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.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
news from the front
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Where to begin?
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!
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!
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
My morning
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?
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?
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Well, that's new
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....
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....
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Nine months
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.
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.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Musings
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.
**********
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.
**********
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.
**********
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.
**********
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.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
not yet
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.
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.
Monday, June 09, 2008
The demise of the great V8
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?
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?
Thursday, June 05, 2008
What's the name of that Goddess?
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
What a difference a nap makes
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!
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
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.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Just a few notes
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.
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.....
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
A new milestone
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Marginalized
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.
"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.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Stuff
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?
**********
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?
Monday, May 05, 2008
Maybe Brittany had it right
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Used Husband, free to good home
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Is this thing on?
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.
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.
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