Full Day, Time for a Blog Break

I wasn't really early for work today at all, but I had to pump right when I got here because Ms. Perky was about to erupt like a milk-filled volcanoe, and that would be messy during an intake. Not to mention a touch embarassing, but, problem averted.

But I didn't get my first intake until 8:45, and it was empty. No app, nothing. Just a Fact Sheet. So I literally did every single step of the intake myself that reception ususally takes care of, which isn't hard, just time consuming.

Yeah, so then I kind of, but-not-really broke the damn copy machine, which in and of itself is nothing unusual, but it just happened to be when the other one was occupied and my supervisor was standing next to me waiting to use it, and another GMO worker was waiting as well. And I heard later I turned a touch pink, maybe not beet-red like in the past, but noticeably ... embarrassed? Distressed? Who knows. I ended up just turning the fricking thing off and back on to get it working again. Joy.

But what was with the comment about "Oh, people besides intake workers need to use the copy machine too." Yeah, okay. First off, I was the only intake worker there. Second, I know fuck-all about copy machines, so I'm doing my best to get done, you know. And third, shut the hell up, because you're not even next in line anyway!

So then I had a client applying for food stamps, and me, in my haste this morning forgot to eat breakfast, and I felt like a jerk-off when my stomche started grumbling like an old man after eating a can of beans. I was hoping to hell she thought I had the BG's and not that I was hungry, considering her present situation.

Then when I finally got back to my office(about 45 minutes later than normal) I had an email from P saying I needed to give him $790 today for Johana to get her plane ticket, and her visa, and health insurance, so that she could be on a plan on 2/18 to come watch Taryn.

I was just a touch out of sorts, so I wasn't able to pump much. I mean, it was enough, just no leftovers, ya dig?

And of course, when I get home at lunch and try to relax, eat a nice home-cooked (well, microwaved leftovers, but I can dream right?) meal, snuggle with my baby, I get a call that La Tia has a doctor's appointment, and can my mom drop off the baby late today? To which I have to say no, because Nonny works early today, and that's why she drops the baby off a little early every Wednesday, and then there's a language-barrier-miscommunication which eventually gets worked out but which in the meantime has zapped my time, and I'm off to work again to figure out a self-employment case (which is not hard, just very detailed, and again, quite time-consuming) and...

*whew*

It's only 2:45, and it's just been a full day so far. Thank Goddess I don't have to drive to Petaluma tonight.

And thank the other Goddess of beer I've got a San Miguel waiting at home for me.

Possessed by the Flu

Ohmigod.

Normally in the morning Taryn is chipper and smiling and laughing and everything, and yeah, I know she's sick with her little runny nose and sneezing and her eyes are puffy from god-knows-what, maybe allergies, maybe from not sleeping well, but I've never seen her so angry in my life.

I was walking around the house with her this morning since she was fussing whenever I put her down, and just waiting for my mom to show up and amuse her so I could finish getting ready.

I walked over to the mirror by the door like I often do, to play with her and point out her pretty little nose, and her beautiful pouty lips, her gorilla-ish ears (she got from her Papa), and her beautiful exotic-looking eyes. But when we reached the mirror she took one look at her self, screamed an angry, pained scream, and flailed her arm so hard she smacked me in the chin and left a small red mark.

Ohmigod.

Who Noshed my String Cheese?

I don't know what's up with communal refridgerators at work. I suppose if I worked with adults it wouldn't be an issue, but for some reason when it comes to the 'fridge, people turn into completely egotistical children.

I mean, there's those people who bring in a whole bag or groceries for the week. They claim a drawer, or a whole shelf to themselves, and fill it with whole heads of lettuce, a bag of raw potatoes, and half a rotisserie chicken, plus all the fixin's. The problem with these folks, aside from being ignorant of the fact there are twenty-five other people on this floor who need to put their single-day's-meal into the exact same fridge, is that at the end of the week, their limp-ass lettuce, and moldy cheese and disgusting fucking concoctions get left there to stink up the room, and someone else has to clean up after them. Can we wipe your ass while we clean up the rest of your shit?

We've also got the freaks who insist on throwing everything out when they clean, including my hard-to-come-by titty milk. Do you have any idea how long it can take to pump that? And even after I tell you not to toss it, somehow, nobody quite knows how, but somehow, it gets thrown away. But thanks for cleaning out the container.

To you people who insist on eating nasty smelling food, or leaving your popcorn and bagels to burn while you use the crapper: You suck. That's all I have to say to you.

Last, but certainly not least, whoever the hell ate my string cheese, I'm looking for you. Seriously, do you have any idea how much I love my string cheese? Aside from the fact that it's so fun to peel off the strips, because we all know I savor everything, and it tastes so yummy, I need a certain amount of calories per day to produce that aforementioned titty milk, and a certain amount of milk products to burn those extra damn calories. And you want to steal not only my past-due strawberry yogurt with my initials on it, but also my string cheese with my name on a post-it? Are you stupid? Don't you know what a hungry mother who doesn't have enough food for her child will do when stressed? Do you have any idea what crazy looks like? Watch yourself, I'm on a mission. For real.

