White Hot Rage

This past weekend, we had another visit from Crazy. It was probably close to midnight, and Will was over having a few drinks. She had called him at least three or four times in the span of an hour, and each time he had told her he was on his way home. At one point, P was inside taking care of business and Will and I were outside talking. Crazy called again and threatened to wake up the Baby to come get him. He reassured her that he was leaving right away, and as soon as he hung up, turned to me and said "If I'm not honest, I know I've got 30 more minutes."

Okay, so granted, their relationship is all types of messed up. He lies, she threatens, he consoles and lies some more, and then she goes off the deep end. He told me he's getting to the point where he just doesn't care anymore. Sad.

But here's what really pisses me off: He knows that if he doesn't go home, she's going to wake the kids up and come looking for him. What kind of father does that? What kind of father would rather lie to stay away from home for an extra 30 minutes when he knows his kids will suffer because of it?

And what kind of selfish biotch mother would do that to her own kids? What crazy-ass person who carried a child for 9 months and went through the pain of childbirth would wake her kids up at midnight, put them in the car, then drive to a house that they most likely recognize, to sit there in the dark while she yells out the car window for him to come home, threatening him with "Don't make me get out of this car, Will!"

What the hell is wrong with these people?

Every time I think about this, my eyes go blank with fury. I'm half-tempted to report these messed-up people to CPS, but I can't figure out who is worse. The Crazy mother who wants her husband home and under her supervision, although from my experience they really don't talk to each other unless they are yelling. Or the drinking, gambling father who will do anything to get out of the house and away from her.

I just don't understand how parents could act in a way that they know their kids will suffer. People like this shouldn't be allowed to raise children together, and I'm all for working things out, but it's been the same old shit for the two years we've known them.

If P and I get to the point that we simply can't get along anymore, we've vowed not to put any of our children in the middle. I'm sure the temptation will be there, since Taryn is the easiest way for us to hurt each other, but we've both been through it ourselves and know how much it can mess a family up.

Sometimes I Suffer to Make a Point

Today we were supposed to be bringing Super Nanny over to the Berkeley Kite Festival for her monthly Au Pair cluster meeting. For the most part, we don't like going to these things, Nanny is bored and seemingly doesn't really want to get to know the other Au Pairs, T-Boogie's schedule is always thrown off because the meetings aren't timed with her naps in mind, and P-Dely and I fight because he's always wanting to get into the shower 5 minutes before we need to be out the door, and I HATE being late to everything just because he can't get his shit together.

But Boogie really likes watching kites, so I was thinking she'd enjoy our required outing today. I woke her up early so she'd be able to get a nap in before we had to leave, and I checked out the food options there so we'd be able to grab some lunch that she could share with us while we watched. But like clockwork at 10:20 P says he's getting in the shower.

And I snapped.

I was all ready to go, my bag was packed with a banana to feed Boogie on the way, all I needed to do was get her up, change her diaper and clothes, and put her in the car. Nanny doesn't have issues like him with getting ready, so I knew at precisely 10:30 she'd be downstairs waiting for us.

I didn't flash on him like I normally do. Yelling doesn't do anything but make him regress, and I didn't want to deal with another child. I told him he didn't have time for a shower, and he had a minor hissy, then went and changed his undershirt and sat back down at the computer without brushing his teeth. I calmly washed my hands, walked over to him, pointed to the directions I had printed out and told him he needed to get Nanny there by 11.

Then I sat on the bed, turned on the monitor, opened up a book and started reading. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him staring at me, mouth hanging slightly open and a look of shocked disbelief on his face. I don't know if he was waiting for me to start ranting like I normally do, but right now, I'm sick of the same old shit happening. We're locked in this crazy dance that makes us both miserable, and as much as I was dying to take Boogie there, I knew I wouldn't enjoy myself with him being in a pissed-off mood, and I don't want Boogie being around us like that.

So. Now I have to find something else for us to do today. I'm thinking of taking her over to the water park in Terra Linda for a while, so she can splash around and play with the other kids, maybe stopping at Sonoma Taco so we can share a burrito for lunch (this kid LOVES her some chicken burritos). I'm bummed my plans didn't work out, but hopefully P will realize, soon, that I'm not going to cater to his childish actions and tantrums. Because in the past I would have bitched and moaned and we would have gone, and neither of us would have had fun. I'd rather change my plans and enjoy myself than that craziness we used to do.

