A man's greatest fear

A few months ago, when I visited the self-help center at my local courthouse to get help with my divorce papers response, a young volunteer assisted me and told me something interesting: "A man's greatest fear is child support."

It seems that in so many cases, women use this as leverage and things can get ugly.

My child support order goes into effect tomorrow, August 1st. On the papers it will say that I don't have to provide spousal support (whew), and that my ex pays me $150/mo. with the amount negotiable as he earns more money.

My MIL guaranteed that she will give me some more cash, making the total amount to $300.

Part of me wants to grumble and complain, but you know, there really is no use. I'm grateful that by law I have to get AT LEAST $150 per month, and that's better than what I was getting before, which was nothing for the past 5 months.

Still, I think it's ridiculous that my ex's mom is helping pay for child support. I love her to death, but when will anyone step up and call this what it is -- ridiculous!!!!!!

It seems NO one will, so I've decided to permanently step-off my soap box with this issue, starting now. That's right, readers, I am not going to grumble or complain or bitch or moan about the child support issue and my ex's financial situation anymore.

Relieved? Yeah, so am I! Time is moving on and I'm making changes and I am certain that in just a short time I will be in a better life situation. I'm sure of it.

In the meanwhile, I'm putting some of the cash into savings, and also buying a real TV stand from Target with my first child support payment. My neighbor and friend works for Target and is letting me use her 10% discount. I need a new TV stand since the $30 Lack coffee table I've been using in lieu of a "real" TV stand just isn't cutting it. It is as flimsy as its price and isn't really as sturdy as it should be for a baby who loves to pound the table and climb up on it.

Silly, but ...

... I was just browsing through some photos of an ex-coworker at the fancy department store in Beverly Hills and seeing a couple of other ex-coworkers made me gasp. Not in a good way.



One thing my sage Sparkle, who worked with me at the fancy department store, and I would always commiserate on was the negative energy enveloping the store. It was toxic and persistent and the only way I could save myself from becoming part of that negative energy was to leave. It was the only way.



The photos shocked me because I can see and sense the negativity through the photos. Those are some people carrying around a lot of baggage. There are smiles, but I can see the fear and venom behind their eyes.



Yeesh .... (shivers) ... I really dodged a bullet there.

Almost walkin'!

Sometimes it feels like it's been an eternity since I was moaning and groaning through my last and hardest month of pregnancy, when I couldn't sleep to save my life and huffed and puffed my way through every activity.

On the other hand, I cannot belive it's almost been one year since my son was born. A year! It went by in lightning speed! Sometimes I look back on his baby pictures in shock because he has changed so much since those first, helpless days.

Rather than being the little guy I had to hold next to a water faucet for hours to calm down, he's pretty independent these days and can move all around the house (and by all around, I mean all over the place ... how does he do it?) whenever he wants.

He has brought meaning to my life and I cherish every moment with him. He's on the way to walking and I think he CAN walk, he's just being extra cautious about taking big steps. he's been finger walking for a while and stands on his own for minutes at a time.

Last night I tested him and while I was sitting on the floor I placed him standing a few feet away and told him to come to mommy. He got a huge smile on his face, laughed, and then ran right over to me! Such joy! :)

I'm sure when he's totally mobile I will rue his crawling days, but it's fun to see him make these first little tries. He is a Virgo through and through and silly, but I am SO GLAD he's not a Leo like his dad.

Even though I have taken a big step from my tarot card/horoscope obession days, I do believe that our sun signs have some validity. I'm a true Scorpio and my ex is a true Leo and we are a total mismatch based on our sun signs and reality. My best matches are Cancers and Pisces and in reality, I do get along extraordinarily well with people under those signs.

Funny how things work.

I feel like karma doesn't work and I need to get a grip

Oh, why, oh, why, oh, WHY do I insisit on googling people who are long lost from my life? They're usually long lost for a reason and I forget that curiosity is what killed the cat.

I googled the ex-coworker from my past who cheated on her husband with another married man. Even though she was unhappy in her marriage, cheating is just not cool in my book and I ended our friendship. She had also set me up on a couple of dates with guys who liked her so she could get the lowdown on how much they liked her, and that just really wasn't cool at all.

I already knew she was married to that man now and had another child with him. I guess she was on my mind lately and I wanted to see what she looked like, I guess.

Well, I found her under her married name (and having that name is karma enough right there), and it turns out she has a very successful makeup business with a jazzy web site. She was even voted the best of the knot ( a wedding website).

Thanks to my new mindframe, I didn't feel an overwhelming sense of anger or jealousy, but my jaw did drop all the way to the gound and I was just ... shocked. I don't know what I was expecting, really... for God to punish her with misery and unsuccess? No, rather, she has success and is a stay-at-home mom in a ritzy neighborhood. Exactly what I want in my life.

I need to get a grip and let go of all of my childish ideas about how the world should work. My mind exists in black, white, and some shades of gray, and I wholeheartedly believe in right and wrong. Isn't being unfairthful wrong? Isn't that supposed to bite you in the ass? How is it that someone who committed a moral felony ended up happily ever after? How is it that someone like me, who has tried to live as honorably as I can (except for the times I shoplifted as a child - bad me -and maybe the couple of times I cheated in high school) is a struggling, working, single mom in a dinky apartment in a poor neighborhood?

I just don't get it. Ok, maybe I don't have the whole story. Maybe it's not such a rosy, happily ever after story and you really don't know what's going on behind closed doors.

Still, if it is rosy, then I don't believe in karma anymore. People do the wrong thing all the time and get away with it and just live their lives.

This all sounds childish and silly, but I just don't know what to believe anymore.

Free at Last!

Three months of constantly fearing what's over my shoulder at work is finally done and I have no clue how it happened.

One of the annoying people's I've discussed has started giving me the silent treatment, and I couldn't be happier. Honestly, I have no clue what the hell happened - did I say or do something - but it seems as if she finally got the message that I'm not really that interested and has stopped popping her head up every 5 minutes or making comments on every single conversation I have with other people, even phone conversations.

I admit there is a bit of a sting, but the glory of finally being free outweighs all of it. She's very young and hasn't had a lot of workplace experience and I don't think she realizes that even though we're in tight spaces and separated by a flimsy cubicle wall, most people need their privacy!!!!!

It's been so great all day to just talk as I want to my coworkers and not worry about censoring myself .... wheeeeeeee!!!!!

Earthquake!

One thing I will say positively about myself is that in times of emergency I lose all fear and take command of the situation. It's weird how this never happens at any other time. If only I could have that type of confidence always!

Like the time I was at the gym 2 years ago and this gal fell off the treadmill and had a seizure. It was shocking, most people just kept on treadmilling, except for one woman who screamed at the top of her lungs and a few others who came to provide her with attention. I kept treadmilling, too, but I screamed at the top of my lungs, "SHE'S HAVING A SEIZURE -- DON'T LET HER SWALLOW HER TONGUE!!!!!"

Later I found out that's the wrong thing to do, but I have no clue where I got the balls to do that. Must be my motherly instinct.

We just had a 5.8 earthquake and it was super scary. I haven't felt one that big in a couple of years, and while everyone was milling about at their desks, I yelled out, "EVERYONE GET INTO A DOORWAY!!!!!!!"

Dang.

I've had the same kind of response with my son -- he's choked on things a couple of times (that's babies for you) and my first instinct is to remain calm and fish out what ever it is he's choking on.

Maybe I was some kind of emergency personnel in a previous life???

Community

I've finally found a weekend hideaway spot. It's in a little nook of the South Bay peninsula called Malaga Cove, hidden away from the grit and grime of the beach and inland cities below it.

It's wonderful on hot, humid days, since the temperature is always about 20 degrees less than inland, and I can park my car in a parking turnout and take a nap while the baby is napping. It reminds me of how my parents used to travel to San Francisco when it was just as muggy in our inland Northern California city. There was a point right before the Bay Bridge when you could feel the temperature "click" and the change was immediate. "Ahh, what weather!" my dad would always exclaim.

The way he said it in his language, it sounded like the word "Hawaii" was involved, and I would always excitedly ask him, "What? You mean we're going to Hawaii???!!!!"

On another topic, I am seriously considering church shopping. I don't have time to go into detail, but I am looking for a community to join. I think it's important for my son to have one, based on my own experiences, and I think it will be good for me, too.

More later ....

11 month/5 month anniversary

Today is my baby's 11 month old birthday!

Wow! Hard to believe he's going to be 1 extremely soon .... Oh, my sweet little baby! He just gets sweeter and cuter with each passing day and BRAVER, too. He is definitely all boy ... he has no fear, which is a good and bad thing. I have images of him climbing the ceilings eventually.