Ms. Perky and Lil' Bit

First off, sorry to all my big-busted friends. I never realized how much this sucks the bigger you get.

I think we've all noticed at one point or another that the twins weren't exactly equal in stature. In my case, Ms. Perky seems perpetually excited, and Lil' Bit a bit on the depressed side. Maybe a sign of the Gemini? Or maybe my rack is just biolar.

But it's really been hitting me since Taryn has been sleeping through the night that there is a major disparity between the two. It seems no matter which side I nurse her on first at night, Ms. perky always seems to be painfully engorged in the morning, while Lil' Bit remains bearably full. And I'm not going to tell you which side is which, you can guess for yourself (!) but it does present a problem as I'm a stomache sleeper, and obviously can't do so with the jugs ready to be emptied.

So yeah. No real point to this except, damn. I thought they'd even out a bit more. But even completely deflated, these lovely ladies aren't quite in step with each other. But I can't complain. I'm still small and I can get away without wearing a bra as long as the faucets don't start leaking. I just can't imagine how tilted the scale might be if I were even a cup larger.

Hi! Just Me Being Bitter Again!

No, no, no. I don't really think I'm a bitter person, just fully aware of my own shortcomings. And I've become aware lately that God has given me these shortcomings so that I can overcome them and become a better person.

Lying in bed last night, I realized that I have every right to be envious of some of the people around me, but I'm just not. I mean, why waste what little energy I have left on being jealous? Especially when I can just learn from these people, because obviously they are in my life for a reason.

Like Teresa. She's got a great sense of style and she's not a size zero. The last month or so of my pregnancy up until now, I have put off buying clothes because I kept thinking I'd get back down to my pre-pregnancy size. And okay, I get it. I'm bigger, and I'm comfortable in my body now, so I might as well put a little bit of effort into getting dressed in the morning. I'm not going to go splurge on a whole new wardrobe, and maybe I'll try to stick to getting big 9's instead of normal 11's, but a couple new pieces every once in a while will get me back into a creative rotation that I've been missing for months.

And then we have Ally, who's been through so much more than I have, and she's still chipper as shit most of the time. She's been able to keep on loving instead of hiding from the world like I did. I used to feel safer not being close to anyone, but I'm realizign how much I've missed out on by being alone and not sharing myself with others. And yeah, I write about it, but really, I need to start opening up more in person, making myself vulnerable and maybe learning something in the process.

Which brings us to the social skills realm which I am abviously lacking. Around people I know or are already comfortable with, I'm a dork, and completely fine with it. But when I get around folks I'm intimidated by, or just plain don't know well enough, I clam up. And I'm still a dork, but then I actually feel embarassed of my dork-i-ness. And I know I shouldn't because that's me, but even knowign that doesn't change the feeling yet. Sometimes. And I have to admire P on this one who came to the US without speaking English, fell in love, and pursued me even when people told him he didnt stand a chance because I was too good for him, and all that bullshit. He was embarassed and ashamed he didn't speak the language, but that didn't stop him from doing what he knew was in his heart.

Um, let's see. Patience? I'm working on it. I really am. I won't even call out a specific person because I think most of the world has more inborn patience than I have on my best day. Seriously. I don't know if I'm getting more patient, but I'm definitely controlling my impatience better. So whatever, it's a start. But, hi Susana! I've told your husband many times that if he was my man, he's be dead in a grave years ago after I smothered him with a pillow. So mad props to you for being able to deal with a "difficult" husband, and two kids, and three lizards....

And then there's all the people in great relationships, which at times seems like everyone but me. I'd admit, P has his good days, if I'm lucky a week, but there's always that thought hanging over my head that it won't last, and that the things he says to me are just too hurtful to ever really fully appreciate when he's being good. And I'm so happy that my friends are with good partners, but it just sucks ass sometimes that I have to live vicariously to experience a functional relationship. I feel like we're stuck at this weird phase, where we haven't been together long enough to really know how to work through big issues without the yelling and crying, but at the same time we've been together long enough that we necessarily have major issues to work through.

And then to top it all off, I haven't gotten my hair cut since I was like 7 months pregnant, and damnit, I've got split ends from the blow dryer, and curling iron, and dyeing it... So yeah, I'm just being bitter right now. Please excuse the crazy woman spitting out the window.

Girlfriends

In high school, I was one of those girls who had one female "best friend" and a lot of male friends. I didn't get along with females too well, in my mind because they were intimidated by me and treated me like shit because their boys were always trying to talk to me (which was often true) but looking back I think it was easier to have male friends and retain some essence of control in the relationship. Like, I'll kick it with you, but I get to decide how close we get and how long we remain friends. With females, I didn't have that control. I was at the whim of their moods, and maybe this week we'd be friends, but next week we wouldn't. I had enough mood swings of my own without dealing with theirs too.