Peer-Pressure Boyfriends

I've seen two ex-boyfriends in the past 48 hours. I know this county is small, but is there something He is trying to tell me?

Both of these guys were peer-pressure boyfriends, you know that guy (or girl) you date because they are your best friend's cousin or your parent's friend's nephew? The person you are not really into, but you give it a try because if they have so many good things to say about them, maybe they really are a diamond in the rough.

There was absolutely no hanky panky with these two. Call me shallow, but I just could not get past not being physically attracted to them. And maybe I'm unlucky, but I've never been so WOWed by someone's personality that I didn't care what they looked like. Well, maybe once, but only once.

Don't get me wrong, I have crushed on guys who were less-than-stunning, but normally they were so intimidated by me that we never were more than friends. And sadly, I've spent more time with gorgeous a-holes than the aforementioned sweet boys, but I've got a serious sweet spot for a pretty face and a hard body.

But I digress....

Both of these guys were somehow related to my two best friends at the time. Neither was what I would normally go for, and yes, they were sweet, but I remember both being very needy (serious turn-off to me) and more interested in trying to get in my pants than trying to get to know me (also turn-off). Neither lasted long, and neither was a real "boyfriend" as I don't remember any inclination on my part to not look for something better while I was seeing them. What an a-hole I am.

The sad thing is that I think they may have really liked me. I was so cruel back then, on the prowl for my perfect man and totally discounting anyone who wasn't exactly what I thought I wanted. And it was for a reason, I was looking for P, but I didn't know that, and I was too self-centered to consider their feelings at the time. It was all me, all the time. And it didn't help that they seemed to agree, they were both aware (I think) of me checking out other guys, and I may have been a bit of a flirt and really didn't give a hot damn about trying to conceal my intentions towards other men when they were around. Even after I basically told each that I was bored with them, we still hung out as friends, but I would still strut around like a horndog on a stick looking for my next conquest.

So anyway. No point really, just trying to figure out what the karmic mesage is in seeing these two this week. Any ideas?

Heebie-Jeebies

Don't you hate it when you're sitting on the pot and you see a spider crawling toward you?

But then it's even worse when you look away for a second, to grab a magazine or rip off some paper to finish your business, and you look back to make sure it hasn't gotten too close and you can't find it!

Eck.

Paraguay Here We Come!

I bought our tickets to go to Paraguay this November. Yay!

We're pretty much assed-out in terms of actually celebrating Christmas, and getting my new car, and possibly eating for the next couple years as well, because we are dead-broke, but Yay! We're going back to Paraguay!

I'm excited that P's family will be able to see Taryn when she's small, and so damn cute and cuddly. It will be easier to travel when she's older, but it was really important to me that they see her as a baby/toddler. It's easier to bond with a kid this age than maybe a six year-old who isn't as interested in snuggling, and I want her to get used to the 30 hour plane ride soon too.

Yeah, 30 hours.

I'm being dramatic. It's only 20 hours to get there, 17 of which are actually on the plane. For some reason on the way home, we couldn't get a decent set of flights, so we'll have an 11 hour layover in Chile. So P and I decided to make the most of it, get T and I some visas, and go have some wine whie we wait. Because really? 11 hours in an airport. Shitty.

But we found fabulous rates, and we had room on the credit card, so hey. Can't complain. These are the types of things I love to go into debt over.

So yay! Paraguay! P's Tata Lina is going to be so excited when we tell her we're cominng back. I can't beleive it's been 2 years already since the last trip.

I Will Never Be Bourgeois

I was BS-ing on myspace again today. I had loads of work to catch up on, but really, who wants to work when you are so stuffed from a work potluck, you've got serious doubts about controlling your gag reflex, and anyway, I was in baby-zone and seeing if any classmates had been knocked up recently. Or done the knocking.

And I happened upon a friend (although really, I was looking at a friend of his who used to like me, back in the day maybe 15 years ago) and I started to realize that I could never be that. I could not be dressed up when the sun is still out in my Daytime Fancy with my man decked out in his Summer Suit, champagne glasses carefully placed beside a centerpiece overflowing with pink and purple blossoms.

In my house, when the champagne comes out we've either run out of other alcohol, or are transitioning to the hard stuff. My dress-up clothes are more likely to be black knee-high boots with an above-the-knee denim skirt and a booby shirt, instead of a long, formal velvet dress. I think tattoos are hot, and not the shit-tard "tribal" arm bands, but crosses and bleeding hearts, portraits and panthers and beautiful, sentimental designs. Huge hoop earrings, layered necklaces, stilleto slingbacks, gelled waves and dark eyeliner, that's me, not this mellowed-out I have to dress like my father so I'll be successful in like crap.

