Were on our way to Pikeville now, about a 2 hour drive from Lexington. Its a much smaller town but when I think of Ky, this is where I imagine. I dont think I'd ever live here, a bit backwards for my taste, but I do love visiting and having so much family so close by.
Ok, Im feeling a bit sick now. Guess Ill try to write more when were not driving.
November 24, 2006
November 23, 2006
November 22, 2006
Second Annual "Thank Your First Commenter" Day
So, Citizen of the Month (www.citizenofthemonth.com) has started this whole "Thank Your First Commenter" Day. In honor of this day, I want to thank Teresa, aka TeaPot aka Humpty Dumpty, for her first comment on a post I wrote about a party I had at my house.
Okay, well, technically, she wasn't the first commenter. The first was some spammer guy who said something like "Cool Blog, check out mine at www.........blahblah." But I deleted it. Actually, I had two of those that I deleted, but, whatever.
And now that I look back at the comment, I seem to remember that she posted it waaaay after I wrote it, b/c I was pretty pregnant by then, had maybe even had the baby, and I wrote the blog a couple weeks after I got knocked up. Ooops.
So maybe that wasn't my first. But she still posted the next one after that on ... July 11th, 2006. Hot damn, first comments springing up a whole YEAR after I started blogging. Ain't that a damn shame.
So the first real-time comment was:
Are you serious you put formula in the smashed potatoes? Wow I thought you mgiht have put some other kind of milk in them, if you know what I mean. I hope to hear from you soon, since you never pick up the phone. I sound like you when I say that. :) Tell Taryn and P that I said hello.
Tee-hee-hee. I posted about making mashed potatoes with formula b/c I was out of milk. They were actually pretty good!
Happy Thanksgiving all! I'm off to KY to rediscover my roots!
And thank you Tere for being my first commenter!
(And for taking care of the babies while I'm gone.)
Okay, well, technically, she wasn't the first commenter. The first was some spammer guy who said something like "Cool Blog, check out mine at www.........blahblah." But I deleted it. Actually, I had two of those that I deleted, but, whatever.
And now that I look back at the comment, I seem to remember that she posted it waaaay after I wrote it, b/c I was pretty pregnant by then, had maybe even had the baby, and I wrote the blog a couple weeks after I got knocked up. Ooops.
So maybe that wasn't my first. But she still posted the next one after that on ... July 11th, 2006. Hot damn, first comments springing up a whole YEAR after I started blogging. Ain't that a damn shame.
So the first real-time comment was:
Are you serious you put formula in the smashed potatoes? Wow I thought you mgiht have put some other kind of milk in them, if you know what I mean. I hope to hear from you soon, since you never pick up the phone. I sound like you when I say that. :) Tell Taryn and P that I said hello.
Tee-hee-hee. I posted about making mashed potatoes with formula b/c I was out of milk. They were actually pretty good!
Happy Thanksgiving all! I'm off to KY to rediscover my roots!
And thank you Tere for being my first commenter!
(And for taking care of the babies while I'm gone.)
November 21, 2006
Faux Depth
Just because you post about how you have acheived enlightenment, doesn't really mean it's happened. I mean, really? I can't imagine Ghandi posting a new blog every day about how he is so content with life, and he pities those people who haven't found contentment, and "Stay tuned, because tomorrow I'm talking about ... contentment!"
I'm sorry. I'm not in the mood to bash today, but I am so continually irritated by folks who who have to announce to the world that they are such different people now, that they have overcome so much to be who they now are, and they are starting all anew, as of today. Especially when I know for a fact that there are past issues that haven't been resolved. And it seems to me that if they were "so over" those mistakes they made previously, there really wouldn't be a reason to keep talking about them and how they no longer bother you, right?
Or to keep apologizing for those same mistakes, and to keep promising to make them better, to make it up to those you injured, and in the process to completely destroy any semblance of honesty in yourself because you say the opposite of what you mean, and do the opposite of what you believe. So what's up with that?
And aside from perjuring yourself, because we all know the truth; that you are an insecure, dishonest, con who uses sex to obtain a false sense on intimacy that ultimately drives to you to destroy your own life, the life of your child, the little honor you have left, the small speck of goodness left in you, and after all that is said and done, it corrupts your art.
Ooops, that got a bit personal, didn't it?
Your "art." The one thing that was true and pure and healing that you had, you violated and turned into a public procolmation of lies. And maybe the people that you are around now think it's "so real," and they are probably the same ones who encouraged you to become the withered shell of a person that you now are, Sodom's pillar of lies and saltiness. Is this really who you thought you'd be when we were kids? Is this really the situation you'd dreamed of being in when we would sit around and imagine our futures? When we were both young, and not-so-innocent, but so full of hope and potential...
But I always knew you would be exactly what someone wanted. You don't have a soul anymore. You don't have a core-being. You manipulate yourself into a figment of HIS imagination. You are not a person, you're an image. You are whatever everyone else wants you to be, without respect or regard for the beauty and intelligent and raw talent that you've locked up in a tiny impenetrable box in your heart.
And the worst part is, everyone who knows what you could be, you push away. You've done this to yourself. You revel in agony, and maybe emotionally whoring yourself out is the only way you feel loved.
And for that, I'm sorry. I wish I could have done more before it was too late.
But now. Now all you do is vomit meaningless sentiments onto paper, declaring how you've changed and that all is good and right in your life. But I see through your faux depth to the resounding emptiness in your soul.
You can lie to yourself, you can lie to the people in your life, but I know you too well. And I do have hope that one day you'll recognize in yourself what I've always seen in you. And maybe when you do you'll be able to find true happiness.
And then you'll be able to write the truth.
I'm sorry. I'm not in the mood to bash today, but I am so continually irritated by folks who who have to announce to the world that they are such different people now, that they have overcome so much to be who they now are, and they are starting all anew, as of today. Especially when I know for a fact that there are past issues that haven't been resolved. And it seems to me that if they were "so over" those mistakes they made previously, there really wouldn't be a reason to keep talking about them and how they no longer bother you, right?
Or to keep apologizing for those same mistakes, and to keep promising to make them better, to make it up to those you injured, and in the process to completely destroy any semblance of honesty in yourself because you say the opposite of what you mean, and do the opposite of what you believe. So what's up with that?
And aside from perjuring yourself, because we all know the truth; that you are an insecure, dishonest, con who uses sex to obtain a false sense on intimacy that ultimately drives to you to destroy your own life, the life of your child, the little honor you have left, the small speck of goodness left in you, and after all that is said and done, it corrupts your art.
Ooops, that got a bit personal, didn't it?
Your "art." The one thing that was true and pure and healing that you had, you violated and turned into a public procolmation of lies. And maybe the people that you are around now think it's "so real," and they are probably the same ones who encouraged you to become the withered shell of a person that you now are, Sodom's pillar of lies and saltiness. Is this really who you thought you'd be when we were kids? Is this really the situation you'd dreamed of being in when we would sit around and imagine our futures? When we were both young, and not-so-innocent, but so full of hope and potential...
But I always knew you would be exactly what someone wanted. You don't have a soul anymore. You don't have a core-being. You manipulate yourself into a figment of HIS imagination. You are not a person, you're an image. You are whatever everyone else wants you to be, without respect or regard for the beauty and intelligent and raw talent that you've locked up in a tiny impenetrable box in your heart.