Don't get me wrong, I always had girlfriends, but they were just never as close as a lot of the guys were. The shitty part being I didn't feel like I could trust them with intimate details of my life like I trusted some of the guys. Because it seemed that when it came down to it, girls at that age were usually taking the sides of their men and leaving thier female friends to fend for themselves when shit went down.

Looking back on my friendships when I was in high school, I'm disappointed that I didn't take the time to cultivate deeper relationships with other women. I miss it now, now that I see the value of having female friends, and the manipulations that men spin with women they are attracted to. I know it's not all about hok-ups for all guys, but for enough it is, and they've tainted my view of single men. Aside from that, I don't really have a choice now, you know? Because a lot guys don't want married female friends. For obvious reasons.

I was just sitting here feeling so grateful for the women that I am close to now. To be able to sit down at any point in the day, regardless of whatever is going on around us and share a funny story about our kids, or a hug when one of us is going through a rough time, or to just check in and go over some small detail of an upcoming party or wedding, and effortlessly transition into the latest gossip or newest shoe purchase. You just don't get that with a lot of guy friends.

To be able to cry in front of someone and not make them feel uncomfortable, or to relive the gory details of childbirth and have someone completely understand, or to be so busy you don't talk for weeks, and when you finally sit down to catch up it's like no time has passed at all, it's priceless. And even when we're all at different points in our lives, some of us having children (okay, so that's a huge group of "some" right at the moment), some getting married, others changing jobs or schools, we always seem to be able to connect, and empathize, and laugh together.

So for all those times I bemoaned being female, when Aunt Flo came to visit, I had to pee out in the wilderness, or when I was in labor for 11.5 hours while my husband was pain-free, I just have to say I'm damn glad to have been born a woman, and to have the opportunity to have met all my girlfriends.

Month Seven

Time has flown by so fast, and no month has gone by faster than this one. If I remember, a month ago you didn't exactly always get the binkie into your mouth correctly, and now you're a pro at picking it up, sticking it in so you can chew on it a bit, and even offering it to me and the puppies! You're cutting your third tooth now too, and pretty soon you'll have a mouth full of pearly whites to show off in those adorable smiles.

I think the biggest change in you has been the blossoming personality. You know your name and respond to it, and your sense of humor is in it's own little world. I see you look at something, like someone wearing glasses, or grab a handful of someone's hair, and just start cracking up for no other reason. You've also become quite ticklish, you laugh in your sleep if I give you a kiss behind your ears, and double over in body-shaking chuckles when I tickle your arms, legs and feet. The cutest though is when you lift up your arms so I'll will pick you up, and nuzzle my cheeck when you're sleepy.

Speaking of sleep, you have turned into an amazing sleeper in the past couple weeks, going anywhere from 8-10 hours straight without waking up to nurse. And bathtime has turned into a circus too, with you kicking and splashing the water, playing with your duckies, and chewing on the faucet. And you get genuinely angry when it's time to get out, kicking and shrieking until you're all bundled up in your towel and bouncing along up the stairs to get your jammies on. I wish I could say the solids were going as well. You've gone from a reluctant eater to a picky little thing, only opening your mouth for oatmeal and peaches. Sometimes you'll let us spoon in something new, but it'll be interesting to see if you develope a taste for banans and apples, because right now, you refuse to let them past your pouty little lips.

Since I've been back at work, you've spent half the day with your Nonny, and half with your Tia.You seem to do very well without me, a fact that I'm grateful for, and also a touch sad about, but I'm happy you are having fun and developing relationships with both. I do wish though, that you would take a nap, just once, for longer than 15 minutes at la Tia's house. Then we could stay up later and play.

So my Love, my wish for you this month is that you always find humor in life, and keep your strong preferences. Being a push-over never helped anyone in the long run, and deep down inside we all know what we really want and like, I hope you never lose touch with yourself.

You're sitting in my lap now, playing with a bottle of Tylenol. Probably not the best toy, but it was close by and child-preef, and you really seem to like it. I just hope I'm not priming you for a pill-addiction later in life.

I love you,
Mommy

I Have Issues with the Dishwasher (Revived from Myspace)

Most people think I have some weird obsession with not letting people do dishes at my house. What it really is, most people do it wrong and I get stuck fixing it later.

P-Dely, for example, doesn't get the concept of putting the dishes in straight, and separating dinner plates on the bottom, from glasses and bowls on top. This causes me to have to re-arrange the damn dishes every time he puts dishes in (which has been like 10 times since we've had a dishwasher. I think he gets that he's doing something wrong, but can't figure out what), so that I can fit more than three plates and six bowls in before turning it on.

