I think that I've officially lost it.
I went to Target today, bought an exercise ball, said "no" to the big package of Moose Munch, and showed great restraint overall. This is not my usual MO at all; usually an unsupervised visit to Target results in bags upon bags.
Either I'm finally becoming a grown up or I'm just too tired to muster up the energy for the dash during my lunch. And I said no to chocolate covered popcorn. Someone check my temperature.....
Monday, November 03, 2008
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Step one
I finally got up the courage/lost my will to avoid the scheduler at my endocrinology clinic and went in. Yuck. Got the weight lecture. Yes, I get it. (But just for the record, my fasting morning sugars were at 89, and the cut off is 100. So there. I probably won't be as smug about the lipd panel, but we'll cross that bridge later.) Yes, I've been getting it all of my life. Blech. Of course I did this on Halloween, so what do I do? Rebel in some stupid way and let loose on all of the candy that we won't be giving out.
That said, I finally got a little bit of sleep this weekend, so I wasn't ready to curl up and die around the kids' bedtime. I threw in a load of laundry, put on my shoes, and on the treadmill I went. Considering that we've had it for almost three weeks and this is the first time that I've used it, I suppose that it isn't that big of a deal, but it felt good to finally sweat again and actually enjoy it. We splurged and got the one with the wireless heart rate band, which is supposed to be a lot more accurate than the grips, and not half as irritating. Husband found a small flat screen on a open box special at local big box electronics, and has that mounted right in front of the treadmill, so that's good too. At least it was one good purchase out of my bonus money.
Final stats for the night-35 minutes, a hair under two miles, and about 290 calories. Yeah me!
That said, I finally got a little bit of sleep this weekend, so I wasn't ready to curl up and die around the kids' bedtime. I threw in a load of laundry, put on my shoes, and on the treadmill I went. Considering that we've had it for almost three weeks and this is the first time that I've used it, I suppose that it isn't that big of a deal, but it felt good to finally sweat again and actually enjoy it. We splurged and got the one with the wireless heart rate band, which is supposed to be a lot more accurate than the grips, and not half as irritating. Husband found a small flat screen on a open box special at local big box electronics, and has that mounted right in front of the treadmill, so that's good too. At least it was one good purchase out of my bonus money.
Final stats for the night-35 minutes, a hair under two miles, and about 290 calories. Yeah me!
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
My girl-the genius
...'cause I'm not biased or anything. However, I continue to be astounded at how fast BabyA's vocabulary is expanding. She's pretty much voted to screw the signing, I'll just learn the word! Some of them tend to sound the same, but there's just enough differentiation to be able to try to get what she is screeching at you. But she's still pretty darn cute. Not that anyone asked (or cares, but hey, this is MY sandbox after all) here's what she can say at one year, one month:
- uh-oh
- all done
- more
- kitty (both the two that patrol the house and her stuffed amur leopard from the zoo)
- doggie
- ducky (her favorite stuffed one)
- b-byl (for the cat, Cybl)
- juice
- shoes (her favorites)
- apple
- purple
- night night
- bye bye
- Amber (otherwise known around here as yellow dog)
- mama
- dada
- out
- up
We're at that point where we identify everything, but it's not that much of a chore, since she'll make an honest effort to try to say it. I wish that she would try the signing, but she's just not that into it. The new head teacher of her room isn't that into it either; the previous one really was (she was the one that taught Son when he was this age). The prime example was that I was feeding BabyA some applesauce during lunch one day. I had the audacity to try to eat my own lunch at the same time (we're working on patience here people). She kept reaching and grunting at the applesauce on the table. I signed and said "more?" She pointed, face all scrunched up, and said "apple." Got it. Pretty clear communication there.