And the worst part is, everyone who knows what you could be, you push away. You've done this to yourself. You revel in agony, and maybe emotionally whoring yourself out is the only way you feel loved.
And for that, I'm sorry. I wish I could have done more before it was too late.
But now. Now all you do is vomit meaningless sentiments onto paper, declaring how you've changed and that all is good and right in your life. But I see through your faux depth to the resounding emptiness in your soul.
You can lie to yourself, you can lie to the people in your life, but I know you too well. And I do have hope that one day you'll recognize in yourself what I've always seen in you. And maybe when you do you'll be able to find true happiness.
And then you'll be able to write the truth.
Just a Little Somethin'
More Taryn
"Aaaaaah, I can hella fit that whole toy in my mouth"
So what if my eyes cross, eh?
"Ain't I just the cutest little Mongolian baby you've ever seen?"
Me and my baby.
Bathtime is getting much more interesting as she gets stronger.
Good Night!
"Aaaaaah, I can hella fit that whole toy in my mouth"
So what if my eyes cross, eh?
"Ain't I just the cutest little Mongolian baby you've ever seen?"
Me and my baby.
Bathtime is getting much more interesting as she gets stronger.
Good Night!
November 20, 2006
Flying
I've never really been afraid of flying, of something going wrong and crashing. Even after 9/11, when I was living in ATL and flying back and forth every month or so, I wasn't scared anythign would happen.
Now, for some reason, I'm feeling some serious anxiety about going with Taryn. Like if something happens and I can't protect her...
But the chances of dying in a plane crash are close to the chances of getting struck by lightening.
I guess I shouldn't worry so much.
Now, for some reason, I'm feeling some serious anxiety about going with Taryn. Like if something happens and I can't protect her...
But the chances of dying in a plane crash are close to the chances of getting struck by lightening.
I guess I shouldn't worry so much.
Month Five
Cheeks!!
As I sit down to write this tonight, I can hear yuou in your crib babbling away to your little stuffed duckie, and the mobile with teh birds and apples on it. Although I love how you can amuse yourself now, so that I can actually get work done during the day, I am having a hell of a time getting you to sleep! I mean, of course you'll be knocked out when I hold you, you'd sleep though a nuclear war as long as you're in my arms, but the minute I put you down in your crib, you are wide awake adn chipper, and ready to play!
You've also mastered rolling over in the past couple weeks, back to front, and front to back, so the old trick of puttin gyou down on your side doesn't really work anymore. I lay you down to sleep, and when you wake up to eat, your body is in a completely different part of the crib. You've also started creeping towards windows, you've got a fascination with being out and about, and I love that I can take you anywhere now without worrying about melt-downs. Which is very good, considering you'll be on your first airplane in a couple days to see your Nonny's family in Kentucky for Thanksgiving.
I just got up to get you. What an interesting feeling that I'm holding you while I type a letter to you at the same time. You smell so sweet, like lavender and milk. Your little head is resting against my chestand you're here swatting at my hands and grunting at Rosco who is sitting a few feet away. You look so cute when you yawn, your eyes scrunched up tight and your little mouth as wide open as it will go. And the wrinkles on your neck like a little old lady are too adorable for works. I especially love when you look up, stretching your neck to see something above or behind you, and with your gums clenched your cheeks pop out and you look like Popeye. Aside from all the drool, of course.
One of my favorite things to do it watch you explore a new toy. The look of rapture on your face reminds me of the simple pleasures in life, and the innate joy in learning. Darling, I wish that you would retain that, that you would treasure life's mysteries and unravel those things that command your attention. When you put your mind to it, even at this young age you are able to accomplish so much!
I love you so much more than I ever thought possible. My sweet Angel.
Love, Mommy
As I sit down to write this tonight, I can hear yuou in your crib babbling away to your little stuffed duckie, and the mobile with teh birds and apples on it. Although I love how you can amuse yourself now, so that I can actually get work done during the day, I am having a hell of a time getting you to sleep! I mean, of course you'll be knocked out when I hold you, you'd sleep though a nuclear war as long as you're in my arms, but the minute I put you down in your crib, you are wide awake adn chipper, and ready to play!
You've also mastered rolling over in the past couple weeks, back to front, and front to back, so the old trick of puttin gyou down on your side doesn't really work anymore. I lay you down to sleep, and when you wake up to eat, your body is in a completely different part of the crib. You've also started creeping towards windows, you've got a fascination with being out and about, and I love that I can take you anywhere now without worrying about melt-downs. Which is very good, considering you'll be on your first airplane in a couple days to see your Nonny's family in Kentucky for Thanksgiving.
I just got up to get you. What an interesting feeling that I'm holding you while I type a letter to you at the same time. You smell so sweet, like lavender and milk. Your little head is resting against my chestand you're here swatting at my hands and grunting at Rosco who is sitting a few feet away. You look so cute when you yawn, your eyes scrunched up tight and your little mouth as wide open as it will go. And the wrinkles on your neck like a little old lady are too adorable for works. I especially love when you look up, stretching your neck to see something above or behind you, and with your gums clenched your cheeks pop out and you look like Popeye. Aside from all the drool, of course.
One of my favorite things to do it watch you explore a new toy. The look of rapture on your face reminds me of the simple pleasures in life, and the innate joy in learning. Darling, I wish that you would retain that, that you would treasure life's mysteries and unravel those things that command your attention. When you put your mind to it, even at this young age you are able to accomplish so much!
I love you so much more than I ever thought possible. My sweet Angel.
Love, Mommy
November 19, 2006
Well, it's After Midnight
And I'm awake, so I may as well post something.
All I can think though, is I'm an asshole.
I never really thought my mom read this blog, and now I have
proof she does (she mentioned the carseat issue in an email...shit).
And I feel like a complete jerk for saying anything remotely neagtive about such an incredible woman, even if I thought it was true in the moment.
What an asshole I am.
All I can think though, is I'm an asshole.
I never really thought my mom read this blog, and now I have
proof she does (she mentioned the carseat issue in an email...shit).
And I feel like a complete jerk for saying anything remotely neagtive about such an incredible woman, even if I thought it was true in the moment.
What an asshole I am.
November 18, 2006
www.taryn.com
Can you believe that's a real website? Dedicated entirely to people named Taryn!
Okay, to be honest, Taryn wasn't my first choice in baby names. I had my heart set on Isabella, but my cousin named her second daughter that, and I didn't want my baby to grow up being "the other Isabella." It just seemed so perfect that P's mom's name is Isabel...
But one day, about a year before I got pregnant, I was thinking how to name my child after family members. I was considering "Paris" for a boy, after my dad, and something-lynn after my mom. And when I made up Terrynn I felt like a supergenius! It sounded so pretty, and unique, and had the emotional connection to her lineage that I was looking for.
Then a girl in one of my psych classes was talking about her sister with the same name, but spelled Tarynn, and I kind of figured that it would be pkay to deviate from the spelling of my mom's name for the kid's sake. So it was Tarynn for a while, because that just looked prettier.
And you know when you're in middle school and you have a crush on someone and you write their name over and over in different handwritings? Or when you open your first checking account and realize your signature looks like a second graders, and you practice signing your own name until it has that unique, yet still pretty, and grown-up look to it? Well yeah, I started doing that to Taryn's name, and I realized my cursive looks like chicken scratch with two n's in a row.