Another anniversary that passed yesterday was the 5 month anniversary of my separation and in honor of it (although I really doubt he remembered it), I received these text messages:

Ex: Is the baby feeling better?
Me: Yes
Ex: Wanna have lunch together?
Me: No

Whatever .... He's a dumbass. Does the last 5 months, no the last 4 years of our relationship, mean nothing to him? Again, whatever.

I was thinking about how things have changed since he's been gone and it's all been for the better. And, unlike our last separation, thanks to the baby, I don't miss him or feel despondent about not having him in my life.

Here's the progress report:

1. I've gotten rid of his furniture, most of which were hand-me-downs from his 1st marriage, and bought some stuff that is truly my style.

2. Most of the clutter is gone - there is still a lot of it, but for the most part it's manageable and I can live with it.

3. I have been doing a lot of cooking lately, much more adventurous than I've ever been, and I feel very confident in my skills.

4. Even though I'm exhausted and worn out by the end of the day, I've been able to sit on the sofa when the baby is in bed and watch a tv show that I want to watch, without having my ex's stuff on or having to suffer through his bad music taste in the background.

5. I've been doing really well money-wise, better than I thought. Even though I'm paying the full rent and all the expenses, I haven't had any crises and I have an emergency fund (even though I've had to raid it a few times).

6. I've bought a new laptop, tv, and made a couple other purchases that I'm very proud of. All on my own! No credit cards involved! I'm a big girl now!

7. I took care of my postpartum depression and I'm feeling better than ever.

Now, if only I could have a talk with my baby fat and convince it it's time to leave, then I'd be set.

The beauty of all of this is that I see the light at the end of the tunnel ... I see that there is so much to look forward to, and I'm excited to do some fun things around my apartment and plan activities with the baby.

I still need to revisit my career options, but in the meanwhile, things are good and we're moving forward.

Like my mom says, we always have to move forward, not backward.

Just a sidenote...

I am SO OVER my pregnancy fat. When am I going to lose this weight? Why can't I lose even a single pound no matter what I do? All my bloodtests come back normal ... aaaaargh.

Earlier this week, I had a thought -- maybe I should just learn to live my life as a larger woman ... but NO, I don't want to admit defeat. I don't want to ... I WANT ANSWERS.... I'm begging for them.

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH.

My poor baby ....

... is REALLY sick. :(

After our great day on Monday and the fever on Wednesday morning, he never quite got back to himself and started breaking out in rashes on Thursday. My dad, the doctor, said he better get to the doctor, since the rashes were a sign of the virus.

I am SO GLAD I didn't switch over to a HMO, because I was able to schedule an appointment in my parent's neighborhood right away and it turns out that my poor little sick boy has ear infections in both ears AND hand, foot, and mouth disease.

Thanks, Gymboree.

Oh, I am just SICK over all of this. I feel like it's all my fault for wanting to put him in Gymboree so early, but I also know that this was bound to happen sooner or later. And the bummer is that we both really liked Gymboree. Not the price tag, so much, but the baby really had fun playing with his peers.

Ok, so maybe it interfered with his naptime a little bit, but he really did have a good time when he was there and I really want him to be around kids as much as possible. However, as much as the staff urged parents to put gummed toys in a separate bag, with 10-16 month old babies, there is going to be a lot of spit swapping regardless and I saw lots of slobber on the equipment that the staff just didn't catch.

I just hope he gets well soon. He has sores on his hands and it just breaks my heart for him.

Anyway, at least we know, and I'm so grateful for modern medicine, yet again.

I have to surround myself with winners ...

All day yesterday, since I stumbled across my childhood friend's blog, I was thinking about the difference in our lives, what was different in both of our situations and why I'm still struggling, as much as I want to be in a better place.

I came upon a radical thought, which is, I have to surround myself with winners.

I've spent my life surrounded by people who are just ok with the status quo -- for example, my ex, who is content to spend his life financially supported by his dad and live in a rabbit hole. Another example, a roommate who was a failed actress and resigned herself to working at Home Depot instead of pursuing acting opportunities. At work, people who are comfortable and have been here for a multitude of years and will never leave or try anything new just because it's so comfortable for them (that includes me).

Not to place blame on anything or anyone, because I know we're ultimately responsible for our choices, but I grew up in isolation. My parents weren't social, as I've mentioned before, kept to themselves and in my teenage years, they severely restricted me from going anywhere. I was locked in their ivory tower.

My successful friends, in contrast, grew up with social situations ... whether it be through their religion or family, they were in constant contact with the outside world and were allowed to try new things and new experiences.

Part of the reason I job hopped so much in my early 20's and ended up working for MAC is because I was DESPERATE for the life experience that had eluded me for most of my life. I wanted to know how to deal with all types of people, because I really didn't know how to.

It's something that I'm very aware of when it comes to my child -- I want him to be exposed to all kinds of people and personalities very early on and I want him to be able to expereince things.

My sisters are repeats of me ... they're on the cusp of adulthood, but so very emotionally stunted because they've been sheltered all their lives.

My parents had good intentions and wanted me to stay home so I would remain a good girl and study, which pretty much backfired on them. They had big plans for me - but, how could I get to those big places when I really had nothing to go on? Right after I graduated college, they wanted me to make 6 figures a year, but I couldn't really get those jobs because I didn't have the job or life experience those types of jobs required.

I don't have high self-esteem, so I look for situations where I am around people in similar or worse situations so I can feel better about myself. I think I was so attracted to my ex in the beginning because I felt he was a kindred spirit and I thought we would work to a higher place together ... but I confused meeting a kindred spirit with meeting a person who is happy not going anywhere.

It's something for me to think about - I have to figure out where I am, where I'm going, and how I'm going to get there.

I am so jealous, but I'll try not to be

When I was growing up an only child, I was a very lonely child. My parents aren't the most social people, plus I lived in a neighborhood where the demographics weren't skewed very high in my favor. Mostly older people, and zero kids I could play with.

That was in Fairfield, in Northern California, where I lived from age 6 to a few years ago, and it was a stark contrast to my life in Tennessee, where my life was filled with kids around my age and families that liked to get together and do things.

Fairfield, in contrast to Tennessee, was anti-social.

As a result, I was the lonliest kid in the world and would spend hours either reading, watching TV, or making up games for me and my imaginary friends . It's no wonder I was so desperate for siblings!

At age 10, my parents moved to a brand new house in a brand new development, and to my delight and surprise, there was a family of 5 kids in the cul-de-sac above us. I tried SO hard to get their attention without actually going over to their house (shyness!) -- would talk to myself in my parent's backyard, would laugh to myself to make it sound like I was more sociable, all the while reading my Baby Sitter's Club books and plotting ways to have sleepovers with my soon-to-be-friends.

Oh, the silliness of our youth! To this day, my dad still giggles over my little demonstrations: "Remember when you would walk around the backyard trying to get those kids' attention? Hahahahahah!"

Yeah, ha ha ha ....

It was my socially bubbly mom who took me over to their house and introduced me to them ... the oldest daughter was just my age and they took me in quickly and it was the THRILL of my young life. The oldest daughter was just SO COOL to me ... I wanted to BE her and have her confidence, which I was sorely lacking. We watched "West Side Story" together and I was invited to her birthday party which was the coolest thing ever ... the invitation came to me on a recipe card. She was like D.J. Tanner on "Full House" -- I really just wanted to have all her confidence and be just like her. I wasn't happy in my own skin!

Her mom had a baby around the same time mine did and we would walk our sisters around. Somewhere along the line, we just stopped talking to each other. I think it was around the time I called her and asked her to return some Baby Sitter's Club books that I had let her borrow and she kept forever.

However, I would always keep my eye out for her ... see her mom taking her and her siblings to school in their Suburban, interrogating a high school classmate who went to church with her, becoming extremely jealous when a boy made a sign on the hill by her house asking her to go to prom with him, because no boy had ever asked ME out to anything. The closest I had ever gotten to a boyfriend was having a remedial student named Unterrio tell me I looked Puerto Rican and that I was his "girl".

Sigh.

Anyway, through the years, I've wondered what happened to her and googled her a couple of times and lo and behold, I stumbled across her blog and she is living such a fabulous life. SUCH a fabulous life, one that I would LOVE to have and is tall and thin and gorgeous and has a rich, gorgeous husband and a big, gorgeous house and cool accessories .... and I'm trying SO hard not to be jealous about it. That's the life I'M supposed to have. But don't.

The alternate title of this post was going to be, "I am so jealous, aka, I need to start going to church", because this gal is from a very religious family and I am convinced that the way to have extended friends/meet people/meet good guys is to go to church on a regular basis. However, as I was typing that, a coworker and dear friend came by and set me back to reality.

She reminded me that you never know what goes on behind closed doors, and jealousy is just a waste of time. She's right, you know - totally right.

No use being jealous ... and I think that's the end of my googling days.

This is bad ...

... but what I've been doing lately is checking out other moms and noticing if they've lost their baby weight or not ... and feel relieved if they haven't.