She's still the most amazing little bug-I can't imagine not having her here.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
crappy day. too much, not enough hours; not enough to get it all done, not enough in one stretch with my eyes closed.
miss my kids, worried about the boy, worried about my choices hurting him. happy until I tell him that he has to get ready for school (daycare/preschool). cries every morning. the drama of being three or something else? conferences next week.
little girl is literally running away from babyhood, and not looking back. learned two new words this weekend; apple and purple. loves her purple stripey socks and my ginormous striped umbrella in the rain this morning. sang all the way to daycare; didn't want to let her go and leave. still did, but still not happy about it.
strange dreams lately; last one was of a view of two embryos, perfectly dividing, in some sort of xray/MRI view of me. I was happy-twins! no fear. sad when I woke up and realized that there was no chance of the dream being a way of my body trying to tell me something. lots of baby dreams. we can't-no space, no money, too little time. I'm old, he's old, and they are still so small. I worry about being there for them when they need us the most.
husband's cardiologist appointment tomorrow; i'm terrified. the cardio MRI wasn't good, and he doesn't seem to comprehend how bad it all could be. he says he's worried about me. I don't have time to worry about me, i've got the three others. i'm avoiding the pixie-sized endocrinologist who keeps calling to get me to make an appointment-it's been a year after all. because it's always fun to pay someone to beat me up about what I already do.
just stop for a day world-just let me stop.
miss my kids, worried about the boy, worried about my choices hurting him. happy until I tell him that he has to get ready for school (daycare/preschool). cries every morning. the drama of being three or something else? conferences next week.
little girl is literally running away from babyhood, and not looking back. learned two new words this weekend; apple and purple. loves her purple stripey socks and my ginormous striped umbrella in the rain this morning. sang all the way to daycare; didn't want to let her go and leave. still did, but still not happy about it.
strange dreams lately; last one was of a view of two embryos, perfectly dividing, in some sort of xray/MRI view of me. I was happy-twins! no fear. sad when I woke up and realized that there was no chance of the dream being a way of my body trying to tell me something. lots of baby dreams. we can't-no space, no money, too little time. I'm old, he's old, and they are still so small. I worry about being there for them when they need us the most.
husband's cardiologist appointment tomorrow; i'm terrified. the cardio MRI wasn't good, and he doesn't seem to comprehend how bad it all could be. he says he's worried about me. I don't have time to worry about me, i've got the three others. i'm avoiding the pixie-sized endocrinologist who keeps calling to get me to make an appointment-it's been a year after all. because it's always fun to pay someone to beat me up about what I already do.
just stop for a day world-just let me stop.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Disappearing Act
Yes, it's been a while. The only thing that I ask is that I get a dispensation for being horrendously busy, and sucking at the whole work/life balance thing. Work gets half, kids get half, and then there is that Husband guy, and the fuzzy occupants of our house. Me? Um yeah, I'll get to her someday. Maybe.
That being said, we had another milestone in our house a couple of weeks ago; BabyA turned 1! She's a walking, almost running, starting to talk, little whirlwind of a girl. She's been taking steps unassisted since she was about 10 months, two or three here, five or eight there. But in the past couple of weeks, she's started traversing entire rooms. A couple of nights ago we were playing and I was chasing her, and she tried to run! It was so cute and funny. The song "Drunken Sailor" came to mind. I'll give her this, she's a very determined little creature.
She can say "mama", "dada", "kitty", "b-byl" (the cat, Cybl), and, get this, "all done." We've been working on signing, and since she has pretty good fine motor control for her age, I've been trying to get her to do her thing. She looked up at me, and clear as day said "all done." With a big smile. She brings something to our family that is so uniquely her-her smiles and giggles, her stubbornness, her insistence on being heard and paid attention to. I don't think that I'll have to worry about her being a wallflower.
I do admit that I worry about her-not for any concrete reason that I can point at, but I know what it's like to be a girl, and I'm really trying to not pass on my hangups to her. It certainly would be a gift; my mom did a dozy on me. I just want her to grow up and be sure of herself, to not question every little thing; to be confident that she is good enough. Good enough to do whatever she wants, good enough to be treated well, good enough to be happy and comfortable in her own skin. Its reduced me to tears more than once. I just want so much for her. I don't want her to have to deal with what I did.
Regardless, I'm still quite smitten. Son is too; although now that she's mobile and as squawky as a grumpy parrot at times, there have been some instances of "mine!!!!" MOM!!! Which I expected at this point. He's still so great at trying to make her happy when she cries, he'll go and find a binky (I know, I know, but she's a junky-one step at a time folks), or give her one of his blankets. He's more than I had ever hoped for.