I don't have a problem with other people doing it, it's just not me.

It's just odd sometimes, when you see how people turned out when you both started in the same place. Okay, maybe they started out with less morals and more money, and look where it got them! More money and still less morals.

Interesting...

14 Weeks

No silly, not pregnant.

We took T-Boogie to get her passport today. We waited for an entire hour, and there were literally three people in front of us. One couple took upwards of 45 minutes, and the sign on the door said the clerk was taking lunch from 1-2, so at 12:56 the woman in front of us offered me her place in line, because she could see T was tired and P was talking about going back to work.

I told her to keep it, she looked like she had her shit together, and I felt bad because I figured we'd take a while, seeing as we needed photos taken and P and I's IDs and such needed to be checked.

A couple minutes later, literally at 12:58 the woman said she was going to try to do it in the mail, handed me her number, wished us luck and left. I walked over to one of the workers and asked if we could get P to sign the form in front of one of them, but they said the sign was old, the woman doens't take a lunch anymore, and she should be calling us soon. Maybe a minute later, the door opened, and we were called in.

We only took about 15 minutes total, so I can't fathom what in the hell the couple before us were doing in there for so long. Anyway, I'm just glad we got the application in today. It's supposedly a 14 week wait to get the passport, and she also took the only certified birth certificate we have for T, so if something happens and we need it, we're pretty much screwed. So... 14 weeks. Plus a couple extra weeks to mail in our passports to get out visas. I don't know if the late-November trip is going to happen. May have to push it back to January or February. Shoot.

But Yay! I got my chairs in the mail. And they are utterly fab. I can't wait to get trashed and sit outside in them and smoke! Heheheh.

Holy Shit

I weighed myself yesterday (in the process of weighing T-Boogie, who is now 19lbs) and I only weigh 129 lbs!

WTF?

I haven't been this skinny since I was in high school, and I'm a tad worried, considering I'm still nursing. I think I'll go downstairs and make some brownies instead of the blackberry pie I was planning on, and try to fatten myself up a bit.

Dang. I weighed more than this before I got pregnant, before I lost 11lbs when I first got pregnant...

Screw Normalcy

The happiest time of my conscious life was when I was dedicated to being different. People were intrigued with the odd styles of clothes I would pick out, my quirky hobbies and habits, and the fact that for a while, I just didn't give a damn. I mean, I did. My personality was a cultivation of things that I enjoyed, things that made me an individual, and at the same time I was very conscious of the fact that those differences were what drew people to me, and so I did care a lot about what people thought, and the more different I was from the crowd, the happier I was with myself.

When I was 13, I remember moving to San Marin and realizing that different was no longer good. Everyone was white. Everyone had stylish clothes, and a JanSport backpack. Except me. And for the next 11 years, I tried to be "that." I tried to be like everyone else, because I didn't want to be alone. I thought that maybe if I changed the outside of me, the inside would align itself and I would finally be a normal person.

But as The Nanny so eloquently told me, as I was explaining to her that I'd rather drink beer than eat ice cream because it had less calories, "You're weird."

And it suddenly hit me, damn straight I am! And no matter what hell I do, I'm always going to be weird. I'm tired of fighting it.

I strove for so long to be understood. And I'm tired of always trying to explain myself, always wasting my energy to get people to understand what I'm talking about, or why I did something that they wouldn't have done. I give up. For some reason, that just isn't important to me anymore.

Whenever I start a new friendship, it's always this feeling of, "Will this be the person who really gets me?" And I'm just starting to think it's not possible. It's an unreal expectation that someone out there will totally get me. And even if that person was out there in the world, would I really want to find them? Would I want to be aroudn someone who always understood how I felt? Maybe, but it seems like it could get a little annoying.

Anyway, for years and years, I tried to define myself without being true to who I really am. I tried to find "acceptable" hobbies and do all that normal shit that people do, and I haven't really been happy because it just wasn't me. And not that this revelation is going to make me chipper overnight, but I feel a bit freer just thinking that right now, I'm a freaking odd-ball, and I'm okay with that.

PLEASE Write This Down

My new blog url will be http://caffeinatedsoapbox.blogspot.com

I think I'll switch over in a week. So on July 28th, Refuge will be no more.