My baby was sick ...

I had to take Wednesday off as a vacation day since my MIL and mom both had alternate engagements and neither were able to watch the baby.

I had considered calling in sick that day, but did the right think and requested a vacation day. Funny, because in the wee hours of Wednesday morning, the baby woke up screaming, which is very unusual because he's been sleeping through the night for a very long time now. I gave him a bottle, thinking he was hungry, and then noticed he was burning up.

I took his clothes off and put him in the sink to cool him down and he started shaking ... which really scared the bejeezus out of me and flashed me back to the day he was born. I had woken up that morning with the chills and had to take two hot showers to make me feel ok. Even those showers didn't work because I was cold to the bone. I didn't realize I was in labor, but that was such a scary day for me because I felt the absolute worst I've ever felt in my entire life.

Thinking back on that time, I felt terrible for the baby ... I took his temperature and it was at 100.6 ... so I gave him a dose of infant tylenol, gave him a sponge bath, and called his dad, thinking I'd have to go to the hospital. A sidenote, I wondered how I'd pay for it, since I'm down to $60 until payday -- must keep a $200 buffer in my account! Must!

I knew calling his grandma would be futile, since she would never hear the phone, and since his dad is living at the same house and keeps the cell phone near him, I knew I'd have a better chance calling him.

So, I called and called and called, and on the 6th try he picked up. I haven't had to call him like that since our early dating days ... man, what a trip. He came right over, even though I had asked specifically for his mom to come over, and took care of the baby for about 15 minutes while I called the nurse after-hours line and took the baby's temperature.

All I could think was ... he doesn't belong here anymore. It was weird having him around, because it was like he took up too much space in my home. I wanted him out so bad, but I did need him for those 15 minutes. I guess it was another good moment of perspective.

Giddy ....

After yesterday's extremely successful photo session, I was giddy with excitement for the rest of the day, not even minding that I'd aquired a steaming new sunburn after running around San Juan Capistrano for hours.

The pictures of the baby are spectacular - it was indeed worth every penny and I will cherish them forever. I am looking at some of them, gasping, holding my heart and saying, "Baby GQ!" I am so proud of my boy.

My mother-in-law had a great time on our little day-cation and it did both of us good to do something new and different than our usual schedule. We even visited a petting zoo and had a fun lunch at Ruby's Diner.

My mom joined us at the beginning and the end and in the middle was dealing with her busy kid-carting around schedule. It truly is a shame that my ex is such a dummy, because my mom and my mother-in-law get along so well. They're instant friends and my mom is HERSELF around my mom-in-law, not the fakey self she sometimes puts on for people.

Again, my theory in action - the better you get along with your in-laws, the crummier your marraige! That's just the way it is and I don't expect to get along with another mother-in-law half as well as I do with my soon-to-be former mom-in-law.

Sometimes she surprises me - she's a smarter cookie than I give her credit for at times. On our drive back, I brought up the subject of my son's great-grandma and how I decided to end my visits. She took the words right out of my mouth when I said, "When I leave I always feel...", "Depressed?" ... Wow, so it isn't only me? This is her ex-mother-in-law, by the way. She also knows about the story repeating and even her own 84-year old mother notices it, too.

So, I don't feel so bad, and really shouldn't.

Tomorrow is another day off for me - no one can watch the baby, so I'm taking a vacation day and am planning on taking him to a free aquarium nearby. It should be fun!

I USED to live in a quiet neighborhood!

Before I get to the noisy neighborhood bit, a little detail on the baby's first visitation day.

It went well - I dropped him off, he and his dad and grandma went on a walk and picnic, and by the time I got there the baby was pooped and sleeping. I took that time to run some errands, get some more really great books for the baby (sesame street! printed in 2008!) at the 99 cent store and with my step-father-in-law's assistance, washed my car.

As much as I will complain about his uncouthfulness, he really is a good person. Underneath the grumpiness and 10 layers of varmint shooting madness, he cares. Which is more than I can say for my dreadful ex. While my step-dad-in-law and I were washing and drying the car and doing a little bit of car maintenance, he was sitting inside doing nothing.

I know for sure he HAS to be seeing someone (my ex, that is) because he came from Ontario, brought some stuff, was groomed, and was late coming to his mom's house where he lives. Ontario is where one of his ex-girlfriends lives.

The baby recognizes family members in photos, so I was showing him some photos of me, his dad and his grandmas and in every single one of the photos, my ex was grizzled and unshaven. When he had no one to impress (me), he just let everything go.

Also, strangely, his mom had one of our photos as a couple out. Not sure why, since she took it down long ago. Maybe he brought a girl by and that was her way of defending my honor or something?

It's not that I care, really, or I'm hurt, it's just the child support principle that bugs the shit out of me. If he doesn't pay rent or have living expenses and he has time to galavant all over southern california with today's high gas prices, why am I being short changed on child support? Does no one besides me see the irony off all of this?

Part of me wants to yell and scream for justice, but the practical side of me knows that will never accomplish anything. Better to let karma deal its' cards, no matter how long that will take.

He was talking to his stepsister and her friend when I was packing the baby up about his estranged sister, and all I could think was: 1) ugh, what a pretentious asshole he is, 2) look who's talking??? he was criticizing her and all of his criticisms equally applied to him, 3) damn, I am SO GLAD I am not forced to have to listed to that all the time. Thank GOD for that!

Tomorrow, Monday, I am off for our photo shoot and I am happy about that because it means I can get a zillion things done at my own pace. I realize I really will have to be eating rice and beans for a while because of the photos, but to me, it is so worth it.

Now, the problem with my neighborhood ... it was so quiet for so long, and now .... I feel like I'm back in West LA most of the time. The loud Mexican neighbors, the trailer park person with the radio ... I swear.

I can't believe it's been about a year since we've moved to this apartment. Talk about a stress inducing situation. There I was, weeks away from giving birth, and my ex was being so damn lazy about moving that it made me want to scream and pull my hair out.

Considering how extremely stressed I was during my pregnancy, it is a miracle my son is as well-adjusted and happy as he is. In retrospect, I was under an EXTREME amount of pressure for any one, even someone who wasn't pregnant. At the time, my ex wasn't working, was rejecting jobs right and left, the medical bills were mounting, and it was up to me with my bad credit to secure a new apartment.

My lazy ex wanted to forget about moving and stay in our old place, but there was no way in heaven or hell I would allow that to happen! I cannot and could not imagine living in a city studio apartment at the corner of hell and no hope with a new born baby.

So, thanks to some persistence, a newspaper passed along by a coworker, and my mother-in-law cosigning, we got this place, which is perfect for us right now.

Sure, it's by a trailer park. Sure, it's by a heavily-traveled intersection. Sure, it's not the newest building. But, it is in a relatively quiet neighborhood, 5 minutes from my mother-in-law, very close to work, and by many major stores.

I had been rejected from a couple of other apartments before I fell upon this one and as crazy as my landlady is, she took a chance on us when we were having doors slammed in our faces. She really is nuts -- claims to be religious and yet lies right through her teeth. Her husband is so mismatched to her and it doesn't seem like they talk, because he promised me a covered parking space, and then the new neighbors say they were promised it. A pox on them for that!

It's a 43 year old buiding and nothing has been updated in the apartments since then -- the carpets are industrial strength and give my baby scratched up knees. That alone breaks my heart. I wish so much and so deeply that I could afford to give him a nicer home. However, a nicer home comes with a much higher rent, about $400 or so more per month, and that would just break me.

It was a miracle we found this place as my ex was being so inflexible about how much we would pay -- this was a miracle apartment for that sake alone. Forget how my ex had a heart attack when I told him he had to pay the $1000 deposit. He still brings that up and doesn't seem to remember how I paid for all of my medical bills and paid for a majority of the bills when I was on disability on maternity leave.

As much as my medicine helps me, I can't help but feel sad about some things -- how I wish so dearly I had a supportive partner by my side. Clearly, that would and could never be my ex. What I want more than anything is a partner who I can and will grow with - someone who aspires to a better quality of life and works WITH me to get that done.

I gotta get going. Gotta get some cooking done.

The baby does 2 things that make me extremely proud of my mothering skills: 1) he loves to read; 2) he loves broccoli, and even laughs when I say broccoli. That's my kid!

Wahoo!

Well, it took quite a while, a few months to be exact, but I did finally figure out how to connect my laptop to my parents' wireless and voila! Here I am, typing away on the tile floor of my room at their house.



The baby is snoozing away in his crib. He didn't get an afternoon nap and fell asleep extremely early for this house.



I'm amazed at how well he adapts to the 3 houses he regularly visits. He does really well on 3 different schedules - his yia yia's (my mother in law's) controlled schedule, my mom's loosey goosey schedule, and my somewhat controlled schedule.