On the other hand, my mom crams so many fricking dishes in that the water sprayer thing doesn't come up and hence the damn dishes don't get cleaned. No offense to her, because her eyesight isn't what it used to be, but there's crap left on the dishes. So then I have to unload half of them, run the dishwasher, empty it, then load the rest in a do it all over again.

And of course, there's Jeff. My lovely, super-extra-more-anal-than-I-could-ever-stand-to-be brother. He refuses to use the dishwasher at all, and will clean every single dinner plate, cup, bowl, fork, knife, pot and pan by hand. Something about it not being sanitary, I think. But then I just feel bad, so I can't let him do it either.

See, so it's not really about me being weird, it's everyone else, right? I seem to be the only one who knows how to do it right, so that's why I insist that you put the plates down and don't start washing. It's not that after cleaning the house, making drinks for everyone, and preparing dinner that I really, really want to do the dishes, it's just simpler that way.

Less stress. Because stress is bad for the baby...

Stupid Non-Mother Kaiser Nurse

I called Kaiser last night to check on a couple cold medications to make sure they were okay to take while I'm breastfeeding. While I was talking to her, since she seemed very nice and more informed than a lot of the other nurses I've spoken to, I decided to ask her the burning question: "Can Taryn go 5 hours without milk, twice per day?"

I hadn't gotten a chance to ask her pedi at her appointment yesterday because a nurse just came in to give Taryn her flu shot, then we left. Then nurse I spoke to was nice, and readiy admitted she didn't have any information on that specific question, since it was concerning my let-down being non-existent at work, and not weaning Taryn. She said she understood not wanting to give her formula, and decided to email Dr. M to get his opinion on the situation. She even read to me what she was sending, to make sure it was accurate.

This morning, a different, stupid Kaiser nurse called me at work. First off, I said to call my cell, but, okay, maybe she just wasn't completely on top of things that early in the morning. Right off the bat though, she started pissing me off.

"Hi, you called last night with some questions about breastfeeding?"

No, I don't have any problems breastfeeding. I'm having problems with my let-down reflex at work.

"Oh, okay. Well, have you tried fenugreek?"

I'm drinking that tea right now. But listen, I've probably tried everything you're going to suggest, like massage, and meditation, deep breathing, visualization, drinking more water...

"Well, have you tried Brewer's Yeast or Mother's Milk tea? Those can increase your milk supply."

But like I already said, I don't have a problem with supply, just my let-down. I can nurse her fine, it's pumping at work that isn't working. I really just wanted to know if nursing her every 5 hours is enough while I'm away at work, with solids in between.

"Maybe it's stress? Stress can affect your let-down."

Well, obviously. I already know that. I need help to fix this situation, and I need to know how long she can go without milk since I'm only getting 2 ounces each time I pump.

"Well, that's not enough milk for her. You're going to have to supplement with formula if you can't pump more than that."

[So now I'm thinking, this stupid bitch just told me I don't make enough milk for my child. She said stress will affect my let-down, but the wench tells me I'll have to supplement if it doesn't get better so my child basically doesn't starve, but still doesn't give me any suggestions] Right. I don't want to supplement, so is there anything you can tell me to help with my let-down so I don't have to?

"No. I've never heard of this problem before."

[Stupid, worthless excuse for a woman! Obviously you don't have kids or you'd have heard of this, and you might be a little more willing to help me out. Not say shit that's going to stress me out even more. I hate you! I have Kaiser! I hate advice nurses!] Well, okay. You're not very helpful, you know? I think I'll have better luck looking on the internet. Click.

Seriously, how do these people get jobs? I didn't even have time to shut my office door before the tears were streaming down my face. So all this coupled with a crippling stomache-ache, a sinus infection ... just too much. So I called P.

[Sniffling] Baby, I need to talk to ...

"I'm busy, can I call you back?"

I know the world doesn't revolve around me, but can I get a second of someone's time to figure out what the fuck is wrong with me? This is so damn frustrating.

Already a Good Samaritan

P, Taryn and I were sitting on the couch this evening, I had just fed her, and I was cuddling before she got tired enough for me to put her in her crib. She had her binkie in her mouth, and was taking it out, adn putting it back in, smacking it on her forehead, P's arm, and my chin, then putting it back in her mouth.

Since she didn't seem to really need to suck on it, I started making a smacking sound with my mouth, and asked her "Can Mommy try your binkie?" And to my astonishment, the little bugger actually tried to put her binkie in my mouth!

She tried a couple times but wasn't actually able to get the nipple in, probably because I was laughing too hard and since she was lying on my stomach, she was sort of bouncing up and down. Then she stuck the binkie back in her mouth, and when I made that smacking sound again, she kept trying to put it back in my mouth. I was so proud my little Duckie is already a generous baby.