I'm going to have all my blogs on the new address, just not feeling the old title. I'll tell you why tomorrow.

Month Thirteen

Sweets, it is so hard to sit down and write this for you right now. We have just spent the last two hours battling, me trying to get you to sleep on time, you wanting to play, and being so overtired that you could barely walk straight, but still coherent enough to know when we go it your room, it means bedtime.

I guess that's one of the annoying and amazing transitions you've gone through this month. Your personality is not just blooming, it's exploding like a bag of firecrackers hit with a molotov cocktail, and true to form as a Gemini, one minute you are screaming like the world is going up in a riery ball of flames, and the next you are passed out on the bed between your Papa and I, the hair at your temples and the nape of your neck curling as it soaks in your own sweat, one arm thrown carelessly across your face (just like Papa) and one leg draped across my torso.

I think this whole Ms. Independence thing is partly because in the course of this month you've gone from an unsteady Grandpa walking with no ankle support and no cane to practically running. You have been climbing for a while now on the obvious, your picnic table, the couch pilows, and the radio cabinet, but now you have also discovered that something out of reach is *thatmuchcloser* if you pull a pillow over to stand on. Which means that where I used to only have to clean up dangerous objects two feet off the floor, I have to look much higher now, and I'm tired.

You are just too smart. We've been trying to teach you some sign langauge, hopefully to head off the sorts of melt-downs that occurred tonight, and you've already mastered "more," "hungry," and "water," and now we're working on "milk" so you stop smacking my boobs in public when you're hungry. And though you really don't talk much, mostly yelling "DADADADA" when I ask you oh-so-politely to say "Mama" I know you understand us pretty well, because you laugh hysterically when I tell you not to put the broken balloon in your mouth and you pop it in faster than that little Asian guy on TV eats hot dogs.

Ah, another Grandpa comparison? You've now got eight teeth up front, and two molars in the back. But between the four front teeth and the molars on the bottom, you're missing a tooth on each side, so it looks like you swallowed your bridge when you laugh. And you're still the most beautiful kid I've ever seen.

Due to some unfortunate circumstances this month, you were able to spend a lot of time with your Nonny, two of your great-aunts (Tina and Sherry) and with your Papa and I too. It was great to be home with you so much, but I was especially happy that you were able to spend basically a full week with your Aunts. They loved having you around, playing with you, feeding you, taking you to gymnastics. And my wish for you is that you develop a closer bond with your extended family that I did. I'm not good at keeping in touch, but I'm working on it, and I hope for your sake I do get better.

By the way, that "Please kidnap me!" sign on your forehead? You got that from your Papa. I don't know what has possessed you in the past few weeks, but you are the most outgoing child I've ever seen at your age. You walk right up to strangers and lift up your arms so they will hold you. You snuggle with strange men you've never seen before (Hi Mike!) resting your head on their shoulders like you really want them to take you home. Even walking down the street with the dogs, or shopping at Safeway, you are constantly stroking people's hair, waving "bye-bye," smiling, and generally asking to be stolen. We considered getting you micro-chipped, just in case you did get kidnapped, then they would know where to bring you when you were screaming hysterically before bedtime, arching your back like you really wanted to get dropped on your head, biting (oh yes, Love, you're a biter) and pimp-slapping anything within reach, which often includes a parent, a stranger, a dog, a toy... whatever. But Papa objected. Oh, well.

Thanks for making me laugh.

I love you,
Mommy

It's 2007, Right?

Today I had what would have been an incredibly awful experience a couple years ago, and now, I'm just overwhelmed with pity.

A coworker was in a workshop with me today, and we were paired together for an exercise. About half of the class was discussing work-related communication issues, and the rest of us were focusing on personal issues, which was okay-ed by the facilitator, though the spin of the workshop was toward work (duh).

So this woman, when she heard what I wanted to discuss flat out refused to speak to me. She said in no uncertain terms that she would not role-play as Nanny, and really, it wasn't role-playing but more her sitting and listening as I spoke to her as if she were Nanny.

This woman, who is quite a bit older than me, slammed her book shut and physically moved away from me as she told me should would not work with me. She then packed up her purse and left the room!

A couple activities later we were back in a larger group together, and she told me to my face that maybe if I didn't act so immature (her words) my clients would not get angry with me. Another woman in the group jokingly said, "Yeah, you should ugly yourself up a bit," and another woman sympathized with me and said something to the effect that people must patronize me a lot for being so young in the work I do. But this other coworker of mine just bull-dozed on, talking about how I probably don't take people seriously enough and that I didn't look professional, and that's why people don't take me seriously.

