Quick Update

So yeah, I´m here in South America, soaking up the sun and BAM! Second day in and I´ve got a fever. I´m told it´s due to the change in wind temperature, or direction, or something equally reeking of Old Wives.

It got up to 102 the night it broke, my skin hurt from the force of the air coming off the fan, I couldn´t sleep, the sweating alternated with body-wracking chills, but by the next morning it was down to 100 and I was able to eat again.

Thinking my streak of bad luck had ended, I was shocked shitless this morning to discover the nice burning red, pus-filled sacks lining the back of my throat and tonsils.

Joy.

All I can do it sit outside, play with Taryn, read a book and be waited on my a doting Tata Lina. I really can´t think of a better time or place to be sick.

And I´m just praying that whoever I pissed-off leaves me alone soon, and Boogie doesn´t get sick.

Bite in the Ass

ARRRRGGGHHHHHHH. Who the fuck did we piss off?

P just called me and let me know that he had 2 offers for interviews, one a county job and one at Wells Fargo, but they are only doing them while we are away on vacation.

So this is just the topper on the cake. Let's recount the shit we've been tossed into since Friday:

1) Bank of America and their messed-up online transfers, tied up our money for 3 days so that we had to put all purchases on the credit card, even though we had $800 in the bank that should have been available.

2) The washing machine exploding and a flooded laundry room last night. Yeah, so we both went to bed late, and didn't have time to finish everyting we were hoping since P spent the day cleaning the water out of the room and fixing the machine himself.

3) I was overcharged at three different stores: Target, PetCo, and Safeway. I didn't go back to complain because I know there have been times where something was dropped in my bag and it didn't get scanned, I just figured this was the store recouping lost money.

Okay, I guess that isn't too much, but why now? Why right before our vacation? Why us? I am so incredibly grateful that we got Boogie on the Kaiser Kids, but it just seems like other than that, we're having a terrible streak of bad luck now.

It is Karma? I don't think God is so bored that He just sits around plotting how to pay us back for...what? I hate thinking we deserve this, but maybe we do. Maybe we've been awful people and this is what we get in return. Maybe the scorecard is just being evened out here a bit...?

I don't know, but it sucks.

So Long Turkey Day

Contemplating this mornng that this will be the first Thanksgiving ever without any turkey or celebration, and I'm not really that upset. I like Thanksgiving, and I love the food, but I know that while we're in Paraguay we'll have the family and the food, I don't feel like I'm missing out on so much.

It would have been nice to spend the holiday with my mom and brother, before he takes off on the cruise ship job, but I feel pretty okay with it. Thanksgiving is an odd holiday for us, because P and I bounce around from home to home, making appearances, filling up on food, then heading off to the next family gathering. When we do have people at our place to eat, it's normally Christmas, and it's stress-laden. I want people to relax and enjoy the day, but there is always a flare-up when nerves are raw and stomachs are too empty.

So I think it will be okay to be somewhere else for this holiday. Taryn is too young to complain about skipped traditions, P thinks we're weird for eating that much turkey, Nonny will be working, and we'll be in 90 degree weather soaking up the sun, gorging ourselves in organic fruits and veggies, warm beer, and tender beef.

Sounds pretty awesome to me.

One Resolution I Think I Can Keep

Many people have different ideas about Christmas, using it as a time to gather family, celebrate the birth of Christ, stress, and receive presents.

For me, Christmas is about giving.

I do love having my family together, but there is nothing better than to see someone's face light up, or tears or joy and appreciation when they open the present that I have spent hours picking out, and wrapping up.

Unfortunately this year, that's not going to happen. Due to our unfortunate circumstances, there just isn't anything extra. I hope that I never make my children suffer for my mistakes, so I decided that this year I'm only doing gifts for the kids.

I had thought about making donations to charities in their names, but I don't think they are at ages where they will appreciate the motivation behind it, and since I won't be there to prep them on gratitude, maybe this isn't the best year for that. I had thought about a No Presents At All stance, but I love giving too much, and again, I didn't want the kids to have any less of a Christmas because we aren't well-off right now.

And I realized that most of my budget was allotted for the adults, the gifts I wanted to get them were hundreds of dollars more than I spend on the kids, and there are a lot more adults than kids around this year. Kids are fine with a new toy or a $40 gift certificate. Adults I always want to WOW. And we just can't do it.

So. I decided, absolutely NO gifts for adults whatsoever this year. Cookies, dinner, yes, but no gifts. It's hard, because I had already mentally picked out gifts for most people but I can't go into debt now, not at this point in my life, not when I need to use my savings to pay the mortgage.