So after that, she laid her head down for a little while, spaced out watching Rosco lick his foot, then all of a sudden stuck her hand out, binkie attached, and tried to put it into Rosco's mouth! She tried a couple times, but he didn't take it, and yeah, we were cracking up to see her try to offer her prized binkie to anyone who would take it. What a sweet girl...

Happily Ever After

When P and I were married almost 5 years ago, a lot of thought went into not having a big wedding. Topping our list were the very real issues of 1) we didn't want to be paying off a wedding for the next 10 years, and 2) most of the members of our families were spread out across four countries and three continents.

Our plan after we were engaged was to have two small ceremonies, one in North America for my family and one in South American to include his. Then, a couple days before Spring Break my freshman year of college, P's nephew was born with a spinal defect that was going to require multiple surgeries not only to fix, but to save his life. We made a hasty decision to scrap our wedding and send the money we would have spent down to his sister to help pay for the surgeries.

I flew back home on Friday night, and we discussed Saturday morning over breakfast at Marvin's what to do. Since we knew a wedding ceremony was so much less important than the situation his sister was facing, we decided to schedule an appointment to get married at the Justice of the Peace. The next Friday. We spent time in the evenings that week after work picking out another wedding ring for me, my wedding dress and making reservations for our wedding night. I got my nails done, and Friday afternoon we met at the Civic Center with my mom and uncle (my brother was away in the Navy) and P's aunt.

The ceremony was short and sweet. It was cold outside, so P held me close and sheltered me from the wind as we said our vows. I was so happy I couldn't stop smiling during mine. He was so nervous he skipped over quite a few words while reciting his. We took some beautiful pictures with the hills of Marin county in the background, and afterwards went over to Embassy Suites and had champage and appetizers. P and I had our wedding night dinner in Tiburon, and spent our first night as husband and wife at Tiburon Lodge. The next day our families and many of our closest friends came to my mom's apartment for a small reception. La Tia decorated our wedding cake with fresh roses, and my mom prepared food and drinks for us. We laughed, drank, reminisced, opened presents, and couldn't have been happier with our decision. I will always look back at that day with the people we were closest to celebrating our happy day as one of the sweetest in my life.

The point of this story ... I'm not really sure. I went to my first bridal fair this weekend with a friend, and I guess I was a little shocked at how big of a deal weddings are. I don't think it's frivolous, exactly. I just don't understand why people would spend $25 or $50 thousand dollars on one day. I enjoy weddings, but I guess I'm not one of those people who needs a big production to fabricate one of the better memories of my life.

Maybe it's because I didn't ever really think I would have a big wedding. I never got myself worked up imagining all the things I could have when I was younger, and as I got older and life got more real, I knew it wasn't in the cards. Or maybe it was because I can think of so many other things I would do with that much money. I don't know. I feel so disconnected from all the planning, because I just don't get it. I mean, I can logically see what needs to be done, what needs to be booked, and planned, and I'm excited to take part in the production, but when it's all said and done, I don't know if I will ever understand the fantasy.

I've learned the hard way what goes into maintaining a marriage. Maybe things would have been easier if we had had a big production, so when times got rough we could look back and smile at that one happy day. But then maybe we wouldn't have been able to buy the house if we were still in debt from it. Who knows what could have happened if it were done differently? And who knows, maybe in another 5 years we'll decide to have another ceremony to renew our vows with our families present.

Something small and intimate. As little stress as possible.

Balance

"What's the most important thing to your life?"

I went to a workshop at work the other day, some no-shit-Shirlock seminar on how perception and communication affect stress levels. I don't think I learned anything new, but I did get a refresher on some ideas to lower my stress level at work, and validation that it isn't always the best idea to become friends with people you work with. As opposed to friendly, of course.

One of the questions the facilitator asked towards the end was the one above. My first answer was family, until he clarified it's not asking what's most important in your life, but rather what one thing could you filter all your decisions through to make your life better.

I'm a Gemini. It's probably pretty obvious to those who know about the signs, and I blame my mood swings on the Zodiac. And in that same vein, I'm thinking that balance is probably the most important thing to my life.

I have a tendency to go to extremes. I get obsessive about things, albeit sometimes for quite a short amount of time, like exercising. Or quitting smoking. Or being a "good" mom. And I don't think that's healthy. I mean, I know it's not healthy, but it feels like something I don't have a lot of control over.

And I'm not making a new resolution. I've got enough of those, but I'm going to try to start filtering my decisions, when I remember what's most important to my life, by thinking about balance.

For example. I haven't been at my most social in the past year or so, partly because of being pregnant and a new mom, but also because I've just been feeling kind of depressed and shitty about myself in regards to my complete lack of social skills and my imperfect marriage. Two things come up when I think about this. First, I've been holding so much inside about how I'm feeling that until recently, most of the people I am close to had no idea I was feeling like this. And second, I've been a hermit because I'm scared to leave Taryn, but a couple times I did drink since she's been born I was ... how did Brandon put it once? Incoherent, I believe he said. And only when I knew P would be sober, but at the same time I feel like if I didn't have the urge to go from one extreme to the other, from super-reliable mommy to drunk-off-my-ass and irresponsible, I might be happier about my situation.