I just hooked up my D40 to this computer and to my relief, the pictures look GREAT -- they turned out great! For a moment, I was like, I spent that much on THIS?! But, on the computer they look all kinds of professional and I can't wait to get photoshop element to start working on them.



I took the liberty of rushing home, not doing any errands after work, so I could get to the nail salon near my mom's home before they closed. I typically get pedicures on saturdays, but I think this schedule will work better for everyone and I'll get home faster on Saturdays.



See, sometimes it just takes me a while to figure out a good system. Another great thing I just started doing recently is to do my grocery shopping on weekdays after work. I spare the baby the misery of being confined to the small cart (he always ends up standing up in the bigger part of the basket) and spare myself the associated headache!



I was looking at the professional photos my ex and I had taken (by the same photog that's taking our pics on Monday) when I was 2 months pregnant and I was just amazed by how put together I was. Every 2 weeks I faithfully got a manicure/pedicure and brow threading. These days, due to expenses, I only do pedicures, but looking back, it really did wonders for my self-esteem to be professionally put together.



These days, I do the majority of my grooming at home and I guess it makes me all the better. I really slacked off in general (except for the pedicures, I would have to be comatose to skip them)
after the baby is born, and no duh ... it is SO hard to do things for oneself when they are a parent. But, so worth it to do whatever you CAN do. Very easy to slip into the doldrums, as I very well know.

Some realizations ...

Thinking, lately, about life, I came to realize this morning that my main lesson in this lifetime is for learning and living PATIENCE.

There is a paucity of patience in my psyche. I can't stand anticipation or surprises, so I end up jumping the gun in so many situations and end up in places that aren't the best for me.

Take for example my first REAL job. Looking back at it, it echos my relationship with my ex. Let me take you back 10 years to UC Davis, when I was looking for job experience to go along with my degree. There was so much anxiety to be had in my last year of university. Where was I going to go next, what kind of job would I have, how long would it take me to find a job ... all of that was predicated on having jobs and internships while at school.

While t.a.-ing for one of my professors, I came upon a paid marketing position for a translation firm -- it was perfect, exactly what I was looking for. The owner was out of the country while they were interviewing people, so I only met her after I was hired. I went through several rounds of interviews and when I was hired, it was one of the best days ever.

It was a great thing to happen, especially after being rejected from the university's alumni magazine. Talk about heartbreaking - I had wanted that job so bad and the interview went so well, and at the last minute I was not chosen because another candidate had actual newspaper experience. I remember crying my eyes out while on the phone with the publisher. It was back before I had a cell phone and I was in the basement of one of the campus buildings. That one really hurt.

By the time I got this new job, I was so eager and so ready to work and so happy I'd been chosen. I was a very good worker, made cold calls for the first time,which I learned to hate and still hate - they could have trained me a little better than just throwing me to the lions. Anyway, I thought everything was going well. The owner was a bit cold and distant, but I thought everything was fine. She even met my parents and told them I was a jewel.

I was really enjoying my job, when one day I get a phone call - my job had been "eliminated" and I was thanked for all my help. Even me writing about this makes me feel the hurt all over again. Man, that one REALLY did hurt. I was confused, upset, and unsure of why all that happened.

A while later, I bumped into another gal who'd worked there and she told me how she ended up quitting, mainly because she said she didn't like the way the owner talked to me. That was big news to me ... I didn't realize any of that, mostly because I was so eager to please, so ready to be accepted.

I ended up with the perfect, non-paid internship a while later on. It was a dream job and they loved me there - possibly more so by the fact that they didn't have to pay me.

Taking that first job situation to my relationship with my ex, I can now see so clearly that they were the very same thing. I'd been rejected from another relationship (radio man) and as a result was so eager to jump into something new. When I found Chris, I clung to him, did things I hated to do (similar to cold calls) and when he left me the first time, one of our mutual friends said, "I didn't like the way he talked to you."

Clearly, my blinders are on when I am not thinking practically and sensibly. Clearly I often let things get in the way of good judgment. Clearly, I jump into situations that aren't the best for me BECAUSE I DON'T THINK I CAN GET OR DESERVE ANYTHING BETTER.

Clearly, I need to work on all this!

What happened with my work friend ...

... who is taking advantage of free therapy, is that he thinks more of our friendship that I do. The creepy thing that happened is that he sent me a handwritten note to apologize for something really insignificant, and that made me realize certain things.

You know, perspective really is a good thing. In this case, I see how he's perceiving something as much more important or significant than it really is. I do the same thing do, like with my previous work crushes.

Maybe it's a landmark on the way to healing, but I did need those crushes to get me through the end of my relationshp. They were a way for me to make that break with my ex and realize that there IS more out there for me.

At the moment, I'm way over being in "lust" ... I'm not sure exactly why, but it's not a huge topic of concern for me. I'm so happy being single and spending time with my baby and that's all I need right now. It's freedom and it's what I crave.

Sometimes the topic of dating does come to mind ... even if I were ready, how would meeting guys happen? I don't exactly come across a lot of single young men in my life, and how would going on dates work out with the baby? He's my number one priority and I really hate spending evenings away from him. It might be "good" for me, but considering how much time I am away from him, I would be loathe to spend our free time out on a date.

Wow, that is some major overthinking there! One step at a time ....

In family-related news, my sweet mother-in-law has taken the reigns for the baby's first birthday party. I was going to stay super casual and keep it just to family, but she's going to organize a special day and I am so happy about it.

She and her husband are really good grandparents and my son is very lucky to have them. With my grandparents overseas, I never had the benefit of having elders around and this is something I am so grateful my son gets to experience.

As much as he annoys me with his whistling, slang, and varmint shooting, I have to admit that my mother-in-law's husband is a good grandfather to my son, much better than my ex's dad, who hasn't called or sent letters, or made any attempt to get close with the baby at all, even though he's in Iraq on a contracting job.

I need to buy a lottery ticket ...

... and continue riding my wave of luck.

As I was clicking the "confirm order" button at Costco.com for my Nikon D40 (eeeee!!!!), I felt a slight twinge of "weeeeelll, should I?" but went ahead and did it anyway, trusting that everything will wash out ok in the end.

Even though I got a bonus, I'm paying for our pictures and that puts a little bit of a squeeze on things. But, hey, I did it anyway.

Last year around this time, in the midst of my pregnancy nesting phase, I spent hours upon hours entering online contests. I mean, HOURS ... it almost took over my life and all I ended up winning was a copy of The Queen on DVD, which I promptly ended up selling after one watching.

This year the tides have turned and I've entered a couple of contests here and there, randomly, not even paying attention to what they're for and not even really caring if I win or not. A benefit of mom-brain, perhaps, because in the last couple of months the winnings have been rolling in.

Last month I won an ipod Nano and today I won a $100 American Express gift card.

I definitely need to go buy a lottery ticket.

Maquillaje?! Te pareces una ...

When I was in Spanish 4 in my senior year of high school, I won an acting award for portraying a prude mother chastising her hoochie daughter for wearing too much makeup.

That was also the year I received critical acclaim for my portrayal of Eliza Doolittle in my AP English class's reading of Pygmalion. My cockney accent drove the crowds wild. Or maybe just my friend LeRoy, who aspired to be director. He was actually the director of a short film I produced. Those were the days!

Back to the Spanish skit, my character said to her daugher, upon discovering her wearing makeup in preparation for going out:

"Maquillaje? Te pareces una ...."

Which translates to: "Makeup?! You look like a ... (tramp, hooch, etc, you fill in the blanks)."

In my career as a makeup artist, that phrase popped up in my head frequently ... I don't know why ... sometimes in all the wrong moments, especially when I was doing event makeup. So wrong, so wrong.

This weekend I was talking to my mom about my upcoming photo session and she said I should ask the photographer if she needed a makeup artist. Gotta love my mom for always thinking about self-promotion.

I reminded her that I'd retired my makeup brushes, and she agreed with me. Makeup used to be an all consuming passion of mine. It was what I thought I was meant to do in life.

The truth is, and I've said this before in this blog, it's a highly competitive field, and I enjoyed the art side of it more than the business side. I started with the best intentions and used to carry quotes from Kevyn Aucoin around with me. The times I did make a difference and did bring light some one, it just made the headaches and tired feet all the more worth it. I was a missionary of sorts -- bringing sunshine to people's lives.

Then, reality set in and by the end, I was such a different person than the beginning. Harder. Bitter. I still had a soft spot, but a slew of difficult clients and the retail rat race left me feeling entirely disillusioned.

I believe there are definitely people better-suited for the field than me, so don't have any resentment or regrets. Today I find it odd that a person who would drop hundreds of dollars on makeup at one time now goes to Sephora and wants to dry heave. That's seriously my reaction some times.

Makeup will always be a love of mine - I love the colors, the texture, the artistic things you can do with it. And the most magical thing about it? You can wash it off and start all over again.