So I ditched one and decided on Taryn Isabella. And I knew that would be my daughter's name, though I was counting on having a boy first so I didn't think much of it until the ultrasound rolled around and the tech said "See those three dots? That's a typical girl for you."
So I had already decided on her name, but P didn't really like it too much, and he said it kind of weird, more like TAR-reign, and I figured it was the accent, so I told him how I wanted it to sound and had him practice and it just wasn't working out.... We shopped around for names more, but I just loved the name Taryn, and though I tried out different names, none compared to hers. But we didn't officially "name" her until the day after she was born.
That's not exactly true. When my babyshower was coming up, and we still hadn't agreed on a name, so I decided to tell everyone the name I picked out. I figured seeing it in writing would make it more real, and hopefully P would agree. We compromised that he could pick the boys' names if I could have this one, and though he said he'd think about it, he never really consented.
So after she was born, they took her from me to NICU, and the subject of her name didn't really come up. P left to get some food, since I hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours, and my brother was in the NICU watching her. I didn't get ahold of my dad right away, and my mom didn't ask, even though she was with me, and of course when we finally got her back from the nurse it was late, and I just had time to nurse her before visiting hours were over and everyone had to leave. P passed out on the chair/bed like he was the one that he'd been in labor for the last 12 hours so it was just me and my baby. I called her Love, Duckie, SweetPea, but never any given name.
So when the nurse came the next day with the birth certificate forms, P and I had a quick discussion.
"So her name's Taryn, right?"
"Sure."
"T-A-R-Y-N?"
"I don't know. Whatever you want."
"Okay, Taryn Isabella sounds nice. What do you think?"
"Sure."
"One L or two?"
"I like Bella (bey-a), it means beautiful, you know? So two."
"Beautiful. Taryn Isabella Caballero."
And that was that.
Okay, to be honest, Taryn wasn't my first choice in baby names. I had my heart set on Isabella, but my cousin named her second daughter that, and I didn't want my baby to grow up being "the other Isabella." It just seemed so perfect that P's mom's name is Isabel...
But one day, about a year before I got pregnant, I was thinking how to name my child after family members. I was considering "Paris" for a boy, after my dad, and something-lynn after my mom. And when I made up Terrynn I felt like a supergenius! It sounded so pretty, and unique, and had the emotional connection to her lineage that I was looking for.
Then a girl in one of my psych classes was talking about her sister with the same name, but spelled Tarynn, and I kind of figured that it would be pkay to deviate from the spelling of my mom's name for the kid's sake. So it was Tarynn for a while, because that just looked prettier.
And you know when you're in middle school and you have a crush on someone and you write their name over and over in different handwritings? Or when you open your first checking account and realize your signature looks like a second graders, and you practice signing your own name until it has that unique, yet still pretty, and grown-up look to it? Well yeah, I started doing that to Taryn's name, and I realized my cursive looks like chicken scratch with two n's in a row.
So I ditched one and decided on Taryn Isabella. And I knew that would be my daughter's name, though I was counting on having a boy first so I didn't think much of it until the ultrasound rolled around and the tech said "See those three dots? That's a typical girl for you."
So I had already decided on her name, but P didn't really like it too much, and he said it kind of weird, more like TAR-reign, and I figured it was the accent, so I told him how I wanted it to sound and had him practice and it just wasn't working out.... We shopped around for names more, but I just loved the name Taryn, and though I tried out different names, none compared to hers. But we didn't officially "name" her until the day after she was born.
That's not exactly true. When my babyshower was coming up, and we still hadn't agreed on a name, so I decided to tell everyone the name I picked out. I figured seeing it in writing would make it more real, and hopefully P would agree. We compromised that he could pick the boys' names if I could have this one, and though he said he'd think about it, he never really consented.
So after she was born, they took her from me to NICU, and the subject of her name didn't really come up. P left to get some food, since I hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours, and my brother was in the NICU watching her. I didn't get ahold of my dad right away, and my mom didn't ask, even though she was with me, and of course when we finally got her back from the nurse it was late, and I just had time to nurse her before visiting hours were over and everyone had to leave. P passed out on the chair/bed like he was the one that he'd been in labor for the last 12 hours so it was just me and my baby. I called her Love, Duckie, SweetPea, but never any given name.
So when the nurse came the next day with the birth certificate forms, P and I had a quick discussion.
"So her name's Taryn, right?"
"Sure."
"T-A-R-Y-N?"
"I don't know. Whatever you want."
"Okay, Taryn Isabella sounds nice. What do you think?"
"Sure."
"One L or two?"
"I like Bella (bey-a), it means beautiful, you know? So two."
"Beautiful. Taryn Isabella Caballero."
And that was that.
November 17, 2006
Ouch!
I pulled a back muscle today.
Wish I could say it was from something good, like rough sex, or skydiving, or.... anything exciting. But I'm a dork. And I did it sitting down on my exercise ball, of all FN things, while I was nursing Taryn.
This sucks.
But what's going to suck even more is if it isn't healed up by the time we fly to KY. 6 hours on a plane with a stiff neck and sore back? Damn...
I'm pretty sure flying with Taryn will suck regardless. She's a sensitive baby, and any changes to her schedule or surroundings can throw her into a hissy-fit. Not that she's a screamer anymore, but the girl fusses like no other, and it breaks my heart to see her so helpless and unhappy.
But anyway.
We're dealing with her carseat too. I'm pretty sure there will be no extra seats on the flight, since we're leaving the day before Thanksgiving, and I want to just stick it in a box and check it as luggage.
Unfortunately, Mom has other ideas. She swears up and down we should bring it on the plane, and let them gate-check it for us. But really, what's the point of that? It's not like she'll be sitting in it in the airport. Or on the plane. Especially because we aren't bringing her stroller. So why even deal with getting it through security?
I hate arguing with that woman. She's so insistent on her own POV, it drives me nuts.
*sigh*
Wish I could say it was from something good, like rough sex, or skydiving, or.... anything exciting. But I'm a dork. And I did it sitting down on my exercise ball, of all FN things, while I was nursing Taryn.
This sucks.
But what's going to suck even more is if it isn't healed up by the time we fly to KY. 6 hours on a plane with a stiff neck and sore back? Damn...
I'm pretty sure flying with Taryn will suck regardless. She's a sensitive baby, and any changes to her schedule or surroundings can throw her into a hissy-fit. Not that she's a screamer anymore, but the girl fusses like no other, and it breaks my heart to see her so helpless and unhappy.
But anyway.
We're dealing with her carseat too. I'm pretty sure there will be no extra seats on the flight, since we're leaving the day before Thanksgiving, and I want to just stick it in a box and check it as luggage.
Unfortunately, Mom has other ideas. She swears up and down we should bring it on the plane, and let them gate-check it for us. But really, what's the point of that? It's not like she'll be sitting in it in the airport. Or on the plane. Especially because we aren't bringing her stroller. So why even deal with getting it through security?
I hate arguing with that woman. She's so insistent on her own POV, it drives me nuts.
*sigh*
November 16, 2006
Yeah, And....
Have I commented yet on how much I love this season's Junior's styles?
Okay, okay, I realize that I am no longer a Junior, in neither age nor size, but... I just don't feel like a Misses yet either.
And though I am rocking a pair of women's H&H jeans (not from the latest spree) the loooong shirts and layers of the season (or maybe last... yeah, they're on clearance now, I'm behind, whatever) are perfect. For two reasons.