Now, granted, she has a point. I tend to dress down on the days I have intakes (or workshops), and adopt a fairly familiar, friendly attitude with my clients, but it is very intentional. If I was applying for public assistance, I would not want a worker I didn't feel would understand me. By dressing down and really trying to connect with clients and understand their situations during the intake, while in my opinion not sacraficing my position as the EW, I feel like I get much more honest information from them. If I wore a business suit every day, my clients may respect my position more, but they would not feel understood, and would consequently not be as open with me. I can't count the number of times I've gotten information from people who have been on aid for years and years and was never reported before, because I have a converstaion with them, I don't just interview them.

So aside from her attacks on my age, maturity level, and clothes, this woman made several derogatory remarks about another person in our office. She made blatantly racist and age-ist statements about him, and right now I feel so bad for her, to be so back-ass-wards and racist, in 2007 in MARIN County, where the white folks may have the financial upper-hand, but their numbers are nothing against my pro-creating brown, black and yellow brothers and sisters.

And I'm also torn as to whether or not to report these remarks. I was deeply offended not only by what she said about me, but also about this other man. No offended to the point of wanting revenge, or breaching confidentiality, but really very saddened that people still think like that.

So what do I do? Broach the subject with my supervisor? Pray that she finds some wisdom in her old age? I'm really torn here.

My Newest Obsession

Anyone who has stepped past the door to my house knows that I absolutely abhor the painted brass, ugly-ass "chandelier" hanging from my living room ceiling. From the first day we saw our new place, that was the one beef I had with the built-in decor. And after three years, I still don't understand the design flaw of hanging that in a house full of brushed nickel fixtures.

Last week, I finally bought a fan to hang there instead. I am so stoked beyond belief, but I have to figure out if I have a beam over the hole to attach it to.

And while I was on my It's Been Three Years, I Deserve It kick, I also FINALLY bought some wood patio furniture for the front porch. I can't afford it, but I figure that we spend so much time out front, drinking, smoking, talking, playing with T-Boogie, that we should have some nice furniture out there to sit on. And I'm sick of our house looking like a junk-bomb exploded out front and I'm hoping with some nice stuff out there, I'll be motivated to keep it a touch cleaner.

Just like I thought owning dogs would motivate me to start running. Maybe I just needed bigger dogs?

So now that those two things, which I have been ruminating on for the past three years since we bought our place, my mind has become suddenly clear for a new obsession, and it's skin care.

Look, I know I look young, and I'm thinking that part of it may be the fact that my face looks like I rubbed a piece of pepperoni pizza on it, then rubbed it with steel wool to get the grease good and lodged in my pores. I've got pimples, and I'm not ashamed of it. I'm actually pretty used to it, especially when I'm stressed and I start messing with them (I know, gross. Sorry) but I don't look at it all day long, so maybe that's why it doesn't bother me too much?

For my birthday, Nonny bought me some shower gloves to revitalize my skin, and I'm hooked. The first time I used them, I couldn't beleive my skin could be so soft without any lotion on. Of course I'm not looking to be ashy, so I put some on anyway, but I am so far past impressed with these that I actually went out and bought a couple more pairs as gifts. And I started thinking, if I can get my body-skin healthier with a little bit of work, how about my face?

So I started using the Olay Revitalift face cream, and I bought the night cream too because I'll be honest. I don't wash my face at night. Sounds gross, but I don't use foundation, so I figured it wasn't necessary. But I also bought my Bare Minerals starter kit this weekend, so I thought it'd be a good idea to get some good night cream since I'll need to wash it off before I go to sleep. Even though it's "So pure you could sleep in it." I'm not taking any chances.

I'm hoping the new regime will become second nature and my skin will clear up, and maybe I'll look my age instead of 18. I don't know what that will affect, besides my self-esteem, but if that's it, it'll be worth it.

I spent a lot this weekend. But it all seems like good investments, for my mental health and well being. I need to invest in me some more, so this is my start.

How Could I Forget?

The pimply-faced teenage boys sitting on the fence railing. They quickly light up a Marlboro Red to mask the undeniable scent of skunk weed.

Pre-pubescent girls skipping hand in hand down the middle of the street, singing off-key in more of a holler than a wail, the latest Pop songs, infusing a bubbly-innocent but deeply felt emotion into an otherwise bland and uninspiring chart topper. As if they truly knew what love and loss were.

