'm in need of a respite, and how today was one of those days where I ached to have my old life back (since this is MY fantasy, I won't poo all over it with reminders of how much I wanted kids).

It just hit me as I was walking a cranky two month old for the third time in an hour after she should have been asleep, that I haven't had what would count as a true break in quite a while. For some reason, 45 minutes alone at Target-chosen purposefully since my cell phone gets crappy reception in the concrete temple of all things bulls eye-just ain't cutting it. I know that part of it is that BabyA still isn't real taken with the whole nap thing, and really isn't content to spend more than 15 minutes at a time engaged in an activity where I'm not holding her, I'm not getting that half an hour or so to just flip through a magazine, or do something productive like fold laundry. We are going out of town this weekend, and after sorting everything today, I had a small mountain of laundry that really needs to be done before we shove off tomorrow afternoon. I'm stressed out about how when we get to our destination, Husband will no doubt wander off and have fun, while I run interference with a cranky baby, and a toddler who will be wound up beyond all recognition. I'll also have the fun of being the referee between super pushy older cousin and Son. Wahoo, all kinds of fun.

I'm wound up about going back to work. My manager was in town for the past couple of weeks, and said that he had wanted to have lunch. Part of me thinks that I was so "busy" and didn't end up seeing him because I just don't want to face the crap that I will be walking back into. We had yet another major management change rather abruptly a couple of weeks ago, and instead of going in the right direction, I think that this is a negative change. The former head of our department is a superstar-people all over the country in our little niche of the law know him, and he brought a maturity to our group that we have been lacking. He knew how to play the political game, but yet still get the right result in the end. He was bringing us up to the big leagues, on par with the IBMs and Kodaks, etc. We all knew that he had general counsel written all over him, and expected him to be at the head of the line when our relatively young GC stepped down in a couple of years.

I get a phone call a couple of weeks ago telling me that the time table has been moved up over a year. Our former head is now the acting GC, effective immediately, and that the new head of our group is probably the worst thing that could have ever happened to us. He's a micromanaging control freak that sent that last new attorney that he hired running in less than a month. He's ultra conservative, extremely risk adverse, and doesn't take kindly to anyone differing in opinion from him. This is not a good thing for me. While I still report to my original manager, I expect some serious changes. I've been left alone for most of my career. I don't hesitate to make a decision if I need to. I'll use my best efforts to get input or guidance from those above me if necessary, but if they can't/won't get back to me in the timeframe that I need, I feel comfortable in making the executive decision. Up until now, I've done that with the blessing of whomever was managing me at the time. However, with this guy, I don't see that happening. The thing that make this all the more difficult is that he is painfully slow to make any decision, and tends to be an obstructionist as opposed to trying to find creative ways to solve problems, or make a deal work that is a win for everyone. I've had clients ask me to step in on issues that obviously weren't mine due to technology, but they were desperate for action, and needed help now. Our business moves too fast to sit on things, so I know that I have probably stepped on his toes more than once. I'm just worried that he is going to make life very difficult, when it is already going to be tough. I don't feel ready to go back. I don't know if I WANT to go back-not necessarily because I don't want to leave my baby (which I don't), but rather because the work environment is going to be crappy.

All of my typing appears to be bothering the princess, so I have to cut it off here. God, I miss those days of sleeping children by 8 PM.

I'm not happy either

2007-11-12T11:30:00.000-06:00

Two month appointment today. We dropped Son off at daycare before we went. The thought of an overprotective big brother being around for BabyA's first shots was not a good one. He flips out when a gaggle of toddlers gets too close to her-a nurse bearing four admittedly HUGE needles? Uh, no.

Everything looks good. I was right on about her weight being around 11ish. She was 10lbs, 15 oz, and a hair over 24 inches. That is over three inches in two months! Usually I am a little skeptical with the length measurement, since Son was always wiggling so much. BabyA stayed put-so the likelihood that it is right is pretty high. So, I have another tall, skinny one. She's in the 97th percentile for height, and the 55th for weight. I asked if that was a problem, and the doctor didn't seem to think so. She's not overly skinny, so I guess that we'll just keep going as we are.