One, they disguise this extra little roll I haven't been able to lengthen out in pilates yet.
And two, the layers are the perfect ensemble for nursing in public. Goodbye titty-flash!
And I have no problem buying all my clothes a season behind, if the price is right. And, yesterday, it obviously was.
Okay, okay, I realize that I am no longer a Junior, in neither age nor size, but... I just don't feel like a Misses yet either.
And though I am rocking a pair of women's H&H jeans (not from the latest spree) the loooong shirts and layers of the season (or maybe last... yeah, they're on clearance now, I'm behind, whatever) are perfect. For two reasons.
One, they disguise this extra little roll I haven't been able to lengthen out in pilates yet.
And two, the layers are the perfect ensemble for nursing in public. Goodbye titty-flash!
And I have no problem buying all my clothes a season behind, if the price is right. And, yesterday, it obviously was.
Yet Another Reason
I can't (or shouldn't) be a stay at home mom.
I spent $225 at Mervyn's yesterday.
And $55 earlier that day at Big Lots.
And $210 over the weekend at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.
Do you know the sheer amount of items you'd have to buy at Meryn's to spend that much? Especially when everything is 50% off, plus an extra 15%?
Half of what I spent was a new pair of shoes and my winter jacket.
The rest? 16 items. That's right. I bought Taryn 4 full outfits, 2 pairs of pants, 2 Christmas presents for my nephews, and 6 more shirts for myself.
I love discount shopping.
I spent $225 at Mervyn's yesterday.
And $55 earlier that day at Big Lots.
And $210 over the weekend at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.
Do you know the sheer amount of items you'd have to buy at Meryn's to spend that much? Especially when everything is 50% off, plus an extra 15%?
Half of what I spent was a new pair of shoes and my winter jacket.
The rest? 16 items. That's right. I bought Taryn 4 full outfits, 2 pairs of pants, 2 Christmas presents for my nephews, and 6 more shirts for myself.
I love discount shopping.
November 15, 2006
Addictive Personality
I think I've mentioned before that I'm quite a glutton for pain. Really. I'm very good at suffering. Which is why I don't have an addictive personality at all. I'm quite good at stopping myself from doing things, smoking, drinking, eating, whatever.
The last time I "quit" smoking before I got pregnant, we were just leaving after a 4 day stint in Sin City. I decided that I didn't want to smoke anymore. So I quit.
Not to say that I never had a cigarette after that, but I didn't smoke at all for a year or so, and after that only when I was out drinking. I realized that after stopping for a while, the taste made me want to yarf, so it wasn't too hard to have a puff and pass on the rest.
Same thing with drinking. I've heard a lot of pregnant women say how much they missed alcohol, but I didn't. And I wasn't one of the ones who had a drink once in a while. From the day I found out I was pregnant, I had one small sip of champagne at New Years, and nothing else until a couple months after I gave birth.
I think of exercising too, hiking, even while I was pregnant, to the point of being almost exhausted, but I'd rather push through than stop to rest. It just prolongs the agony.
Doing homework. I'll sit down and write a 20 page paper without taking a break so that I can just get it over with, instead of taking a lame breather, and thinking about the paper the whole time so it's not much a break in the long run.
Ummm, childbirth with no epidural. Need I say more?
So maybe I am addicted to pain? God, that sounds awful, but that seems to be the common thread here. I'm am good at suffering. At getting through the less-fun parts of life as fast as possible so I can get on to bigger and better things. At not asking for help so I can be some sort of martyr in my own mind. At denying myself pleasure for bragging rights?
I am one sick mother.... But at least I can take comfort in the fact that I'm not alone.
I know a lot of people who sabotage themselves and their lives, maybe for the same reason? People who revel in drama to feel like they have a life. Or who get into shitty situations to they don't deal with other things that are happening to them? Hmmmm.
The last time I "quit" smoking before I got pregnant, we were just leaving after a 4 day stint in Sin City. I decided that I didn't want to smoke anymore. So I quit.
Not to say that I never had a cigarette after that, but I didn't smoke at all for a year or so, and after that only when I was out drinking. I realized that after stopping for a while, the taste made me want to yarf, so it wasn't too hard to have a puff and pass on the rest.
Same thing with drinking. I've heard a lot of pregnant women say how much they missed alcohol, but I didn't. And I wasn't one of the ones who had a drink once in a while. From the day I found out I was pregnant, I had one small sip of champagne at New Years, and nothing else until a couple months after I gave birth.
I think of exercising too, hiking, even while I was pregnant, to the point of being almost exhausted, but I'd rather push through than stop to rest. It just prolongs the agony.
Doing homework. I'll sit down and write a 20 page paper without taking a break so that I can just get it over with, instead of taking a lame breather, and thinking about the paper the whole time so it's not much a break in the long run.
Ummm, childbirth with no epidural. Need I say more?
So maybe I am addicted to pain? God, that sounds awful, but that seems to be the common thread here. I'm am good at suffering. At getting through the less-fun parts of life as fast as possible so I can get on to bigger and better things. At not asking for help so I can be some sort of martyr in my own mind. At denying myself pleasure for bragging rights?
I am one sick mother.... But at least I can take comfort in the fact that I'm not alone.
I know a lot of people who sabotage themselves and their lives, maybe for the same reason? People who revel in drama to feel like they have a life. Or who get into shitty situations to they don't deal with other things that are happening to them? Hmmmm.
November 14, 2006
Dreaming of the Beatles
So... I had a really odd dream this morning.
These two girls that I was in Girl Scouts with ... 15 years ago? We all decided to do a concert of Beatles songs. Yeah, I know, wtf? I can only name like 2 songs, and we did do both of them, but I knew a lot of the other ones and kind of just sang along.
But we had a few problems. First, there were only three of us. And none of us knew how to play any instruments. And we didn't have a band. So we had a few people that we knew in the audience play for us, but everyone was too trashed to do it well, so it sounded really aweful. I think everyone in the sold out (yay! lol.) audience was pretty wasted, or else why would they stay so long?
So the worst part was, we were singing this one song that had like 12 verses, but we didn't know what they were. One girl had done some research and knew what each verse meant so we were trying to figure out the words as we went, which was hideous, because we'd sing a line, then stop and have a little pow-wow to figure out what the next line was, sing that, stop again ... you get the point.
So somewhere towards the end of the third verse, I was like, "F-this. If we don't get out shit together, they're all going to leave, and I already spent my part of the proceeds, so I can't refund any tickets." The other two agreed, and right then I heard this little girl screaming for help.
I jumped out of my seat and ran to the back of the stage, through these double doors, and there was a lady on crutches trying to drag this kid away. The little girl was screaming and struggling, and I was running after them but she had a pretty good head start, so I cut through a lobby, and tackled the little girl from the side right before the woman dragged her out of the building. When she saw I had her, the woman just hobbled off on her crutches.
I picked up the girl, who was maybe 4 years old, and carried her to box office part, and kept asking her what her name was, but she wouldn't say a word, she just kept sniffling and clinging to my shirt.
Then I woke up with Taryn's finger up my nose and the other three holding onto my bottom lip. Her hair was soaking wet from my drool ... again ... and she was sucking the shit out of her binkie. Maybe she was dreaming too?