The rowdy black poodle from the building over chained up to his porch at 10:30pm. He barks like the Second Coming of Christ is happening right before his eyes, and he's going to miss his ascendency because of a red nylon collar. But all that is really passing in front of him is a fat orange cat lumbering to his righful side of the street.

And herds of kids barely out of Pampers riding hot pink scooters and baby blue banana seat bikes with the white handle bar tassles and the sparkly, clinking spoke jewels. Their parents meander slowly behind them, holding hands and admiring the beautiful children they spend every waking hour thinking of, worrying about, and protecting. They can't help but to feel like the luckiest people in the world, to be surrounded by so much love and laughter.

I love late summer nights.

She Misses Her Boyfriend

Taryn was rummaging around my closet today. As long as I can hear her, I don't worry, it's when she gets quiet that she's usually doing something naughty.

After a few minutes, she stopped rustling papers, so I got up to investigate and see what mess she had created. As I leaned into the closet, I saw her holding a photo in her hand.

She looked up at me, pointed to the picture and started laughing.

He finger was dead-on over Jackson's face.

I smiled back when I realized she was looking at their Christmas card from this year that I had put into a box to keep for her. When she saw me smile, she looked back at the photo card and started smiling too. And she walked around the room for a few minutes, clutching the card in one hand, periodically looking back at it and smiling, like she had forgotten what she was holding onto but cool! There's JAckson in her hand!

Then she dropped it in the bathroom when she attacked a roll of toilet paper, and I tucked it away for safekeeping. I think she'll be very happy when Nanny gets back and she and Jackson can play again.

We Do What We Can

How do you help a friend who's hurting? Besides smacking your husband in the mouth and telling him to shutthafuggup about how much he wishes they would get back together already (My Love, it takes time. We all want them back together, but if things doen't get worked out first, this is bound to happen again).

I didn't really smack him. At least not in the mouth.

So P and I did what P and I do best. We opened some wine, bought a couple packs of cigarettes, and distracted her as much as possible, for as long as possible with assinine trivia, Yahoo! News stories, and planning our Living Will. Or Trust, whatever. It's not written yet, but she had excellent insight in some things to consider.

And then we clogged her arteries with Burger King at 11:30, which slyly encouraged her to go to sleep soon after. And because we got her sloshed on day-old Sangria and two liter bottles of White Zin, she gets a day off work today! And maybe being busy would have been easier, but I'm hoping the time to focus on herself will be just as fulfilling.

And of course, after she slept we had to stay up and discuss more ... randomness, so I don't remember what time I went to sleep, and P was up later than me, but he actually got himself up and showered and to work. Poor guy. While I sit and blog, drinking my coffee in my PJs and contemplating which novel to dig into, he's probably at work now, uber-starving with the post-drinking BGs. Hehe.

But I'm sending my good juju to my Buddy today, and hoping that last night helped just a little bit. I'm so sorry I can't do more for you.

This is How My Mind Works

I started this blog for two reasons. One, I wanted a way to keep in touch with the majority of my family that lives out of California. I wanted a medium, aside from mass-emails in which to update these important people in my life, because I didn't feel like I was capable of doing it in a one-on-one manner. I haven't quite succeeded in this goal, but I'm working on it.

The other main reason I started this blog was to have a place to be open and honest with myself. A place where I could write and process my thoughts because for me, I don't feel like I can fully process a situation or idea wihtout putting it in writing. That's just how my mind works. I write to process and explore the different feelings, emotions, ideas, etc that tumble around in my mind like a sandstorm, each particle a conflicting part of myself that I somehow have to come to terms with.

I feel like lately I've been getting a lot of heat from folks reading this blog. My intention when I write here is not to attack anyone without giving them an opportunity to defend themselves, or to be passive-aggressive to put this all in writing out in the blog-o-sphere, and hope that the person I am referring to will read it. My intention is to process my feelings, that's all.

I'm not like other people. I don't automatically feel compassion and empathy. My initial reaction to most things is a combination of disgust, anger, hurt, shame and a whole slew of other negative feelings. Unlike most people, I need to process these feelings in order to reach the humane part of myself who can be understanding and sympathetic to others. I feel like I've built up so many layers of negativity in my life, that pain and guilt have become the filters in which I see the world through.