I don't mean to be mean ...

... but I'm starting to get super annoyed with a couple of coworkers.

Generally, I have an open cubicle policy - I rarely venture from mine, but people more than welcome to put up a chair and set for a bit for some chit chat, shits, and giggles. It's something that helps the day go by faster, I find - and entirely unproductive! I swear, this company would flip a switch if they calculated all the time people spend chit chatting with each other.

Last month I posted about a coworker who is going through something similar to my relationship with my ex. I'm glad to hear about his problems and give him my advice, but the problem is that he has taken my openness as an indication that what I really want to do is provide him with free therapy for 30 minute to 1 hour sessions, every day of the week.

Yeah.

I guess I really should have seen it coming, but sometimes these situations are confusing. And, I'm not the only person he does this to. I've taken to having another coworker call me when he's on the approach and we have a signal to help each other out when he approaches. I really dont' mean to be mean, but the gist of the problem is: 1) he's a story repeater, 2) he's not happy and doesn't want to do anything to help out his situation, even though everyone gives him good advice, 3) he never asks you about your life, it's all about him, him, him.

The other victim of his therapy terrorism and I were discussing our plight (we're going to start wearing garlic around our necks) and one thing she brought up is that it takes two to tango in relationships - even though he is completely miserable and rants and raves about his partner, we're not hearing both sides of the story.

Valid point.

Which brings me to my situation - what would my ex say about me? What are my faults that I don't take into consideration? What kind of things about me does he say to his friends? And, do these matter, if anything?

Life is a lesson, so goes the saying, and this situation has taught me to look at both sides of the coin, per se.

Ok, somethign really creepy just happened. I have to go but I'll fill you in later!

Dealing with it ....

This weekend there was a little bit of bank account drama: I signed the baby up at Gymboree and the way the debit went through, it looked like I had been charged twice and my bank account was overdrawn.

Drama!

I didn't get upset about it, because I knew what was going on and I knew that I could call on Monday and straighten everything out. Thankfully I didn't need to buy gas or food and I had bought a sweater at Target I returned for cash and everything turned out well.

See, there is something good to be said about being poor. You learn ways to deal with cash crunches and it ultimately makes you smarter about things.

I've had many periods in my life when I've been very poor. The first time was in college -- my parents provided for my education (thank you, mom and dad!) on the provision that I focus on my studies and not work.

They gave me a $15 a week allowance, which, back in the late '90's, wasn't very much at all. At the time I also had a huge obsession with makeup, since I had been given permission by mom and dad to wear it (that's another drama-related post, hah!), so I would budget my allowance in a way to allow me to pick up a $12 or so lipstick from the college bookstore's Clinique counter. At this moment, I'd like to thank the UC Davis Memorial Union for providing 50 cent foccaccia with ranch dressing, which got me through so many crunch times!

The last year has been a much easier time for me financially, but after I just got married 3 years ago, was working part-time in retail, paying full rent (the ex paid off some credit cards in exchange for paying his rent forward), and my ex was in school and not working, times were ROUGH and got rougher when my ex left me for the first time to go to Lebanon.

It was then I learned about selling stuff on Ebay, selling used cds, recycling cans and bottles, and making do with $20 a week for groceries. Man, I think about those times and I am so amazed that I was able to buy groceries at some point and I'm proud of how I was able to make money when I quite literally didn't even have 2 pennies to rub together.

It was the end of my misspending days, when I laughed at overdraft charges, to the times when I got on the phone to the bank and DEMANDED to be refunded, even when I was in the wrong!

Looking back, I am humbled, but I also am entirely grateful, because without that hard time, I wouldn't have learned how to put together a spending plan, and to this day, I know where every single penny I have is at every single moment.

Things are not as tight anymore, but I still have to watch my spending and I'll probably be living paycheck to paycheck for a while. Today, the day before payday, I have just a few dollars to my name, which is something that scares me.

I resolved to try to keep at least $100 in my checking in case of any emergencies - like having to go to the emergency room or having to change a tire. I don't have a credit card anymore and my savings is locked up in an online bank.

Anyway, the larger point of this post was about child support. It looks like the amount might end up being the lower amount, which really sucks. My MIL pledged to give me $300, but I know I cannot count on it. I want to get angry about it, and I know deep down that it just ISN'T RIGHT, but I feel like anger or resistance would be futile at this point.

My MIL said she'd ask my ex to give me $150 when I was still overdrawn this weekend, and he would only give it to me on the condition I let him visit with the baby. Not only was that not right - a kid shouldn't be leverage - but yesterday was a really bad day for us. I'd taken the baby to a picnic and he was cranky, cranky, cranky the whole time. He was tired, he wanted to run around the whole time, he choked on a piece of fruit (thank you, CPR class) since his eyes were bigger than his mouth, and to top it off, he got licked on the face by a dog and that REALLY didn't go over well. Ah, babies. The bright side of all this is that I burned off the zillion calories I consumed by running after him.

I know I have to accept that this is going to have to be. I'm not going to be able to count on my ex to provide much, just as it was during our marriage, and I know that if anyone is going to improve my financial situation, it is going to HAVE to be me. No choice about it! So, with that in mind, I just have to gird my loins and prepare for what's ahead. It has to be me, and I must do things for the benefit of my child. I have to make his life as great as I want it to be.

Today is a frivolous drink day...

My frivolous coffee drinking habits from my youth have calmed down considerably in my advanced age.

Considering how much coffee I have consumed over my lifetime, and how much of it being frivolous frou-frou drinks, I take this as a huge accomplishement.

I started off lite - coffee and cream from my university's student union, that quickly progressed to iced mochas. I don't know what they used, but it was the BEST mocha I will ever have and I am dying to have one again. Those were also the days when my metabolism was a lot faster ... sigh!

Once I had dipped my toes in mocha-land, I ventured to espresso-ville and I never looked back. After my first espresso, I thought for sure I was going to have a heart-attack in the city bus I was driving. Wow - I 'll never forget that feeling.

Through the years and many frivolous drinks later, I settled on a my signature drink, which was (get ready): 4 shots of espresso over ice covered with half and half and 4 packets of splenda.

Ok, get grossed out for a second, then rejoin me right below.

It's so disgusting that it tastes good to me. I'm strange. I've gone back to this standard during several periods in my life and just recently got over a phase of this. There are times when I get on a frivolous coffee kick and join the now-reduced lines at Starbucks (I think everyone else is over their frivolous coffee phases, too) to order my complicated espress drink.

So, now, I don't need the coffee as much, but I do indulge once a week or so -- not feeling any less guilty about the hefty price tag, but I do enjoy the splurge every now and then.

I feel like Starbuck's quality has gone down so much over the years and I don't even really enjoy the drinks that I do get - certainly not worth the almost $4 price tag!

Right now I usually get a sugar-free caramel machiatto, decaf, over ice, and with whipped cream. Even though its watered down, it does me good to have that occasional peek into my carefree-spending youth.

Now, if only I could track down that mocha!

Things people with too much time and money do ...

TGIF! Can I gell a hallelujah????!!!! Ah, I am so happy today is Friday and there is potential sleep-in time tomorrow.

See, my sleep schedule has been off since the beginning of the week, what with jazz music blaring from the trailer park in front of me and a certain baby's growth spurt that requires a very early-morning bottle. Once that schedule is off, the rest of the week is pretty much shot and by Friday, I am an absolute zombie.

So, as I am preparing to drive to work this morning as part of the living dead, I encouter my still-recovering father, getting dressed to go out. Strange, for him, since he spends the majority of his days in his sweats and rarely goes out anyway.

When I tell you what he is doing, you will definitely agree that it is possibly one of the silliest thigns you've ever heard. He tells me he's going to move his car into the spot mine is taking once I leave at 6:30 am.

You see, my parents and their neighbors are engaged in a battle of parking one-upmanship that has consumed their lives. My parents are retired and the neighbors are just rich.

My parents are very humble with their cars - both drive Fords and have always been unpretentious with whatever they drive. I'm actually surprised they're driving Fords, since they always had a Toyota when I was growing up. But that's besides the point -- their neighbors own about 5 luxury cars, ranging from Suburbans to Benz, to some kind of a monster truck. They have tons of cars.

The issue at hand extends to their entire community - letters have been written to the newspaper about this phenomenon. It seems as if people don't want to use their massive garages to store their cars, but rather to store their accumulated stuff, and end up parking their cars in front of houses that aren't their own. It drives the people who want to park their own cars in front of their own houses nuts.

Such is the case of my parents -- in this situation, not only do their neighbors have tons of cars they want to park in front of my parents house, they've also been doing construction on their house for over a year, leaving storage containers and waste containers all over the place.

I've refused to participate in any of this - because it's just silly, for one, and don't these people (my parents included) have better things to do? Geesh!