Anyway, I can't figure this one out. The little girl wasn't me, the older woman wasn't me. But if they were? Maybe something about my childhood being stolen? Or my fears I'll rob Taryn of hers? I don't know. But I'd never sell-out a concert promising to sing Beatles songs. No way in hell.
These two girls that I was in Girl Scouts with ... 15 years ago? We all decided to do a concert of Beatles songs. Yeah, I know, wtf? I can only name like 2 songs, and we did do both of them, but I knew a lot of the other ones and kind of just sang along.
But we had a few problems. First, there were only three of us. And none of us knew how to play any instruments. And we didn't have a band. So we had a few people that we knew in the audience play for us, but everyone was too trashed to do it well, so it sounded really aweful. I think everyone in the sold out (yay! lol.) audience was pretty wasted, or else why would they stay so long?
So the worst part was, we were singing this one song that had like 12 verses, but we didn't know what they were. One girl had done some research and knew what each verse meant so we were trying to figure out the words as we went, which was hideous, because we'd sing a line, then stop and have a little pow-wow to figure out what the next line was, sing that, stop again ... you get the point.
So somewhere towards the end of the third verse, I was like, "F-this. If we don't get out shit together, they're all going to leave, and I already spent my part of the proceeds, so I can't refund any tickets." The other two agreed, and right then I heard this little girl screaming for help.
I jumped out of my seat and ran to the back of the stage, through these double doors, and there was a lady on crutches trying to drag this kid away. The little girl was screaming and struggling, and I was running after them but she had a pretty good head start, so I cut through a lobby, and tackled the little girl from the side right before the woman dragged her out of the building. When she saw I had her, the woman just hobbled off on her crutches.
I picked up the girl, who was maybe 4 years old, and carried her to box office part, and kept asking her what her name was, but she wouldn't say a word, she just kept sniffling and clinging to my shirt.
Then I woke up with Taryn's finger up my nose and the other three holding onto my bottom lip. Her hair was soaking wet from my drool ... again ... and she was sucking the shit out of her binkie. Maybe she was dreaming too?
Anyway, I can't figure this one out. The little girl wasn't me, the older woman wasn't me. But if they were? Maybe something about my childhood being stolen? Or my fears I'll rob Taryn of hers? I don't know. But I'd never sell-out a concert promising to sing Beatles songs. No way in hell.
November 13, 2006
Being "Good" Takes Effort
For me at least.
I've always admired those people who seem to be genuinely nice, those people who hold open doors for you, and say "please" and "thank you" without a second thought.
Now, I consider myself super-consciencious. When I see something that can be done to help someone else, I do it without asking, and without expecting anything in return, but although I am constantly helping others, I also get really frustrated with people who seem oblivious to the rest of the world.
Like people who park in the middle of two parking spaces at Trader Joes.
Or the B who ran over my heels three flippin' times in a row at BB&B the other day.
People like that irk me to no end, and it's not because they do stupid things, it's because they do stupid things with no regard for anyone else. I don't care if you're going to drive 90 mph on the freeway at 4am when it's mostly empty, but don't even think about it when I'm driving my daughter somewhere.
Anyway, my point is, it takes alot of effort on my part to not let those kinds of people ruin my day. And I don't know why it pisses me off so much, I know it's not personal, but I don't get why some folks just think they can do whatever they want and not think about who they might be affecting.
And I know I do dumb shyte sometimes, and I know that in a lot of situations I have to really watch what I say and do so that I don't piss off other people, but I do it. And if I can, you should be able to also.
I've always admired those people who seem to be genuinely nice, those people who hold open doors for you, and say "please" and "thank you" without a second thought.
Now, I consider myself super-consciencious. When I see something that can be done to help someone else, I do it without asking, and without expecting anything in return, but although I am constantly helping others, I also get really frustrated with people who seem oblivious to the rest of the world.
Like people who park in the middle of two parking spaces at Trader Joes.
Or the B who ran over my heels three flippin' times in a row at BB&B the other day.
People like that irk me to no end, and it's not because they do stupid things, it's because they do stupid things with no regard for anyone else. I don't care if you're going to drive 90 mph on the freeway at 4am when it's mostly empty, but don't even think about it when I'm driving my daughter somewhere.
Anyway, my point is, it takes alot of effort on my part to not let those kinds of people ruin my day. And I don't know why it pisses me off so much, I know it's not personal, but I don't get why some folks just think they can do whatever they want and not think about who they might be affecting.
And I know I do dumb shyte sometimes, and I know that in a lot of situations I have to really watch what I say and do so that I don't piss off other people, but I do it. And if I can, you should be able to also.
November 12, 2006
I Know, I'm a Dork
I sent out a few emails yesterday to some fellow bloggers whose blogs I read regularly. I'd never had a blogroll before, and I wasn't really sure if you just link to people, or you need to get permission first, or what. Seems to me it's the polite thing to do, to at least let someone know that you're associating them with your own blog, but I guess no such etiquette exists. Still, they were all really nice in their replies, and I'm sure they think I'm a dork. Well, I am, no worries.
In other news, I updated my page too. I finally went over to Beta, so I figured a less-dark theme might get my crappy mood out of the gutter, at least for a little bit, so maybe I'll find something amusing to write in the coming weeks.
I really thought this NaBloPoMo thing would be a lot harder, but I love to write, regardless of if I'm good at it or not, and I think that when this ends, I will really try to keep posting daily. I'm sure it won't happen, especially without the added incentives, but I'm getting in the habit of making time, and I'll be off work for a while longer, so hopefully I can keep it up.
Oh, we went shopping at Bed, Bath, and Beyond yesterday. I picked up a lot of Christmas presents, a carpet for the bedroom, a new little cordelss sweeper, a Van Gough print, just a lot of stuff I was wanting and too broke to get. But I saved $87 with Erika's coupon, so I'm stoked. It's so much easier to get presents when you have no money, and everyone knows you have no money, so it really goes with the thought, not the price of the gift. And we got our new garbage can! It's so pretty, red steel, semi-circle... I love it.
In other news, I updated my page too. I finally went over to Beta, so I figured a less-dark theme might get my crappy mood out of the gutter, at least for a little bit, so maybe I'll find something amusing to write in the coming weeks.
I really thought this NaBloPoMo thing would be a lot harder, but I love to write, regardless of if I'm good at it or not, and I think that when this ends, I will really try to keep posting daily. I'm sure it won't happen, especially without the added incentives, but I'm getting in the habit of making time, and I'll be off work for a while longer, so hopefully I can keep it up.
Oh, we went shopping at Bed, Bath, and Beyond yesterday. I picked up a lot of Christmas presents, a carpet for the bedroom, a new little cordelss sweeper, a Van Gough print, just a lot of stuff I was wanting and too broke to get. But I saved $87 with Erika's coupon, so I'm stoked. It's so much easier to get presents when you have no money, and everyone knows you have no money, so it really goes with the thought, not the price of the gift. And we got our new garbage can! It's so pretty, red steel, semi-circle... I love it.
November 11, 2006
Even if I Could ... Would I?
I have been having this internal arguement with myself for the past few months, and the answer I keep coming up with is haunting me.
When I was in high school, I had no aspirations of a dream career in which I would throw my entire being and have a burning passion to pursue at all costs. Sure, I went through the typical phases, wanting to be a lawyer, dreams of being a doctor, but those were all shattered when I decided I wanted to be an astronaut.
