The family spent the night over at T & B's yesterday. We had originally gone over to help prepare for Erika's party, catch up a bit since we all seem to be so busy lately, and (my job) to provide entertainment and company while T made the cake.
I made some de-lish Sangria, a recipe I came up with from blending a few I saw online, and we ended up drinking about 3.5 liters of wine between 4 of us, not to mention the boys were drinking beers, so we all ended up getting nice and toasted.
Taryn, amazingly adaptable and born-to-be-a-party-animal, slept like a rock through everything, including Clara's karaoke rendition of a few R Kelly songs and the boys yelling and locking each other in the bathroom. She is so good when we take her out, all snuggled up in her bassinette, and she sleeps longer when we are out than she does at the house. I pumped, but only ended up using one bottle because she slept in 4 hour stretches all night long.**
Tee-hee-hee. When the boys went to get the pizza, T and I chugged their beers and filled them up with olive oil. Brandon's face when he took a swig was priceless.
So back to the Head Case.
Taryn and I slept on the couch, which was pretty comfy, but a touch narrow. So when I woke up at 7-ish, I decided to go home and sleep in my own bed for a bit, because the real birthday party is tonight, and I needed to rest up for another round. I kicked P, who had passed out on the floor behind the couch and asked him if he wanted to come with me, or stay and sleep there. His drunk reply was a garbled "stay" so I grabbed the baby and headed home. About an hour and a half later he called, but I was comfy and figured if I didn't answer he'd just go back to sleep, and I could pick him up around 10 to come home and shower.
At close to 10, when the baby finally woke up (another wonderful thing she does when we've been up late, she seems to know we need to sleep and doesn't get up at the ass-crack of dawn like normal) the dogs start barking and I hear P clomping up the stairs. I assumed B had given him a ride home, but no.
He said he walked.
Now, of course I assumed he was kidding, we had been discussing the night before how long it would take to walk from their place to ours and figured maybe 2 hours. I checked my phone and calculated he had called about 1.5 hours before, and started congratulating him on his good time, feeling a bit guilty I didn't answer the phone when he called.
He said he walked outside to call me because he didn't remember me leaving, but when he closed the door, he got locked out. Instead of a normal person ringing the bell to get back in, he decides to walk to McDonald's to get breakfast. That's a good 20 minutes away, on foot. Evidently while walking there, he saw Will coming back from McD's and stopped to talk to him, shared a cheeseburger, and noticed that SueBob was following him in the shoebox (another story completely).
So again, instead of a normal person asking for a ride home, P continues to McD's gets a couple more burgers and camps out at the bus stop to get home.
If he had called, I could have gone to get him, but the message he leaves is, "I dont know where you went, call me back. Besas."
So an hour and a half later, he gets to the house after seriously walking almost half-way home, kicks off his shoes and gets into bed. Doesn't complain, just relates his travels for the day, plays with the baby a bit, and then drifts off to sleep.
What a weirdo. A genuine Head Case.
** Just as a note, if you know me it is already clear that Taryn is my #1 priority at all times. When we bring her to a party, it is so that we don't get tempted to drive drunk to get home to her at night. And I always make sure that I don't drink too much when she's with us, so that I always able to respond to her needs. I carry her monitor with me all the time, I pump milk beforehand so she doesn't get alcohol or tobacco in her system, and I don't let P sleep in the bed with us if he's been drinking, since he's such a heavy sleeper anyway. This might be a long-winded explanation, but I don't want anyone for even a second to think that we would put her in danger so that we could party.
November 4, 2006
November 3, 2006
"Ma'am, Please Calm Down...."
I hate being handled. You know when someone is trying to get you to do the opposite of what you want to do? It's so much more than simple manipulation, because then, they just try to get you to do what they want you to do.
Oh no, "handling" is so much worse.
There are some "handlers" who get paid to do it, like when you call your cell phone provider because they screwed up your bill and you're put on hold for 20 minutes before you can talk to anyone. So when you finally get connected to a rep, you start the conversation off a touch irate, and then when you realize the person you're talking to is a complete idiot? It's all down-hill from there. First, don't ever swear, they never forgive you for that, even if you aren't swearing at them. And if you get a complete incompetent fool, even when you are being polite, when you ask to speak to a supervisor all you hear is "Ma'am, you'll need to calm down before I transfer you," or "I can't help you when you are this angry." WTF? You're telling me to calm down after you pissed me off? Oh-hell-no.
It's worse though when it happens from someone you know. When I was pregnant, people were always telling me what to do, like somehow they knew my body better than I did?
"Sweetie, why don't you go lie down instead? We can go out some other time." Okay wench, but I just said I wanted to go. I know I may look tired, but I've been looking like this for months! I don't get excused from doing the shitty stuff in my life, why would I pass up something mildy amusing, eh? So let's get crackin'!
Or my husband would say "Why don't you have a piece of fruit instead of another slice of pizza?" Because fool, this alien that is kicking the shit out of the insides of my ribs and making me pee every 5 minutes is demanding an offering of pizza, not a piece of damn fruit! Better yet, can you pass the ranch with that?
The ultimate handling experience is from your bosses though, for sure. "I have this project that really needs to get done asap. I know you're busy but...." Okay, so you know I'm busy, yet you still ask me to finish something you should have done months ago, and my ass only gets a few hours to do it? Gee, thanks. And by the way, I'm going to steal your job soon, fool. (Luckily for me, this happened much more at my past job).
My current boss is the opposite end of it. "Well Aletta, I don't want you to get overwhelmed with work." Look man, I'm asking for something to do, begging for more work and you deny me? What is this? I'm sick of surfing the 'net 6 hours a day, or reading manuals on programs that I already know front to back, please, please, please give me something to do! I'll make mail-in packets, or sort papers, or lick envelopes, just give me something to do!!!
Okay, one more. You know when you're going to eat with people, and you haven't decided where yet? "I don't care, where do you want to go?" Back and forth, and it's so much worse when you go out with a group of people. Well, it's not exactly handling, per se, but that shit drives me crazy. When I say I don't care, I really don't care. If I give you two options and you still can't decide, I'm liable to kick your indecisive ass outta my car (or yours, no matter) go get my lunch, and bring you back something.
Happy Friday Everyone!!
Oh no, "handling" is so much worse.
There are some "handlers" who get paid to do it, like when you call your cell phone provider because they screwed up your bill and you're put on hold for 20 minutes before you can talk to anyone. So when you finally get connected to a rep, you start the conversation off a touch irate, and then when you realize the person you're talking to is a complete idiot? It's all down-hill from there. First, don't ever swear, they never forgive you for that, even if you aren't swearing at them. And if you get a complete incompetent fool, even when you are being polite, when you ask to speak to a supervisor all you hear is "Ma'am, you'll need to calm down before I transfer you," or "I can't help you when you are this angry." WTF? You're telling me to calm down after you pissed me off? Oh-hell-no.
It's worse though when it happens from someone you know. When I was pregnant, people were always telling me what to do, like somehow they knew my body better than I did?
"Sweetie, why don't you go lie down instead? We can go out some other time." Okay wench, but I just said I wanted to go. I know I may look tired, but I've been looking like this for months! I don't get excused from doing the shitty stuff in my life, why would I pass up something mildy amusing, eh? So let's get crackin'!
Or my husband would say "Why don't you have a piece of fruit instead of another slice of pizza?" Because fool, this alien that is kicking the shit out of the insides of my ribs and making me pee every 5 minutes is demanding an offering of pizza, not a piece of damn fruit! Better yet, can you pass the ranch with that?
The ultimate handling experience is from your bosses though, for sure. "I have this project that really needs to get done asap. I know you're busy but...." Okay, so you know I'm busy, yet you still ask me to finish something you should have done months ago, and my ass only gets a few hours to do it? Gee, thanks. And by the way, I'm going to steal your job soon, fool. (Luckily for me, this happened much more at my past job).
My current boss is the opposite end of it. "Well Aletta, I don't want you to get overwhelmed with work." Look man, I'm asking for something to do, begging for more work and you deny me? What is this? I'm sick of surfing the 'net 6 hours a day, or reading manuals on programs that I already know front to back, please, please, please give me something to do! I'll make mail-in packets, or sort papers, or lick envelopes, just give me something to do!!!
Okay, one more. You know when you're going to eat with people, and you haven't decided where yet? "I don't care, where do you want to go?" Back and forth, and it's so much worse when you go out with a group of people. Well, it's not exactly handling, per se, but that shit drives me crazy. When I say I don't care, I really don't care. If I give you two options and you still can't decide, I'm liable to kick your indecisive ass outta my car (or yours, no matter) go get my lunch, and bring you back something.
Happy Friday Everyone!!
November 2, 2006
Back in the Day
I had coffee with a friened of mine from back in the day today. More specifically, she was my best friend in kindergarten to about the 3rd grade. She found me on myspace, and after a few months (because of course I was MIA for a while after Taryn was born) we actually coordinated schedules to meet.
It was so good seeing her, seeing someone who knew me "back then" and didn't associate me with all the BS I went through, and all the drama from high school. I'm not one of those people who hated high school, it was just as a fact, the darkest time of my life.
I feel like she's totally blossomed, from a shy little kid to this gorgeous, intelligent woman, and I don't feel like I've done the same. I feel like this, now, is my adolescence, where I get to figure out who I am and what I want to do with myself.
I grew up too fast, partly from a desire to escape my childhood and take some sort of control of my life, partly out of necessity, in order to survive. I started working at Subway when I was 14, and have pretty much held a job ever since, except for a few months here and there due one season of basketball, a few months away at school, childbirth, that kind of thing. And I'm just now wishing, as an adult, that someone had made me slow down, smell the roses, enjoy being a kid, instead of supporting my working so damn much and missing out on a time of my life I can never have back.
But it's not all bad, I learned to manage money very young, I bought my own car when I was 16, I learned how to financially take care of myself and my needs, even when I didn't know how to do it emotionally.
So there it is, after all this I've come full circle. Coming back to learn the things I missed growing up. Like small talk. And remembering names. Treating myself with respect. Figuring out what I want to be "when I grow up." Finding my niche, that thing that I'm good at and makes me happy.
Even though I'm ahead of the pack in many ways, I've fallen so far behind in others. Everyone develops differently, I'm learning that from Taryn, but the one mistake I vow not to repeat is making her grow too fast and miss her childchild. Nobody can be a fully functioning adult without those lessons.
One the menu for tomorrow: Being Handled.
It was so good seeing her, seeing someone who knew me "back then" and didn't associate me with all the BS I went through, and all the drama from high school. I'm not one of those people who hated high school, it was just as a fact, the darkest time of my life.
I feel like she's totally blossomed, from a shy little kid to this gorgeous, intelligent woman, and I don't feel like I've done the same. I feel like this, now, is my adolescence, where I get to figure out who I am and what I want to do with myself.
I grew up too fast, partly from a desire to escape my childhood and take some sort of control of my life, partly out of necessity, in order to survive. I started working at Subway when I was 14, and have pretty much held a job ever since, except for a few months here and there due one season of basketball, a few months away at school, childbirth, that kind of thing. And I'm just now wishing, as an adult, that someone had made me slow down, smell the roses, enjoy being a kid, instead of supporting my working so damn much and missing out on a time of my life I can never have back.
But it's not all bad, I learned to manage money very young, I bought my own car when I was 16, I learned how to financially take care of myself and my needs, even when I didn't know how to do it emotionally.
So there it is, after all this I've come full circle. Coming back to learn the things I missed growing up. Like small talk. And remembering names. Treating myself with respect. Figuring out what I want to be "when I grow up." Finding my niche, that thing that I'm good at and makes me happy.
Even though I'm ahead of the pack in many ways, I've fallen so far behind in others. Everyone develops differently, I'm learning that from Taryn, but the one mistake I vow not to repeat is making her grow too fast and miss her childchild. Nobody can be a fully functioning adult without those lessons.
One the menu for tomorrow: Being Handled.
November 1, 2006
Day 1 - Rabbit Rabbit
Let me take a minute to explain the sudden onslaught of new blogs that will be posted in the next month ... one a day to be specific.
I started my blog to get myself writing more, and instead I have relegated this piece of myself to those times when I have "time" which, being a new mommy is a lot less than I expected. But since writing is the only way I can express myself clearly (though not always with complete honesty) I have taken the NaBloPoMo challenge!
November is National Blog Posting Month, and if I am able to post at least one blog per day, I might win a lovely t-shirt that states so eloquently "I fuck like a girl!" Priceless, right? The real gem of this whole competition against myself and my laziness is that hopefully I will get into the habit of posting more often, maybe even get some real readers, but most importantly to capture who I am each day this month so one day I can look back and laugh at how young I once was!
Let me warn you though, I bitch a lot. I try to relegate my bitching to my other blog (not myspace, the other one) But since I have to post every single day here, and most days I only have something to bitch about, there will be quite a few rants, questions to the universe and the like. Sorry, you want to know me, you're going to get it. So if I offend, I apologize ahead of time. And if you have any ideas on what to write about, please leave me a comment to let me know... I'm sure I'll be struggling in a week or so!
Okay, hope you enjoy, and stay tuned ...
I started my blog to get myself writing more, and instead I have relegated this piece of myself to those times when I have "time" which, being a new mommy is a lot less than I expected. But since writing is the only way I can express myself clearly (though not always with complete honesty) I have taken the NaBloPoMo challenge!
November is National Blog Posting Month, and if I am able to post at least one blog per day, I might win a lovely t-shirt that states so eloquently "I fuck like a girl!" Priceless, right? The real gem of this whole competition against myself and my laziness is that hopefully I will get into the habit of posting more often, maybe even get some real readers, but most importantly to capture who I am each day this month so one day I can look back and laugh at how young I once was!
Let me warn you though, I bitch a lot. I try to relegate my bitching to my other blog (not myspace, the other one) But since I have to post every single day here, and most days I only have something to bitch about, there will be quite a few rants, questions to the universe and the like. Sorry, you want to know me, you're going to get it. So if I offend, I apologize ahead of time. And if you have any ideas on what to write about, please leave me a comment to let me know... I'm sure I'll be struggling in a week or so!
Okay, hope you enjoy, and stay tuned ...
October 25, 2006
Frugal vs. Cheap
Since I've been on maternity leave, the "C word" has been tossed around like a chicken in a tornado, sometimes in reference to my own spending habits, more often in reference to my husband's. I'm starting to think some folks* don't get the difference, specifically those who call me cheap, so I thought I'd elucidate them on some major differnces between the two.
Frugal is clipping coupons from the newspaper to use at Safeway; Cheap is dumpster diving behind Safeway.
Frugal is going to a matinee to see a movie; Cheap is being a grown-ass person and sneaking into the theatre.
Frugal is buying shoes at Ross; Cheap is stealing shoes from Payless.
Frugal is buying a Costco size box of Huggies; Cheap is using Safeway brand diapers.
Frugal is buying dinner using your Marin Express; Cheap is having a dinner date at Burger King. With a coupon.
Frugal is using an at-home kit to dye your hair; Cheap is dyeing your hair with Kool Aid.
Frugal is buying a regular coffee at Dr. Insomia's; Cheap is bringing your own coffee to Peet's.
Frugal is cooking chicken and meat at a BBQ; Cheap is ordering 5 Costco pizzas for a birthday party.
So you see folks, I'm quite on the frugal end of the spectrum. I do spend money, I just spend it wisely. I mean, who cares if I drink "2 buck chuck" at least it's better than Old E. And really, who knows the difference if I have a phone at home or not, I really don't answer phones anyway. And is it so bad to sell coupons on craigslist that I get for free? It's all in the perspective.
*You know who you are. Do I need to name names here?
Frugal is clipping coupons from the newspaper to use at Safeway; Cheap is dumpster diving behind Safeway.
Frugal is going to a matinee to see a movie; Cheap is being a grown-ass person and sneaking into the theatre.
Frugal is buying shoes at Ross; Cheap is stealing shoes from Payless.
Frugal is buying a Costco size box of Huggies; Cheap is using Safeway brand diapers.
Frugal is buying dinner using your Marin Express; Cheap is having a dinner date at Burger King. With a coupon.
Frugal is using an at-home kit to dye your hair; Cheap is dyeing your hair with Kool Aid.
Frugal is buying a regular coffee at Dr. Insomia's; Cheap is bringing your own coffee to Peet's.
Frugal is cooking chicken and meat at a BBQ; Cheap is ordering 5 Costco pizzas for a birthday party.
So you see folks, I'm quite on the frugal end of the spectrum. I do spend money, I just spend it wisely. I mean, who cares if I drink "2 buck chuck" at least it's better than Old E. And really, who knows the difference if I have a phone at home or not, I really don't answer phones anyway. And is it so bad to sell coupons on craigslist that I get for free? It's all in the perspective.
*You know who you are. Do I need to name names here?
October 21, 2006
Month Four
SweetPea! You turned four months old yesterday!
First, sorry for the late letter. We went on a hike yesterday with Dakota and his mom, and even though we kicked both their booties (figuratively, of course, since I'm sore as all get-out today too) when we got home we were both ready for a late lunch and a nap. At 13lbs 10ozs, you are quite a bit of extra weight to carry. Not as much as being pregnant, but I can feel how much more of a workout I get when I take you out in your carrier.