My point being, these manic swings in mood and responsibility level aren't healthy. And cycling between them so fast that I don't ever find resolution with the feelings I'm having is making things worse. So I'll try. I am trying, I mean.

My mom mentioned something the other day, that if I can accept my own faults, I'll be better able to accept Taryn's. My first reaction was that I do accept hers. She's perfect how she is, and how she'll be, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that if she grows up to be like me (a "typical" gemini, I mean), how will I reconcile that? How can I hate a trait in myself, and feel okay that she has the same quirk? That disconnect is something I need to work on, and I agree that when I learn to be okay with not being perfect, I'll be happier and more content with my life.

Because only one person in the world can be perfect, right? And since Taryn is that one person, I guess I'm shit-out-of-luck.

Lotion Addict

Um yeah. I'm totally addicted to lotion. I always knew I had a problem, I just didn't realize the extent of it until a few days ago when I realized just how much lotion I own. And use. Every day.

Because I have issues.

I use Aveeno face lotion. I have sensitive skin, you know? And I need something that lessens the redness and takes care of the pimples (I know, I'm too old for that, but have you seen me lately? Stress, I tell you. The bane of my facial existence). And I love the fact it has these shimmery beads in it so I look kind of glowy, even when I haven't slept in days. It also has SPF 15, so I'm protecting my skin. Very important.

Then from the neck to my ankles, I use this Dove Nighttime Firming lotion. Because I can use all the help I can get on tightening up the danmage Taryn inflicted on my skin. I'm not bitter, just proactive. And it smells divine. I sniff my arm as I'm falling asleep...

Of course on my hands I use this de-lish holostic lavender, chamomile and mint Anti-Stress Lotion. I keep that one at work, for when I need to relax, you know. Take a deep breath, breathe in the soothing essences, breathe out the homicidal thoughts. And it's not oily, so I don't grease up my keyboard and phone if someone interrupts my meditation and I actually have to do some real work.

Down on the tootsies, I use cocoa butter and vitamin E lotion. I used to used that all over when I was preggo, but obviously it didn't do much to stave off the stretch marks. It does wonders keeping my feet nice and soft though, I slather it on at night after my shower and put some cotton socks on. The socks only last a couple hours, I hate sleeping with them on, but it's long enough to soak up the buttery goodness. I guess.

And for those trouble spots, I have that Bath and Body Works thick one in the blue bottle. Wonderful. When my knees and elbows are looking a little ashy, I can show them some love with the thick and creamy. Okay, that sounded kind of nasty.

Last, but definitely not least, I have the carry-everywhere antibacterial moisturizing Juniper Berry lotion. For those times you have to use a public restroom and the cheap soap dries out your hands and you're looking for a little extra cleansing, or when you change a diaper and that antiseptic hand alcohol does the same thing as the cheap restroom soap. Got it.

So how many is that? Six. On a daily basis? Do they have an LAA meeting in MArin somewhere?

Working Mother

Well, yesterday was my first day as a working mother. Interesting. I'm not sure if I can continue on a schedule like this, I mean ... wow.

5:15am - Woke up to Taryn crying. Went to feed her, which took about 20 minutes since she was still half asleep. After that, I put her in the bed with P, because I figured she'd fall right back to sleep, and really, there was no point in me lying in bed for 45 minutes when I had so much to do.

5:35am - Went downstairs to make some coffee, emptied the dishwasher, fed the dogs and the cat, and cleaned up the house a bit. I also filled up a couple bottles for Taryn, re-stocked her diaper bag, and got all my goodies ready for work.

6:00am - Hopped on the internet and caught up on all the blogs I haven't read in forever.

6:45am - Washed my face, brushed the pearly whites, put my paint on and got dressed.

7:00am - Got Taryn up and fed her again, then played until my mom showed up at 7:40 and I left for work.

8:00-12:00 - Worked a little bit, gossiped a bit more, pumped once...

12:00-12:45pm - Went home to nurse Taryn, made a BLT for lunch. Packed her up to go to her aunt's in Petaluma, then back to work.

1:00-4:30pm - Worked a lottle more, gossiped a lot more, pumped again.

4:50pm - Arrived in Petaluma to pick her up, nursed, talked with La Tia a while to give her a few tricks with Taryn, arranged a few things, you know, mommy stuff.

5:35pm - Back home. Did the dishes, then gave Taryn a bath, lotioned her up, put her in some pjs.

6:10pm - Right when I finished, P got home with dinner (In-N-Out ... Shut up. It's a treat for me since I eat at home every day for lunch and dinner). Tag-teamed the eating and holding Taryn bit. Nursed again, snuggled a bit more.