I was serious about it. I took Honors Chemistry and was planning on physics my Senior year of high school. I took the military aptitude test and scored very high, so my plan was to do my time in the Air Force, become a pilot, then move my way over to Nasa. My Junior year I applied, and won, an internship with NASA, one of the greatest accomplishments of my life at that time, but one in which I was later sorely disappointed. After only a few weeks of work, I decided that although I loved the idea of being an astronaut, I would never be able to work with "those people" for the rest of my life. So I gave up.
And I really had very little ambition after that. I figured I would go to college, because that was what was expected, and I didn't want to work at Mervyn's the rest of my life. But what I really wanted to do was get married and have kids. I set a goal for myself, so that I wouldn't regret having kids young that as soon as I was married, had my degree, and bought a house, I'd have a baby.
I was married at 18, March 15th, 2002.
I bought my house at 21, July 30th, 2004.
I graduated from college at 21 also, December 18th, 2004.
And I got pregnant when I was 22, October 14th, 2005.
But of course, by then I had moved into a job that I really love. And financially, it isn't possible for me to be a stay-at-home mom to Taryn, but it kills me to think that even if I could do it, if it was a possibility, I don't know if I would.
I can't imagine giving up my job to stay home, and cook, and clean, and take care of the baby. I can't imagine not having the opportunity to meet new people on a daily basis, or not having the opportunity to cultivate relationships with my coworkers. I can't imagine not using my degree after I worked so hard to earn it, or the day when my kids are all in school and I am left with no relevant work experience and have to start all over again at the bottom and work my way up.
And I also can't fathom why all of a sudden, I am so dedicated to my "career" when I'd never really wanted one to begin with.
The more I process it, I realize that life would not be as dreary as I make it out to be, if I were at home all day long, and I also understand that nobody wishes they had worked more, but rather that they had spent more time with loved ones. But my life outside of my home is very important to me, and though I treasure this time I have with Taryn while she is a baby, I am also looking forward to working again and having a sense of purpose in my life, aside from caring for her.
If I could stay home for the first year, I would. But if it was between staying home until she was in Kindergarten and going back to work after 6.5 months, I'd have to start looking for daycare.
I do have reationalizations for it.
I truly believe that children after a certain age need to interact with other kids daily, in order to build social skills, to build up their immunities, and to see in general that there is a world outside of their home.
I also believe that mothers, in order to be effective need a lot of support, and I also know that I am not good at seeking out that support on my own, and that I would probably fall into a much deeper depression if I wasn't forced to interact with people daily.
That's all. And for me, those two reasons, coupled with the fact that I am the main bread-winner in this family, makes me believe that I am doing an okay thing by going back to work. It's going to be heart-wrenching to drop her off and head to work. It's going to be even more painful when I have to hear second-hand that she said her first word, or took her first step, but instead of focusing on that I'll just need to make the most out of every second that she and I have together, and hopefully our bond will be that much stronger because I won't take having her around for granted, like I've begun to do the past couple months.
And I guess, as long as she knows that I love her with all my heart, and that I'm doing what I think is best for both of us, things can't go too wrong, right?
When I was in high school, I had no aspirations of a dream career in which I would throw my entire being and have a burning passion to pursue at all costs. Sure, I went through the typical phases, wanting to be a lawyer, dreams of being a doctor, but those were all shattered when I decided I wanted to be an astronaut.
I was serious about it. I took Honors Chemistry and was planning on physics my Senior year of high school. I took the military aptitude test and scored very high, so my plan was to do my time in the Air Force, become a pilot, then move my way over to Nasa. My Junior year I applied, and won, an internship with NASA, one of the greatest accomplishments of my life at that time, but one in which I was later sorely disappointed. After only a few weeks of work, I decided that although I loved the idea of being an astronaut, I would never be able to work with "those people" for the rest of my life. So I gave up.
And I really had very little ambition after that. I figured I would go to college, because that was what was expected, and I didn't want to work at Mervyn's the rest of my life. But what I really wanted to do was get married and have kids. I set a goal for myself, so that I wouldn't regret having kids young that as soon as I was married, had my degree, and bought a house, I'd have a baby.
I was married at 18, March 15th, 2002.
I bought my house at 21, July 30th, 2004.
I graduated from college at 21 also, December 18th, 2004.
And I got pregnant when I was 22, October 14th, 2005.
But of course, by then I had moved into a job that I really love. And financially, it isn't possible for me to be a stay-at-home mom to Taryn, but it kills me to think that even if I could do it, if it was a possibility, I don't know if I would.
I can't imagine giving up my job to stay home, and cook, and clean, and take care of the baby. I can't imagine not having the opportunity to meet new people on a daily basis, or not having the opportunity to cultivate relationships with my coworkers. I can't imagine not using my degree after I worked so hard to earn it, or the day when my kids are all in school and I am left with no relevant work experience and have to start all over again at the bottom and work my way up.
And I also can't fathom why all of a sudden, I am so dedicated to my "career" when I'd never really wanted one to begin with.
The more I process it, I realize that life would not be as dreary as I make it out to be, if I were at home all day long, and I also understand that nobody wishes they had worked more, but rather that they had spent more time with loved ones. But my life outside of my home is very important to me, and though I treasure this time I have with Taryn while she is a baby, I am also looking forward to working again and having a sense of purpose in my life, aside from caring for her.
If I could stay home for the first year, I would. But if it was between staying home until she was in Kindergarten and going back to work after 6.5 months, I'd have to start looking for daycare.
I do have reationalizations for it.
I truly believe that children after a certain age need to interact with other kids daily, in order to build social skills, to build up their immunities, and to see in general that there is a world outside of their home.
I also believe that mothers, in order to be effective need a lot of support, and I also know that I am not good at seeking out that support on my own, and that I would probably fall into a much deeper depression if I wasn't forced to interact with people daily.
That's all. And for me, those two reasons, coupled with the fact that I am the main bread-winner in this family, makes me believe that I am doing an okay thing by going back to work. It's going to be heart-wrenching to drop her off and head to work. It's going to be even more painful when I have to hear second-hand that she said her first word, or took her first step, but instead of focusing on that I'll just need to make the most out of every second that she and I have together, and hopefully our bond will be that much stronger because I won't take having her around for granted, like I've begun to do the past couple months.
And I guess, as long as she knows that I love her with all my heart, and that I'm doing what I think is best for both of us, things can't go too wrong, right?
November 10, 2006
That Lame Pilates Post?
I really ass did send that on Tuesday night before the computer was fixed.
Damn Blogger.
Like Teapot/Humpy Dumpty said, "Good thing you're OCD."
For Real.
Damn Blogger.
Like Teapot/Humpy Dumpty said, "Good thing you're OCD."
For Real.
shed kick my ass in pilates
taryn has been trying to roll over for the past few
days now. she hasnt done it yet, but shes getting
really close. the way shes been trying is by lifting
her legs straight up, crossed at the ankles, then
swinging them to the side and trying to use momentum
to roll over. and while i was watching her i realized
that her abs are stronger than mine! i could never do
as many leg lifts as she can and ive been exercising
longer than shes been alive...
November 9, 2006
If You Haven't Noticed....
I have serious issues with people telling me what to do.
Even "friendly suggestions" irritate me when people tell me more than once. Isn't it obvious, if I didn't do it the first time, I don't want to?