My Angel, this month you have developed so much more use of your arms and hads, it's incredible. At the beginning of the month you would clasp your hands in a vice-liek grip, just holding onto your own fingers as tightly as possible. Then you slowly started reaching for things in front of you, and now, you can grab anything within your reach. You have a little cow toy you play with all the time, and your fishy swing is once again renewing your interest as you gaze at those little fish for hours, watching them spin above your head. You also are in the habit of holding onto one boob, while nursing on the other. I'd have to say this is one habit we'll have to break you of, at least in public, pretty soon. Speaking of nipples, you are also starting to gum me like an old man, and if something distracts you while you've got a hold on me, you turn your head and stretch it out about six times longer than I think God intended me to be. It hurts, but you look so happy it's hard to complain.
You're sarting to get a little scared of strangers. I've brought you to the gym with me to work out, and every time I pick you up you're crying. I'm hoping soon you'll be like the other little kids and play with strangers, but maybe you're just like Mommy and it will take a little bit longer for you to warm up to some people. Because Luv, when I have you in my arms and we're out shopping, you talk and babble and smile at everyone, and people's faces just light up to see you paying attention to them. People stop us in the street constantly to say how beautiful and happy you look, and how your laugh makes their days.
We showed you a DVD of about 200 of your pictures this month. It's weird, I don't think you recognize yourself. You know the face, of course, but I don't think you realize yet that it belongs to you. When you were watching the video, you started laughing at the pictures of you crying, and you smile at yourself on the TV. You are quite infatuated with the TV in general. If I ever need to take a shower or make dinner and you are fussy, I know I can snap on the boob-tube, and you'll be entertained. I try not to let you watch it too much, since I'd rather prefer that you read, but sometimes we gotta do what we gotta do. You are pretty interested in books already, especially the ones with pictures of other babies. My wish for you, my Luv, is that you develop a joy of readign from the time we have spent, and will spend in the coming years reading books and making up stories together. It will serve you so much better than a love of TV.
Well Ducky, your Uncle B is supposed to come over today to take some photos of you in your monkey suit for Halloween. Guess we should start getting ready. I have to admit one thing though. At night, after I'm finished nursing you and you are sleeping so peacefully in my arms, sometimes I just hold you, and stare at how incredibly beautiful you are. Every day I can't believe that I could love anything as much as I love you, and I treasure this time we've been able to spend together. You'll understand one day.
I love you.
Mommy
First, sorry for the late letter. We went on a hike yesterday with Dakota and his mom, and even though we kicked both their booties (figuratively, of course, since I'm sore as all get-out today too) when we got home we were both ready for a late lunch and a nap. At 13lbs 10ozs, you are quite a bit of extra weight to carry. Not as much as being pregnant, but I can feel how much more of a workout I get when I take you out in your carrier.
My Angel, this month you have developed so much more use of your arms and hads, it's incredible. At the beginning of the month you would clasp your hands in a vice-liek grip, just holding onto your own fingers as tightly as possible. Then you slowly started reaching for things in front of you, and now, you can grab anything within your reach. You have a little cow toy you play with all the time, and your fishy swing is once again renewing your interest as you gaze at those little fish for hours, watching them spin above your head. You also are in the habit of holding onto one boob, while nursing on the other. I'd have to say this is one habit we'll have to break you of, at least in public, pretty soon. Speaking of nipples, you are also starting to gum me like an old man, and if something distracts you while you've got a hold on me, you turn your head and stretch it out about six times longer than I think God intended me to be. It hurts, but you look so happy it's hard to complain.
You're sarting to get a little scared of strangers. I've brought you to the gym with me to work out, and every time I pick you up you're crying. I'm hoping soon you'll be like the other little kids and play with strangers, but maybe you're just like Mommy and it will take a little bit longer for you to warm up to some people. Because Luv, when I have you in my arms and we're out shopping, you talk and babble and smile at everyone, and people's faces just light up to see you paying attention to them. People stop us in the street constantly to say how beautiful and happy you look, and how your laugh makes their days.
We showed you a DVD of about 200 of your pictures this month. It's weird, I don't think you recognize yourself. You know the face, of course, but I don't think you realize yet that it belongs to you. When you were watching the video, you started laughing at the pictures of you crying, and you smile at yourself on the TV. You are quite infatuated with the TV in general. If I ever need to take a shower or make dinner and you are fussy, I know I can snap on the boob-tube, and you'll be entertained. I try not to let you watch it too much, since I'd rather prefer that you read, but sometimes we gotta do what we gotta do. You are pretty interested in books already, especially the ones with pictures of other babies. My wish for you, my Luv, is that you develop a joy of readign from the time we have spent, and will spend in the coming years reading books and making up stories together. It will serve you so much better than a love of TV.
Well Ducky, your Uncle B is supposed to come over today to take some photos of you in your monkey suit for Halloween. Guess we should start getting ready. I have to admit one thing though. At night, after I'm finished nursing you and you are sleeping so peacefully in my arms, sometimes I just hold you, and stare at how incredibly beautiful you are. Every day I can't believe that I could love anything as much as I love you, and I treasure this time we've been able to spend together. You'll understand one day.
I love you.
Mommy
October 17, 2006
Cloudy, Cloudy Day
I'm walking up a long, wide, winding staircase. On either side are ornately carved wooden banisters, the kind you see wealthy folks sliding down in the movies. The stairs are carpeted in a rich burgungdy colored Persian pattern with forest green and gold accents, and it is so thick it feels like walking on a cloud. I look behind me to see where I came from, but the bottom of the stairs is shrouded in deep black shadows. Up ahead, I hear the din of a party, muted laughter, glasses clinking, and I can faintly see the stairs ahead lit in the soft yellow glow of candles.
A friend calls out to me, and I reply that I am almost there. I quicken my pace on the stairs, but the light never gets brighter, the laughter never gets louder, and I never reach the party. I am perpetually trying to make it up those stairs to where everyone else is having fun, but my world is just darker, more quiet, and more lonely than everyone else's.
I'm starting to feel that familiar cloud covering my world again. I think the adrenaline and hormones from having the baby have dropped off, and my one reliable pal, Depression, is visiting again. So sorry for the lack of posts lately, things just aren't as funny as they used to be, and sorry in advance if I am pissier than normal, but that's how it flares up in me. I have a temper normally, but I have no patience at all right now, everything annoys me or makes me cry, so I choose to stay on my self-administered exile rather than alienate all you good folks.
Maybe I can find something to write about that isn't all a rant.... Maybe. Taryn is the one light in my life at the moment, but it's not fair to put such pressure on a baby angel like that. I'm working on finding out how to make myself feel better without the meds, just might take me a while.
A friend calls out to me, and I reply that I am almost there. I quicken my pace on the stairs, but the light never gets brighter, the laughter never gets louder, and I never reach the party. I am perpetually trying to make it up those stairs to where everyone else is having fun, but my world is just darker, more quiet, and more lonely than everyone else's.
I'm starting to feel that familiar cloud covering my world again. I think the adrenaline and hormones from having the baby have dropped off, and my one reliable pal, Depression, is visiting again. So sorry for the lack of posts lately, things just aren't as funny as they used to be, and sorry in advance if I am pissier than normal, but that's how it flares up in me. I have a temper normally, but I have no patience at all right now, everything annoys me or makes me cry, so I choose to stay on my self-administered exile rather than alienate all you good folks.
Maybe I can find something to write about that isn't all a rant.... Maybe. Taryn is the one light in my life at the moment, but it's not fair to put such pressure on a baby angel like that. I'm working on finding out how to make myself feel better without the meds, just might take me a while.
October 10, 2006
Brand Spankin' New Sexy Bitch of a Phone
Can I brag for a second?
I usually buy the cutest but cheapest phone I can find whenever my contract comes up for renewal, actually now that I think about it, I think I've always gotten them for free with those "instant rebate" specials they always have going on to sucker people who bought crap phones 2 years ago to renew their contract and get another crap phone.
But this year, I was brave.
The real reason I bought the phone is that I'm having issues with not having anything of my own anymore. I mean, P took over "our" computer (that really was mine first), he took over my car (and now I have to drive his ugly-ass forest green mommy car), Taryn has pretty much staked her claim on my boobs, the dogs took over my bathroom (since you-know-who doesn't take them out as much as he should, and they have to pee somewhere since they have no manners and I can't feasibly walk both of them myself while I hold the baby).
So there you have it, I'm greedy as all get-out. Whatever.
My first idea was to just buy a new car. Then I started researching child care costs, had a heart attack, and downgraded my sights to a new laptop.
But I wanted a MacBook (the black one) and looking at the pricetag on that one gave me an annurism and burned out my corneas, so I settled on a new cell phone, since I was due for one anyway, seeing as my last POS drops pretty much every call I've gotten in the last four months, and it's ugly, and the camera sucks, and I don't have enough memory to download more than a couple ringtones.
And I'm so impressed with this new beauty I have. It's a Cingular 3125, one of the STRTrec (I'm not a dork, that's probably wrong) phones. I can check my email, and IM people, and download all the songs and pictures I want. the camera still pretty much sucks, but it also has an mp3 on it so I can go to the gym and look super-cool with my little ear-buds, and not have a reason to skip my cardio. I can look at pdf, and word and excel docs, I pretty mcuh could torch my 'puter and live off the effervescent glow of this phone for the rest of my life.
Never heard of it, eh? That's because it first became available in September 2006.
And now I'm cool.
So there.
I usually buy the cutest but cheapest phone I can find whenever my contract comes up for renewal, actually now that I think about it, I think I've always gotten them for free with those "instant rebate" specials they always have going on to sucker people who bought crap phones 2 years ago to renew their contract and get another crap phone.
But this year, I was brave.
The real reason I bought the phone is that I'm having issues with not having anything of my own anymore. I mean, P took over "our" computer (that really was mine first), he took over my car (and now I have to drive his ugly-ass forest green mommy car), Taryn has pretty much staked her claim on my boobs, the dogs took over my bathroom (since you-know-who doesn't take them out as much as he should, and they have to pee somewhere since they have no manners and I can't feasibly walk both of them myself while I hold the baby).
So there you have it, I'm greedy as all get-out. Whatever.
My first idea was to just buy a new car. Then I started researching child care costs, had a heart attack, and downgraded my sights to a new laptop.
But I wanted a MacBook (the black one) and looking at the pricetag on that one gave me an annurism and burned out my corneas, so I settled on a new cell phone, since I was due for one anyway, seeing as my last POS drops pretty much every call I've gotten in the last four months, and it's ugly, and the camera sucks, and I don't have enough memory to download more than a couple ringtones.
And I'm so impressed with this new beauty I have. It's a Cingular 3125, one of the STRTrec (I'm not a dork, that's probably wrong) phones. I can check my email, and IM people, and download all the songs and pictures I want. the camera still pretty much sucks, but it also has an mp3 on it so I can go to the gym and look super-cool with my little ear-buds, and not have a reason to skip my cardio. I can look at pdf, and word and excel docs, I pretty mcuh could torch my 'puter and live off the effervescent glow of this phone for the rest of my life.
Never heard of it, eh? That's because it first became available in September 2006.
And now I'm cool.
So there.
October 3, 2006
Ferber: Love to Hate 'Em
For the first two months of Taryn's life, I completely subscribed to the idea of wholeheartedly parenting her, holding her when she cried, comforting her when she needed it, feeding her when she was hungry, etc.
Then one night, when Pedro was out playing poker with his friends and I was left alone all night with the baby, for the ump-teenth time in a row before she learned to sleep at night and she was screaming her little lungs out because she was hungry and tired, but too tired to eat, and too hungry to sleep, I felt the last of my patience fly out the window like a puff of ganja on a windy day. It was one of those moments, when you have to decide: is my sanity worth sticking to my ideals, or can I let them slip just this once and take a break from being super-me and react like a normal person?
So I put Taryn in her crib, closed her bedroom door, and went downstairs to drink a beer (Dark, of course. For milk production. I swear).
And though I thought my heart would break hearing her pitiful wails through the baby monitor, I comforted myself with the knowledge that she wasn't in pain (besides a grumbly belly), and she wasn't wet or cold or otherwise in a state that I could do anything to help her. And I promised myself that at exactly five minutes I would go back upstairs and comfort her as well as I could, but at the moment, I just needed to step away.
I needed time to calm myself down, because you have to understand at that point, I hadn't slept for more than 2 hours in a row for probably 4 months. And you may be thinking, "But Taryn was only 2 months, what gives?" And if you have ever been pregnant, I will remind you of waterfalls, lakes, rain, and puddles. But if you have never been blessed with a watermelon sitting on your bladder 24 hours a day, and 2x the normal amount of blood pulsing through your system that needs cleaning and such, I'll let you know that the last trimester is hell on your aching bladder, and I couldn't go more than a couple hours without a run to the ladies room, and could only make it to 2 hours if I was alseep for most of it.
So four or five months of being sleep deprived, and having a human hanging on your body more hours of the day than not, a husband that is MIA, a mother who works nights, a best friend who was a gimp (love ya T!), coffee for breakfast and lunch/dinner at 3pm, and hot-ass California weather, and hopefully you may have a better understanding of how desperate I was for a break from the crying (As a side-note for those of you without kids, crying peaks between 6-8 weeks in newborns, normally).
And at about 4 1/2 minutes, I went back upstairs and stood outside her door poised to rescue my darling baby from her sea of salty tears when suddenly ... the crying stopped.
So I waited.
And waited.
And finally realized that she had cried herself to sleep.
I also realized that Ferber might have had something going in his little "Cry It Out" idea. Because though some kids can wail for hours, Taryn isn't one of them, unless something is really wrong. And when she gets so tired she can't eat, and won't settle down to sleep, I've found that one of the best things I can do is to put her down, let her wail for 3 or 4 minutes until she conks out, and after 10 minutes or so of fitful sleep, she's calm enough to nurse, then sleep for much longer when her belly is full.
Don't get me wrong, I've done this three times in the last 6 weeks, since that one fateful night, and each time (like today, like right now) she will only sleep for a short time before she is awake again, and ready to start over. So I don't see how this is a long-term solution, but it works for us when nothing else will as a short-term solution.
I do think that people who do this regularly have something else going on, I mean, from what I've read, it's supposed to take only a few nights for the child to learn that crying won't bring mommy or daddy in, so they just go to sleep, but really, do I want to teach my baby that she can't count on me coming to comfort her when she crys? I want Taryn to know that when she needs me, I'm there. That's my job right now, and I am helping her learn to sleep in other ways.
And maybe I'm wrong, I mean, obviously Dr. Ferber has a massive following, or else I wouldn't know him from homeboy down the street, but I think I'd rather teach my baby not to be a spoiled, egocentric, sissy-brat, than to deal with the realities of her growing up without a sense of trust. We'll see.
Then one night, when Pedro was out playing poker with his friends and I was left alone all night with the baby, for the ump-teenth time in a row before she learned to sleep at night and she was screaming her little lungs out because she was hungry and tired, but too tired to eat, and too hungry to sleep, I felt the last of my patience fly out the window like a puff of ganja on a windy day. It was one of those moments, when you have to decide: is my sanity worth sticking to my ideals, or can I let them slip just this once and take a break from being super-me and react like a normal person?
So I put Taryn in her crib, closed her bedroom door, and went downstairs to drink a beer (Dark, of course. For milk production. I swear).
And though I thought my heart would break hearing her pitiful wails through the baby monitor, I comforted myself with the knowledge that she wasn't in pain (besides a grumbly belly), and she wasn't wet or cold or otherwise in a state that I could do anything to help her. And I promised myself that at exactly five minutes I would go back upstairs and comfort her as well as I could, but at the moment, I just needed to step away.
I needed time to calm myself down, because you have to understand at that point, I hadn't slept for more than 2 hours in a row for probably 4 months. And you may be thinking, "But Taryn was only 2 months, what gives?" And if you have ever been pregnant, I will remind you of waterfalls, lakes, rain, and puddles. But if you have never been blessed with a watermelon sitting on your bladder 24 hours a day, and 2x the normal amount of blood pulsing through your system that needs cleaning and such, I'll let you know that the last trimester is hell on your aching bladder, and I couldn't go more than a couple hours without a run to the ladies room, and could only make it to 2 hours if I was alseep for most of it.
So four or five months of being sleep deprived, and having a human hanging on your body more hours of the day than not, a husband that is MIA, a mother who works nights, a best friend who was a gimp (love ya T!), coffee for breakfast and lunch/dinner at 3pm, and hot-ass California weather, and hopefully you may have a better understanding of how desperate I was for a break from the crying (As a side-note for those of you without kids, crying peaks between 6-8 weeks in newborns, normally).
And at about 4 1/2 minutes, I went back upstairs and stood outside her door poised to rescue my darling baby from her sea of salty tears when suddenly ... the crying stopped.
So I waited.
And waited.
And finally realized that she had cried herself to sleep.
I also realized that Ferber might have had something going in his little "Cry It Out" idea. Because though some kids can wail for hours, Taryn isn't one of them, unless something is really wrong. And when she gets so tired she can't eat, and won't settle down to sleep, I've found that one of the best things I can do is to put her down, let her wail for 3 or 4 minutes until she conks out, and after 10 minutes or so of fitful sleep, she's calm enough to nurse, then sleep for much longer when her belly is full.