7:15pm - Taryn to sleep. Put on a movie "The Departed." I really wasn't impressed.

9:00pm - Will showed up. Flippe dout on P for a second when the dogs started barking. Did dishes, and straightened up a bit.

9:35pm - Finished the movie. Had to take a break to nurse in the middle, I don't think it was 2 hours long.

9:45pm - Hopped in the shower.

10:00pm - Lotioned up. Went downstairs for water, got my stuff ready for work the next day.

10:25pm - Nighty Night.

And then I was up again at 6:00 this morning.

*whew*

This will last maybe a week before I start with the after-work naps.

Superman

I'm not a fan of most big-budget movies. For the most part, the animations and such are interesting, but the plot lines are so similar that I really can't get into them. But I watched Superman Returns last night, and I'm so bummed out I didn't see it at the theatre.

(Speaking of theatres, P and I were talking and figured out the last movies we saw in one was Saw. The first one. Like 3 years ago. How sad is that?)

Anyway, I was kind of disappointed when I saw he rented Superman, I figured it would be like all those other comic books-turned-big-screen flicks, but twenty minutes into it I realized that I was totally engrossed, and standing up watching it. Yeah, you read that right. I was standing next to the breakfast bar, so into the damn flick that I couldn't even sit down to relax and watch it.

I don't think the actual movie was that great, I mean, it was what I expected. But it brought back so many memories of growing up and watching the old Christopher Reeves Superman movies with my brother, gasping with horror when he'd be de-Super'ed by some hunk of kryptonite and cheering when he'd finally defeat the bad guy. And I never realized how integral a part Superman was in my childhood until I had to explain the back stories to P, who had never seen them. Cracking jokes about the glasses being Clark Kent's disguise, and the plastic curl that Superman always had on his firehead, and explaining the love-triangle between Clark, Lois and Superman...

I think Kevin Spacey was great as Lex Luthor. Really, his timing is awesome, and the facial expressions are so damn believeable. But I do have a question. Did they use the old Marlon Brando footage for this one? Because either they photo-shopped the hell out of those cheecks and had him do his thing before he passed away, or they just used the old one. I havent seen it in forever, but I'm guessing it was the same, right? And I'm not completely sold on this little kid as Superman. He looks kind of plastic-y, and just too dang young. But, I'll let him have his glory for now.

And for Tere, I'll admit, I did like it. But Wolverine would still kick Superman's ass.

Forgotten

I stumbled off the bed and down the hall as quickly as I dared, gripping Taryn in a vice made stronger by my hurt than any real fear of dropping her. I was trying to get away before the tears started, and though I didn't entirely succeed, his inattention to the situation garnered the same effect.

"Would it make a difference if I told you the truth?"

And then silence.

***

I don't know when it started. I don't recall when I turned from the fun young thing to his boring wife. I still don't see myself in the same light, but I feel my soul being crushed out of me. I feel my heart shriveling up, and my only real joy in life is her. My sweet angel who is too naive to see what a destroyed person I am.

I've lived in this lie for so long that I don't even know how to get back to the truth. I've tried being what he wanted, and I can't figure out why I fall further and further from his graces. I've tried with others too, and maybe I've failed from the effort. Back when I didn't give a shit, when I treated people like shit and did all those things I'm not proud of, back then he loved me. And I was too wrapped up in my own mess to see it, but when I did, and I tried to be a better person to deserve the love, that's when it started to fade away.

***

"What, are you jealous or something?"

He has no idea how close to the truth that is. And it's not jealousy that I want him home with me all the time, it's hurt and anger that I don't get the same attention. He doesn't rush home from work to see me anymore, or tell the boys he can't go out tonight because he and I have a date. He doesn't tell me he loves me with feeling, just the obligatory monotone of people stuck in a routine. Those nights he's home he'd rather sit on his ass watching a movie alone, or drink outside while he's on the phone with some friend or another discussing music or work or school. But not with me.

And all the while I've expressed my needs, and they still go unmet. It's not about me anymore. Even as the mother of his child, that's all I am. Not a friend or confidant, just the woman who cleans his house and takes care of his child.

I'm so heartbroken right now, I don't know what to do. Even when I tell him exactly what I'm feeling, it always turns into something else.

I cried today as I realized that I'm just not important to him anymore. And then it continues as I realize that's the course of my life. I'm a thing of the past. To my husband and my friends...

***

I'm sick of the obligatory shit.

I'm sick of hanging out because we're supposed to. I'm sick of everyone going out with their friends, having fun with each other, and staying home with me. And it's not Taryn's fault. I didn't realize that things were like this before she was born. People used my pregnancy as an excuse to keep me in. They used my pregnancy as an excuse to do their own thing without me, and I don't blame them. I'm a fucking shell of a person right now. I've been putting everyone else's priorities in front of mine. And I don't know how to do anything else, really. I don't want to start over on myself, but evidently I'm going to have to because I can't live like this anymore. I can't be the one who is invited because you feel bad for me sitting at home alone.