I think I have more serious issues with my mom telling me stuff. Like today, when she came over to watch the baby I was having a bit of trouble pumping (I know, TMFI, but look, my let-down is pretty much non-existent when I'm pumping, maybe because it's just so so sooooo weird of a sensation, and with the sound of the pump.... it just doesn't work well for me unless Taryn nurses and gets the milk flowing).
So anyway, she mentioned that maybe she'll have to give Taryn some formula today, and I kind of just shrugged it off with a flippant comment something like, "She's going to starve before I give her formula," which, may I mention, I have said before.
Because the thing is, it's not that I'm entirely opposed to formula, I've actually been considering it at night to help her sleep a bit longer if the cereal doesn't work, but look.
First off, my baby is not getting formula unless I make the decision.
Second, I have milk frozen for a reason, exactly because I don't want to give her formula right now.
Third, I'm stubborn, and I want to exclusively breastfeed as long as possible and not fuck around with the supply issue unless it's absolutely necessary.
Fourth, I'm cheap. I mean frugal. But I'm not going to open an $8 can of formula to feed her once and toss the rest because it doesn't get used.
Fifth, you've already said that I need to give her formula, or at least have it available for when you watch her, but when it comes right down to it...
I DON'T FN WANT TO
And here's the rub, I wonder if I don't want to simply because everyone and their mother (including mine) keeps suggesting that I give her formula, and I'm stubborn, and I want to do it my way, and I'm the only one suffering here, so why can't I do it how I want? I mean, babies have lived for the last howevermanyyears without it, so why does mine need it now?
But more importantly, when I tell someone I don't want to do something, why do they keep bringing it up??? I know I can be wishy-washy sometimes, but really?
Even "friendly suggestions" irritate me when people tell me more than once. Isn't it obvious, if I didn't do it the first time, I don't want to?
I think I have more serious issues with my mom telling me stuff. Like today, when she came over to watch the baby I was having a bit of trouble pumping (I know, TMFI, but look, my let-down is pretty much non-existent when I'm pumping, maybe because it's just so so sooooo weird of a sensation, and with the sound of the pump.... it just doesn't work well for me unless Taryn nurses and gets the milk flowing).
So anyway, she mentioned that maybe she'll have to give Taryn some formula today, and I kind of just shrugged it off with a flippant comment something like, "She's going to starve before I give her formula," which, may I mention, I have said before.
Because the thing is, it's not that I'm entirely opposed to formula, I've actually been considering it at night to help her sleep a bit longer if the cereal doesn't work, but look.
First off, my baby is not getting formula unless I make the decision.
Second, I have milk frozen for a reason, exactly because I don't want to give her formula right now.
Third, I'm stubborn, and I want to exclusively breastfeed as long as possible and not fuck around with the supply issue unless it's absolutely necessary.
Fourth, I'm cheap. I mean frugal. But I'm not going to open an $8 can of formula to feed her once and toss the rest because it doesn't get used.
Fifth, you've already said that I need to give her formula, or at least have it available for when you watch her, but when it comes right down to it...
I DON'T FN WANT TO
And here's the rub, I wonder if I don't want to simply because everyone and their mother (including mine) keeps suggesting that I give her formula, and I'm stubborn, and I want to do it my way, and I'm the only one suffering here, so why can't I do it how I want? I mean, babies have lived for the last howevermanyyears without it, so why does mine need it now?
But more importantly, when I tell someone I don't want to do something, why do they keep bringing it up??? I know I can be wishy-washy sometimes, but really?
November 8, 2006
Frugal Foodie
Food is one of those things that I *always* have money for. Those cute little asterisks? I'll only spend money that I don't have on really yummy food.
You know, for celebrations and the such, I can't think of a better way to hang out, catch up, and get your grub on than hitting up a fancy joint and paying a $600 bill. Seriously. But if I can't afford The Melting Pot, or Pasha's or TJ's Matini Bar, or just don't have an excuse to go, here's my favorite spots to chow down in Marin, for under $10.
1. Ping's (San Rafael, near Office Depot). Absoulutely de-lish Chinese food. And their lunch specials give you a massive amount of food (I'm talking roll-me-out-the-door-I'm-so-damn-full, plus leftovers), which was of course the best when I was preggo and needed to eat every hour or so. It's especially good if you catch it on the right day, Fridays, I think, and you get those little crab puff things and hot and sour soup. Yum! Also, unlike a lot of Chinese places, you can get rice or chow mein with your food. Plus, the waiters are always super-nice, and the food is fast, perfect for lunch breaks.
2. Sonoma Taco (Terra Linda, near Safeway). I love this place. Not only is the food healthy, they give you a good portion without making you feel too full, perfect if you're not trying to pack on the pounds. The tortas are so FN good, I'd sell my soul for a lifetime supply ... actually, pretty much everything is damn delactable. And I love the salsa bar so much I could make a meal out of just that. Only downside, some of the cooks are ... creepy. But they have Jarritos, which only sucks if you try to bring it back to work un-opened, and don't have a bottle opened. Oops.
3. Jhan Thong (Northgate mall). Okay, so I know, mall food? But this place is Thai, and it's close to the best I've had. The lunch special gives you three choices, and even though I'm digging most of the extensive menu, I pretty much always order the same thing: pad thai, noodle salad, and ginger chicken. Everyone who works there is super-nice, and the make your food fresh off the menu, so you might wait a bit, but it's not stale and greasy like a lot of other places that just scoop and serve. And for less than $7 I ususally have leftovers, obviously a plus in my book. Even the ice water is freshly poured and served. Quality, see?
4. In-n-Out (Tiburon? I don't know, but right off the freeway). I'm not a huge fan of fast food, in fact, I probably eat it maybe once every few months by choice (besides pizza, but that's another story). But this place is super-yummy, if not a bit far from my house. I'm not a huge fan of the fries, they are a bit too all-natural tasting for me, but if I'm stranded on a desert island and have to eat one meal for the rest of my life? Cheeseburgers (animal sytle) and the strewberry shake from this place would let me die happy.
5. Pasta Pomodoro (Novato and San Rafael). I love Italian food, and this place may or may not be real Italian, but it's good. I'm digging the garlic cream sauces (like on the Rigatoni) and they give you a lot of meat and veggies in your pasta, not just noodles like some other places. Plus, if you're really broke you could actually split a plate and fill up on the free bread, it's enough food. I haven't had any baked pasta dishes, but I've seen them and the look fantastic, I'm just so in love with the two pasta dishes with chicken, muchrooms and that cream sauce I haven't been able to order anything else. Plus, the waiters are generally pretty nice, except the time they prepared fettuccine with "crutons" instead of prawns.
Dim-witted youngin'.
6. Original Buffalo Wings (Novato and San Rafael). Okay, I know a lot of people don't like this place, but let me break it down for you. The cheesesteaks are pretty decent, the best I've been able to find in California besides a little place in Santa Monica that P and I ate at every day (sometimes twice a day) on our honeymoon. Yes, I've been to Philly and had a few real ones, and nothing compares, but these are close enough to satiate my desire since I can't afford to go back to get the real thing. Also, the sauce on the wings is damn good too, nice and hot, though I admit the wings are some dinky little pieces of nothing that would get you shot in Atlanta. But you can get the sauce by itself, and cooking it at home with your own chicken is a good option to make a little go a long way. Plus, the guys always give me extra wings without being too nasty about it. Always appreciated.