Don't get me wrong, I've done this three times in the last 6 weeks, since that one fateful night, and each time (like today, like right now) she will only sleep for a short time before she is awake again, and ready to start over. So I don't see how this is a long-term solution, but it works for us when nothing else will as a short-term solution.
I do think that people who do this regularly have something else going on, I mean, from what I've read, it's supposed to take only a few nights for the child to learn that crying won't bring mommy or daddy in, so they just go to sleep, but really, do I want to teach my baby that she can't count on me coming to comfort her when she crys? I want Taryn to know that when she needs me, I'm there. That's my job right now, and I am helping her learn to sleep in other ways.
And maybe I'm wrong, I mean, obviously Dr. Ferber has a massive following, or else I wouldn't know him from homeboy down the street, but I think I'd rather teach my baby not to be a spoiled, egocentric, sissy-brat, than to deal with the realities of her growing up without a sense of trust. We'll see.
September 20, 2006
Month Three
My Dearest Darling Little SweetPea,
Let me start by saying, I am so glad that your birthday is the 20th, and not the 19th, because if I had to have written this letter yesterday... it wouldn't have gotten done. The past few days, you have been screaming like a posessed chicken in need of some vicodin, and for a moment, I was tempted to resort to your Nonny's old trick of dosing up on Tylenol to get a break from the screaming (mine, not yours, Luv). But alas, once I scheduled your appointment to see the wonderful Dr. Matsumoto, your screaming and coughing and titty strike ended, and you were rested, fed, cheery and flirting as all get-out at the office. *sigh* I supposed I'll look like a new, over-reacting, first-time momma eventually, might as well start now.
So my Lovey-Dove, this month has been my favorite so far. Maybe it's the fact that you finally decided to suck on your binkie, or maybe because your fear of those-who-lack-pigmentation ended, and you once again coo and smile at your Nonny, but you are just the most entertaining and delightful baby to be around that I have ever seen. And this is going waay above and beyond the mommy prejudice. You have filled out so much, your little rollie-pollie thighs are so cute and soft and kissable, and the dimples on your little behind when you stand up are just adorable, and yes Duckie, you stand up! Everyone was amazed that at two months old you were strong enough to hold up your weight, and when you hold up your head, it's steady and not wobbly like the other kids your age, and your grip is so strong, I think it freaks some people out that it takes real effort to claim their fingers back.
And ohmigoodness, you have this habit now of sucking on people you like. You started doing it when you were just a few weeks old, when your Papa would pick you up to burp you, you'd start sucking on his neck, but now it's even better because you lick people's arms who are holding you. Your Uncle B's dad Chip was so amused you were licking him, and your Tia Tere too. But don't get embarassed Luv, everything you do is cute, even when your diaper explodes (which is does with some regularity, damn Pampers), and you have gas like nobody's business (just like your Popo), and your have the biggest mocos I've ever soon in a baby, but maybe that's because you've been sick this week.
Last month we had so much fun taking walks and exploring Hamilton, and this month, now that you are sleeping all night in your crib, I love bringing you to bed with me in the morning, and we play, and have long talks, and smile, and make faces at each other, and it is just the most precious and memorable time that I have ever had in my life. You are like a healing fountain of love. When I look in your smiling face, I forget all the pain and hurt and disappointment in my past, and I just feel hope, that you'll have a happier childhood that your mommy, that you'll reach your full potentioal, and even though life won't always be easy, my hope for you is that you can find humor and lessons in everything you do. It's the only way to stay sane in this world.
So Dinky-Dink, life is good. Except for your shots, that was so awful I'm tempted to never let them poke you again, but I know I have to. Just know I am always right there with you crying, and when you have your own kids, you'll understand how painful it is to watch (and flippin' have to participate at Kaiser). But otherwise, I've never had so much fun, or felt so exhausted and refreshed and paranoid and relaxed all at one time. The joys of being a Gemini, eh? I love you Angel, and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life watching you grow.
Love,
Mommy.
Let me start by saying, I am so glad that your birthday is the 20th, and not the 19th, because if I had to have written this letter yesterday... it wouldn't have gotten done. The past few days, you have been screaming like a posessed chicken in need of some vicodin, and for a moment, I was tempted to resort to your Nonny's old trick of dosing up on Tylenol to get a break from the screaming (mine, not yours, Luv). But alas, once I scheduled your appointment to see the wonderful Dr. Matsumoto, your screaming and coughing and titty strike ended, and you were rested, fed, cheery and flirting as all get-out at the office. *sigh* I supposed I'll look like a new, over-reacting, first-time momma eventually, might as well start now.
So my Lovey-Dove, this month has been my favorite so far. Maybe it's the fact that you finally decided to suck on your binkie, or maybe because your fear of those-who-lack-pigmentation ended, and you once again coo and smile at your Nonny, but you are just the most entertaining and delightful baby to be around that I have ever seen. And this is going waay above and beyond the mommy prejudice. You have filled out so much, your little rollie-pollie thighs are so cute and soft and kissable, and the dimples on your little behind when you stand up are just adorable, and yes Duckie, you stand up! Everyone was amazed that at two months old you were strong enough to hold up your weight, and when you hold up your head, it's steady and not wobbly like the other kids your age, and your grip is so strong, I think it freaks some people out that it takes real effort to claim their fingers back.
And ohmigoodness, you have this habit now of sucking on people you like. You started doing it when you were just a few weeks old, when your Papa would pick you up to burp you, you'd start sucking on his neck, but now it's even better because you lick people's arms who are holding you. Your Uncle B's dad Chip was so amused you were licking him, and your Tia Tere too. But don't get embarassed Luv, everything you do is cute, even when your diaper explodes (which is does with some regularity, damn Pampers), and you have gas like nobody's business (just like your Popo), and your have the biggest mocos I've ever soon in a baby, but maybe that's because you've been sick this week.
Last month we had so much fun taking walks and exploring Hamilton, and this month, now that you are sleeping all night in your crib, I love bringing you to bed with me in the morning, and we play, and have long talks, and smile, and make faces at each other, and it is just the most precious and memorable time that I have ever had in my life. You are like a healing fountain of love. When I look in your smiling face, I forget all the pain and hurt and disappointment in my past, and I just feel hope, that you'll have a happier childhood that your mommy, that you'll reach your full potentioal, and even though life won't always be easy, my hope for you is that you can find humor and lessons in everything you do. It's the only way to stay sane in this world.
So Dinky-Dink, life is good. Except for your shots, that was so awful I'm tempted to never let them poke you again, but I know I have to. Just know I am always right there with you crying, and when you have your own kids, you'll understand how painful it is to watch (and flippin' have to participate at Kaiser). But otherwise, I've never had so much fun, or felt so exhausted and refreshed and paranoid and relaxed all at one time. The joys of being a Gemini, eh? I love you Angel, and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life watching you grow.
Love,
Mommy.
September 13, 2006
Can't Get Enough
Okay, our digital camera is still out of comission, but we borrowed Oascar's to take some of these, and the crappy quality ones are from our camcorder.
Oh, yes. I am quite cute, ain't I?
Taryn rocking out.
Just chillin' in her swing.
Trying to escape from the plaid jungle.
Kind of look like a boy, eh?
Say "aaaaaaaah."
I'm going to be walking in no time. Please ignore the extra skin.
Buh bye..
Oh, yes. I am quite cute, ain't I?
Taryn rocking out.
Just chillin' in her swing.
Trying to escape from the plaid jungle.
Kind of look like a boy, eh?
Say "aaaaaaaah."
I'm going to be walking in no time. Please ignore the extra skin.
Buh bye..
September 8, 2006
Oh! The shame!
For the past few days, I have been witness to an unbearbly distasteful sight. I just had to get it off my chest, please don't judge me for their actions.
My dogs have been humping.
Now, this is distressing for two very important, very different reasons.
First, they are siblings. I know, they are dogs, but still. The impropriety of them running around in public like this, it's just disgusting. I mean, it's not like we're living in Oaklahoma. Stuff like this isn't supposed to happen in California.
Second, and even more upsetting than them being siblings, is that Ka'i (female) is the one humping Rosco (male). *yeck*
I thought at first that it was a dominance thing. They would run around the house like sex-starved teenagers, chasing each other and chewing on each others' faces until Rosco stopped running and dropped his toy. Then Ka'i would mount him and start humping away until I threw a sock at them both. This happened twice, and I as totally support women being independent and in charge, I left it alone.
But then, Ka'i started humping Rosco when he was asleep. And I started to get worried.
And now, she even resorts to getting her groove on with the fuzzy pillow on the couch (you've been warned). The same fuzzy pillow Rosco used to hump when he actually had nuts.
So now I'm worried. Could she be trans-sexual? Maybe Rosco is gay and she's playing into his fantasies? I can't imagine where she suddenly got this from. Rosco doesn't hump much of anything since his poor little grapes were removed, and they don't really kick it with other dogs because they have no manners.
Oh, what did I do wrong? Am I a bad mommy for letting them do this? I just want them both to be happy, even if it will outcast us from society....
My dogs have been humping.
Now, this is distressing for two very important, very different reasons.
First, they are siblings. I know, they are dogs, but still. The impropriety of them running around in public like this, it's just disgusting. I mean, it's not like we're living in Oaklahoma. Stuff like this isn't supposed to happen in California.
Second, and even more upsetting than them being siblings, is that Ka'i (female) is the one humping Rosco (male). *yeck*
I thought at first that it was a dominance thing. They would run around the house like sex-starved teenagers, chasing each other and chewing on each others' faces until Rosco stopped running and dropped his toy. Then Ka'i would mount him and start humping away until I threw a sock at them both. This happened twice, and I as totally support women being independent and in charge, I left it alone.
But then, Ka'i started humping Rosco when he was asleep. And I started to get worried.
And now, she even resorts to getting her groove on with the fuzzy pillow on the couch (you've been warned). The same fuzzy pillow Rosco used to hump when he actually had nuts.
So now I'm worried. Could she be trans-sexual? Maybe Rosco is gay and she's playing into his fantasies? I can't imagine where she suddenly got this from. Rosco doesn't hump much of anything since his poor little grapes were removed, and they don't really kick it with other dogs because they have no manners.
Oh, what did I do wrong? Am I a bad mommy for letting them do this? I just want them both to be happy, even if it will outcast us from society....
August 30, 2006
Well. That was traumatic.
On the advice of a friend of mine (thanks a lot Clara) I went clothes shopping yesterday. It wasn't planned, I was waiting for someone to wake up, who was evidently already awake. Another story.
I got the baby some more binkies at Target, then walked over to Ross all excited to get some pants that I could squeeze my over-sized ass into. I knew I was bigger than I was before, but I figured, 8 lbs, that'd be one size up, right?
Wrong.
Although I used to be a size 5, pre-pregnancy, my assumption that I would now be a 7 was completely off. So far off, I couldn't feel a difference between squeezing one cheek into a 5, and one into a 7.
So now I'm starting to sweat, because these pants were just supposed to hold me over until I lost the baby weight, but shit, TWO sizes to lose?? And of course, there are no size 9's in the clearance section, so now, not only am I buying bigger clothes than I want, I have to pay more for them too.
So back to the fitting room, six pairs of jeans, and they are cute. I'm just hoping I don't only like the $19.99 ones. And lo and behold....
The fuckers don't fit.
So now I'm really stressing. And I'm starting to contemplate how all 8 lbs could magically appear only on my ass? I mean, who did I piss off in another lifetime? Couldn't I get a pound or two up top? Even me out a bit? Geez, even my arms have extra skin where I could have taken some of it. But no. All in my mid-region.
I must look like a pear.
But then I started thinking that since I've been pregnant, I haven't really worn any booty-hugging jeans. Because maternity pants? They have a totally different fit, and really weren't hugging the curves like I used to wear. So maybe the size 9's really do fit, just not how I've been wearing for the last six months. And since I absolutely refuse (for now) to buy anything in the double digits (did I mention I was a size 3 in high school???) I bought ONE pair of 9's.
The biggest pair.
And I still might return them.
Thanks a lot Clara.
I got the baby some more binkies at Target, then walked over to Ross all excited to get some pants that I could squeeze my over-sized ass into. I knew I was bigger than I was before, but I figured, 8 lbs, that'd be one size up, right?
Wrong.
Although I used to be a size 5, pre-pregnancy, my assumption that I would now be a 7 was completely off. So far off, I couldn't feel a difference between squeezing one cheek into a 5, and one into a 7.
So now I'm starting to sweat, because these pants were just supposed to hold me over until I lost the baby weight, but shit, TWO sizes to lose?? And of course, there are no size 9's in the clearance section, so now, not only am I buying bigger clothes than I want, I have to pay more for them too.
So back to the fitting room, six pairs of jeans, and they are cute. I'm just hoping I don't only like the $19.99 ones. And lo and behold....
The fuckers don't fit.
So now I'm really stressing. And I'm starting to contemplate how all 8 lbs could magically appear only on my ass? I mean, who did I piss off in another lifetime? Couldn't I get a pound or two up top? Even me out a bit? Geez, even my arms have extra skin where I could have taken some of it. But no. All in my mid-region.
I must look like a pear.
But then I started thinking that since I've been pregnant, I haven't really worn any booty-hugging jeans. Because maternity pants? They have a totally different fit, and really weren't hugging the curves like I used to wear. So maybe the size 9's really do fit, just not how I've been wearing for the last six months. And since I absolutely refuse (for now) to buy anything in the double digits (did I mention I was a size 3 in high school???) I bought ONE pair of 9's.
The biggest pair.
And I still might return them.
Thanks a lot Clara.
August 25, 2006
Like One of those Overnight Braces Things
Here's the situation: It's 10:30am. You have a friend coming over for lunch in 1.5 hours. You haven't cleaned the house. You haven't showered, brushed your hair, or your teeth, or even changed out of your jammies. Your baby, who is super-cute and 2 months old has been awake since 6am, and is fighting sleep like Muhammed Ali. Your dogs are hungry, and there's a pile of recylcing to take out to the bin. Because you are "Mommy" your little champrefuses to take a binkie from you, she wants the real deal. You know she needs something to soothe herself to sleep, but it can't be your yummies because every time you put her down to nap, she wakes up.
So what do you do?
My first thought was somehow to attach the binkie to her face ... duct tape ... super glue ... all inhumane, and then I would be able to blog about it.
Then I thought, "Maybe I can stick it in her mouth, and put her to sleep on her face so it stays put?" But I'm sure somone would call CPS on me.
Then I was thinking, wouldn't it be awesome if someone invented a contraption to keep the binkie in place until the baby fell asleep? Like one of those metal helmet that the kids who wore braces in elementary school had to wear, so that the binkie wasn't stuck to her face, but also wouldn't fall out of her mouth?
Hmmmm.
But of course, there is nothing on the market like that. So I had to spend 5 precious minutes sitting on the floor next to the bassinette so she didn't see me, and hold the binkie in place until her eyes closed, then grab the dogs off the bed and creep out of the room so she didn't wake up and hear me leaving.
And then waste another 10 minutes blogging about it.
So what do you do?
My first thought was somehow to attach the binkie to her face ... duct tape ... super glue ... all inhumane, and then I would be able to blog about it.
Then I thought, "Maybe I can stick it in her mouth, and put her to sleep on her face so it stays put?" But I'm sure somone would call CPS on me.
Then I was thinking, wouldn't it be awesome if someone invented a contraption to keep the binkie in place until the baby fell asleep? Like one of those metal helmet that the kids who wore braces in elementary school had to wear, so that the binkie wasn't stuck to her face, but also wouldn't fall out of her mouth?
Hmmmm.
But of course, there is nothing on the market like that. So I had to spend 5 precious minutes sitting on the floor next to the bassinette so she didn't see me, and hold the binkie in place until her eyes closed, then grab the dogs off the bed and creep out of the room so she didn't wake up and hear me leaving.
And then waste another 10 minutes blogging about it.
August 23, 2006
Worse than Childbirth
Any mother who has said there is no worse pain in the world than childbirth is full of mierda ! Because I've found it.
I took Taryn to the doctor yesterday to get her first round of immunizations. A friend recommended that I give her Tylenol before the appointment so that she won't be in too much pain, and though it helped, and I am eternally grateful for the suggestion, she was still screaming worse than I've ever heard in my life.
My poor baby knew something bad was going to happen, because as soon as her physical was over and the nurse walked in with her little blue, kidney shaped carrier of torture and told me to lay her down on the table, she startd whimpering. It's interesting to note that the "shot nurse" at Kaiser wore black. I wonder if the doctor's were getting pissed off for getting the bad rap in the white lab coats or what? Because I've never seen a nurse in black, and it just seems a touch dramatic.
So I had to lay her down on the table, and the nurse stuck Taryn's legs between her own so that only her fat little thighs were sticking out, and then the biatch tells me to hold her arms down. WTF??? At that point Taryn starts screaming, not her banshee scream, but I could tell she was freaked out, like, "Mommy, you're taking a part in this evil scheme?"