And the cool flip-side of that is that maybe I can put the money I was planning to spend on Boogie in her savings account, because if Nonny agrees to no gifts for me and P, that' smore for Boogie, right? *wink*

EH. We'll see how this goes. I might just find something I can't resist buying for a friend, and then it's all to shits.

Well, I Did It

Waxing sort of reminds me of childbirth. When you're in the middle of it, it hurts like hell. But as soon as it's over, the pain is gone. It's not like getting a tattoo that hurts like a Mo-FO while you're doing it, and it's still sore and itchy a week later.

I went to Cherry Blossom on Fourth Street, and the waxing woman, Linda, was super-sweet, very professional, and very good at her job. I only got the 1/2 leg, and it was literally there for 15 minutes. And it's "THAT time of the month," so I heard it'll hurt more now than if you do it mid-cycle. We'll see.

Now I'm all nice and smooth, and I'm a convert. I even scheduled my next waxing with a bikini. I figure 5 minutes more pain, and a whole lot of cookie will be coming my way.

Hehehe.

Last Will and Testament

Lat weekend P and I wrote out our wills in anticipation of spending 3 weeks in a foreign country wrought with violence and political upheaval. Well really, I wrote the wills, and our impending trip was more of a very definite deadline that I could set for myself and not procrastinate past. Because I love putting things off. Especially things that make me contemplate my future demise and the impact it will have on my Boogie.

Most of the will was easy since our main concern is to make sure Boogie is provided for financially if we die. It was harder to decide on guardianship. Nonny is a shoe-in, there was no question there. Nobody shares my parenting goals like she does, and nobody besides her Papa and I love her as much as her Nonny does. But then we decided that in the twenty-billion to one chance that she can't take Boogie, we should have a second alternate.

Just in case.

And this is where we ran into trouble. We wanted someone who already had kids, because I don't want anyone for a second to regret "having" to take her. We didn't want to stifle anyone's youth, and we don't want Boogie raised as an only child either. But we also didn't want her to be placed with anyone who doesn't have legal status here, because not only would they not be guaranteed to take care of her, they also would not be legally able to manage any property we left her.

I was a hard choice, but we made it. And we asked my brother to be involved with her, as property guardian, but not her physical guardian.

And I thought he would be okay with that. I thought that he would feel relieved that we didn't ask him to be her guardian, but he was pissed. He said that if Me, P and Nonny couldn't take care of her, wouldn't he be the logical choice?

And I told him I was happy to hear he was willing to take her, but left it at that. Because we already signed and notarized the wills. Which might be screwed up, but how do you tell your brother that you don't want him to raise your child? Am I a bad person for saying that?

The truth is, I don't think he has the experience, patience, or desire for self-improvement to raise a little girl by himself. If he had his own kid, I may feel differently, but P and I agreed almost instantly that he was definitely not the one. I love my brother with all my heart, but he's too harsh, too judgemental, too stuck in his own ways to raise my daughter to be the kind of person I know she will be, with enough nurturing and compassionate direction. I know there would be no lack of love, he adores her, that is evident. But he and I don't see even close to eye to eye on parenting styles, and although I want him in her life, I don't want him to be the major influence on her growing up.

And I feel awful for saying this. But one of the things we had to face in writing our wills is that we had to put family ties, allegiances and friendships aside in order to decide the best alternative parents for her. And I feel good that we made the right decisions because there was hardly any discussion. We both already knew in our hearts who the best people for the job were, and I pray that there are no long-lasting grievances from this, but we had to do what we felt was best for our daughter, even if some people will not be very happy about it.

It's a huge relief to get this all out. I know people are going to be hurt, and I am so sorry, but when I became a mother, my priorities shifted and Boogie is all I am concerned about. We couldn't go against our instincts to preserve someone else's expectations, because if any situation in my life called for a firm resolution, this is it.

The American Dream

I have always said I don't want to be rich, I just want to be comfortable. I want to go an entire year without worrying about money: how will we pay our bills? How can we pay down our debt? What the hell are we going to do if P doesn't get a job soon?

I don't want to win millions of dollars in the lottery, but I can't say that I'd complain if I won enough to pay off our debts and fund our retirement accounts. I try not to worry about the future too much, I have enough to stress off right now, but this job puts it in perspective. If I don't start saving now, I might be on the other side of the desk in 40 years.

I'm frustrated that it feels like life is one hurdle after another. I don't want to be catching up for the rest of my life. I do dream of a bigger house with a yard, but mostly so that I can get my mind off that fact that we can barely pay our mortgage right now.

I know part of the problem is that we're trying to do too much. We're trying to help friends and family financially, and there is simply not enough to go around right now. We've cut out most of the extras, no new clothes, no eating out, no movies, no clubs, no presents, and it still just isn't enough. We're trying to be understading of other people who think they are in a similar position, but we see what their money is spent on, and for us, it's not even an option. And it's frustrating to hear people complain about how broke they are when they are sporting new clothes or whatever.