Last night, though, I witnessed such a tense exchange going on and even participated in the parking spot rally.Upon my dads pressing request, I pulled my car into his when he left for the library, only to see their neighbor start to back her benz out of her driveway so she could assume the spot. When she saw me starting to pull in, she got out and stamped into her other neighbor's garage in a huff.

I can only assume what they were talking about, but I'm sure it involved her complaining about my parents the same way they complain about her. It was so weird. So petty - I just want to tell them, "can't we all get along?".

In my life, I really don't have time for such silly concerns. Different strokes for different folks, I guess.

I wonder what either party would do if they were in my shoes -- if they were promised a space under a roofed parking spot by the landlords, only to get a note when a new neighbor moved in saying THEY had been promised the spot. Would they have let the situation go, like I did, and moved my car to a spot which leaves their car ridiculously hot when I have to take the baby out? Or would they have done what I really SHOULD have done, which is cause a ruckus and make the landlords give me the other spot!

Meep!!!

For months and months, maybe even a couple of years, I have been lusting for a digital slr. Lusting, drooling, desperately wanting.

This week, my feelings have been very strong ... I keep picturing myself holding one, using one, and seeing the great quality of photos that come out from it. I NEED one in my life, I keep telling myself.

Lo and behold .... I get called into my boss's office this morning. I totally think I'm in trouble ... NOT! I'm being BONUSED for helping out with a huge project that will totally allow me to buy the basic Nikon D4o package from Costco!!

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I've recently been taking long drives along the Palos Verdes shores (an exclusive part of the south Los Angeles area) and thinking, I'm going to live here... or here ... or here. I gotta keep doing this!!!!!!!!!

Small accomplishments...

Since October 2006, I have paid $2600 off of my Visa credit card. I have about $2800 left to go.

Woo hoo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dolla, dolla bills, y'all

My sweet, well-intentioned mother-in-law is my liason during this divorce. She's able to get things across to my ex that I've never been able to.

Perhaps I'm too short tempered, or get over excited about his refusal to comprehend the basics of reality, but my conversations with him have always ended in me getting angry, so it's a good thing that she's around to temper the tempest within me.

Today we spoke about the child support issue and she said she and her mom would make sure I get $300 - that's nice and everything, but it really isn't their problem to get it to me, it's my ex's. I'm not too upset or torn up about it, I just hope that someday in the future I can get more from him.

Taking care of me and my son is indeed expensive and by the end of the month, I barely have enough to tide me over. Rent and utilities are $1100, gas is $400, and that $300 is barely the tip of the iceberg when you consider that I pay for the baby's health insurance, too.

Well, it's nothing new or surprising to me. The main thought that's come out of this is that I realize I've always felt alone in the relationship in financial terms and even when I was pregnant, I never felt like I was preparing to have a double income situation. I looked at a budget I prepared when I was newly pregnant and I didn't even account for my ex's income.

Thinking about all of this, I think my challenge in my next relationship will be building a partnership -- I'm so used to dealing with things on my own that I don't know how to do things with someone else, to actually plan a future with them.

Tomorrow I go to my parent's home and the situation with my sisters is still rough. My mom has arranged for us to be out of each other's way, and they think that they should bring the baby up here Friday night so I'm not around my sisters. I told them absolutely not because they don't realize how hard it is to deal with putting all my stuff away AND making a cranky baby happy in the evening, and I promised to leave early Saturday morning.

If they had it their way, they'd keep the baby overnight and I'd stay up north, and the thought of that just gives me a sick stomach. It's not their baby to keep! As hard as I work for the baby, and as much as I'm going through to make his life easier, I cannot bear the thought of being away from him for a night. That's a special time for me - we sleep in the same room and for part of the night in the same bed and I love being able to be near him for hours at a time, seeing as how I'm forced to be away from him during work and also commute.

Ay, it's going to be another late night. It's gotten away from me - I did some cooking and planned to spend a half hour online and a half hour reading a frivolous new book - the new sex and the city movie book. Gotta get to sleep early - I overslept today, quite by accident, but it did me good.

Off I go!

An observation from mom-ville

Before I had my son, I had a hate-based relationship with Elmo, the famous furry red monster from Sesame Street. So annoying, I thought.

However, time and the fact that Elmo is a source of great entertainment to the baby, has mellowed out my thoughts of him. I can't believe I'm saying it, but I actually LIKE Elmo these days. The jury is still out on Barney - the short dinosaurs with the stumpy arms freak me out a little bit.

Last night I was watching "The Best of Elmo", a new DVD I acquired from Amazon.com, and I realized that my earlier Elmo-hate had validity. You see, Elmo has changed through the years -- on the show Sesame Street, the characters pretty much never age (even the human characters look freakishly youthful after all these years).

Early Elmo was rough around the edges - spoke in an annoying baby patter and the voice wasn't quite down. Later Elmo, the one that's on the air today, is a lot smoother. It seems that Elmo has gained some game along the years!

Just some things you notice when you're a mom.

Visitation starts soon ...

... boo.

Every other Sunday I have to hand the babe over to his dad for a few hours.

Not looking forward to it. At all.

The trouble with crazy ...

The problem with having a crazy ex-husband is that you send him a text messages asking him to buy diapers for you baby, and it turns into a text conversation like this:

Him: I get the baby next Sunday, right?

Me: We haven't officially signed any divorce papers. Ask your lawyer.

Him: We did when my lawyer sent s/o over to visit you a couple of months ago.

Me: That was just having papers served. We're not officially divorced yet.

Him: Waiting to hear back from my lawyer before I comment on this. But I miss you too. [me: ummmmm..... psycho much?!]

Me: I don't miss you.

Him: Then you should be happy we're divorced.



Him: There's a six-month countdown, starting from when you were served. We'll be free & clear to remarry then. But I still get the baby on alternate Sundays before then.

Me: All you've shown me is that you have no ideas what you're paying your lawyer for. Pretty ignorant.

Him: As for child support & alimony, those are separate issues that we still have to square away.

Him: We already signed an agreement on visitation. If you want we could do s/th w/ him together, but I really want to see him & it doesn't have to be that long.

Him: Me and my mom help u a lot with money so its very hurtful when you say ur not getting child support, especially since I've opted to pay you the maximum amount [me: HAH!]

Me: We have plans next weekend.

Him: You wanted it this way, not me. [Me: again, ummmmmm....]

Me: Your lawyer money wasn't even from you. You weren't willing to help with the big medical bills when I was pregnant.

Him: That's what the paperwork is for. What's hurtful is your angry words. I want to help, but you make it hard to sympathise with you.

Me: It's not anger it's the truth and you're laughable.

Him: If you're having such a hard time, you should've thought of that before you opted out of the marriage. We could've put that lawyer money into lawyer money into a house.

Me: I feel sorry for you. Because you have zero concept of reality. It's sad.

Him: It hurts me to say that you are laughable one. I really hope you find someone who'll appreciate you some day.

Me: I have nothing to be hurtful or regretful about. You're not willing to accept the truth of the situation.

Him: Regardless of where it's from, it still could've gone towards a house.

Him: If that makes you feel better, be my guest.

Him: If it makes you happy to say that, then ok. Have a nice day. :-)

Me: I don't have anything I need to feel better about but thanks for your concern. All I contacted you for was to tell you what the baby needs, which are diapers, and I've already asked you once this week.

Him: Ok. Have a good week. :-)

Ok, all this told me was that he's really off his rocker. Old me would have taken the bait because I know the real problem is he has to move out of his mom's soon and the easy way is to move back in with me, regardless of the past.

New me doesn't want his stinky, hairy, noisy self in my sanctuary, getting the grease from his Banquet chicken pot pies on my new furniture. Enough!

Perspective is a good thing.

The day before this conversation, I went to a bbq hosted by my coworker/friend and had a couple of affirming moments. First, I looked on at the dynamic between her and her husband and it gave me something to aspire to. This is her second husband and even though they do have their squabbles, they are a TEAM.

In fact, I noticed this when I was visiting them in the hopsital after their first baby was born, which was 2 weeks before my ex and I split. They are such a great pair and I'm looking forward to having that kind of relationship.

Second, I realized that if I had brought my ex with me, I really wouldn't have had as great a time. He's a major party pooper and when we went out, I was never really myself.

I think I handled the text conversation very well. Perspective is empowering.

A long sigh ....

I grew up an only child until age 11, when my mom gave birth to the first of my two sisters. They're 16 months apart and as close as two siblings can be.

As an only and lonely child I wanted nothing more than siblings and the day my mom told me she was pregnant was one of the most memorable of my life. We were in our backyard picking fruit [sidenote: I'm at my parent's home and there are no less than 6 firework displays visible from their backyard - pretty cool] and from that moment, I was so proud and excited to be a sister.

Unfortunatley, as I've learned, personalities differ, and as much as you are tied to someone by blood, you don't necessarily get along with them.