Let's take an emotional break for a second, and I'll explain that she had to get three shots, and also take a liquid immunization. So before I had to hold the baby down, the nurse starts giving her the liquid, but Taryn is flat on her back. Duh wench, of course the stuff isn't going down, it's a bit hard to swallow like that... And so consequently she spilled it all over my poor baby's face and her cute little outfit, and it dripped all the way to the table, so that when I finally got her out of there, the back of her head was all crunchy from the dried sugar in the medicine.
Back to the shots.
So Taryn is pinned down on the table, and the nurse swabs down her fat little thighs with alcohol. Then she sticks the first needle into her leg, and Taryn is banshee screaming at the top of her lungs, her face is bright red, her eyes are closed up tight, and she's got tears, real tears of pain streaming down her face. I leaned down to whisper in her ear that she's going to be okay, and kiss her cheek, and then everything goes blurry because now I've got tears streaming down my face too.
And I just keep thinking what kind of horrible mother am I to let them hurt my baby like this? And intellectually I know that it's for her own good, but my heart is breaking, and I would sell my soul to George Bush to take away her pain.
I have to admit that the actual shots were over pretty quickly, and as soon as the last band-aid went on I scooped up my sobbing child and cuddled her and promised her a pony and all the titty she could handle. She was crying for a while, and I cried right along with her. I was a touch embarassed of my own show of emotion, but I'm not the first, and sure as hell not the last mother to cry when her baby got shots, so I'm over it.
Anyway, Taryn kind of whimpered for 10 or 15 minutes after the crying stopped. My mom had to go back into Kaiser to get them to fill out the shot record because the dumbass nurse didn't do it like he should have (heheheh, yeah, HE. Like that Focker guy).
And I'd love to say that was the end of it, but around 4:30, when we woke up from our nap and the Tylenol had worn off, she was up shrieking again, and it took a lot of rocking, some more Tylenol and about 17 thousand kisses to calm her down enough to feed her, and then she dropped off again to blissful drugged sleep.
And I keep thinking how shitty it was for that guy to pull the short stick and end up as the Shot Nurse in Black.
I took Taryn to the doctor yesterday to get her first round of immunizations. A friend recommended that I give her Tylenol before the appointment so that she won't be in too much pain, and though it helped, and I am eternally grateful for the suggestion, she was still screaming worse than I've ever heard in my life.
My poor baby knew something bad was going to happen, because as soon as her physical was over and the nurse walked in with her little blue, kidney shaped carrier of torture and told me to lay her down on the table, she startd whimpering. It's interesting to note that the "shot nurse" at Kaiser wore black. I wonder if the doctor's were getting pissed off for getting the bad rap in the white lab coats or what? Because I've never seen a nurse in black, and it just seems a touch dramatic.
So I had to lay her down on the table, and the nurse stuck Taryn's legs between her own so that only her fat little thighs were sticking out, and then the biatch tells me to hold her arms down. WTF??? At that point Taryn starts screaming, not her banshee scream, but I could tell she was freaked out, like, "Mommy, you're taking a part in this evil scheme?"
Let's take an emotional break for a second, and I'll explain that she had to get three shots, and also take a liquid immunization. So before I had to hold the baby down, the nurse starts giving her the liquid, but Taryn is flat on her back. Duh wench, of course the stuff isn't going down, it's a bit hard to swallow like that... And so consequently she spilled it all over my poor baby's face and her cute little outfit, and it dripped all the way to the table, so that when I finally got her out of there, the back of her head was all crunchy from the dried sugar in the medicine.
Back to the shots.
So Taryn is pinned down on the table, and the nurse swabs down her fat little thighs with alcohol. Then she sticks the first needle into her leg, and Taryn is banshee screaming at the top of her lungs, her face is bright red, her eyes are closed up tight, and she's got tears, real tears of pain streaming down her face. I leaned down to whisper in her ear that she's going to be okay, and kiss her cheek, and then everything goes blurry because now I've got tears streaming down my face too.
And I just keep thinking what kind of horrible mother am I to let them hurt my baby like this? And intellectually I know that it's for her own good, but my heart is breaking, and I would sell my soul to George Bush to take away her pain.
I have to admit that the actual shots were over pretty quickly, and as soon as the last band-aid went on I scooped up my sobbing child and cuddled her and promised her a pony and all the titty she could handle. She was crying for a while, and I cried right along with her. I was a touch embarassed of my own show of emotion, but I'm not the first, and sure as hell not the last mother to cry when her baby got shots, so I'm over it.
Anyway, Taryn kind of whimpered for 10 or 15 minutes after the crying stopped. My mom had to go back into Kaiser to get them to fill out the shot record because the dumbass nurse didn't do it like he should have (heheheh, yeah, HE. Like that Focker guy).
And I'd love to say that was the end of it, but around 4:30, when we woke up from our nap and the Tylenol had worn off, she was up shrieking again, and it took a lot of rocking, some more Tylenol and about 17 thousand kisses to calm her down enough to feed her, and then she dropped off again to blissful drugged sleep.
And I keep thinking how shitty it was for that guy to pull the short stick and end up as the Shot Nurse in Black.
August 21, 2006
I'm Totally Prejudiced
I've always thought that mixed babies were the cutest. Obviously a big part of that comes from the fact that I am the product of an inter-racial marriage. I also don't think it helped that my entire life everyone who commented on my attractiveness mentioned my "exotic beauty," whatever the hell that means.
So when I got pregnant, I was excited to see what my daughter would look like, considering the following: My mother is Irish, Native American, "gypsy," and probably some other European blend. My father is African and Native American. Pedro's father is half Paraguayan, an half German, and his mother is Argentinian. I think we've got every continent covered, except Asia (and the poles, but they don't count).
But I read an article in Psychology Today, maybe the April 2006 issue, that totally validated my prejudice. See, it said that when races mix, the better portion of each gene is used in the baby, and therefore the baby is actually genetically superior to both individual parent. And since the gene combination is superior, the baby's face is more symmetrical, which, we all know, makes the baby more attractive.
Cool huh? So if it's true, is it still a prejudice?
So when I got pregnant, I was excited to see what my daughter would look like, considering the following: My mother is Irish, Native American, "gypsy," and probably some other European blend. My father is African and Native American. Pedro's father is half Paraguayan, an half German, and his mother is Argentinian. I think we've got every continent covered, except Asia (and the poles, but they don't count).
But I read an article in Psychology Today, maybe the April 2006 issue, that totally validated my prejudice. See, it said that when races mix, the better portion of each gene is used in the baby, and therefore the baby is actually genetically superior to both individual parent. And since the gene combination is superior, the baby's face is more symmetrical, which, we all know, makes the baby more attractive.
Cool huh? So if it's true, is it still a prejudice?
August 20, 2006
Month Two
My Dearest BabyGirl,
You are two months old today! I can't believe how fast time has flown since you were born, I guess we're having fun, right? You have grown so much in the last month, it's amazing to see how you are looking and acting more and more like a real person every day.
You started smiling this month (other than when you have gas). It is the most gratifying feeling in the world when you look up at me with those big dark eyes and a huge grin on your adorable little face. And the giggling is entirely too much. I thought I would die laughing the first time you started to chuckle, always at the most random moments, like when I'm changing your diaper, or in the middle of nursing. Your laugh is the most incredibly pure sound I've ever heard in my life.
And you discovered your thumb just a week or so ago. It's the funniest thing to watch you struggle so hard to get it into your mouth, only to get freaked out by just how strong you can suck it. The first time you actually got your thumb in your mouth, you stuck your index finger up your nose at the same time, and then you actually ate the booger that clung to the tip of your finger! I was so proud, my heart almost burst. And now, you are so adept at getting a single finger or your thumb in your mouth, and you look so content just sucking away until your startle reflex yanks it right back out. But Duckie, if I can say one thing about you, it's that you are persistent. No matter how many times it comes out, you start right away to get it back in there. My wish for you is that that persistence stays with you through your life. Because if this thumb sucking thing is any indicator, you'll be able to do anything you put your mind to.
Some of the best times we have had this month were just taking walks around Hamilton together. We'd get up, get some breakfast, and head out to explore our little community. You've probably heard more swear words from my mouth during those outings than any other time in your life, but I'm just trying to protect you from the leers of dirty truck drivers. We've looked at flowers and butterflies, watched kids playing at the parks, played in the sprinklers, and best of all, nursed in public. I love the look of surprise in people's eyes when they see you eating, and you are quite a loud eater, most people just smile to see you so happy.
You really started testing reactions this month, seeing how much you have to cry for someone to respond, how late you can stay awake, or for how many hours straight, as well as how long we'll let you sleep for. Darling, you would sleep all day, and be up all night long if we let you. I'm dreading the day already when you discover parties and late night clubs, I know there will be no easy waay to stop you. But then I realize that your Papi and I were the same way before we had you, and we turned out okay. So as long as you are safe, and doing things intelligently, a little late-night partying won't be too detrimental. But for now, you are on a very loose schedule, and only so that I can preserve my sanity.
At this very moment, you are downstairs watching TV with your Papi. We just got back from taking photos at the mall, and everyone always comments how adorable you are, and how most babies are funny looking, but you are so beautiful. I hope you don't get a big head about it, but you really are quite stunning, and I'm more and more proud every day to be your Mommy.
I love you.
Mommy
You are two months old today! I can't believe how fast time has flown since you were born, I guess we're having fun, right? You have grown so much in the last month, it's amazing to see how you are looking and acting more and more like a real person every day.
You started smiling this month (other than when you have gas). It is the most gratifying feeling in the world when you look up at me with those big dark eyes and a huge grin on your adorable little face. And the giggling is entirely too much. I thought I would die laughing the first time you started to chuckle, always at the most random moments, like when I'm changing your diaper, or in the middle of nursing. Your laugh is the most incredibly pure sound I've ever heard in my life.
And you discovered your thumb just a week or so ago. It's the funniest thing to watch you struggle so hard to get it into your mouth, only to get freaked out by just how strong you can suck it. The first time you actually got your thumb in your mouth, you stuck your index finger up your nose at the same time, and then you actually ate the booger that clung to the tip of your finger! I was so proud, my heart almost burst. And now, you are so adept at getting a single finger or your thumb in your mouth, and you look so content just sucking away until your startle reflex yanks it right back out. But Duckie, if I can say one thing about you, it's that you are persistent. No matter how many times it comes out, you start right away to get it back in there. My wish for you is that that persistence stays with you through your life. Because if this thumb sucking thing is any indicator, you'll be able to do anything you put your mind to.
Some of the best times we have had this month were just taking walks around Hamilton together. We'd get up, get some breakfast, and head out to explore our little community. You've probably heard more swear words from my mouth during those outings than any other time in your life, but I'm just trying to protect you from the leers of dirty truck drivers. We've looked at flowers and butterflies, watched kids playing at the parks, played in the sprinklers, and best of all, nursed in public. I love the look of surprise in people's eyes when they see you eating, and you are quite a loud eater, most people just smile to see you so happy.
You really started testing reactions this month, seeing how much you have to cry for someone to respond, how late you can stay awake, or for how many hours straight, as well as how long we'll let you sleep for. Darling, you would sleep all day, and be up all night long if we let you. I'm dreading the day already when you discover parties and late night clubs, I know there will be no easy waay to stop you. But then I realize that your Papi and I were the same way before we had you, and we turned out okay. So as long as you are safe, and doing things intelligently, a little late-night partying won't be too detrimental. But for now, you are on a very loose schedule, and only so that I can preserve my sanity.
At this very moment, you are downstairs watching TV with your Papi. We just got back from taking photos at the mall, and everyone always comments how adorable you are, and how most babies are funny looking, but you are so beautiful. I hope you don't get a big head about it, but you really are quite stunning, and I'm more and more proud every day to be your Mommy.
I love you.
Mommy
August 17, 2006
My Own Mistake
I used to ask my mom all the time "Mommy, do you regret marrying my dad?" And she always told me that I was one of the best things that ever happened to her, so how could she regret what brought me here?
I finally understand today.
I am so angry, and hurt, and feeling so betrayed by my husband, and I am so disappointed in the way he is acting, and I'm frustrated with myself for thinking that THIS TIME things might be different.
But as much as I wish things could be different, I wouldn't change a thing.
I finally understand today.
I am so angry, and hurt, and feeling so betrayed by my husband, and I am so disappointed in the way he is acting, and I'm frustrated with myself for thinking that THIS TIME things might be different.
But as much as I wish things could be different, I wouldn't change a thing.
August 14, 2006
The realest convo ever
Maybe not ever, but definitely in regards to our relationship.
I don't remember how it started, only that I was in the dining room folding laundry, and P was on the couch. He had something to tell me, and I promised not to get mad. I don't know if it was the vicodin that made him speak so honestly, and I don't know what it was that made me keep my hurt in check, and be able to speak to him more honestly than I have done in a long time.
The long and the short of it?
P admitted that us getting married was a mistake. That at the time he was so infatuated he didn't think about the long-term ramifications of a legal and emotional agreement between two very young, very naive people. That he thinks the cultural differences between us may be too much in the long run.
And in turn, I admitted that I don't respect him. That I feel disgusted by the fact that he isn't doing anything with his life. That he spends hours per week playing poker online or watching TV instead of doing something constructive, and that I was sick of him making excuses for not going back to school.
He swore he doesn't blame me for him not having an education, yet he brings up the fact that he supported me while I was in school (mostly true) and the fact that I got pregnant right after we decided he was going to go back to school (also true, although I didn't impregnante myself).
And of course, I have to make the point to him that we were together for 5 years before I got pregnant, so Taryn is not the reason he doesn't have a degree yet, and that I've told him more than once that we will make it work, financially, and emotionally, when he decides to dedicate himself to his education. And then laid out for him a plan for him to work part-time, take care of Taryn part-time, and go to school full-time, substantiating the logic that if I could work 40 hours per week, and take 15-17 units in college for three and a half years, he could do it too.
And the amazing part is that we weren't arguing. We were having this real adult conversation, and I think we both walked away with a better understanding of each other, and ourselves in the relationship. It was so interesting, and I'm bummed we spent so many years being defensive and hiding away these little grains of resentment from each other, but maybe it just wasn't time. And maybe now we are ready to transform this marriage into something healthier, something more adult, something more fulfilling.
And I am so ready for that.
I don't remember how it started, only that I was in the dining room folding laundry, and P was on the couch. He had something to tell me, and I promised not to get mad. I don't know if it was the vicodin that made him speak so honestly, and I don't know what it was that made me keep my hurt in check, and be able to speak to him more honestly than I have done in a long time.
The long and the short of it?
P admitted that us getting married was a mistake. That at the time he was so infatuated he didn't think about the long-term ramifications of a legal and emotional agreement between two very young, very naive people. That he thinks the cultural differences between us may be too much in the long run.
And in turn, I admitted that I don't respect him. That I feel disgusted by the fact that he isn't doing anything with his life. That he spends hours per week playing poker online or watching TV instead of doing something constructive, and that I was sick of him making excuses for not going back to school.
He swore he doesn't blame me for him not having an education, yet he brings up the fact that he supported me while I was in school (mostly true) and the fact that I got pregnant right after we decided he was going to go back to school (also true, although I didn't impregnante myself).
And of course, I have to make the point to him that we were together for 5 years before I got pregnant, so Taryn is not the reason he doesn't have a degree yet, and that I've told him more than once that we will make it work, financially, and emotionally, when he decides to dedicate himself to his education. And then laid out for him a plan for him to work part-time, take care of Taryn part-time, and go to school full-time, substantiating the logic that if I could work 40 hours per week, and take 15-17 units in college for three and a half years, he could do it too.
And the amazing part is that we weren't arguing. We were having this real adult conversation, and I think we both walked away with a better understanding of each other, and ourselves in the relationship. It was so interesting, and I'm bummed we spent so many years being defensive and hiding away these little grains of resentment from each other, but maybe it just wasn't time. And maybe now we are ready to transform this marriage into something healthier, something more adult, something more fulfilling.
And I am so ready for that.
August 13, 2006
Shame
Have I mentioned lately that I have ... none?
Childbirth is one of those experiences that is not for the meek. Aside from having a doctor check weekly for a month how dilated you are, when you actually go into labor, depending on the medications you receive, you could have three of four different staff people checking your goodies for the better part of a day.
Then there's pushing the baby out, when you give everyone within ten feet of you a free show (not particularly attractive, I'm guessing) and then after the birth you may or may not need help going to the restroom. And they check you for "friends" on your backside, they check how much you are bleeding, and change your pads for you...
(Let's stop for a second and consider something) If the average newborn's head is 13.5 centimeters in circumference, why in the hell does your cervix only dilate to 10 centimeters? Hmmmmm...
So anyway, I met a new friend who has a son that is just a week younger than Taryn. We've met for coffee a couple of times and discussed everything childbirth and newborn related. When I was recapping our meetings with P, he got this strangely horrified look on his face.
I guess he didn't think it was normal for women who barely know each other to discuss the state of their post-birth goodies, how breastfeeding is working and all the other things only mothers would consider discussing with a stranger.