Shots were yukky, horrible, made me want to cry just as loud as she did. One of them was pretty deep and was bleeding. Husband held her, since I just couldn't do it. We also got her the rotovirus oral vaccine. If it will help for her not to have to suffer through it, we'll deal with it. At least it wasn't one more shot. It must not have tasted very good either-she screwed up her face and gave all three of us a dirty look.

Overall, it was a good visit, which is a far cry from her two week follow-up. We'll have to see how she handles the shots, so we may end up going out and picking up some Tylenol later. I know that it is the right decision, especially since she is going to be in daycare sooner rather than later (sob!), but it is so hard to hear those screams.

The state of the household

2007-11-11T21:43:00.000-06:00

Well, here we are at two months. The pros: she's sleeping fantastic at night, nursing is going well, and she's become more interactive and the smiles are getting more frequent.

The cons: she still struggles with naps that aren't begun in the carseat, although today she conked out for almost three hours after a marathon nursing session (she must have been very pooped, since the blankets stayed on for almost the entire nap). She's still really difficult to soothe at times, although I just may be missing her tired cues and not getting it. However, I can deal with the nap issues-we'll just keep trying, and she'll eventually get it. Now if I could get her to go to bed before 10 PM, life would be just about perfect.

I know, I know, there is no making me happy. I complained about Son's lousy night sleep at this age, but now that I have what I think is a pretty good sleeper, I've got something else to complain about-the reticence to nap. Son is still a fantastic napper, at least here at home. They practically have to sit on him to get him to stay put at daycare, since they don't have the cage, er, crib to rely on. He's just too busy there. Either that or we're just incredibly boring. Hmmm....

She has her two month appointment tomorrow, so it should be interesting to see how big she is. I'm thinking 11ish pounds and 22 inches at this point. She's almost too long for the 0-3 month sleepers that she was swimming in when we brought her home. Either way, things seem to be going pretty well.

There are other things that I need to hash out-some big changes at work that may have me looking for another position, how I think that that Husband is in for a shock when I go back to work, etc. However, princess is calling.

Maybe Earl is right about that Karma thing

2007-10-29T10:51:00.000-06:00

Another good night last night-10:45 (my fault, I let her snooze in her rocker seat for about 45 minutes after wrestling Son to bed after Husband had to go into work...grrrr) to 6:00, and then back down by 7:00 until we had to leave for daycare at 8:30. She's still asleep in her carrier now that we're back from daycare and a relatively quick trip to the store. I should be doing laundry, but I just don't want to. As for the Karma, maybe I'm getting cut a break considering the tough time that we had with Son. Whatever the hook, I'm grateful for what I've got. Oh, and the other upside? I actually slept through myself adn didn't wake up all night either. Hooray!

I'm finding that this time around during my maternity leave I'm finding my self a bit bored-just the same routine day after day. I hate laundry, but there never seems to be an end. I worry a bit about how I'm going to be able to keep up with all of this when I go back (can you tell that I'm beginning to think about the return to real life a bit much?).

In order to try to combat this a bit, I've set a goal for my weight before I go back. If I hit it, I've set a budget for some serious clothes and shoe shopping. Maybe I've been watching a too much of "what not to wear", but I've also been digging through what I have, and I really haven't done much in the past couple of years. Not too surprising, since I've been pregnant, or recovering from being pregnant, with a different shape for the past almost three years. No more plastic shoes, and maybe find some stuff that fits. If I can hit my goal, I should be almost a size smaller (I'm right between sizes right now) and I'll be close to being able to actually wear some of the petite things, which I need on the top. My sleeves are always too long, and I look dorky as a result. It's not a huge goal, but it's something to keep my head occupied.

Enough stalling-time to go a sort some laundry and treat some lovely baby stains. Oh the joy...