As for me, we're still nursing, and I'm not quite sure when I want to bring that to an end. This is very likely my last baby, and I don't want to lost that last link to having a baby. She seems OK with it as well, and hasn't shown any sign of wanting to wean. We may just see where it goes. I'm looking at nothing past 18 months, but we'll see. Some days I really wish that I didn't have to pump, but when I get my 20 minutes with her before she goes to bed, it's all worth it. It's the only time that she stops moving.
I've got to get back to being productive-no rest for the wicked!
That being said, we had another milestone in our house a couple of weeks ago; BabyA turned 1! She's a walking, almost running, starting to talk, little whirlwind of a girl. She's been taking steps unassisted since she was about 10 months, two or three here, five or eight there. But in the past couple of weeks, she's started traversing entire rooms. A couple of nights ago we were playing and I was chasing her, and she tried to run! It was so cute and funny. The song "Drunken Sailor" came to mind. I'll give her this, she's a very determined little creature.
She can say "mama", "dada", "kitty", "b-byl" (the cat, Cybl), and, get this, "all done." We've been working on signing, and since she has pretty good fine motor control for her age, I've been trying to get her to do her thing. She looked up at me, and clear as day said "all done." With a big smile. She brings something to our family that is so uniquely her-her smiles and giggles, her stubbornness, her insistence on being heard and paid attention to. I don't think that I'll have to worry about her being a wallflower.
I do admit that I worry about her-not for any concrete reason that I can point at, but I know what it's like to be a girl, and I'm really trying to not pass on my hangups to her. It certainly would be a gift; my mom did a dozy on me. I just want her to grow up and be sure of herself, to not question every little thing; to be confident that she is good enough. Good enough to do whatever she wants, good enough to be treated well, good enough to be happy and comfortable in her own skin. Its reduced me to tears more than once. I just want so much for her. I don't want her to have to deal with what I did.
Regardless, I'm still quite smitten. Son is too; although now that she's mobile and as squawky as a grumpy parrot at times, there have been some instances of "mine!!!!" MOM!!! Which I expected at this point. He's still so great at trying to make her happy when she cries, he'll go and find a binky (I know, I know, but she's a junky-one step at a time folks), or give her one of his blankets. He's more than I had ever hoped for.
As for me, we're still nursing, and I'm not quite sure when I want to bring that to an end. This is very likely my last baby, and I don't want to lost that last link to having a baby. She seems OK with it as well, and hasn't shown any sign of wanting to wean. We may just see where it goes. I'm looking at nothing past 18 months, but we'll see. Some days I really wish that I didn't have to pump, but when I get my 20 minutes with her before she goes to bed, it's all worth it. It's the only time that she stops moving.
I've got to get back to being productive-no rest for the wicked!
Friday, September 05, 2008
Another day, three years ago.
I am forced to keep this brief, since the pile is looming, and I'm going to effectively out for 2 1/2 days next week.
Son turned three today. For some reason, this one seems more momentus to me, a little sad even. When he turned one, he was still effectively a baby; still nursing, retaining some of that wonderful baby softness but yet not quite so needy as before. When he turned two, he still had a bit of that baby left. Granted, I was a bit pre-occupied with the baby that would come a week later, but still, he had the wispy hair and curls.
Now when I look at him, no vestige of that baby is left. He is a little boy, plain and simple. He still needs his mommy, still wraps himself around me on the bad days. However, he is tall and able, and I don't even change diapers anymore. He has opinions, and is learning how to voice them. He sleeps in a toddler bed now, and will probably move up to a full size bed before Christmas. He holds my hand because he wants to (or is forced to in order to save him from himself in a parking lot) not because he needs me for support.
I love his smile, his giggle, the way that he watches out for his sister. How he wanders out of his room in the morning with his bear and fuzziness. How he gets excited about going with his dad somewhere. I admit that there are days where life would be easier if I didn't have a kid or kids, but I never, ever will regret what we went through to have him. The four years were so worth it.
Happy birthday little man.
Son turned three today. For some reason, this one seems more momentus to me, a little sad even. When he turned one, he was still effectively a baby; still nursing, retaining some of that wonderful baby softness but yet not quite so needy as before. When he turned two, he still had a bit of that baby left. Granted, I was a bit pre-occupied with the baby that would come a week later, but still, he had the wispy hair and curls.