And now that I think about it, it's kind of true. It is weird, and before I had Taryn I never would have considered doing that, but it's one of those awesome ways that mothers can relate to each other. Because even pregnant I totally bonded with a lot of other pregnant sisters while we discussed doctor's appointments, fears, expectations, partners' hopes and screw-ups, and everything to do with babies.
And it reminds me of how important it is to have a community that you can go to when you are going through such an amazing experience, because I learned so much from all my friends who have had kids, or who were pregnant with me. I can't imagine people trying to do it alone, and I'm so grateful to all the mothers who gave me advice, and all the friends who let me bitch and complain about my aches and pains, and the people who made me eat every couple hours, and drink lots of water, and who warned me about interns and peri bottles...
And by the way, on the shame thing, I think it is so natural and beautiful for women to breastfeed, and screw everyone who doesn't want to see that in public. If my kid is hungry, you can stand to see my chi-chi's for a second. I don't see why it's such a big deal when every F-N advertisement has half-naked women with their boobs hanging out. For some reason it's wrong when there's a hungry baby hanging off the other end of them? I think our society has it a bit twisted, in regards to naked boobs. But more on that later...
So anyway, shame? I have none. At all.
Childbirth is one of those experiences that is not for the meek. Aside from having a doctor check weekly for a month how dilated you are, when you actually go into labor, depending on the medications you receive, you could have three of four different staff people checking your goodies for the better part of a day.
Then there's pushing the baby out, when you give everyone within ten feet of you a free show (not particularly attractive, I'm guessing) and then after the birth you may or may not need help going to the restroom. And they check you for "friends" on your backside, they check how much you are bleeding, and change your pads for you...
(Let's stop for a second and consider something) If the average newborn's head is 13.5 centimeters in circumference, why in the hell does your cervix only dilate to 10 centimeters? Hmmmmm...
So anyway, I met a new friend who has a son that is just a week younger than Taryn. We've met for coffee a couple of times and discussed everything childbirth and newborn related. When I was recapping our meetings with P, he got this strangely horrified look on his face.
I guess he didn't think it was normal for women who barely know each other to discuss the state of their post-birth goodies, how breastfeeding is working and all the other things only mothers would consider discussing with a stranger.
And now that I think about it, it's kind of true. It is weird, and before I had Taryn I never would have considered doing that, but it's one of those awesome ways that mothers can relate to each other. Because even pregnant I totally bonded with a lot of other pregnant sisters while we discussed doctor's appointments, fears, expectations, partners' hopes and screw-ups, and everything to do with babies.
And it reminds me of how important it is to have a community that you can go to when you are going through such an amazing experience, because I learned so much from all my friends who have had kids, or who were pregnant with me. I can't imagine people trying to do it alone, and I'm so grateful to all the mothers who gave me advice, and all the friends who let me bitch and complain about my aches and pains, and the people who made me eat every couple hours, and drink lots of water, and who warned me about interns and peri bottles...
And by the way, on the shame thing, I think it is so natural and beautiful for women to breastfeed, and screw everyone who doesn't want to see that in public. If my kid is hungry, you can stand to see my chi-chi's for a second. I don't see why it's such a big deal when every F-N advertisement has half-naked women with their boobs hanging out. For some reason it's wrong when there's a hungry baby hanging off the other end of them? I think our society has it a bit twisted, in regards to naked boobs. But more on that later...
So anyway, shame? I have none. At all.
August 10, 2006
Sometimes a good cry is all you need
I have been holding on to too much for too long.
There have been so many people that have hurt me in my short life, and I keep blaming them over and over for things that have nothing to do with them. I have this residual anger that I just don't know how to get rid of, and I'm scared to death that Taryn is going to learn from me to do that.
I just don't know how to let go, and this is going to sound stupid, but I just watched the series finale of Six Feet Under (yeah, from last year) and it just totally brought into perspective that the last 7 years of my life have gone by so fast, and I have all these material things to show for it, but I haven't been happy.
And it wasn't until my daughter was born that I really had a reason to change the way I was living, but after so long, I just don't know how to do it. I don't know how to forgive people for the betrayal, and abuse, and the disappointments that they have shown me. But I have to start somewhere, because if this is all there is, I'm not going to waste it.
So to myself, and Mom, Dad, Jeff, Pedro, Alaina, Josh, and Alexis...the people that were or still are the closest to my heart...I forgive you. I can't carry it anymore. Your sins against me are yours, not mine.
And if I hurt you, I'm sorry.
Just have to let it all go, so that I can move on.
There have been so many people that have hurt me in my short life, and I keep blaming them over and over for things that have nothing to do with them. I have this residual anger that I just don't know how to get rid of, and I'm scared to death that Taryn is going to learn from me to do that.
I just don't know how to let go, and this is going to sound stupid, but I just watched the series finale of Six Feet Under (yeah, from last year) and it just totally brought into perspective that the last 7 years of my life have gone by so fast, and I have all these material things to show for it, but I haven't been happy.
And it wasn't until my daughter was born that I really had a reason to change the way I was living, but after so long, I just don't know how to do it. I don't know how to forgive people for the betrayal, and abuse, and the disappointments that they have shown me. But I have to start somewhere, because if this is all there is, I'm not going to waste it.
So to myself, and Mom, Dad, Jeff, Pedro, Alaina, Josh, and Alexis...the people that were or still are the closest to my heart...I forgive you. I can't carry it anymore. Your sins against me are yours, not mine.
And if I hurt you, I'm sorry.
Just have to let it all go, so that I can move on.
Back by popular demand... More Baby Pics
"I see you!!"
"Come too close, I'll karate chop you"
Taryn and Rosco napping... on MY pillow
Wish I could sleep like that
Or like that
Baby's first bath
And her first manicure
She's got half a curl going!
I'll post some more recent photos as soon as I get the batteries recharged. And *hopefully* I'll be getting a better camera soon (yeah, since the cat knocked this one off the counter and broke it) so I'll be able to take pictures more often.
Leave me a comment, let me know what you think of the newest Ms. Caballero!
Uh Oh
A few minutes ago, Taryn looked up at me like a little pink burrito, sqinched up her face, and let out a pitiful, plaintive little wail.
Then she stopped and looked at me again.
When she saw I wasn't doing anything, she sqished up her face a little more, held her breath for a second, and let out a slightly more pitiful, plaintive wail.
Then she stopped and looked at me again.
Since I still didn't do anything, she squished up her face even more, held her breath for a second longer, and let out a third wail, while squeezing two of the dinkiest tears I have ever seen out of her little red-rimmed eyes.
I think she's testing me.
But then, maybe she's just testing out her power, to see how much of a reaction she can get from the outside world... whatever it is, it's damn adorable.
Then she stopped and looked at me again.
When she saw I wasn't doing anything, she sqished up her face a little more, held her breath for a second, and let out a slightly more pitiful, plaintive wail.
Then she stopped and looked at me again.
Since I still didn't do anything, she squished up her face even more, held her breath for a second longer, and let out a third wail, while squeezing two of the dinkiest tears I have ever seen out of her little red-rimmed eyes.
I think she's testing me.
But then, maybe she's just testing out her power, to see how much of a reaction she can get from the outside world... whatever it is, it's damn adorable.
August 8, 2006
I've created a monster
(And I'm doing this all one handed)
When we first brought Duckie home, we thought she was the most perfect little baby. She slept in her crib, or her bassinette, or even the play yard with no problems at all. She slept all day, and all night, we had to wake her up to feed her.
Then a couple weeks later, she started on this trip that she would only sleep in her bassinette. Okay, we can deal with that.
Then a week later, she decided that she wanted to sleep all day, but stay up all night. And I mean, all night long from 11pm-4am. That wasn't working. At all. So I started working on getting her on a more regular schedule so that I didn't FedEx her back to wherever in Hell she came from.
So as I'm working on her schedule, she decides that now, she will only sleep 1) when someone is holding her (like right now) or 2) in my bed. MY bed. Okay, I figure, as long as she's actually sleeping at night, I can handle that. It's easier to nurse her anyway.
But no. Now she has gone entirely too far. Now, she not only will not sleep in the bed alone, she decides that 5 hours awake per day isn't enough. She wants to be awake 10 hours per day. AND she wants to nurse every 1.5 hours.
WTF?
I know "Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative" but this is too much. How am I supposed to blog, and check my email, and shower for christsakes, when I have a 10lb fussy infant attached to my boob?
HELP!!!
When we first brought Duckie home, we thought she was the most perfect little baby. She slept in her crib, or her bassinette, or even the play yard with no problems at all. She slept all day, and all night, we had to wake her up to feed her.
Then a couple weeks later, she started on this trip that she would only sleep in her bassinette. Okay, we can deal with that.
Then a week later, she decided that she wanted to sleep all day, but stay up all night. And I mean, all night long from 11pm-4am. That wasn't working. At all. So I started working on getting her on a more regular schedule so that I didn't FedEx her back to wherever in Hell she came from.
So as I'm working on her schedule, she decides that now, she will only sleep 1) when someone is holding her (like right now) or 2) in my bed. MY bed. Okay, I figure, as long as she's actually sleeping at night, I can handle that. It's easier to nurse her anyway.
But no. Now she has gone entirely too far. Now, she not only will not sleep in the bed alone, she decides that 5 hours awake per day isn't enough. She wants to be awake 10 hours per day. AND she wants to nurse every 1.5 hours.
WTF?
I know "Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative" but this is too much. How am I supposed to blog, and check my email, and shower for christsakes, when I have a 10lb fussy infant attached to my boob?
HELP!!!
August 1, 2006
For once, we didn't blame the dogs
I'm not a bad parent. Maybe an inexperienced one, but I would never intentionally dirty my baby. Unless it was for a lot of money. Like $100 or so...
(As I was reading a recent blog on www.shewalks.blogspot.com)
"Hahahahah" ... (snort)
(Here is where the internal dialogue starts ...)
"Oops, I should make sure I didn't blow a booger on Taryn's head."
(Not that it has happened before, but sometimes when I laugh too hard, I have been known to shoot mocos up to three feet)
(Looking at my adorable sleeping infant's face)
"Shit, I can't believe I snotted on my baby's face. Ohgod, and it's a nasty dark one too, I wonder what crawled up my nose last night?"
(Then the nasty mocos starts crawling down her forehead, closer to her eye)
"Holyshit, my booger is crawling into her eye!"
(Now this is where I start yelling, waking up P_Dely who passed out on the floor downstairs-the laminate floor, we don't even have carpet anymore.)
P: Baby, what's wrong?
Me: My boger is crawling into Taryn's eye, what do I do?
P: Grab it! What the hell crawled up your nose last night? Are you on drugs?
Me: I don't know! (Grabbing the crawling booger and squishing it between my nails) Holyshit, it had legs.
P: What? Your booger had legs?
Me: It wasn't a booger. Punkin, the baby has fleas. (Then I have to pause to think where they came from, because the dogs get flea baths pretty regularly)
Me: I dare you to give the cat a bath.
(As I was reading a recent blog on www.shewalks.blogspot.com)
"Hahahahah" ... (snort)
(Here is where the internal dialogue starts ...)
"Oops, I should make sure I didn't blow a booger on Taryn's head."
(Not that it has happened before, but sometimes when I laugh too hard, I have been known to shoot mocos up to three feet)
(Looking at my adorable sleeping infant's face)
"Shit, I can't believe I snotted on my baby's face. Ohgod, and it's a nasty dark one too, I wonder what crawled up my nose last night?"
(Then the nasty mocos starts crawling down her forehead, closer to her eye)
"Holyshit, my booger is crawling into her eye!"
(Now this is where I start yelling, waking up P_Dely who passed out on the floor downstairs-the laminate floor, we don't even have carpet anymore.)
P: Baby, what's wrong?
Me: My boger is crawling into Taryn's eye, what do I do?
P: Grab it! What the hell crawled up your nose last night? Are you on drugs?
Me: I don't know! (Grabbing the crawling booger and squishing it between my nails) Holyshit, it had legs.
P: What? Your booger had legs?
Me: It wasn't a booger. Punkin, the baby has fleas. (Then I have to pause to think where they came from, because the dogs get flea baths pretty regularly)
Me: I dare you to give the cat a bath.
July 29, 2006
There's no nice way to say this...
Let me preface by saying that I am super-grateful that I am healthy, that I enjoy exercise to some degree, and that Taryn has influenced me to take better care of myself, so that in return I can take better care of her.
But something that is beginning to irk the shit our of me, goes something like this:
Stranger: Your baby is so beautiful!
Me: Thank you.
Stranger: How old is it?
Me: She's five weeks
Stranger: Ohmygod, you look so good! You are so skinny!
Me: Thanks, I'm still a bit bigger than I was before, but I'm working on it.
Stranger: You should be grateful that you are that skinny already. When I had my child...... (the rest varies, but is the same old shit).
So look, yes, I am grateful that before I had my daughter, I was pretty slim, so obviously after she was born and the stomach disapeared, I am still pretty slim.
But here's the rub, I am not as skinny as I used to be. It may not be obvious to a lot of people, but I still can't wear a damn thing in my closet, and it irks me. I have 4 pairs of pants that have no elastic that I can wear now, and looking at everything else in my closet is frustrating because I can't wear any of them.
Not to mention shirts. I can't wear anything super-form-fitting because I still have a pouch, and since my pants don't fit right it 1) looks sloppy and 2) is uncomfortable. So that eliminates most of my wardrobe, and abotu 90% of the rest I can't wear becasue I'm nursing.
And maybe what amplifies it is my husband laughing at me that I don't fit into my clothes, laughing at me that I have a roll now when I sit down, then laughing at me that I get upset that he's laughing.
I know it's all for a good cause. I'd take a lot worse of a body (and probably will with the next kid) to ensure my baby is happy and healthy, but it's still hard to go from one place physically to a completely different place without this sort of hiccup of getting used to it.
And look, I'm not complaining about the physical changes per se, more like I hate people's reaction to it, whether it be laughing, or telling me I should be grateful. I appreciate when people tell me I look good, don't get me wrong, but don't jump down my throat if I don't agree with you.
I need some brownies now.
But something that is beginning to irk the shit our of me, goes something like this:
Stranger: Your baby is so beautiful!
Me: Thank you.
Stranger: How old is it?
Me: She's five weeks
Stranger: Ohmygod, you look so good! You are so skinny!
Me: Thanks, I'm still a bit bigger than I was before, but I'm working on it.
Stranger: You should be grateful that you are that skinny already. When I had my child...... (the rest varies, but is the same old shit).
So look, yes, I am grateful that before I had my daughter, I was pretty slim, so obviously after she was born and the stomach disapeared, I am still pretty slim.
But here's the rub, I am not as skinny as I used to be. It may not be obvious to a lot of people, but I still can't wear a damn thing in my closet, and it irks me. I have 4 pairs of pants that have no elastic that I can wear now, and looking at everything else in my closet is frustrating because I can't wear any of them.
Not to mention shirts. I can't wear anything super-form-fitting because I still have a pouch, and since my pants don't fit right it 1) looks sloppy and 2) is uncomfortable. So that eliminates most of my wardrobe, and abotu 90% of the rest I can't wear becasue I'm nursing.
And maybe what amplifies it is my husband laughing at me that I don't fit into my clothes, laughing at me that I have a roll now when I sit down, then laughing at me that I get upset that he's laughing.
I know it's all for a good cause. I'd take a lot worse of a body (and probably will with the next kid) to ensure my baby is happy and healthy, but it's still hard to go from one place physically to a completely different place without this sort of hiccup of getting used to it.
And look, I'm not complaining about the physical changes per se, more like I hate people's reaction to it, whether it be laughing, or telling me I should be grateful. I appreciate when people tell me I look good, don't get me wrong, but don't jump down my throat if I don't agree with you.
I need some brownies now.
July 28, 2006
Cute Baby Trick #2
(The first cute trick, in case you missed it, was taryn blowing raspberries at the dogs. I'm not sure if she liked them licking her face or not....)
So, Taryn in just too adorable. I have to get the out of the way.
She learned to stick her tounge out, sort of on command. We were playing around after nursing on Wednesday evening, and I kept sticking my tounge out at her, because she made the cutest crinkly face when I was doing it. Pretty son, when I stuck mine out, she'd stick her dinky little tounge out, right back at me.
I'm so proud!
On a similar note, she also smiled at me, for real, for the first time yesterday. I didn't think I'd recognize the difference, but her eyes get all squinty when she smiles socially because her cheeks are so chunky. My baby girl.
And these milestones got me thinking, babies have the brains of dogs.
Because a dog thinks, but doesn't know he's thinking, and can't really think about thinking. And babies do the same. I'm sure Taryn thinks, like when she's hungry or smiles because she's happy, she's thinking "I'm hungry," but she doesn't know that she is thinking.
So if "I think, therefore I am" are you if you don't know you are?
So, Taryn in just too adorable. I have to get the out of the way.
She learned to stick her tounge out, sort of on command. We were playing around after nursing on Wednesday evening, and I kept sticking my tounge out at her, because she made the cutest crinkly face when I was doing it. Pretty son, when I stuck mine out, she'd stick her dinky little tounge out, right back at me.
I'm so proud!
On a similar note, she also smiled at me, for real, for the first time yesterday. I didn't think I'd recognize the difference, but her eyes get all squinty when she smiles socially because her cheeks are so chunky. My baby girl.