I'm not an entertainer. I don't write comical posts daily. If something it outright funny to me, then yes, that single post may be amusing to others. But I can't get to that enjoyment in life if I can't process all the other stuff. And I can't slant my blog to write for others and neglect the parts of my that need to be expressed. I did start a new blog on a different host sight a while back for the sole intent of blogging all the negativity there. I didn't want to hurt the people close to me, but I had to get it out somehow. I've stopped posting there though. It feels false to me to have all my funny stories and amazements about Taryn here, and all the "shit" there. I've compartmentalized my life enough, and in order to be open and honest I need people to know all the sides of me, even the dark painful corners I've been hiding for years.

This is my consciousness. This is how I think. I write what the voice in my head is saying, and it may not be easy for others to hear but what can I say? I'm sorry?

I am sorry people are offended. I am sorry people feel the need to explain their actions and reactions when I blog about a situation. I'm sorry I'm not like you guys, but I'm not sorry for using this space, my blog, to process. My initial reaction is to say, look. If you can't handle what I'm writing, then maybe you shouldn't be reading this. But I'm not going to ask you to leave, I'm only asking you to be understanding of what I am doing, what my intention is, and to understand as well that if something is really bothering me, I'll come to you about it.

For the most part, I eventually get it. I eventually understand that you were being affected by medication, or we misunderstood each other, or that I read too much into the situation. The difference is I blog the thought processes that led me to my final understanding, and you are getting a glimpse of those thoughts, and not just the final result.

I don't know what else to say.

Cute Baby Trick #5

Normally when nursing T-Boogie and it's time to switch sides, she'll pull off and sort of push herself away from me. That's been my queue for the past six months or so that she's drained one side, and ready for the next.

Now that we've been teaching her sign language, she's figured out a new trick.

When she finished the first side last night, she pulled away like normal, and looked up at me for a second. So I asked, "Are you finished?" And she made the hand sign for more!

So I switched sides, and before starting on #2, she looked up at me and smiled.

Smart Girl.

Dimension of Confusion

Due to our lack of childcare for the next couple weeks, an event almost entirely out of our control, P and I will be alternating days to take off work to watch T-Boog. As soon as we figured out that we don't exactly have someone to watch her the whole time I called Blondie and Toe-Nail-Less and let them know that they too will have to find someone to watch Cheeks until Nanny is back. I offered to watch him while I was home with T-Boog, and assummed they would take me up on the offer so that Blondie could see him at lunch, and really, it just seemed easier than asking around to find someone else to do it.

But this morning I found out that I won't be watching him at all, and I'm pretty bummed out about it.

I think of Cheeks more as my nephew than a friend of T-Boog's. He's awesome with her, very gentle and playful and friendly, and such a joy to be around. Admittedly, the thought of watching them both was daunting at first. But mentally as I ran through what a day would look like, I started getting excited. I want to know what it will be like to have two kids, and although it's probabaly harder with two this close in age, I thought it would be a great experience for me, and would (hopefully) give me some insight and confidence about having another baby. I had already figured out the hot spots, feeding and naptime, and how I would be able to handle both at those times, and also if I could put T-Boog's old carseat back in my car and take them to the park, or something.

I guess it's my own fault for assumming I would get to watch him, without hearing difinitively that it would happen. But really, what's compounding the disappointment is the fact that they offered originally to pay me what they pay Nanny to watch him, but decided instead to pay someone else more to do it.

So then I'm left thinking, what the hell? Do they not trust me to watch him? Why would someone who can't afford more for ongoing childcare pay a neighbor or another friend more than they offer to Nanny?

And it's not that I would want anything to watch Cheeks, I would do it for free to help them out. And I get that paying Nanny more on an ongoing basis is very different than a one-time gig, but still.

The mind-tripping is being super compounded by the extra dose of caffeine today, and I should probably just let this go, but I don't understand. Do they not feel like she deserves more? And what would make someone choose to pay a childless friend when they could have a mother watch him for free?

I think my own insecurities are coming up, that I'm not a good-enough mother for my own child, so why would someone trust me with their kid? Is there something about how I act with T-Boog that would make someone not want to leave their child with me? Is it a personal thing? And in a quasi-emergency situation, what would I do? Could I hanlde two kids? Should I even consider another child if a friend won't leave hers with me for a day?

But I know I can't take it personally. I have friends who are mothers that I would not necessarily leave T-Boog with, but I never considered that people might think of me like that. And I still think of them as good friends, and would leave T-Boog with them if I absolutley needed to, but maybe that's whats thought about me. In an emergency? Yes. If we have any other option at all? No.