Could it be? (Part II)

2007-10-27T15:12:00.000-06:00

Well, that night that I wrote my last post, she made it until almost 4:30..that's over six hours people!! Now, I've been so trained to be up anytime between 2:00 and 3:30 that I ended up waking up more than she did-but that too will pass (I hope, please dear God.)

While I know that she will still have ups and downs, last night was a complete shock for me. Down at 10:00 without nearly as much fussing, and she made it until...drumroll...6:00 am. And went back down at 7:00 for another couple of hours.

The down side to all of this nighttime bliss? Incredible screaming fits and general grumpiness starting at around 6:00, with a lot of feeding. She had me so drained last night after nursing four times in four hours that I had to resort to a couple of ounces of pumped breast milk that I had stashed in the refrigerator for just this purpose. Seemed to do the trick though.

I know that this may not be an ongoing trend, but she is doing so much better than Son was at this age. At this point with him, we were struggling to get him to sleep in his crib for more than an hour at a time (yes, at night), and not the big swing in his room. That one was a lot of fun. BabyA will tolerate the swing for only so long-usually around 15 minutes, max- and then pitches a fit until you retrieve her. She's fallen asleep in the big swing once, the portable one twice, and neither time for very long. Needless to say, not the surefire bet that it was for Son. But then again, nothing is really surefire with her, which has been really frustrating. She's proven to be really hard to figure out that way. Anyway, Husband has an employee who is due in April, and if she is still there by the time she has the baby, we may just donate both of the swings to her since I doubt if we will have any use for them by then. BabyA seems to like her crib in her room (thank God for black out curtain lining) or her bassinet in the pack-n-play in our bedroom (more blackout shades-it's like a cave during the day). I'm already worrying about how her going into daycare may screw up this good thing that we've got going, but if I can get her into good habits now, hopefully it won't be too much of an adjustment.

Well, for the time being, both of my children are taking naps (cue the happy dance...quietly!) and I'm going to try to enjoy a little down time before Husband gets home from working what we hope is his last weekend for a while. Next weekend we are trekking up to my parents so Husband can go deer hunting with my dad, so we'll see how the first time of traveling with two under the age of three will go. The past couple of months of weekends has been tough on all of us. Husband's sleep schedule is all screwed up, equally a cranky creature, Son has more meltdowns because he misses daddy, and I get the two of them on my own all day. I don't get that hour or so to sneak off to Target by myself, or to go outside and finish up the last of my garden work before it snows, since they have been rather adept at alternating who is up. Nice in that I usually can manage to only have to deal with one at a time, and I get some good time in with Son, but not so great in that I can't get anything really done or just get some down time to do something fun for me. I feel guilty about doing that, since there always seems to be something else that should be done-laundry, dishes, cleaning up after Son, trying to get things organized, etc. It just can be wearing, and on top of being short on the sleep side since I was about 28 weeks pregnant, it's been a while since I've been able to just recharge. It may just be a part of my reality now, but I'd like to be able to at least try.

Sorry so scattered-just a lot of things moving through my head. Husband just called and is on his way home, so looks like I won't get my magazine time after all. Oh well. Oh, and the dual naps? Yep, that's history too. See, I knew it would come back to bite me!

Could it be?

2007-10-24T21:34:00.001-06:00

Just to document-ignore unless you were unfortunate enough to have to read about my tormented nights with Son when he was this age.

BabyA turned six weeks today. She was beat around 10:00, after a bath and much squawking, and a good feed. I stood and rocked her for a good 15 minutes, and while she was falling asleep, it wasn't very settled. I put her down, and let her fuss and talk to herself. She never escalated to full-blown crying, which would have prompted me to start the whole soothing thing over again (Yes, I am a Dr. Weisbluth disciple-but not a CIO fan). She talked and fussed for about 10 minutes, and has uttered nary a peep for the past 20, so I think that I can safely go up to bed.

Makes me want to kick myself for not doing this with Son this early. I probably could have saved myself a lot of lost sleep. I know that I'm not out of the woods yet, but boy, what a difference one child and two years makes.