We're trying to be understanding, we really are. But we are thisclose to losing it all. And the only person who can really understand this is P, because he can see what we are missing.

I can see the silver lining though. We are bonding over our anxiety. We sit and talk about what we'd do if we have a million dollars, and it's a pipe-dream, but it takes us out of the misery of the present. We discuss what is really important to us: do we save for retirement, or for Taryn's school fund? And it's kind of scary that we haven't been this deep on certain issues before, but it always happens at the right time.

And I know it will be okay. Eventually, things will turn up again, I just feel like I can't catch a break right now, and it's depressing. Even when I win, I lose. I am grateful that we are all healthy right now, we have enough food, we have a place to live, we're going to visit family and at least for those few weeks we are gone, we won't have to worry about how far we are from the American Dream.

Losing My Edge

Yesterday morning, as a favor to the Love of My Life, and because I really do love getting up with Boogie in the morning, I crawled out from between my crispy warm covers and padded downstairs to floors which were crispy for an entirely different reason. Mostly crushed Goldfish and dog kibble crumbs.

It was my seventh day in a row of not sleeping in. And although I am a morning person, it does get harder and harder to function that early, especially when it's pitch black outside. So as per our routine, I balance Boogie on one hip while I prepared my coffee, poured her cereal, and fed the animals. Because it's amazing how I can rationalize a 12oz cup of coffee at 6am... the 3 minutes it takes to microwave my Big Mug of milk, is exactly the time it takes to prepare breakfast for all household members downstairs at that freezing cold hour.

And I'm normally pretty close to finishing it when she's finished eating, so we play, and during her morning nap, I get ready for the day. But I was soooo tired. I felt dead on my feet, and I knew we were possibly meeting up for a playdate later, so I slipped another cup of coffee in the mix. Only 8oz, but that's already more than I have most days.

Well, the playdate didn't happen because the kids are on two opposite schedules and I think that aside from the ass-crack of dawn, she's sleeping when he's awake, and vice versa. Like, all day long. Weird. So after another couple hours of playing, subjecting my knees to the torture of being a pony on very hard floors, Boogie was down for her last nap and I was barely able to keep my eyes open. And not that a nap would have been so bad, but I just had so much to do, getting things ready for our trip and we were going to visit some family later that afternoon, so I had another cup.

And it was weird, because me? After my 12oz cup on an empty stomach? Jittery like a PArkinson's patient on crack. Seriously. My hands shake, I can't think super clearly, I'm a mess, but I sort of like the buzz so I do it a lot. But yesterday the caffeine just seemed to get me through some rough spots in he day. No jitters. No stomach pains. And I slept like a baby when we finally went to bed. And I was thinking as I fell asleep that my body knows I needs to up my tolerance to the stuff before we get to Paraguay. Because I'll be drinking coffee all day as we visit friends and relatives, and even at night too so I can stay up and party.

But it is a bit odd that my body is okay pumping that much caffeine into it in one day. All of a sudden.

I Think Extradition is Still an Option

A few years ago P and I were having a party at our place. The drinks were flowing, and mid-way through the night (maybe 2am?) one of his cousins came up and gave me a big hug and said "What up my NIGGA?"

I didn't want to be confrontational, so I pulled him aside and let him know that although I didn't personally take offense to his statement, he may not want to go around saying that to just anybody, due to how a more racially-sensitive person may react. He was stunned that he could have potentially offended me, and apologized profusely, tears got in the mix and we ended up outside having a long discussion on why, in the US, it's just not appropriate sometimes.

He's not from here, and I knew his intentions were not to be racist, but instead he used the word in an effort to connect with me and I got that, even though it's not a smart idea since he is Latino. But really, I'm all about intention. If you are ignorant, fine. Lesson learned. But if you are shouting out racial epithets to demonstrate how racist you are, burn in hell.

I don't usually delve into the entertainment realm here on my blog for the simple fact that I really don't usually care enought to comment on it, but this Dog the Bounty Hunter thing is starting to piss me off.

Yes, he shouldn't have said Nigger.

Yes, he's an idiot, because from most reports, the girlfriend is Puerto Rican, not Black.

Yes, I agree that all these tear-soaked aplogies are probably his regret at being caught and his show getting yanked.

Maybe he really does feel a connection with Black folks, and thought he was in the clear to use the word.

BUT, I have a strong objection to the context of his slur, not only because of the intent of his rant was to talk shit about the girlfriend, but also under the pretext of his private conversation being taped.