Now when I look at him, no vestige of that baby is left. He is a little boy, plain and simple. He still needs his mommy, still wraps himself around me on the bad days. However, he is tall and able, and I don't even change diapers anymore. He has opinions, and is learning how to voice them. He sleeps in a toddler bed now, and will probably move up to a full size bed before Christmas. He holds my hand because he wants to (or is forced to in order to save him from himself in a parking lot) not because he needs me for support.
I love his smile, his giggle, the way that he watches out for his sister. How he wanders out of his room in the morning with his bear and fuzziness. How he gets excited about going with his dad somewhere. I admit that there are days where life would be easier if I didn't have a kid or kids, but I never, ever will regret what we went through to have him. The four years were so worth it.
Happy birthday little man.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Just a quickie
Ok, so it's been a while. This new job is kicking my ass, to put it bluntly, and I feel guilty for even taking my former usual detour to Dear Abbey in the morning.
I have a full-blown post coming one of these days; stuff about getting my hands around this job, feeling more than a little taken advantage of, glass ceilings, my lack of a sex life, nursing past one year, the disharmony in my house about how many kids is enough, the disharmony in our house about our house, and other stuff. You get the picture.
My two little moments today are this:
I have a full-blown post coming one of these days; stuff about getting my hands around this job, feeling more than a little taken advantage of, glass ceilings, my lack of a sex life, nursing past one year, the disharmony in my house about how many kids is enough, the disharmony in our house about our house, and other stuff. You get the picture.
My two little moments today are this:
- Son started pre-school today. Uniform and everything. Not very happily. Son hates change, and while he has been transitioning from the toddler/twos room into one of the preschool rooms, it just hit him today when he didn't start out his day in his previous classroom. The one that he has been going to for over the past year. I know that he'll be OK, and that this is a good thing, but still. It feels different somehow, like his baby/toddlerhood is officially over, and that the title "little man" is more reality than a nickname. I didn't get misty, but I still felt a bit unsettled. I'm going to try and sneak out a little early today to go pick him up, just in case it didn't go swimmingly.
- Son will be three on Friday. Three. What the hell? Where did this semi-articulate, stubborn, sweet, beautiful, 95% potty-trained boy come from? Where is my baby? Now I'm starting to get misty....
BabyA is also on the train out of babyland, and I swear that she's on the bullet train. Walking, a few discernible words, signing...
I'm too old for this......
Monday, August 11, 2008
Living dangerously, PT II
Son, if you haven't already gathered, is an independent, stubborn, opinionated squirt. Part of that is a function of being on the cusp of turning three, the rest is just his basic personality. This child may drive me to drink once I'm done nursing.
So, yesterday we had to make a 90 minute drive north to meet my parents halfway to drop off Son for a week with them. They have been hassling me about it all summer, and I always thought that we would be able to take a long weekend and deal with it that way. It's not that I don't trust my parents with him, but rather that he's a very schedule oriented kid, and since we had such a good thing going on the potty front and elsewhere, I really didn't want to screw that up. However, for a variety of reasons, I relented, so we decided that this would be a good week. My dad was able to take off Monday and Tuesday, Mom has a couple of weeks before school starts again, and the weather should be nice.
OK, yes, I do have a point. We were all packed and ready to go, and were just waiting for Husband to get home from work (yes, stuck working another weekend due to a flakey employee-GRRRR), and I asked him if he would put on a pullup for the drive. There aren't a whole lot of places to stop, and he had just had lunch. He looks at me in all earnestness, and says "no, thank you Mama" and proceeds to walk out of his room to go put on his shoes. Again, me following him down the hall, pausing by the bathroom, "are you sure? It's a long ride..." "No, Mama, I wear underwears." So, reluctantly, I strapped him into the carseat, hoping and praying that the peeing four times before we left had done the trick.
It did! Mom and Dad were going to stop about an hour away on their way back home, so he had a chance there as well. As far as I know, he did it! Oh, to think, a trip to Target that doesn't entail $40 for diapers each trip. The joy, the freedom, the minor return of disposable (no pun intended) income!