My relationship with my oldest younger sister has been fraught with difficulties through the years -- again, we're just 2 different personalities, plus it seems we all suffer from depression in one form or another. That combo makes for some explosive material (pun intended).

When I ran away from home at age 26, it only made matters worse and time hasn't mended old wounds for us. With the younger sister, things are much easier, but she's still and will forever be faithful to her closer sibling.

Today was a relaxing day for me - I got a pedicure in the morning, went to the mall to window shop and buy sunscreen, and spent the rest of the day just chilling with my baby. Since I really don't get to spend much time with him, I was really cherishing the day.

We were upstairs, playing in the youngest sister's room when the older one gave me some major lip and told me to be respectful since I'm JUST a guest in my parents house. A sidenote - my parents have always emphasized that I am a member of this family and the house is equally mine as it is everyone else's. Something about her tone just made me SNAP in a way that even my medication couldn't help.

I really couldn't help it - it came from a visceral place deep inside - there's something about being betrayed by a family member that cuts me to the core, and this one did just that.

I screamed at her to go f- herself, told my mom I was leaving and packed all my bags to leave. My sisters and mom were in tears and I had to sit in the garage to calm myself down.

My dad is such a different person now than even a few years ago ... he's calm, collected, full of good wisdom. Old age has done him good. He handled the situation so well.

I'm not proud of how I reacted and the fall-out at all .... It was just the straw that broke the camels back. The thing about my sisters is ... they're extremely sheltered, naive and have no real worries in life.

Not to make any excuses, but I, on the other hand, have a full-time job and have to be "ON" while I'm there, especially given how tenuous the situation is, am a single mother and all that entails, have a horrendous comute of almost 4 hours a day 2 days a week, am going through a horrific divorce and just got asked to provide spousal support, and am 11 years older than my sister.

When a little spoiled 18 year old tells me to have some respect after all I've done is take my child upstairs and play with him and am doing nothing wrong ... uh ... there's just no way.

My heart is broken for my mom ... she cried something awful. I wish it was easier, but like our family history shows, siblings just don't get along. My mom doesn't get along with her siblings nor does my dad, and they are all in their 50s and above.

It's tough, this life. There aren't always solutions, but you gotta learn to cope. I hope, one day, that my sister gains some perspective and can see life from my point of view. Until then, we just have to avoid each other as much as possible.

Why am I so fat?

My baby's year anniversary is coming up and I find myself just as fat as I was when I delivered. I weigh exactly the same amount as when I had him.

I eat low-carb, am very good about excercising, and according to my doctor there is no physiological reason behind it - everything checks out ok.

I hate it so much. It's really starting to bring me down. :(

Why can't I lose the weight?

I've been thinking ....

... and I think I know the answer to my earlier conundrum with the baby's great-grandparents. I'm not going to feel bad about making regular visits to them. I'm just not going to. I'll send them pictures, I'll keep in contact, but I won't feel guilty about not going over on a monthly basis. Just like I'm trying to keep a distance with my in-laws.

I was talking to my mom and she agreed with me - my time is precious and although I do care for these people, they're not directly related to me anymore. If anyone should be taking the baby over, it would be my ex, and he doesn't show any signs of wanting to.

Today I got the child support preliminaries back and it is awful. Really awful - the way the lawyer calculated it, my ex would be paying me $150 a month and I would be paying him $350 a month in spousal support.

ummmmmmmmmmm.... I stood up for myself and immediatly said absolutely not. No way. NOT gonna happen. Let's all send a collective pox to my ex. He deserves a wart on his ass.

So, after some discussion with my mother-in-law, it seems as if he's agreed to give me $300 for now, which is something to start with, and then he'll bump it up as he makes more money. She mentioned that he'll have to start paying for an apartment soon (not gonna happen).

I'm grateful for meds. Got me through today with no tears shed and no anxiety. It's a good thing.

I've found my future wedding dress maker!

http://www.stephaniejamescouture.com/

FAB

FAB

FAB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Exactly the look I love (heart!)

Nagging ....

Today is my doctor's appointment, and I'm looking forward to what she has to say. I think in the past month I've made some great strides and I'm on a good path. The only negative thing I have to say is that I'm experiencing breakthrough anxiety and I'm not sure if that's normal or not.

This weekend the baby and have bbq plans at a friend's house and I'm looking forward to it, especially since there will be many babies around for him to play with. Earlier that day he'll go to Gymboree, so his day is going to be jam-packed with excitement. It's a late bbq, so I'm not sure how well he'll do and I'm only going to keep him there for a little bit.

I have a couple of things that have been nagging me - in a way, I do feel a bit guilty over them and I'm fighting those feelings. The big issue is one set of my son's great-grandparents on his father's side. They are his dad's dad's parents and are truly very nice people. Story-repeaters, for sure, but at the heart of it, they mean well.

My mom and her siblings are so different than their parents, who were just as genuinely nice as the great-grandparents in this story. They're always fighting and squabbling and my dad once astutely commented, "how did 2 nice people have all those crazy kids?". Same thing in this situation - a mish mosh of personalities and especially my ex-father-in-law, who is currently working as a contractor in Iraq. I've seen him only a handful of times. My ex's dad was not very involved in his life and hasn't been all that involved in the baby's life. He's given money to his son presumably for the baby, but we've (meaning me and the baby) not seen a dime of it, so there you go.

My ex-father-in-law gave me quite a sum of money 2 years ago to hire a lawyer (which I didn't use on a lawyer, but rather bills) and I feel guilty about that, too. Different time, different place, different me. I did pay off a couple of huge bills and at the time I wasn't making very much money at all, so if that's any kind of justification ....

Anyway, back to the great-grandparents. Yes, they are my son's great-grandparents, yes, they do want to see the baby often, but the conflict is:

a) every time I go over there, I leave feeling upset. The great-grandma innocently mentions stuff in conversations about my ex and his past and current situations that I really don't need to know. Like about the Nigerian girl he's apparently seeing. Didn't need to know that. Didn't want to know that. She's 84 and her brain doesn't censor a lot of stuff before it comes out of her mouth.

Plus, she's on the anti-ex train and spends a lot of the conversation saying negative things about him. It's not that I disagree, it's just that I'm in the mindframe that it's better to not wallow in the past but think about the future.

A visit there guarantees that I will be upset for a few hours afterward, and I usally end up calling my mother-in-law and making her concerned, and it's just too much sometimes.

b) every time we go over there, the baby gets hurt. Their house isn't baby proof and they don't pay very close attention to him, so if I happen to be in the bathroom, it can get sketchy, especially with great-grandpa's oxygen tank line. Last time, the baby tumbled while he was holding on to their coffee table and got a bloody lip ... talk about guilt trips. He never gets hurt anywhere else.

In every letter she writes, great-grandma mentions ... bring the baby over more often so he can get used to us and we can watch him for a few hours. Uh...... yeah.

c) the story repeating -- it's a lot for me to handle. I'm not the type of person who feels comfortable interrupting people when they talk (although my ex had no problem with it), so I usually just listen to the stories over and over and nod my head. I myself am a story repeater, so I can sympathise, but in this case, I hear the same stories over and over and over. Then she gets upset when I say I have to leave after an hour or two and says, "Oh,I thought I would just order lunch and you would stay for a few hours."

Oh, I feel so guilty even writing this. I don't know if there's a way to ease my mind over it. They are NICE people with GOOD intentions and I feel terrible even writing about it. I send them photos and great-grandma sends back letters saying, please come over more often.

Honestly, that's just not possible and I just can't do it. I think about me, as a great-grandma begging to see babies more often and feel terrible. I've seen them more often than their own grandson does. Do I have an obligation to see them? Do I have to?

As horrible as THIS part sounds, it's just too much to deal with on a regular basis and visits just end up ruining one of my free days. Am I making too much of a big deal out of this? This is something that crosses my mind frequently and I often think - I should go to visit them, I really should.

Aaaargh.....

I feel ...

GOOD. Inside and out, I'm just feeling really, really good right now.

A lot of it has to do with the fact that I've gone back to taking good care of myself. Not that I was taking terrible care of myself before, but during my relationship with my ex, I let a lot of self-care rituals go out of sheer laziness. Lately, I've made it a point to go back to my old ways of being.

First and foremost, I started flossing again, which was a huge step in the right direction, simple as it sounds. I can't really say WHY I stopped, I think it became a hassle in the fly-by-night type of life I had with my ex in the beginning of our relationship and then the laziness and ennui set in and it all went downhill from there. I made sure the basics were taken care of, but the extra stuff went by the wayside.

So, in the past few months I've: started flossing, started neti pot-ing, started pumicing my calluses [damn, I am a major story repeater - I DID post about this before], and last night I did something MAJOR -- I worked out at home!!!!! I took the baby on a walk to the Sprint store in the evening (had to leave because of a major line) and later did a weight work out.