So there you go. Know any other good places in Marin? Let me know, I'm always looking to add to my list of favorites.
You know, for celebrations and the such, I can't think of a better way to hang out, catch up, and get your grub on than hitting up a fancy joint and paying a $600 bill. Seriously. But if I can't afford The Melting Pot, or Pasha's or TJ's Matini Bar, or just don't have an excuse to go, here's my favorite spots to chow down in Marin, for under $10.
1. Ping's (San Rafael, near Office Depot). Absoulutely de-lish Chinese food. And their lunch specials give you a massive amount of food (I'm talking roll-me-out-the-door-I'm-so-damn-full, plus leftovers), which was of course the best when I was preggo and needed to eat every hour or so. It's especially good if you catch it on the right day, Fridays, I think, and you get those little crab puff things and hot and sour soup. Yum! Also, unlike a lot of Chinese places, you can get rice or chow mein with your food. Plus, the waiters are always super-nice, and the food is fast, perfect for lunch breaks.
2. Sonoma Taco (Terra Linda, near Safeway). I love this place. Not only is the food healthy, they give you a good portion without making you feel too full, perfect if you're not trying to pack on the pounds. The tortas are so FN good, I'd sell my soul for a lifetime supply ... actually, pretty much everything is damn delactable. And I love the salsa bar so much I could make a meal out of just that. Only downside, some of the cooks are ... creepy. But they have Jarritos, which only sucks if you try to bring it back to work un-opened, and don't have a bottle opened. Oops.
3. Jhan Thong (Northgate mall). Okay, so I know, mall food? But this place is Thai, and it's close to the best I've had. The lunch special gives you three choices, and even though I'm digging most of the extensive menu, I pretty much always order the same thing: pad thai, noodle salad, and ginger chicken. Everyone who works there is super-nice, and the make your food fresh off the menu, so you might wait a bit, but it's not stale and greasy like a lot of other places that just scoop and serve. And for less than $7 I ususally have leftovers, obviously a plus in my book. Even the ice water is freshly poured and served. Quality, see?
4. In-n-Out (Tiburon? I don't know, but right off the freeway). I'm not a huge fan of fast food, in fact, I probably eat it maybe once every few months by choice (besides pizza, but that's another story). But this place is super-yummy, if not a bit far from my house. I'm not a huge fan of the fries, they are a bit too all-natural tasting for me, but if I'm stranded on a desert island and have to eat one meal for the rest of my life? Cheeseburgers (animal sytle) and the strewberry shake from this place would let me die happy.
5. Pasta Pomodoro (Novato and San Rafael). I love Italian food, and this place may or may not be real Italian, but it's good. I'm digging the garlic cream sauces (like on the Rigatoni) and they give you a lot of meat and veggies in your pasta, not just noodles like some other places. Plus, if you're really broke you could actually split a plate and fill up on the free bread, it's enough food. I haven't had any baked pasta dishes, but I've seen them and the look fantastic, I'm just so in love with the two pasta dishes with chicken, muchrooms and that cream sauce I haven't been able to order anything else. Plus, the waiters are generally pretty nice, except the time they prepared fettuccine with "crutons" instead of prawns.
Dim-witted youngin'.
6. Original Buffalo Wings (Novato and San Rafael). Okay, I know a lot of people don't like this place, but let me break it down for you. The cheesesteaks are pretty decent, the best I've been able to find in California besides a little place in Santa Monica that P and I ate at every day (sometimes twice a day) on our honeymoon. Yes, I've been to Philly and had a few real ones, and nothing compares, but these are close enough to satiate my desire since I can't afford to go back to get the real thing. Also, the sauce on the wings is damn good too, nice and hot, though I admit the wings are some dinky little pieces of nothing that would get you shot in Atlanta. But you can get the sauce by itself, and cooking it at home with your own chicken is a good option to make a little go a long way. Plus, the guys always give me extra wings without being too nasty about it. Always appreciated.
So there you go. Know any other good places in Marin? Let me know, I'm always looking to add to my list of favorites.
November 7, 2006
I Knew This Was a TEST!!
And I passed damnit!
I sent a blog from my phone, nothing fancy, but the mess didn't post and I'm not sure why. But Yay! My 'puter is working again, and this is just proof again that I need my own machine, I don't care how old or decrepit, just one P can't mess with.
Man, I was stressed that I was going to miss today...
I sent a blog from my phone, nothing fancy, but the mess didn't post and I'm not sure why. But Yay! My 'puter is working again, and this is just proof again that I need my own machine, I don't care how old or decrepit, just one P can't mess with.
Man, I was stressed that I was going to miss today...
November 6, 2006
damn puter
so just to explain why the lame post tonight, p said a
piece of the motherboard melted and now the computer
is jacked. hope this isnt the end of nablopomo for me.
ill try my damnest to post from my phone, well see how
it goes.
November 5, 2006
More Lessons from the Trenches
1. Johnson's baby products (the pink ones) are too harsh for a baby's skin. They smell good, but all the frangrance and dyes in it dried out Taryn's skin and make her flake for weeks.
2. Baby laundry soap doesn't work. It doesn't get spit-up or poop out of the clothes, and it's super expensive. Better to just put the clothes through an extra rinse cycle and use Tide.
3. Babies are not made to sleep in complete silence. Taryn sleeps much better when we have a lot of people over and are making noise, she even sleeps through the puppies barking if there are other background sounds.
4. Changing tables are essential. Especially when your back spasms when you bend over from carrying the baby around for hours.
5. Medicine balls are also a God-send. They calm, they soothe, the put to sleep, and then when you have free time, you can use it to work off some of that belly roll.
6. Teethers that don't have a handle for the baby to hold onto are pretty much useless. Taryn hates the ice-cold feel of frozen water, and won't hold it to use it, and honestly, I don't like the feel much either.
7. It is possuble to hold an infant and pee (and wipe!) at the same time.
8. Milk leaks at all times of the day. Be prepared.
9. Bassinettes are not a waste of money. We can bring Taryn anywhere, anytime, and she sleeps fine in a strange place when she has her bassinette.
10. Baby socks can double as mittens on a cold day, or to keep her from scratching her face and gouging out her eyes.
2. Baby laundry soap doesn't work. It doesn't get spit-up or poop out of the clothes, and it's super expensive. Better to just put the clothes through an extra rinse cycle and use Tide.
3. Babies are not made to sleep in complete silence. Taryn sleeps much better when we have a lot of people over and are making noise, she even sleeps through the puppies barking if there are other background sounds.
4. Changing tables are essential. Especially when your back spasms when you bend over from carrying the baby around for hours.
5. Medicine balls are also a God-send. They calm, they soothe, the put to sleep, and then when you have free time, you can use it to work off some of that belly roll.
6. Teethers that don't have a handle for the baby to hold onto are pretty much useless. Taryn hates the ice-cold feel of frozen water, and won't hold it to use it, and honestly, I don't like the feel much either.
7. It is possuble to hold an infant and pee (and wipe!) at the same time.
8. Milk leaks at all times of the day. Be prepared.
9. Bassinettes are not a waste of money. We can bring Taryn anywhere, anytime, and she sleeps fine in a strange place when she has her bassinette.
10. Baby socks can double as mittens on a cold day, or to keep her from scratching her face and gouging out her eyes.
November 4, 2006
Head Case
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.
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 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.
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