***

"You've changed since high school, Aletta."

So yes. Let's be honest here. I am jealous. I'm not a jealous person, but I need love and attention too. I can't survive by myself. I get hurt more than you think, even when I don't show it. I'm angry a lot more than you might think because it doesn't feel safe to let it out.

I'm an introvert, but this life that I've made isn't fulfilling my needs. I need to get out, to explore, to meet new people and go new places. And bring the light of my life with me. I can't be tied down to this house, or this husband anymore. I don't want to be tied down, I want my commitments to be strong because I love them, because the benefits are reciprocated, not because it's routine and expected.

Sounds like this is resolution #5.

***

As he walked back into the house, I could tell he was distressed. Not by the tear-stained cheeks and running mascara, but by the fact that he didn't know how to leave without the situation escalating.

"Do you want something from the store?"

When will he see it's not about food?

... ring .... ring ...

And once again I'm forgotten.

Not Really So Bad

I went back to work today half expecting to end up in tears before lunch, but it wasn't as bad as I expected. The day passed fairly quickly, and I even got situated a bit in my office. My very own office, all to myself.

So it's convenient I don't have to share, my supervisor blocked my only window into the hall with paper so I can pump in there. Kind of sucks I can't see outside at all, but I suppose the trade-off of having my privacy is worth it in the long run.

I brought in a few pictures of Taryn, and I'll be steadily bringing more until the room is full of her beautiful smile. And it's so nice to know that I can go home at lunch to see her, and nurse, and cuddle. It breaks up the long stretch of work to make my day bearable.

And it's nice to have adults to talk to, and to have my girl there to discuss all the development and milestones, feeding and poop and pumping, pretty much everythign new mothers can think of, and seeing her there so strong even though she had to leave her son months before I did, it kind of gives me strength to know that I'll make it. And of course if I need a shoulder to cry on, I know she'll be there for me too.

So all in all, it went well today. I still have that nagging urge to somehow make a million overnight to stay home with her, but I'm realistically grounded in the present and dedicated to making this as easy for Taryn, and myself, as possible.

First Day Back

I'm sitting here drinking my coffee, planning what to wear to work this morning.

I feel okay. I've got "first day" jitters, but I'm sure it'll calm down as soon as I get there and get back in the flow.

I feel so much better that P is staying home this week with Taryn. I love my mom to death, and she's great with the baby, but I feel more comfortable knowing her Papa will be here to hold her and distract her, and I'll see her again in a few hours at lunch.

I'm not thinking about it that I'm leaving her to go to work.

Lame, I know, but in my head I'm going to make some money while she spends time with her Papa, and her Nonny, and her Tia. And it's so important to me that she build bonds with her family, something I wasn't able to do as easily because of the physical distance between us all, so I feel like it's a great opportunity for her. And if I was there, I'd be in the way, and distracting her from other people, so I may as well go to work while they are all together.

So thank you to everyone for supporting me for the past 15 or so months. Thanks for all the well-wishes and prayers and for just sticking around. I've gotten through this wonderful ordeal with the help of my friends and family, and Taryn is a happy, loving baby for it too.

Of course, I'll let you all know how it went when I get home tonight.

Happy 2007 !

I was a bit overexcited with it being 2007 yesterday. I mean, I'm really stoked that it's a new year, and though I kind of feel like this every new year, I'm still thinking this one will be special.

So early yesterday morning, I got up with the baby to eat, have some coffee, and generally dick-around until P woke up. But, like ususal, he didn't want to get up on the early side of noon, so after coaxing the dogs to lick his face (which will often do the trick), jumping on the bed and generally being a pain-in-the-ass, I resorted to a low-down trick to wake his arse up.

I grabbed the baby, set her on a precarious angle accross his chest (while still holding her lightly, in case he didn't grab her in time to prevent a spill to the laminate floors) and said in my sweetest baby voice "Good Morning Papa. Happy New Years, I was some besas!" *

And as she lowered her face to his(really more to eat his nose than anything), he did grab onto her, opened his eyes ... and got spit up all over his forehead, which dripped quickly into his eyes and dangerously close to his mouth! Ooops. I suppose I should have burped her more after I fed her.

And then of course the dogs jumped up on the bed and tried to lick it all off (gross) and I was laughing too hard at the shocked look on his face and Taryn laughing to get him a towel to wipe it off. He was a good sport about it though, laughed a bit while I cleaned off his face, played with the baby while I changed his pillowcase, and even gave me some besas before he went back to sleep.

Tee-hee-hee. So Happy New Year to everyone. Hope yours didn't start out with baby vomit in your face!



* Okay, so if you don't know Spanish, it doesn't really matter, but the correct translation for kisses is besos. I don't quite recall how or why I started saying besas instead, but after 6 years, it just stuck.