Ta-da! Big, big, big step in the right direction! When I was living with my parents in the age of little-responsibilities, I used to work out in front of my full-length mirror all the time. That, and sing Judy Garland songs into a mini-tape recorder. It's true -there is a mini-tape out there sometimes full of my interpretations of Judy, Dino, Frank, Nat King Cole, the Andrews Sisters, Tony Bennett and various show tunes. I'm not ashamed! Well, maybe I would be totally embarrased if that tape ever saw the light of day. Hopefully it's safely buried in a box in my parents house and that kind of technology needed to play it will be nonexistent when my great-grandchildren find it.

Back to the work out, I took out my 5 pound weights and did my arm excercises to the 11 o'clock news - I was surprised by how much it brought up my heart rate. I didn't pull out the mini-trampoline (or rebounder - but it will always be a mini-trampoline to me), but DID pull out the weighted hula hoop. I have an embarrasing amount of work-out equipment in my tiny apartment that mostly gets a dust work out. Not anymore!

I almost did my little yoga routine, but there was still a bit of laziness in me and I didn't have the energy to put baby toys away. It's a challenge for next time!

I've also been stepping up the healthy eating - trying to limit my portion sizes, which is REALLY one of my biggest challenge on earth because I really like eating, and eating those foods you always hear are superfoods. Taking shots of apple cider vinegar, handfuls of flax seed in my probiotic yogurt, and lately, roasted garlic, which I love and am sure is turning me into a walking garlic clove.

The vices are still around - soda and Costco's mocha freezes, anyone? But, in general, it's a step towards mindful eating. Mindfulness - I'm intrigued by the slow food movement that started in Italy and is making waves around the world.

I grew up in a "eat or be eaten" household - my dad could really shovel it in - and it is a challenge for me to not shovel stuff in to this day. Considering my child is eating table food more and more, I want to set a good example for him, as I've said before.

I'm going to experiment - really try to make a consious effort with food - wish me luck!

Won't you be my neighbor?

The worst thing about apartment living? Neighbors.

The best part about your apartment living? Neighbors.

Through the years, I've had a variety of neighbors. Some loud, some quiet, some nosy, some annoying, some crazy. One was even a gun-toting crack-head that I had to testify against in court. What a story. You can't make it up!

Her name was Denise, and I knew this because she drove an early-model, red convertible jetta that had the license plate Denise1. She was also a UCLA alum, per her licence plate holder. She had a friend who I'll call the scarecrow. She looked like a scarecrow -- bone skinny (almost no flesh on her - I saw her at the recycling center once and I thought she was going to blow away) and frizzy blonde hair. I felt sorry for her, though, because at one point she HAD had a normal life. Her daughter and grandchild would come and visit her so often, and her daughter exhibited no signs of the crackhead-yness that consumed her mother.

She lived next door to my West L.A. apartment. It was strange that she lived there because basically the entire apartment was occupied by crackhead Mexican day laborers. I think both Denise and the Scarecrow's men were day laborers, which would explain their presence, which was quite the anomaly.

They were a great source of entertainment to me, because two crackheads together really do some crazy shit. Like the time they were digging through the dumpsters and got all kinds of excited about their finding, and the time the Scarecrow was riding a hobby horse around.

Not an exaggeration. Before my ex and I moved into our place, we took a look at this building to get an application. It was called Stewart Manor, there was a porn shop named Hedonix in front (they also sold motorized wheelchairs - again, you can't make this up), and it smelled like piss, puke, cheap beer, scratched off lottery tickets, and disappointment. The person who gave us the application was in his underwear and was apparently going through a cold drug sweat.

The majority of the occupants were lousy drunks and would spend their weekend nights drinking their pay away and making weird animal noises and singing songs of lamentation. Yes, this is true. Every once in a while, they would beat each other up and we'd have to call the police.

I really HATE having to call the police, but I'll do it when I see crazy things happening. Like the time I had to call the police on Denise. I came home from my retail job at the big Beverly Hills department store and was taking a nap. I was awoken by this screaming out the window, which faced the alley. Apparently Denise was out of her red convertible jetta and screaming at this man over parking. Parking WAS a bitch in that area, but I'd never seen it get out of control like that.

So, I hear her call him every name in the book, see her take out a gun and wave it in his face. He drives off right away and I called the police right away. That was definitely one of the scariest moments of my life.

I asked for anonymity, but got called into the police station to look at a photo lineup and make some comments. I also had to go to court to tell them what I saw. Denise came into the courtroom crying, but her hair was looking great. Her dad was there - he seemed normal, too.

After an absence of a few months, Denise was back and up to her old tricks per usual. I tried to avoid her as much as possible, but she and the Scarecrow were always a source of amusement.

In the neighborhood I'm living in now, I'm right in backof a trailer park (as I've mentioned before, my city is a haven for trailer parks). For the most part, it's great - never noisy (except for my crazy new apartment-house neighbors who are out of control) and I never hear anything, except for the past week.

Someone in the trailer directly in front of me took the libery of starting up their new car and blowing all kinds of exhaust into my bathroom window. Great!

Then, over the weekend, they took to cranking up their stereo and leaving it up full blast until dark o'clock - I called the police but they're still up to their old tricks. It's disturbing the baby, which really makes me upset, but the bright side of all this is that the radio is tuned to KJAZZ and I actually kind of like the music.

Anyway, last night, I heard a new voice that I've never heard in the past year that I've been living in the area. I'll call him the Gambler. He has a droneful, deep voice and was talking to someone about having to go to a food bank for the first time. He was also complaining about his shortage of money and his gambling ... he doesn't see it as a problem, it's a way of life. There was also talk about Hilary, a lesbian that he liked. It was a fascinating conversation - there was even talk of Slobodon Milosevic. How that figured into a conversation about food banks, gambling, a gambling circuit,and being short of money, I don't really know, but I couldn't take my ear away from the window.

It's in moments like these that are life's little gems. You never know what you'll stumble across while living in an apartment and you never realize how many of these moments you carry around forever.

Bah!

The forces are conspiring against me this week and it seems as if I may only be able to make it to the gym one time! Due to the shorter holiday week, having to run an errand yesterday, and then today having to work through planning meetings at work, my lunches are being dedicated to other purposes than my pastime.

What a let down! I really look forward to my workouts - it's the one time of my day that I have to my self, except for the fact that there are dozens of other sweaty people miling about, but who really notices them when my ipod is on full-blast?

There's a certain magic to the treadmill. I've come back to it after making the rounds on the other gym equipment. When I first became an avid gym-goer during my first separation, it was my equipment of choice. That and the recumbrent bike. Man, those were good times. I would go to the gym around 7 pm or so, dig my nose into a book or magazine, then spy on some boys as I sweated along.

I went to a Bally's near my then-apartment in West L.A. and boy, were there characters in that gym! The really skinny guy who had some kind of device implanted in his legs and did all kinds of weird streches in skin-tight spandex, the kind of cute guy who was cuter from a distance who spent an hour doing the maxium level on the stairmaster and left the machine in a puddle of sweat when he was done, the crazy lesbian cleaning lady in the women's locker room who called out all the girls she like (creepy), the Georgian (from the country of Georgia) trainer who looked like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast, except with thinning long hair and awful taste in work out clothes who took a liking to me and would come up and caress my face when I was doing sit ups (extra creepy).

Back to the gym equipment ... when I became pregnant, I took my workout down several notches and when I went back after maternity leave, I started right back to my pre-pregnancy workout. BIG MISTAKE! Talk about overconfidence - I was still kind of swollen and unused to rigorous activity and ended up with some kind of major knee injury that left me limping for 2 weeks. So terrible!

So, I learned my lesson and this time around made my rounds through the ellliptical, recumbrent bike, and the stairmaster. Now, I'm back on the treadmill and I am so in love with it. I crank up the traction to about 7 or 8, put my speed around 3.2 miles per hour, and it's like I'm flying. It's seriously one of the greatest feelings in the world and I could do it for hours, although I'm always limited to 25 minutes.

My parents happen to have a treadmill, a really good one, and I haven't taken the time to do it in the last 7 months since I've been living there part-time. Such a shame, and I must take steps to remedy this, even though I'm usually fighting exhaustion. See, the commute there is brutal and literally takes hours. I gotta do it, though! I must, I must!

In other news, I received a handwritten letter at work from a client and I was completely bowled over by the perfection of the writer's script. It is simply breathtaking- I haven't seen handwriting this beautiful ever - not even on hand-calligraphied wedding invitations. I'm so intrigued and I'm tempted to ask this person where they learned their mad script skills.

I've always loved paper and pens and appreciate good handwriting - just one of my little quirks. My stationery collection does me proud and I always write with a fine point gel pen. Weird, but thats me.