And these milestones got me thinking, babies have the brains of dogs.
Because a dog thinks, but doesn't know he's thinking, and can't really think about thinking. And babies do the same. I'm sure Taryn thinks, like when she's hungry or smiles because she's happy, she's thinking "I'm hungry," but she doesn't know that she is thinking.
So if "I think, therefore I am" are you if you don't know you are?
July 27, 2006
So Mediocre
I'm really am. So incredibly average.
I got my yearly review from work the other day. My supervisor had nothing bad to say. But then again, he didn't really have anything super-positive to say either, except that I had excellent attendance, and the same old, "It's been my pleasure working with you." Yeah, like everyone else in the world.
Not that I expect him to say I'm the best EW he's ever trained (that title, obviously, goes to the one and only SueBob), but I worked my ass off for the last year, and it'd be nice to get some recognition of that.
The story of my life.
I do my best at most things, especially at work. For my age, I'd say my work ethic is much stronger than most other folks under 30. I never call in sick, unless I am unconscious, or on my way there. I work hard to learn what I need to do, and I "encourage" those around me to do the same. And once I know what I need to do, and have the tools to do it, I take the initiative to get my shit done, and usually get other people's shit done too. So WTF?
Maybe I need to be more flamboyant. To let everyone know when I am going above and beyond, so I can get some recognition for it. Yeah, right. It's the same thing in personal relationships. I'm always there, always helping, always doing more than I'm asked, but rarely thanked for it. Shit.
Maybe if I wasn't so damn gorgeous, people would forget me entirely? :)
At least I have that going for me. But to be honest, I'd probably be perpetually blushed if I got more attention. I kind of like being on the sidelines, knowing that I should be the one receiving kudos instead of so-and-so kiss-ass. Gives me a reason to resent the world.
But wait!
Kissing ass??
Nope, not my style. At all. For any reason.
Sorry.
I got my yearly review from work the other day. My supervisor had nothing bad to say. But then again, he didn't really have anything super-positive to say either, except that I had excellent attendance, and the same old, "It's been my pleasure working with you." Yeah, like everyone else in the world.
Not that I expect him to say I'm the best EW he's ever trained (that title, obviously, goes to the one and only SueBob), but I worked my ass off for the last year, and it'd be nice to get some recognition of that.
The story of my life.
I do my best at most things, especially at work. For my age, I'd say my work ethic is much stronger than most other folks under 30. I never call in sick, unless I am unconscious, or on my way there. I work hard to learn what I need to do, and I "encourage" those around me to do the same. And once I know what I need to do, and have the tools to do it, I take the initiative to get my shit done, and usually get other people's shit done too. So WTF?
Maybe I need to be more flamboyant. To let everyone know when I am going above and beyond, so I can get some recognition for it. Yeah, right. It's the same thing in personal relationships. I'm always there, always helping, always doing more than I'm asked, but rarely thanked for it. Shit.
Maybe if I wasn't so damn gorgeous, people would forget me entirely? :)
At least I have that going for me. But to be honest, I'd probably be perpetually blushed if I got more attention. I kind of like being on the sidelines, knowing that I should be the one receiving kudos instead of so-and-so kiss-ass. Gives me a reason to resent the world.
But wait!
Kissing ass??
Nope, not my style. At all. For any reason.
Sorry.
July 26, 2006
Aletta, with two T's
When I was 12 years old, I decided to try to spell my name differently. After 12 years of having everyone either spell or pronounce my name incorrectly, I was fed up, and I figured it was the right time to change it to "Aleta." One T.
See, the summer after 6th grade, I decided to move in with my father and his new family in Ohio. I had a lot of reasons to move, the most important being that I truly believed that if I lived with my father, he might learn to love me.
My dad has never really been a huge part of my life, and after he remarried, and started having more children, I felt even less important to him. I was his first-born, but I felt like the step-child. So I employed complete egocentric pre-teen logic and thought that if he were around me more he would see what an intelligent, beautiful, witty, kind person I was, and he would want a real relationship with me.
And of course, it didn't work. And I learned that it's easier to run away from a situation that to deal with it. So I came back to California to live with my mom, and went to three more middle schools that year. One I left because I didn't feel like I fit in there. The second I left because I was getting picked on by older girls who were upset that their "boyfriends" liked me. The same thing happened at the third school, but I rode out the rest of the year in fear that I would get jumped again and again by these older girls. I spent most of my seventh grade year fighting girls over bullshit. For me, it was about maintaining my pride; they thought it was about boys.
I guess I started thinking about this while looking at Taryn, and feeling so grateful that her father loves her so much, and treasures the time he spends with her. And no matter how rough our relationship is right now, the ups and downs, fighting and making up, I feel lucky to have found a man that wants a relationship with his daughter, and even though he has a lot of pressure to be "the man" he is able to be soft with her.
And I guess I was feeling a tough guilty for giving her a unique name, and hoping that it isn't so unusual that she will forever be correcting people's spelling and pronunciation of it.
I was thinking too about my last post on friends and enemies, and how I haven't really dealt with those people. I kind of just mentally shut down, and maybe that's why it's so hard to think of them without feeling sentimental. I keep the good times on the forefront of my mind, and ignore the negative stuff until it gets brought up again.
Anyway, needless to say, I kept forgetting to spell my name the new way, so when I moved back to California, I changed it back (to myself) to Aletta. With two T's.
See, the summer after 6th grade, I decided to move in with my father and his new family in Ohio. I had a lot of reasons to move, the most important being that I truly believed that if I lived with my father, he might learn to love me.
My dad has never really been a huge part of my life, and after he remarried, and started having more children, I felt even less important to him. I was his first-born, but I felt like the step-child. So I employed complete egocentric pre-teen logic and thought that if he were around me more he would see what an intelligent, beautiful, witty, kind person I was, and he would want a real relationship with me.
And of course, it didn't work. And I learned that it's easier to run away from a situation that to deal with it. So I came back to California to live with my mom, and went to three more middle schools that year. One I left because I didn't feel like I fit in there. The second I left because I was getting picked on by older girls who were upset that their "boyfriends" liked me. The same thing happened at the third school, but I rode out the rest of the year in fear that I would get jumped again and again by these older girls. I spent most of my seventh grade year fighting girls over bullshit. For me, it was about maintaining my pride; they thought it was about boys.
I guess I started thinking about this while looking at Taryn, and feeling so grateful that her father loves her so much, and treasures the time he spends with her. And no matter how rough our relationship is right now, the ups and downs, fighting and making up, I feel lucky to have found a man that wants a relationship with his daughter, and even though he has a lot of pressure to be "the man" he is able to be soft with her.
And I guess I was feeling a tough guilty for giving her a unique name, and hoping that it isn't so unusual that she will forever be correcting people's spelling and pronunciation of it.
I was thinking too about my last post on friends and enemies, and how I haven't really dealt with those people. I kind of just mentally shut down, and maybe that's why it's so hard to think of them without feeling sentimental. I keep the good times on the forefront of my mind, and ignore the negative stuff until it gets brought up again.
Anyway, needless to say, I kept forgetting to spell my name the new way, so when I moved back to California, I changed it back (to myself) to Aletta. With two T's.
July 23, 2006
Saving for College
Taryn received an adorable piggybank from her Uncle B and Tia Tere for her babyshower (or maybe my birthday, they were pretty close together). I decided that I'm going to try my damnest to put all of my silver change into it, and on her first birthday I'm going to deposit it into a savings account for her.
I was also thinking that I'm going to ask friends and family to make a donation to her savings account for her first birthday and first Christmas, instead of buying presents. I figure it'll be better now while she's young and doesn't expect presents yet, and will save a lot of space since she'll grow out of a lot of gifts pretty quickly.
My last thought on college savings was that when I go back to work, I can put my raise (yea! I got a raise! Ends up being about 12% after the COLA) into her savings account each paycheck, and by her birthday I'll have added about $1500 to her future education.
Of course, we'll have to see how it goes, and see if we need the extra 12% to pay for a sitter...
I was also thinking that I'm going to ask friends and family to make a donation to her savings account for her first birthday and first Christmas, instead of buying presents. I figure it'll be better now while she's young and doesn't expect presents yet, and will save a lot of space since she'll grow out of a lot of gifts pretty quickly.
My last thought on college savings was that when I go back to work, I can put my raise (yea! I got a raise! Ends up being about 12% after the COLA) into her savings account each paycheck, and by her birthday I'll have added about $1500 to her future education.
Of course, we'll have to see how it goes, and see if we need the extra 12% to pay for a sitter...
July 22, 2006
I wish someone had told me
(Ally, you may or may not want to read this....)
I was talking to TC last night, telling her some more details of my labor, and I realized there were a few things that happened that I wish someone had told me before I had Taryn. Of course, it might have freaked me out even more, or made me more paranoid/anxious/embarassed about the whole thing, but still would have been nice to know.
So here are my additions to the "Girlfriends Guide to Labor":
1. When you go into labor, your digestive system speeds up...a lot. I spent a lot of time on the crapper between when my water broke, and when Taryn was born.
2. On the flip side of that, vomiting is normal. Evidently. The nurses said it was a sign that my labor was progressing.
3. IV drugs may not help. They are supposed to "take the edge off" but they just made me sleepy, which helped me to relax more between contractions, but didn't do didly squat for the pain.
4. If you don't like IV's, drink a lot of water while you are in labor. Because nurses are no joke when it comes to your baby's health (as they shouldn't be), and even if you don't want to have an IV in your arm, they'll make you get it.
5. Walking hurts. They tell you that in the childbirth classes, but real contractions get much, much, much more painful when you walk, though it does help your labor along. If you can stand it, do it. Mine were topped out from the jump, so I pretty much stayed in bed the whole time.
6. Take a shower. Sounds odd, and I was totally skeptical that it would help, but an hour later, I felt so much better and was super-refreshed (as much as I could be) to start pushing.
7. Your body doesn't always wait until you are 10 centimeters to start pushing. I was only 8 and pushed through the last two (accidentally...you'll see) before I realized that I wasn't physically ready to have a baby yet. If the nurse says not to push, try your damnest not to, you may regret it later.
8. Hurricane Spray. It's a lifesaver if you have a vaginal delivery. Just ask for it, they'll give you one for free.
9. Don't let people guilt you into having visitors before you are ready. I felt like an aweful person after Taryn was born, because I didn't want to deal with anyone. I wanted time to get to know her better, to let her jaundice improve, figure out how to nurse, and let both of us rest, because childbirth is physically and emotionally exhausting. The only people that get mad at you for not letting them see the baby right away are people who are thinking of themselves, so if you need more time, a day, or a week, before the new baby meets the entire family, just remember that you are taking care of yourself.
10. Last but not least, don't let your partner leave your side. P-Dely was hungry, tired, and had to use the restroom for most of my labor, but refused to leave my side until Taryn was out and safe. he wouldn't even eat the food my mom brought since I couldn't eat anything either. He knows me better than anyone, and was the biggest help through my labor, feeding me ice chips, giving me massages, encouraging me to focus, getting nurses when I needed them, and staying with the baby in NICU so I didn't have to worry if she was okay.
That's it. For me, it hurt like hell, but learning what I needed, and needed to do wasn't difficult. And don't be afraid to make weird sounds or faces, the nurses have seen everything.
I was talking to TC last night, telling her some more details of my labor, and I realized there were a few things that happened that I wish someone had told me before I had Taryn. Of course, it might have freaked me out even more, or made me more paranoid/anxious/embarassed about the whole thing, but still would have been nice to know.
So here are my additions to the "Girlfriends Guide to Labor":
1. When you go into labor, your digestive system speeds up...a lot. I spent a lot of time on the crapper between when my water broke, and when Taryn was born.
2. On the flip side of that, vomiting is normal. Evidently. The nurses said it was a sign that my labor was progressing.
3. IV drugs may not help. They are supposed to "take the edge off" but they just made me sleepy, which helped me to relax more between contractions, but didn't do didly squat for the pain.
4. If you don't like IV's, drink a lot of water while you are in labor. Because nurses are no joke when it comes to your baby's health (as they shouldn't be), and even if you don't want to have an IV in your arm, they'll make you get it.
5. Walking hurts. They tell you that in the childbirth classes, but real contractions get much, much, much more painful when you walk, though it does help your labor along. If you can stand it, do it. Mine were topped out from the jump, so I pretty much stayed in bed the whole time.
6. Take a shower. Sounds odd, and I was totally skeptical that it would help, but an hour later, I felt so much better and was super-refreshed (as much as I could be) to start pushing.
7. Your body doesn't always wait until you are 10 centimeters to start pushing. I was only 8 and pushed through the last two (accidentally...you'll see) before I realized that I wasn't physically ready to have a baby yet. If the nurse says not to push, try your damnest not to, you may regret it later.
8. Hurricane Spray. It's a lifesaver if you have a vaginal delivery. Just ask for it, they'll give you one for free.
9. Don't let people guilt you into having visitors before you are ready. I felt like an aweful person after Taryn was born, because I didn't want to deal with anyone. I wanted time to get to know her better, to let her jaundice improve, figure out how to nurse, and let both of us rest, because childbirth is physically and emotionally exhausting. The only people that get mad at you for not letting them see the baby right away are people who are thinking of themselves, so if you need more time, a day, or a week, before the new baby meets the entire family, just remember that you are taking care of yourself.
10. Last but not least, don't let your partner leave your side. P-Dely was hungry, tired, and had to use the restroom for most of my labor, but refused to leave my side until Taryn was out and safe. he wouldn't even eat the food my mom brought since I couldn't eat anything either. He knows me better than anyone, and was the biggest help through my labor, feeding me ice chips, giving me massages, encouraging me to focus, getting nurses when I needed them, and staying with the baby in NICU so I didn't have to worry if she was okay.
That's it. For me, it hurt like hell, but learning what I needed, and needed to do wasn't difficult. And don't be afraid to make weird sounds or faces, the nurses have seen everything.
July 20, 2006
Ducky! You are One Month old today!
My Sweet AngelBaby,
A year ago, I couldn't imagine letting the world revolve around anyone but myself. And now, I can't imagine how I ever lived so long without you in my life. I guess you've always sort of been here, in my hopes and dreams, and maybe it was your spirit that I promised to bring into this world, the same spirit that I lost seven years ago. Maybe at that time I wasn't ready to be a mother, maybe it took seven years for me to get to a place emotionally, financially, and spiritually, where I could give you everything that you deserve, and so that I could surround myself with people who love and care for me, and who will be there to care for you and support you in this crazy journey we call life.
Sweetpea, when I first saw you on the ultrasound last November, when you were only a few weeks old, I fell in love. You were my little LimaBean, and from then on I started dreaming if you. I knew you were a girl, even though I was hoping for a boy. I just wanted my daughters to have an older brother to protect them, but I realize now that one of the most important jobs I have is to teach you to love and protect yourself, so that you never have to rely on anyone else to do it for you. My first wish for you is to be a happy person who respects herself and is strong enough to stand up to the world for what she believes in.
In December, when I was sick with a horrible flu, I dreamt that you had a small red birthmark on your eyebrow, and you do, though up until now I thought it was a bruise from your grand entrance into the world. Your Papi dreamt of you too, and we spoke often about how wonderful it was going to be when you got here and we could just hold you, and cuddle, and whisper all the wonderful things that we planned to do with you. Your Papi can't wait until you are old enough to go fishing with him. And I'll be so proud the day you get your first library card. We look forward to the mundane tasks of daily life now, because we can share them with you.
My Love, you are too incredibly cute when you sleep. You are too small to smile at us, too small to even play with a toy. You pretty much sleep about 16 hours each day, you eat for about 5 hours a day, and you are awake and alert for the rest, although you don't do much but look around the room. But Love, when you sleep, you laugh, squeal, smile, frown, make a hundred and one expressions that your Papi and I, and anyone else who holds you could watch and be entertained for hours. People come to the house to watch you sleep, and you are so beautiful, my heart swells with pride that I had a part in your creation. And curious as all get out. When you hear a new noise, you turn your head to look, when I walk with you around the house your eyes scan the walls and ceiling. And when the puppies lick your face, you blow raspberries at them!
Darling, I could write forever on the beauty of watching you explore your small world. You had a pretty rough entrance into this world, but you have recovered fully and I am so grateful that God blessed me with you. I promise to do the best that I possibly can, to be a "good-enough" parent so that when the time comes, you will have the courage, and confidence, and tools necessary to be a successful and happy person.
I love you with all of my heart and soul. Happy one month birthday Beautiful!
Your Mommy.
A year ago, I couldn't imagine letting the world revolve around anyone but myself. And now, I can't imagine how I ever lived so long without you in my life. I guess you've always sort of been here, in my hopes and dreams, and maybe it was your spirit that I promised to bring into this world, the same spirit that I lost seven years ago. Maybe at that time I wasn't ready to be a mother, maybe it took seven years for me to get to a place emotionally, financially, and spiritually, where I could give you everything that you deserve, and so that I could surround myself with people who love and care for me, and who will be there to care for you and support you in this crazy journey we call life.