Coming up for air

2007-10-04T14:27:00.000-06:00

So sorry to leave things hanging-the last post was from the hospital, and things got a bit interesting from there.

BabyA did end up flirting with full-blown jaundice. Her bilirubin levels were up in the 90th percentile, so we ended up having to run to the hospital for three days after we were discharged for blood work. She was so sleepy that she wasn't feeding well, so the formula routine was pushed on us pretty hard. Part of it was justified-she would get so tired from trying to nurse that she couldn't do it for very long, which in turn slowed down my milk coming in and getting my supply established, and so on. She really didn't seem to like the formula too much-she ended up spitting more of it up than actually keeping it down. I decided that I would just have to set an alarm and make sure that she was eating every three hours, at a minimum.

The first week was tough-she was hungry at night, but wouldn't/couldn't nurse, would sleep for an hour, max, and then be up again. Not a whole lot of fun. Her bilirubin levels finally leveled out, so no more trips to the hospital lab, which was a relief. At her two week check, she was down from her birthweight of 8lb 12 oz to 8lb 4oz, which was pretty crushing to me-I had been doing everything that I could to get food into her, and it just didn't seem to be working. Again, the pediatrician pushed formula (grrrr) but also asked a good question about how I was doing nutritionally and with fluids.

That caused me to have one of those moments where "doh!" is the only sufficient way to describe it. I hadn't been eating much-I simply wasn't that hungry, and was having a GD hangover of sorts-luxuriating in not having to worry about when and what I was eating. Fluids were another issue as well. I'm not a big drinker as it is, and at the time everything down there still hurt, so I think that I was subconsciously trying to limit what I had to do. Anyway, I addressed both of those issues post haste. Seriously, within 36 hours after I started pushing water, I could feel my supply increasing, and it didn't hurt that BabyA was finally waking up and taking an interest in food. She started sleeping a little better (still not stellar, but better than the 30-90 minute increments that we had been getting). A week later we went back for a weight check (no actual appointment unless things weren't going well), and she was back up to over her birth weight by two ounces. Hooray! She's still not the Hoover of a nurser that Son was, but she is still filling out and looks much more like an infant now than the pinched, old lady looking newborn that she was for the first couple of weeks. I got a bit of reinforcement of my perception when my parents, who hadn't seen her for a couple of weeks, noticed right away how much better she looked.

Overall, recovery has been a lot easier this time around than with Son. Part of it was that this delivery was a lot easier. No baby that didn't turn the way that he was supposed to, no vacuum, no monster episiotomy. I still had a cut, but it was much smaller-well, at least that is what Husband told me, and my bladder wasn't half as beat up as last time. I'll detail more later when I actually write a proper birth story, but put it this way-after having the wonderful, competent nurse that we had this time, I realize how poor my care was with Son. I had a catheter as soon as I got my epidural, and gee, no huge, full bladder to get in the way of actually delivering the child. With Son, the freaked out nurse didn't do that (although BabyA's nurse acted like that was the standard of care) and part of Son's problem was that his enormous noggin was getting stuck with my over-full bladder. But I digress.

I was back into my pre-pregnancy clothes at around two and a half weeks. I still am dealing with the saggy middle, but I honestly think that it will resolve itself with a sane regimen of crunches. Since I didn't gain any weight, I'm still below where I was before I got pregnant. At three weeks, I was a little over 20 lbs lighter than before I got pregnant. I just need to get back into the swing of eating like I did while I was pregnant-it really made a difference. I don't want to go back to where I was. I'm almost at the point of getting rid of all of my clothes that would allow me some comfort if I backslide. I don't know if I'm that brave yet, but I need to keep it in mind. My closet can't handle to sets of sizes anyway, so I can give myself a kick in the butt for the sake of space in my dinky closet.

I could just keep on adding things as I have been for the past couple of days, but I should cut it off here. One up side is that we had a stretch last night from 10:15 to 4:30...for the second night in a row. No happy dance yet...don't want to jinx it...please.....