But really? Fuck it. I can't trip off this because what's done is done. It just adds another dimesion of confusion to the relationship. I know that my intentions and my love for my child are as pure as they get, so I have to take these three extra days alone with her as a blessing. Maybe we'll get a chance to go to the beach again, or maybe to a fair, or the Farmer's Market. Because these are things we can't do with another baby with us. And I can't assign thoughts and intentions to others, because that just builds resentment (on my side) that's impossible for them to dispel because I'm too much of a chicken-shit to tell them how ... truth be told, I'm hurt, but it could be completely misplaced and irrational, and I have to get over it.

Soooo. I'll be off the 9th, 10th, 12th, and 17th this month. If anyone wants to hang out?

Almost Forgot

Sometimes when I'm eating, my tongue will brush against my teeth and my heart will skip a beat when I realze I didn't feel my tongue ring.

Oh shit, I swallowed it!

But then I remember I took it out a while ago. Kind of like when you lose a body part but you can still feel it there ... right?

On the Road to Jadedness

Should I be offended or pleased that people keep attacking my age?

One the one hand, I have to laugh, because when clients are mad at me, or mad at the program rules, they chalk it up to me being young, inexperienced with life, or the fact that they are parents (and don't know that I am as well). I suppose I should be pleased that they aren't saying I'm stupid, or unknowledgeable about the programs, or ugly for that matter, but really? Why does everything have to come down to age?

And not to be a complete asshole, but are they really just mad that at my age I'm holding down a steady job while they are the ones applying for assistance?

I don't like to think like that. I know that one major event could easily land me in this office in need of food and money to take care of my child. I don't like to think that there is a huge disparity between myself and my clients, or that I am any better than they are. Because if I felt that, I wouldn't be effective in my job. I can't walk around thinking we're different, I think that's how people get jaded here, by the assumption that it could never happen to them, and its these peoples' fault for the situation that they are in.

And sometimes it is. But many times mental illness or alcohol and drug abuse that got them here. And though I don't understand addiction, I can still see that obviously it has a major influnence on people's actions and isn't as hard to overcome as I may like to think.

But once again I have to mention the entitled folks, the ones who used to be where I am, and now are who I am determining benefits for. Would I be like that? Would I raise hell and swear to high heaven that I deserve benefits because I've been paying takes for 10 years? I may want to, but I hope I would be a bit more humble. And at the same time I can't imagine how people feel when they are denied for their kids. I think I could handle it if I didn't get anything, but why should T-Boog suffer? That being said though, most of the people who say I'm too young to understand what they are going through are single without kids.

But being subjected to verbal abuse and really having no recourse but to walk away does take it's toll. I notice how grateful I am for motivated clients, and people who understand that what I'm doing is not personal. If they are ineligible, it's not because I don't like them or beleive their story, it's because the government says they don't qualify. And I notice how irritated and angry I get sometimes with people who want me to bend the rules for them. Who want to skip the steps everyone else has to go through and just get what they want.

"Sorry Sir, it doesn't work like that."

Because really? A single guy, educated or skilled, getting help from family and friends is going to be much better off than a single parent of an infant who didn't graduate high school. If I could bend the rules, who would I do it for?

***

On a completely unrelated topic, I've figured out why parents take so much more time off from work. It's not because we have to stay home with our sick kids, or we catch infectious, contagious diseases from them, it's because we'd much rather stay home and play with those lights of our lives, than sit in an office thinking about them all day long since we haev nothing productive to do at work.

I'm pretty positive.

Un-Connected

Nonny's RAZR has pretty much up and died recently, and since she was watching T-Boog today while I was at work (and because I'm cheap and don't have a house phone) I left mine for her to use.

Now granted, I have an office phone, so it's not like I've been phone-free all day, but it's kind of liberating to not have my cell on me. I'm not stooping into my desk drawer after my intakes to see if I have a missed call, or stumbling down the stairs to my car while I try to dig it out of my purse so I can call someone before I actually drive away from the job.

Because in California, it is now officially illegal to drive and talk without a headset. I'm pretty sure.


But it is nice. And kind of heart-stopping at the same time when I think "Who would find me if something happened to T-Boog?" But yeah, Nonny's a smart cookie. I'm sure she'll have me on the phone in minutes if needed.

Or maybe just drive by my job and lay on the horn until I go out to see who the crazy lady in the Beemer is, honking to herself? Heheh. Creativity runs in the family.