So, yesterday we had to make a 90 minute drive north to meet my parents halfway to drop off Son for a week with them. They have been hassling me about it all summer, and I always thought that we would be able to take a long weekend and deal with it that way. It's not that I don't trust my parents with him, but rather that he's a very schedule oriented kid, and since we had such a good thing going on the potty front and elsewhere, I really didn't want to screw that up. However, for a variety of reasons, I relented, so we decided that this would be a good week. My dad was able to take off Monday and Tuesday, Mom has a couple of weeks before school starts again, and the weather should be nice.
OK, yes, I do have a point. We were all packed and ready to go, and were just waiting for Husband to get home from work (yes, stuck working another weekend due to a flakey employee-GRRRR), and I asked him if he would put on a pullup for the drive. There aren't a whole lot of places to stop, and he had just had lunch. He looks at me in all earnestness, and says "no, thank you Mama" and proceeds to walk out of his room to go put on his shoes. Again, me following him down the hall, pausing by the bathroom, "are you sure? It's a long ride..." "No, Mama, I wear underwears." So, reluctantly, I strapped him into the carseat, hoping and praying that the peeing four times before we left had done the trick.
It did! Mom and Dad were going to stop about an hour away on their way back home, so he had a chance there as well. As far as I know, he did it! Oh, to think, a trip to Target that doesn't entail $40 for diapers each trip. The joy, the freedom, the minor return of disposable (no pun intended) income!
Friday, August 08, 2008
The true mom chronicles
Lots has been going on in chronicle land, but as I've plead earlier, I've been up to my eyeballs trying to get this new job of mine under control, and either I am in the midst of a sleep-deprived delusion (damn style channel) or it is really getting better. I am by no means out of the woods on this one, and may not be for quite some time, but it hasn't been even remotely as heinous as predicted. However, the reality need not be known publicly; from the people that I've talked to at my old site, I'm up for sainthood. How cool is that? I just had to move to a different location, but no horrible death. Hmmm....
Son has been doing extremely well on the potty training front. In the two weeks that I have been sending him to DC in underwear, he's only had a couple of accidents. I asked the teachers if they thought that we were pushing things, and they said that they thought he was doing great, and to change anything would probably cause things to backslide. We're still struggling with the whole poop thing-he'll do it at home, but it's iffy at daycare. He's been a little constipated-yes, I know that y'all really needed to know that-but I think that may be causing some of our problems. He does fine with getting in enough fluids, but I'll need to make up another batch of Husband's fantastic bran muffins to help things out. I'm not kidding, they are really, really good.
Anyway, he's been doing so well, that he's been "visiting" the pre-school room, and has been handling it pretty well. I can tell that the change is on his mind-he wants to re-join his old friends that are older than he is, most of whom he has been with since he was a baby-but yet he's not so sure about this whole big boy thing. It helps that one of the teachers that he loved in the toddler room is now in one of the pre-school rooms. This whole development, however, has raised quite a question on our part however. Since my job location has changed, and the current daycare is actually quite a way out of the way now, do we move him before he gets too settled into the pre-school environment (which he should be ready for by the start of the "school" year after Labor Day), or, since I still have to cover my old site for a while, leave him there until we absolutely have to move? Part of me thinks that it is worth the extra time and miles because he is comfortable and is doing so well. He knows most of his letters, and I heard him sounding something out a couple of days ago. He didn't get it quite right, but he was working on it based on what he knew. Oh, and did I mention that my tuition would go down again? Probably enough to justify the gas? But then again, winter is coming, and if they close, neither Husband or I are very close. I really don't want to deal with this, but I know that I will have to eventually.
On happier news, BabyA took her first steps this week. And I missed them. One of the sucky things about being a working mom. I appreciate that the daycare ladies wrote it down on her report to let me know. However, the little stinker hasn't repeated her feat at home yet. She can stand independently for a long time, but just isn't quite certain that forward movement is a good thing. She does this weird little plie type of move, like she's trying to wind up or something, but usually all that results in is that her legs get tired and she plunks down on her diapered bottom. She's still my light-her smiles are worth everything. She even has decided to grow some hair! Not as much as Son had at this age, but she isn't a cue ball anymore!
There is certainly more that I need to prattle on about, like how much longer I plan on nursing, Husband's run in with my dad (he's now 2-2 with pissing off my parents), and all sorts of other fun stuff. However, I do need to get some work done so I can possibly entertain the thought of sneaking out for a quick shopping excursion before I pick up the kids. Happy Friday!