Look, this guy is no Don Imus, and I know if this were a popular blog I'd catch heat for saying this, but give him a break. He didn't say it on his show. He wasn't on the radio shouting out racially-charged statements or in a comedy club yelling it at people. This was supposedly a private conversation between himself and his son, and I wish all the people who are persecuting him would swear on their mothers' graves that they never used a racial slur in private before.

I'm not saying it's okay. I am saying that I've made prejudiced jokes about all kinds of people, and occasionally used slurs. I called Boogie a Beaner the other day, forwarded a (pretty funny) racist email to Teresa yesterday, and said that a movie was "gay." That doesn't mean that I love Boogie, Teresa, Vic and Ally any less, it just means that sometimes I'm not as sensitive or PC as I should be, especially when it comes to humor. I know they make jokes about Black people, I'm sure they've said Nigger before in their lives, but they are not out in public saying these things, and I don't really get why everyone has to charge up this one slur into monumental proportions.

Slavery ended almost a hundred and fifty years ago. I think it's time that we focus on moving forward, instead of dredging up all the pain in the past. I don't believe in punishing children for what their parents did. And I think it's unfair, considering all the people who have been discriminated against that the only word that ever gets this much press is Nigger. I should say that I personally dont' use it in everyday conversation, but I have. And if I'm only half-Black, does that make me racist too? If Boogie said it, being only a quarter Black, is it still okay? Where do we draw the line?

I also think Dog needs to grow some fucking balls, man up and admit that he was pissed and used the word in anger, rather than this blubbery-pussy shit. It's almost more degrading that he can't just admit to screwing up, and has to explain away a pretty human reaction. He's a bounty hunter for christsakes, not a damn priest.

I've never seen his show, and I'm not interested in watching after this hoopla. But I think there are very few uber-PC people in the world who don't slip once in a while. It happens. Can we get on with life now?

It's Not Green Enough on This Side Either!

It's quiet right now... too quiet.

Most morning I have a chance to get up early I enjoy, nay savor, the quiet. The house doesn't creak, there is no tap-tap-taptaptaptap from the dogs running up an down the stairs, or the click of Tygir's misplaced knee joint. Which by the way has healed very nicely, and she barely limps at all anymore.

Those mornings when I can get up early in the dark, grab a cup of coffee, check up on blogs, gaze at my husband sleeping open-mouth, with a small pool of drool under his cheek, those were the mornings I lived for when I was on maternity leave and up seven times each night to feed that crazy monkey-child they gave me at the hospital.

But now I miss the noise. I'm used to Boogie sitting on my lap at the computer, looking at pictures of animals at the Zoo while I put my face lotion on, the dogs waking up, stretching and begging for water, my husband doing his whale-roll and making the bed creak like an old man running a marathon.

It's too quiet.

P left for LA this morning at 3, and Boogie hasn't yet started calling for leche. I was feeling a little down, so I put on some Christmas jingles and started singing Motown Christmas songs. And as soon as I finish this, I'll go get Boogie so we can dance a bit before I'm off for work again.

Complain Fast!

Trying to be Honest

It's painful to admit it, but holidays are really difficult for me. These fews days of the year put it in glaring brilliance that I am not where I want to be in life.

I feel like I should be doing something. I feel bad that I'm at home on Halloween night, that the only places I was invited to were kids parties. I blame it on my husband, because if I wasn't married, maybe I'd have a more active social life. And lately I have been using Taryn as an excuse too, that if I didn't have to worry about a sitter, I'd be more free to cultivate relationships with people.

But the awful truth is if I was alone, no husband, no toddler, no job to "make" me be be responsible, I'd probably still be sitting home alone on Halloween night passing out candy to all the happy people who surround me, and feeling sorry for myself. Because that's just how I am.

I'm good at making friends, and I'm shitty at keeping them. It's something I've dissected on here before, and the fact that it is a recurring issue for me just makes it that much m ore difficult to face.

I woke up this morning hating my life. I didn't want to go to work. I didn't want to hear about how much fun everyone but me had at their Halloween party, or Trick-or-Treating, or how nice it was to just stay home and watch a movie. I wanted to lay in bed and cry all day long because I'm miserable right now.

So I smile and laugh, ask how your night was and gush over how fun next year will be but the truth is inside I'm cringing. I don't want to hear it today but I force myself to listen so I don't drown in my own self-pity.

***

I don't understand how biologically I can feel fine one day and so horribly depressed the next. I don't know how it is for other people, but my depression consumes by soul, it's not that I'm just sad. My body feels worn out and my emotions are raw. Everything seems too bright, and too dim at the same time. I don't have the energy or will-power to get out of bed and take care of my child, but my the hamster wheel in my brain is spinning out of control.

But the truth is, when I get out of my head for a minute: This is who I am.