Sweetpea, when I first saw you on the ultrasound last November, when you were only a few weeks old, I fell in love. You were my little LimaBean, and from then on I started dreaming if you. I knew you were a girl, even though I was hoping for a boy. I just wanted my daughters to have an older brother to protect them, but I realize now that one of the most important jobs I have is to teach you to love and protect yourself, so that you never have to rely on anyone else to do it for you. My first wish for you is to be a happy person who respects herself and is strong enough to stand up to the world for what she believes in.
In December, when I was sick with a horrible flu, I dreamt that you had a small red birthmark on your eyebrow, and you do, though up until now I thought it was a bruise from your grand entrance into the world. Your Papi dreamt of you too, and we spoke often about how wonderful it was going to be when you got here and we could just hold you, and cuddle, and whisper all the wonderful things that we planned to do with you. Your Papi can't wait until you are old enough to go fishing with him. And I'll be so proud the day you get your first library card. We look forward to the mundane tasks of daily life now, because we can share them with you.
My Love, you are too incredibly cute when you sleep. You are too small to smile at us, too small to even play with a toy. You pretty much sleep about 16 hours each day, you eat for about 5 hours a day, and you are awake and alert for the rest, although you don't do much but look around the room. But Love, when you sleep, you laugh, squeal, smile, frown, make a hundred and one expressions that your Papi and I, and anyone else who holds you could watch and be entertained for hours. People come to the house to watch you sleep, and you are so beautiful, my heart swells with pride that I had a part in your creation. And curious as all get out. When you hear a new noise, you turn your head to look, when I walk with you around the house your eyes scan the walls and ceiling. And when the puppies lick your face, you blow raspberries at them!
Darling, I could write forever on the beauty of watching you explore your small world. You had a pretty rough entrance into this world, but you have recovered fully and I am so grateful that God blessed me with you. I promise to do the best that I possibly can, to be a "good-enough" parent so that when the time comes, you will have the courage, and confidence, and tools necessary to be a successful and happy person.
I love you with all of my heart and soul. Happy one month birthday Beautiful!
Your Mommy.
I miss my mornings
Last night I actually had 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep!
Taryn has finally decided that she will take a bottle, and last night was P-Dely's night to feed her. Of course, I woke up every time she started to cry, but to not have to get out of bed, to not have to feed her, to not even have to wake up all the way because P-Dely was taking care of everything was wonderful.
When he brought her to me at 6:30 this morning (we only have enough expressed milk for 2 feedings) I was so refreshed and energized, I've been up for 3 hours cleaning, doing laundry, and of course, expressing more milk so I can go to a babyshower this afternoon.
And I'm even more stoked because now I know we can go to the Pink Martini concert next week, and leave her with my mom. Yay!
Someone made a comment (jokingly, of course) that I was a heartless mother since my daughter is only 1 month old, and I've already left the house without her a couple of times. My serious response to that: My sanity is more important than any expectations other people have of me being a mother. I am happy for those women who can and do stay with their children 24/7, like my mom who didn't leave my brother with anyone until he was 8 months old, but I'm just not one of those people. I miss Taryn when I go out without her, and I love her more than anything, but it's important to me that I have time by myself so that I can be there 100% for her when I am with her. I have redefined my life to put motherhood first, but that doesn't mean that I have to neglect myself and my needs outside of that role, in order to fulfill my duties as a mother.
Anyhow, if she's asleep and I'm gone, no biggie. She has no idea that I'm not there, and if I was at home I'd be cleaning or sleeping anyway. Might as well get out for a bit, right?
Taryn has finally decided that she will take a bottle, and last night was P-Dely's night to feed her. Of course, I woke up every time she started to cry, but to not have to get out of bed, to not have to feed her, to not even have to wake up all the way because P-Dely was taking care of everything was wonderful.
When he brought her to me at 6:30 this morning (we only have enough expressed milk for 2 feedings) I was so refreshed and energized, I've been up for 3 hours cleaning, doing laundry, and of course, expressing more milk so I can go to a babyshower this afternoon.
And I'm even more stoked because now I know we can go to the Pink Martini concert next week, and leave her with my mom. Yay!
Someone made a comment (jokingly, of course) that I was a heartless mother since my daughter is only 1 month old, and I've already left the house without her a couple of times. My serious response to that: My sanity is more important than any expectations other people have of me being a mother. I am happy for those women who can and do stay with their children 24/7, like my mom who didn't leave my brother with anyone until he was 8 months old, but I'm just not one of those people. I miss Taryn when I go out without her, and I love her more than anything, but it's important to me that I have time by myself so that I can be there 100% for her when I am with her. I have redefined my life to put motherhood first, but that doesn't mean that I have to neglect myself and my needs outside of that role, in order to fulfill my duties as a mother.
Anyhow, if she's asleep and I'm gone, no biggie. She has no idea that I'm not there, and if I was at home I'd be cleaning or sleeping anyway. Might as well get out for a bit, right?
July 19, 2006
Baby Blues
I was watching a show this afternoon called "Surviving Motherhood" on which they were discussing post-partum depression, and I started tripping off that fact that I haven't gotten it (yet).
I dealt with depression a lot when I was in high school, so I kind of assumed that I would get it, and mentally prepared myself to deal with it. Sure, there have been a couple timed in the past few weeks when I have been frustrated with Taryn when she won't stop crying, or when I have wanted to be alone and not have company, or cried at something inane. But I attribute those temporary mood swings to sleep deprivation and normal hormone level fluctuation after childbirth.
I can't imagine how it must feel for women who have severe depression, who don't want to care for their newborns, and sometimes actually hurt them. I spoke to a lot of people like that when I was working at MHN, an it astounds me how powerful the human mind is to override the joy of childbirth.
Anyhow, I know I can ask for help if I ever get there, but God willing, I won't.
I dealt with depression a lot when I was in high school, so I kind of assumed that I would get it, and mentally prepared myself to deal with it. Sure, there have been a couple timed in the past few weeks when I have been frustrated with Taryn when she won't stop crying, or when I have wanted to be alone and not have company, or cried at something inane. But I attribute those temporary mood swings to sleep deprivation and normal hormone level fluctuation after childbirth.
I can't imagine how it must feel for women who have severe depression, who don't want to care for their newborns, and sometimes actually hurt them. I spoke to a lot of people like that when I was working at MHN, an it astounds me how powerful the human mind is to override the joy of childbirth.
Anyhow, I know I can ask for help if I ever get there, but God willing, I won't.
July 17, 2006
Pray for my kitty...
Tygir had to go in for surgery this morning.
She evidently got in a fight with another kitty, and that evil Devil-spawn bit her on the neck and infected her with some sort of nastiness. And even though I am usually a very vigilant mommy, the sleep deprivation made me miss the fact that her bite was getting infected.
Because here's the thing: Tygir doesn't go to the vet. She hasn't had a vaccine in years, partly because I'm lazy, but mostly because I kept forgetting to take her and by the time I got around to it, it had been so long, and she was still healthy, I figured, what the hell? Cats have been around for thousands of years without shots, what's the point now?
And I'll say it first. I should have kept her indoors. She is declawed, so she can't effectively defend herself, but she's always been an indoor/outdoor cat. She even used to go on hikes with my mom and I, just trotting along beside us on trails all over Marin, without a leash. I wanted her to have her freedom, and she'd never gotten seriously hurt from a fight before, so I figured she would be okay. But she is getting old now, she'll be 13 this year....
So her bite got infected, and formed an abcsess which I didn't notice because she's covered in fur. But then the abcsess ruptured, and I freaked out last night when I saw it because it was a huge hole in her neck, and there was blood and puss dripping out, and evidently she scratched it so much it opened up, so there was also no fur around it.
So I made Pedro take her to the animal ER at midnight.
And they gave her some antibiotics and said she needs surgery asap to remove the infected skin and close up the wound. And they offered to do it for $450.
WTF?
I always make fun of people who spend massive amounts of money on their pets, paying thousands of dollars for clothes, or surgery or whatever. But I can honestly say that last night, I would have shelled out that, plus what it cost for the antibiotics, to save my baby.
Luckily though, the puppies' vet had an appointment available today to do the surgery, and charges a lot less than the other hospital. *phew*
So I have to call tomorrow at 9am to check on her, and hopefully pick her up and bring her home and shower her with love.
And she's now, officially, and indoor cat.
She evidently got in a fight with another kitty, and that evil Devil-spawn bit her on the neck and infected her with some sort of nastiness. And even though I am usually a very vigilant mommy, the sleep deprivation made me miss the fact that her bite was getting infected.
Because here's the thing: Tygir doesn't go to the vet. She hasn't had a vaccine in years, partly because I'm lazy, but mostly because I kept forgetting to take her and by the time I got around to it, it had been so long, and she was still healthy, I figured, what the hell? Cats have been around for thousands of years without shots, what's the point now?
And I'll say it first. I should have kept her indoors. She is declawed, so she can't effectively defend herself, but she's always been an indoor/outdoor cat. She even used to go on hikes with my mom and I, just trotting along beside us on trails all over Marin, without a leash. I wanted her to have her freedom, and she'd never gotten seriously hurt from a fight before, so I figured she would be okay. But she is getting old now, she'll be 13 this year....
So her bite got infected, and formed an abcsess which I didn't notice because she's covered in fur. But then the abcsess ruptured, and I freaked out last night when I saw it because it was a huge hole in her neck, and there was blood and puss dripping out, and evidently she scratched it so much it opened up, so there was also no fur around it.
So I made Pedro take her to the animal ER at midnight.
And they gave her some antibiotics and said she needs surgery asap to remove the infected skin and close up the wound. And they offered to do it for $450.
WTF?
I always make fun of people who spend massive amounts of money on their pets, paying thousands of dollars for clothes, or surgery or whatever. But I can honestly say that last night, I would have shelled out that, plus what it cost for the antibiotics, to save my baby.
Luckily though, the puppies' vet had an appointment available today to do the surgery, and charges a lot less than the other hospital. *phew*
So I have to call tomorrow at 9am to check on her, and hopefully pick her up and bring her home and shower her with love.
And she's now, officially, and indoor cat.
July 16, 2006
Ummmmm, yeah.
If you come to my house to "help out" by watching the baby, please ask me first:
1. When is the last time you took a shower?
2. Have you had a BM in the last 24 hours?
3. Do you need to run any quick errands?
4. Can I make you somthing to eat?
5. Do the dogs need to go outside?
Because really, the only reason I'd need help watching the baby is to do things that I can't do with her. Like shower.
I'm not going to do dishes or scrub the floor while you sit there having fun with the baby. It's just not going to happen.
And I don't think I could sleep either, but thanks for the offer.
See you soon!
1. When is the last time you took a shower?
2. Have you had a BM in the last 24 hours?
3. Do you need to run any quick errands?
4. Can I make you somthing to eat?
5. Do the dogs need to go outside?
Because really, the only reason I'd need help watching the baby is to do things that I can't do with her. Like shower.
I'm not going to do dishes or scrub the floor while you sit there having fun with the baby. It's just not going to happen.
And I don't think I could sleep either, but thanks for the offer.
See you soon!
July 15, 2006
Baby Gates
I'm having issues (big surprise) about how I am going to install baby gates in my house. The problem really is the dogs. They are too dinky to jump over the gates, and I know that if I put them up and they aren't able to run around the house like they are used to, they are going to make my life a living hell.
The biggest problem is that their potty-spot is upstairs in the guest bathroom (sorry guys), so the gates on the stairs are going to seriously interfere with them going to the bathroom. And if we leave them upstairs, they will cry and whine until we let them down again.
I did find these baby gates that have a little door in the bottom that the dogs and the cat would fit through, but I can't put it at the top of the stairs because they are pressure mounted. Maybe I can just drill them into the walls anyway? I knew we should have bought a one story house. Crap.
The biggest problem is that their potty-spot is upstairs in the guest bathroom (sorry guys), so the gates on the stairs are going to seriously interfere with them going to the bathroom. And if we leave them upstairs, they will cry and whine until we let them down again.
I did find these baby gates that have a little door in the bottom that the dogs and the cat would fit through, but I can't put it at the top of the stairs because they are pressure mounted. Maybe I can just drill them into the walls anyway? I knew we should have bought a one story house. Crap.
July 14, 2006
Stretch marks are Sexxy
When I was a kid, I was one of those rough and tumble, tomboy types. Instead of sitting inside playing with Barbies or an Easy Bake Oven, I was usually outside playing tackle football or capture the flag, or climbing (and falling out of) trees. Don't get me wrong, I had my fair share of Barbies and board games, but I preferred my Legos on a rainy day to dress-up.
So when I was falling out of trees and cutting myself up, I discovered I was a picker. You know the type, I was the kid who smeared Elmer's glue on my arm and let it dry so that I could peel it off, and the one who after getting a sunburn (yep, colored folks burn too) would peel the skin off. Sounds disgusting, but I couldn't help it. I would peel tape off of desks, and paint off of walls, and anything else I could get a grip on. And when it was my own scabs, people always told me I was going to cover myself in scars.
My response?
"Scars give me character"
And I know that the last blog I wrote on stretch marks implied that I only had one. And at the time I wrote it, I did only have one, but since then, specifically the last month I was pregnant and gained 14lbs, (I only gained 34lbs total, but yep, I went from "cute" to "about to explode" in one month) I also gained quite a few stretch marks too.
But here's the thing: I look at these stretch marks the same as I do my scars. They give me character.
For the rest of my life, anyone who sees my body will know that I am a mother. Even after my baby pouch is gone, and I fit in my old clothes again, my body will still have these marks. And I'm damn proud of these marks. They remind me of how amazing the female body is, that it can grow and nourish another person for at least 9 months. And I think anything that gives you confidence, in your own talents or abilities or intelligence or just in your worth as a person, is damn sexy.
So sorry Teresa and Brandon and anyone else that used to see me run around in my bikini or my short-shorts... it's still going to happen. But in the future, you'll be blessed to get to see more of my "character."
So when I was falling out of trees and cutting myself up, I discovered I was a picker. You know the type, I was the kid who smeared Elmer's glue on my arm and let it dry so that I could peel it off, and the one who after getting a sunburn (yep, colored folks burn too) would peel the skin off. Sounds disgusting, but I couldn't help it. I would peel tape off of desks, and paint off of walls, and anything else I could get a grip on. And when it was my own scabs, people always told me I was going to cover myself in scars.
My response?
"Scars give me character"
And I know that the last blog I wrote on stretch marks implied that I only had one. And at the time I wrote it, I did only have one, but since then, specifically the last month I was pregnant and gained 14lbs, (I only gained 34lbs total, but yep, I went from "cute" to "about to explode" in one month) I also gained quite a few stretch marks too.
But here's the thing: I look at these stretch marks the same as I do my scars. They give me character.
For the rest of my life, anyone who sees my body will know that I am a mother. Even after my baby pouch is gone, and I fit in my old clothes again, my body will still have these marks. And I'm damn proud of these marks. They remind me of how amazing the female body is, that it can grow and nourish another person for at least 9 months. And I think anything that gives you confidence, in your own talents or abilities or intelligence or just in your worth as a person, is damn sexy.
So sorry Teresa and Brandon and anyone else that used to see me run around in my bikini or my short-shorts... it's still going to happen. But in the future, you'll be blessed to get to see more of my "character."
July 12, 2006
Presenting .... Taryn Isabella Caballero
Just a few pictures of the first couple weeks of Taryn's life. For those who don't know her birth stats, here ya go: Born June 20, 2006 at 6:41pm. She was 7lbs, 7ozs, 19.5 inches. If you want to knwo more about the labor/delivery, just ask. (I don't want too many details on here!)
Taryn sleeping in her Nonna's arms
Taryn and her Popo
Sleeping
With her Papi
Actually awake!
Naptime with Mommy
Your wish is my command
Taryn sleeping in her Nonna's arms
Taryn and her Popo
Sleeping
With her Papi
Actually awake!
Naptime with Mommy
Your wish is my command
So alike, yet so incredibly different
Yesterday, going with Nonna to look at a changing table, we were ranting about how much we are annoyed by people that change lanes at the last minute to take an exit off the freeway, or who don't plan ahead in life in general, and how we are always the super-conscience people who are trying to make things easier for others, and I suddenly realized (though I knew this on some level, but maybe just didn't really see it) that my mother and I are so alike in many of our thoughts, beliefs and values, but personality-wise we are very, very different.
I guess it struck me yesterday, because I was thinking about my own daughter, and imagining how we would get along when she is older, being that both of us are Geminis. And I started thinking about the conflicts that my mother and I had, and still have, and I started to realize that we don't normally disagree on the heart of an issue, but we approach it in such radically different ways that we necessarily clash. She is more of an emotional, in-your-face type of person, while I am much more reserved and logical (usually).
I think that the reason that we are able to always work out our differences is that in the end we both are trying to resolve the issue with as little hurt as possible, and at the same time we try to figure out solutions so that the same issue does not present itself again. While some people battle about the same problem over and over again, I feel like we are always able to find new things to fight about. :)
I guess it struck me yesterday, because I was thinking about my own daughter, and imagining how we would get along when she is older, being that both of us are Geminis. And I started thinking about the conflicts that my mother and I had, and still have, and I started to realize that we don't normally disagree on the heart of an issue, but we approach it in such radically different ways that we necessarily clash. She is more of an emotional, in-your-face type of person, while I am much more reserved and logical (usually).