Son has been doing extremely well on the potty training front. In the two weeks that I have been sending him to DC in underwear, he's only had a couple of accidents. I asked the teachers if they thought that we were pushing things, and they said that they thought he was doing great, and to change anything would probably cause things to backslide. We're still struggling with the whole poop thing-he'll do it at home, but it's iffy at daycare. He's been a little constipated-yes, I know that y'all really needed to know that-but I think that may be causing some of our problems. He does fine with getting in enough fluids, but I'll need to make up another batch of Husband's fantastic bran muffins to help things out. I'm not kidding, they are really, really good.
Anyway, he's been doing so well, that he's been "visiting" the pre-school room, and has been handling it pretty well. I can tell that the change is on his mind-he wants to re-join his old friends that are older than he is, most of whom he has been with since he was a baby-but yet he's not so sure about this whole big boy thing. It helps that one of the teachers that he loved in the toddler room is now in one of the pre-school rooms. This whole development, however, has raised quite a question on our part however. Since my job location has changed, and the current daycare is actually quite a way out of the way now, do we move him before he gets too settled into the pre-school environment (which he should be ready for by the start of the "school" year after Labor Day), or, since I still have to cover my old site for a while, leave him there until we absolutely have to move? Part of me thinks that it is worth the extra time and miles because he is comfortable and is doing so well. He knows most of his letters, and I heard him sounding something out a couple of days ago. He didn't get it quite right, but he was working on it based on what he knew. Oh, and did I mention that my tuition would go down again? Probably enough to justify the gas? But then again, winter is coming, and if they close, neither Husband or I are very close. I really don't want to deal with this, but I know that I will have to eventually.
On happier news, BabyA took her first steps this week. And I missed them. One of the sucky things about being a working mom. I appreciate that the daycare ladies wrote it down on her report to let me know. However, the little stinker hasn't repeated her feat at home yet. She can stand independently for a long time, but just isn't quite certain that forward movement is a good thing. She does this weird little plie type of move, like she's trying to wind up or something, but usually all that results in is that her legs get tired and she plunks down on her diapered bottom. She's still my light-her smiles are worth everything. She even has decided to grow some hair! Not as much as Son had at this age, but she isn't a cue ball anymore!
There is certainly more that I need to prattle on about, like how much longer I plan on nursing, Husband's run in with my dad (he's now 2-2 with pissing off my parents), and all sorts of other fun stuff. However, I do need to get some work done so I can possibly entertain the thought of sneaking out for a quick shopping excursion before I pick up the kids. Happy Friday!
Monday, July 28, 2008
My Monday of living dangerously
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.
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.
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.
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We did manage to get out and attempt to test drive a different car to replace the caddie. When I say attempt, I say so in every nuance of the word. We tried to get a sitter for Saturday morning, but no luck. So, being reasonable parents, we decided that we could bring children with, since the test-driven car needed to be able to accommodate two car seats for the foreseeable future.
We managed to get one, yes, one, drive in. It took almost 15 minutes for Husband to move and install both carseats, and then deal with a screaming Son who was afraid that we were abandoning the Jeep FOREVER. "I don't yike dis car. I like Mommy's truck. Whiiiiiiine." Eventually he ran out of steam and calmed down. Despite the trauma (and a very understanding salesperson a local Toyota), off we went. And for once, we really liked what we tried. If our finances had been in order, we probably would have ordered one on the spot. However, we exercised great discretion and restraint, and drove away, albeit with longing stares. To paraphrase Wayne, it will be mine. Oh yes. It will be mine. Just not real sure when.
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BabyA has shown us that she has issues with strawberries. Damn. I gave her some of those apple/strawberry baby puffs over the weekend, and by Sunday she was one broken out mess. It doesn't seem to bother her too much other than for the skin, and it doesn't affect her digestively, but she looks like she is entering puberty. Poor thing. We have her nine month well baby appointment tomorrow, so I may be able to wrangle some hydrocortisone for her. Looks like they are off my menu too, which stinks because I just got a 1/2 gallon of strawberry sorbet that is really, really, yummy. Sigh.
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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.
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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.
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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!
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