I think that the reason that we are able to always work out our differences is that in the end we both are trying to resolve the issue with as little hurt as possible, and at the same time we try to figure out solutions so that the same issue does not present itself again. While some people battle about the same problem over and over again, I feel like we are always able to find new things to fight about. :)
July 11, 2006
Mmmmmmmm....Formula!
I see I haven't posted anything on here for almost an entire year. I think it got rough when I got the new job and (in the beginning) didn't have time or space at work to post anything, but now that I'm on maternity leave for the next few months, I figure I can use this to post my blogs, especially since myspace really isn't working for me right now.
That being said, I made mashed potatoes with dinner last night. Everything was going fine until I remembered that I had used that last of my milk for coffee that morning. Oops. Good thing I had a can of formula in the cabinet, works great when there's no real milk available. And I tried it straight, tastes like sweet skim milk.
That being said, I made mashed potatoes with dinner last night. Everything was going fine until I remembered that I had used that last of my milk for coffee that morning. Oops. Good thing I had a can of formula in the cabinet, works great when there's no real milk available. And I tried it straight, tastes like sweet skim milk.
September 5, 2005
Doesn't He See It?
Why does he say things to hurt me, say things that break my heart whenever he doesn't agree with my opinion, my anger, my feelings ... and then apologize??
Does he not realize that every time that happens, I'm getting that much closer to hating him?
Does he not realize that love means you don't aim for the heart? That honestly sharing your feelings is far more productive than winning the arguement?
Maybe he doesn't know how to be intimate, his parents were not the best role models. But he knows he's acting out about something, he knows why his parents split up. Does he not realize that he is doing what they did all over again? That he's finding an excuse to be angry at me, to push me away so that if we don't work out, it will be his choice, not mine?
Does he not realize that even if I still love him, I'll leave to protect myself? Like his own mother did to his father.
Does he not see it all as it unfolds?
Does he not realize that every time that happens, I'm getting that much closer to hating him?
Does he not realize that love means you don't aim for the heart? That honestly sharing your feelings is far more productive than winning the arguement?
Maybe he doesn't know how to be intimate, his parents were not the best role models. But he knows he's acting out about something, he knows why his parents split up. Does he not realize that he is doing what they did all over again? That he's finding an excuse to be angry at me, to push me away so that if we don't work out, it will be his choice, not mine?
Does he not realize that even if I still love him, I'll leave to protect myself? Like his own mother did to his father.
Does he not see it all as it unfolds?
August 29, 2005
Slightly Confused
I can't seem to figure out what these people are thinking/feeling/reacting to. I feel like I have so much history with people that when I meet them again it's hard to figure out how they feel about seeing me again, and then at the same time they deny anything when I actually ask. I know there's got to be more to it, or else why are things so different with others?
Then there's the people I want to know, people I am seriously attracted to (as friends!) but I can't read them. I can't tell if it's all genuine or if it's politeness, and I'm sick or always thinking so much about all of it and not being able to sort things out. DAMN!
See, I'm a Gemini, and I can see and understand other people's opinions. And I'm forever second-guessing myself because I change my mind and my opinions by the second when something happpens and it's all just so much work and I don't want to mess it all up, but I can't not react..... And then there's the fact that I am forever changing my own mind about things, that I'm forever rearranging my prejudices, and rationalizing the thoughts that I have with what I should be doing, but am not.
In the end, it's not that I feel like I did something wrong, I just feel misunderstood because I'm not constant and I'm dying for consistency in others and I don't think they people I want to be around can handle that, but the people that can I don't want to spend time with. Any maybe it really comes down to just being the chase. And when I feel like I've got what I was looking for I lose interest. And if that's what it is, I'm sure people are feeling rejected or ignored or disrespected or conned or flat out pissed that I'm f-ing with their emotions .... if those are genuine too.
And God, are my own emotions anything more than whims? When I'm bored with what I have do I search for more? Do I crave attention and action and excitement so much that I'm willing ot hurt the people I love in order to be temporarily happy? Do I crave something different so much that I'd even hurt myself?
And how much will I regret these choices when I'm sick of change and wanting to go back to how things used to be?????
Then there's the people I want to know, people I am seriously attracted to (as friends!) but I can't read them. I can't tell if it's all genuine or if it's politeness, and I'm sick or always thinking so much about all of it and not being able to sort things out. DAMN!
See, I'm a Gemini, and I can see and understand other people's opinions. And I'm forever second-guessing myself because I change my mind and my opinions by the second when something happpens and it's all just so much work and I don't want to mess it all up, but I can't not react..... And then there's the fact that I am forever changing my own mind about things, that I'm forever rearranging my prejudices, and rationalizing the thoughts that I have with what I should be doing, but am not.
In the end, it's not that I feel like I did something wrong, I just feel misunderstood because I'm not constant and I'm dying for consistency in others and I don't think they people I want to be around can handle that, but the people that can I don't want to spend time with. Any maybe it really comes down to just being the chase. And when I feel like I've got what I was looking for I lose interest. And if that's what it is, I'm sure people are feeling rejected or ignored or disrespected or conned or flat out pissed that I'm f-ing with their emotions .... if those are genuine too.
And God, are my own emotions anything more than whims? When I'm bored with what I have do I search for more? Do I crave attention and action and excitement so much that I'm willing ot hurt the people I love in order to be temporarily happy? Do I crave something different so much that I'd even hurt myself?
And how much will I regret these choices when I'm sick of change and wanting to go back to how things used to be?????
August 28, 2005
Hungover
Party Friday night was awesome. I invited some of my new friends from work to meet my old friends from before. People got along very well, some a little too well for my liking. We sent Gabe off, back to Iraq, but at least he had some fun before he's stuck in the desert again.
I got in another fricking arguement with A. He irritates me beyond all belief with his back-ass-wards ideas that women don't know squat and therefore should not speak. What a retard. He really things he's so intelligent, but can't have a conversation with anyone becasue he's always trying to be right. Every time I tried to say anything he's like: "Can you let me finish?"
HELL NO.
Trying to explain to anyone drunk that a conversation is two people talking to each other, not one person talking AT someone else is pretty much pointless, so I just walked away.
We all thought Miss L was passed out on the couch (sorry for dropping you, I had a bit too much to drink also) but I found out later that she heard the whole exchange between G and C while they were "getting to know each other" on my couch. So not impressed. I'm going to have to have a talk with her about screwing random people, not to tell her I think she's dirty, but more I don't want that mess spread around my house.
I think Sue-Bob and her hubby were a little turned off by the whole scene, since they are responsible parents and non-drinkers to boot, but hey, I'm glad they came and got to see how we do it.
My hand hurts and I need to finish cleaning. Hubby's back is all messed up from falling, but hopefully we'll have some pics posted soon...
I got in another fricking arguement with A. He irritates me beyond all belief with his back-ass-wards ideas that women don't know squat and therefore should not speak. What a retard. He really things he's so intelligent, but can't have a conversation with anyone becasue he's always trying to be right. Every time I tried to say anything he's like: "Can you let me finish?"
HELL NO.
Trying to explain to anyone drunk that a conversation is two people talking to each other, not one person talking AT someone else is pretty much pointless, so I just walked away.
We all thought Miss L was passed out on the couch (sorry for dropping you, I had a bit too much to drink also) but I found out later that she heard the whole exchange between G and C while they were "getting to know each other" on my couch. So not impressed. I'm going to have to have a talk with her about screwing random people, not to tell her I think she's dirty, but more I don't want that mess spread around my house.
I think Sue-Bob and her hubby were a little turned off by the whole scene, since they are responsible parents and non-drinkers to boot, but hey, I'm glad they came and got to see how we do it.
My hand hurts and I need to finish cleaning. Hubby's back is all messed up from falling, but hopefully we'll have some pics posted soon...
August 25, 2005
Swimming with Sharks
I had a dream last night that I got my first comment on this blog. The post was a video of me skydiving, and the comment was something along the lines of "Next time you try to shoot a moving post, focus on one thing because it makes me sick looking at that stream."
The cool thing in the dream was that after I read the comment and watched the video again, I was actually skydiving! More like flying really, because once I got to the groudd I looked forward a bit and started moving in that direction. I was soaring over the water, like that California Disney ride, and I wanted to dive in to the ocean soooooo bad, but everywhere I looked there were sharks. And I could see people surfing and swimming with all these sharks and they weren't getting eaten, but for some reason I could not possibly bring myself to dive into water full of sharks. I watched their fins slicing through teh water and kept thinking that maybe if I got far enough away they wouldn't be able to find me, but the further I flew, the more fins dotted the water below me.
Trippy. Wasn't until writing this post that I'm getting what the dream meant. Must be about the new job. Maybe the new leaf I keep promising to turn over and have been too scared to do so far...
The cool thing in the dream was that after I read the comment and watched the video again, I was actually skydiving! More like flying really, because once I got to the groudd I looked forward a bit and started moving in that direction. I was soaring over the water, like that California Disney ride, and I wanted to dive in to the ocean soooooo bad, but everywhere I looked there were sharks. And I could see people surfing and swimming with all these sharks and they weren't getting eaten, but for some reason I could not possibly bring myself to dive into water full of sharks. I watched their fins slicing through teh water and kept thinking that maybe if I got far enough away they wouldn't be able to find me, but the further I flew, the more fins dotted the water below me.
Trippy. Wasn't until writing this post that I'm getting what the dream meant. Must be about the new job. Maybe the new leaf I keep promising to turn over and have been too scared to do so far...
August 20, 2005
August 19, 2005
Rosco is Just the Cutest
Looking down the hall I can see him, snuggled up with his lamb-wool squeaky toy (which has lately been the object of his most animalistic desires.....must get him snipped) just watching me....not moving.
And I know that the second I shift my leg or look out the window, or make the slightest vocalization, he will come streaking down the hall (holding his toy no less, and therefore slightly hobbling in a gimpish sort of way, and on a diagonal path) and catapult himself onto my lap.
He may hit the keyboard tray, or the file cabinet on his way, but he may not.
He may be running so fast that he slides off my lap and drags down the wall, but he may not.
Chances are he'll jump two, maybe three times with the toy in his mouth, then sit on the floor next to my chair looking confused. It is worth it to sacrafice the toy to get some snuggles from mom? And as I watch his little brain tick, he in turn cocks his head to the side as if thinking from another angle.
And in a split second, he's made up his mind. he jumps on my lap, plants his two front paws on my chest and commences to clean any last remnant of dinner off my face. Maybe chews my hair a little bit, then lays down, rolls on his back, and blinks his googly little brown eyes at me waiting for some scratches.
He knows exactly how to make me forget he just crapped on my favorite red sandals from Brazil.....
And I know that the second I shift my leg or look out the window, or make the slightest vocalization, he will come streaking down the hall (holding his toy no less, and therefore slightly hobbling in a gimpish sort of way, and on a diagonal path) and catapult himself onto my lap.
He may hit the keyboard tray, or the file cabinet on his way, but he may not.
He may be running so fast that he slides off my lap and drags down the wall, but he may not.
Chances are he'll jump two, maybe three times with the toy in his mouth, then sit on the floor next to my chair looking confused. It is worth it to sacrafice the toy to get some snuggles from mom? And as I watch his little brain tick, he in turn cocks his head to the side as if thinking from another angle.
And in a split second, he's made up his mind. he jumps on my lap, plants his two front paws on my chest and commences to clean any last remnant of dinner off my face. Maybe chews my hair a little bit, then lays down, rolls on his back, and blinks his googly little brown eyes at me waiting for some scratches.
He knows exactly how to make me forget he just crapped on my favorite red sandals from Brazil.....
August 17, 2005
My Rant for the Day
My father and his wife just moved to Roseville, and all he did was sent me an email to let me know the new address.
WTF kind of father does that? Maybe I should just give up on trying to maintain a relationship with him, he's hopeless. After 22 years he can't figure out how to be a decent father to me, though I'm thankful that he is better with my sisters.
Ok. I can't get worked up over this. Let go and let God.
WTF kind of father does that? Maybe I should just give up on trying to maintain a relationship with him, he's hopeless. After 22 years he can't figure out how to be a decent father to me, though I'm thankful that he is better with my sisters.
Ok. I can't get worked up over this. Let go and let God.
August 14, 2005
Blackberry Picking
So Punkin decided today that he wants a blackberry pie, made fresh by ... your's truly.
I tried to convince him that wasn't possible, considering I needed to wash my hair tonight, but he insisted and refused to eat another thing until I made it. Not that he's a skinny guy, by any stretch of the imagination, but I worry that he's going to have food issues one day, since I can't cook to save my life. He is Latino after all.
I did go berry picking today, with the assistance of my lovely mom who is the most gung-ho, die-hard berry picker I've met. We stocked up her car with plastic chairs (to reach the high-up ones), a cardboard box (to lay across the thorns so you can lean into the bushes to reach the ones further in) and not 1, not 2, but THREE plastic bags to carry them in.
But then I got hungry, so after about 1 hour of picking we ditched the thorns and went to In-N-Out.
And Punkin always eats burgers, so I'm off the hook until tomorrow.
I tried to convince him that wasn't possible, considering I needed to wash my hair tonight, but he insisted and refused to eat another thing until I made it. Not that he's a skinny guy, by any stretch of the imagination, but I worry that he's going to have food issues one day, since I can't cook to save my life. He is Latino after all.
I did go berry picking today, with the assistance of my lovely mom who is the most gung-ho, die-hard berry picker I've met. We stocked up her car with plastic chairs (to reach the high-up ones), a cardboard box (to lay across the thorns so you can lean into the bushes to reach the ones further in) and not 1, not 2, but THREE plastic bags to carry them in.
But then I got hungry, so after about 1 hour of picking we ditched the thorns and went to In-N-Out.
And Punkin always eats burgers, so I'm off the hook until tomorrow.
August 13, 2005
BTW, I decided on a new car
Beautiful, ain't she? I figure that now that *we* decided to wait on the babies, I can treat myself to a fabulous ride...next year. After I payy off the Christmas debt again...
Budgeting Sucks
I found a really awesome bedroom set that I want to buy at a huge discount, but Punkin said no. Evidently he thinks I should pay off my current credit cards before I start charging again. I always thought I was the rational, logical, money-wise person in this marriage, but I guess when it comes to furniture I become just a tad irrational. But it's 50% off, and made of solid wood, and the bed is low enough that the puppies can jump up and down without shredding the sheets with their nails holding on for dear life and trying to crawl up two mattresses and a bed frame.
*sigh*
It really is beautiful. So I'm trying to pay off my debt (now less than $4k (not including school loans, or course)) before Christmas so I can buy the set before I spend another $4k on Christmas presents this year. It's a vicious cycle, yes it is.
I've come up with a budget that works, thanks to this awesome new job, and I'll be debt-free by December 1st! Yay for me! That extra $600 per month sure does a body good, and my house will FINALLY have painted walls, furniture not bought off craigslist.org, and I can fix the kickers that the puppies chewed to hell last month. Oh, and fix the hole in the wall in the laundry room where they tried to dig a tunnel to freedom. Little fuckers. This house is only 1 year old, and I'm having to replace, patch, repaint and wallpaper already.
Having kids will probably be hell too...
*sigh*
It really is beautiful. So I'm trying to pay off my debt (now less than $4k (not including school loans, or course)) before Christmas so I can buy the set before I spend another $4k on Christmas presents this year. It's a vicious cycle, yes it is.
I've come up with a budget that works, thanks to this awesome new job, and I'll be debt-free by December 1st! Yay for me! That extra $600 per month sure does a body good, and my house will FINALLY have painted walls, furniture not bought off craigslist.org, and I can fix the kickers that the puppies chewed to hell last month. Oh, and fix the hole in the wall in the laundry room where they tried to dig a tunnel to freedom. Little fuckers. This house is only 1 year old, and I'm having to replace, patch, repaint and wallpaper already.
Having kids will probably be hell too...
August 10, 2005
This is not going well....
Big aspirations for having a blog, but I'm too damn lazy to write. Aside from the fact I'm too damn boring to have any stories (maybe just unimaginative) and even if I had a good story, I'm too damn shy to post it, which would then assume that someone actually reads this, which they do not.
I have found, however, after perusing various other blogs, some quite famous, others more popular with local crowds, that in order to be even slightly amusing, one must be either:
1) completely and utterly neurotic
2) severely depressed or
3) an alcoholic.
Then of course, I wonder, why in the hell is my blog so sucky when I have at least 2 out of three of those? Maybe the wrong combination? A depressed alcoholic is hardly amusing, but then again neither is a depressed neurotic....
So, I can't post about my job (read dooce.com).
I'll have some ideas soon.
I have found, however, after perusing various other blogs, some quite famous, others more popular with local crowds, that in order to be even slightly amusing, one must be either:
1) completely and utterly neurotic
2) severely depressed or
3) an alcoholic.
Then of course, I wonder, why in the hell is my blog so sucky when I have at least 2 out of three of those? Maybe the wrong combination? A depressed alcoholic is hardly amusing, but then again neither is a depressed neurotic....
So, I can't post about my job (read dooce.com).
I'll have some ideas soon.
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