Friday, January 30, 2009
Stupid Phone Call of the Day
Inspired by Notalwaysright.com, the funniest website you've never seen:
Me: Anonmom, how may I help you?
Person: Give me your phone number, I was transferred and I need your number in case we're disconnected.
Me: It's xxx-xxx-xxxx. How may I help you?
Person: Do you know why I'm calling you?
[sidenote: if I did, this would be anonmom's psychic network blog, not anonmom rants and raves about being a single parent blog]
Person, cont: I just got back into the business after 10 years. I started back in July and I need you to tell me where I can find someone who can teach me how to do x, y, z.
Me: I don't have that information, but I'd suggest visiting x website.
Person: What do you mean?
Me: They'd have the information you're looking for, it's (spells out website) and I'd check the forums to see if there are any classified ads, or you can even post an ad yourself.
Person: The dorums? Can you spell that? Is it d-o-r-o-m-s dot com?
Me, to myself: Oy....
Me: Anonmom, how may I help you?
Person: Give me your phone number, I was transferred and I need your number in case we're disconnected.
Me: It's xxx-xxx-xxxx. How may I help you?
Person: Do you know why I'm calling you?
[sidenote: if I did, this would be anonmom's psychic network blog, not anonmom rants and raves about being a single parent blog]
Person, cont: I just got back into the business after 10 years. I started back in July and I need you to tell me where I can find someone who can teach me how to do x, y, z.
Me: I don't have that information, but I'd suggest visiting x website.
Person: What do you mean?
Me: They'd have the information you're looking for, it's (spells out website) and I'd check the forums to see if there are any classified ads, or you can even post an ad yourself.
Person: The dorums? Can you spell that? Is it d-o-r-o-m-s dot com?
Me, to myself: Oy....
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Priorities and Shark Jumping
I'm feeling punch today. An avid consumer of news and gossip, I can honestly say that celebrity gossip has officially jumped the shark.
Considering how crazy our world is today, I can understand the need for escapism. But, when we're getting all up in arms about performer Jessica Simpson's weight when people are being found frozen to death, I just give up.
Here's the story about Jessica. It's a bad outfit, honestly, and I've seen her in person and can say that even in this bad outfit and bad angle, she's not FAT. Stood right next to her when I worked in the fancy department store and she came in for Dior Show mascara. The girl is teensy tiny, a little bird with a very petite frame. Celebrities in general are tiny people, that's why they're different than us. Occasionally you'll see a "normal" person, but for the most part, they're just bred differently than the rest of us.
[Warning: somewhat disturbing image in the link] Here's the story of a man who was found frozen to death in a Detroit elevator shack. He's been there for who knows how long, and apparently no one cared enough about him to send out the cops for him. Earlier this week, a 93 year old man was found frozen to death in his home. He had the money, but didn't have the mental capacity to deal with his utilities being turned off, and no one cared to check in on him.
We don't care about Joe Schmoe DYING from the elements, but Jessica Simpson puts on a pair of granny pants and it's enough to cause mass hysteria.
I blame Oprah for all of this. I just do, because I can and it feels good.
The reason behind the suckage
There is a good reason why I took offense to my coworker's comments. Although I do appreciate that they are constructive points, if you know what she's referring to and the reality of the situation, it just sucks all around in her favor.
I can't really be specific, even though this is a "anonymous" blog, but let me just say that the entire exchange just proves my work frustration right.
My colleague, who is technically a "boss" took about an hour to write a letter in response to the numerous CYA ("cover your ass") emails I've written to her and a couple other "bosses" over the past month about an event this weekend.
She must have literally taken an hour to tell me that this is "my" year, so I should go above and beyond to do certain stuff (which I've already done, by the way), and by the way, I should go and pick up a copy of "The Secret", which, as you'll find out, is the biggest laugh of my day.
That's the part that really offended me and the more I think about it, the more frustrated I get, and honestly, it just confirms that I should just "not care" more. Let me tell you why...
Uh, honey, I want to tell her, sorry to disappoint, but I've known about "The Secret" since way back in the day. If you were more interested in spending hours talking to people other than your ex-boss in the company, and the pothead editor about boxing, b.s., and your high school drug use and glory days, you would know that about me.
If you actually spent more than 5 seconds saying "hi/bye" to me, you'd know that I've been into "self-help" for eons. Honey, (I want to say) I AM "The Secret".
It makes me wonder how she's judged me and what she really thinks of me, and that must really not be a lot, which is a shame, because I think I'm a pretty nifty person, as evidenced by my 25 Random Things. No, I didn' t peak in high school, and no, I'm not and have never been a drug user, but I have pretty far ranging interests besides those things.
Putting on my amateru analyst hat, I can tell you this about her -- she has low self-esteem and it's a constant fight for her. She has a high position, but doesn't really have the qualifications for it, and if she were in any other company, she wouldn't have her title. My work bff and I agree -- she has issues. Comes into work with mood swings, always unpredictable. Girlfriend needs her meds.
The thing about "The Secret" is that for years, about 10 now, I've been interested in self-help and general motivational books, going back to when a former coworker and friend handed me a copy of "The Celestine Prophecy", a book that changed my life and helped shape my perspective of my own self and the rest of the world.
The radio station we worked for was a part-time self-help station, and as a result I was rapidly immersed in the world, and I've done my homework through the years. Deepak is my homie. As for "The Secret", when my ex-left me for the first time 6 months into our marriage about 3 years ago now, I briefly attended the church of one of the contributors.
At the time, I was beyond devestated. As a result of MY low self-esteem, I had totally lost my self-worth in my marriage and was literally destroyed. I worked at the fancy department store in Beverly Hills and would come into work and cry all day. Just cry in front of customers, squat behind my makeup counter and cry my eyes out. Cry, cry, cry.
A few days into the cry fest, a kind co-worker took me aside and said, "You need to go to Agape."
Agape is a non-denominational spiritual center, and it was just what I needed.
The thing about Agape is that it is one of the most amazing places I've ever been. You don't have to be a particular religion, you don't have to be a member of the church, you can just go, and that's what people do. En masse. This is before "The Secret" was on Oprah, and even back then the parking lots were flooded with people. They had to change service times and lengths, because so many people want to go. I haven't been there in a while, but I imagine the crowds have only gotten so intense.
It's hard to describe, but a service at Agape is an intense and amazing experience. They have ushers who are dedicated to passing out Kleenex because it just breaks you down that way.
I stopped going for a couple of reasons - one, I got everything I needed out of it and was back on the path to healthy self-esteem (never mind that shortly after I got back together with my ex), and secondly and very silly, but there was a choir member who's head movements drove me batty. Apparently it didn't cure ALL that ailed me.
Ha ....
As for my work situation, the email just proves a couple of points that I've been arguing internally and in this blog for years. One, my bosses are out of touch with reality. Two, my job really is a dead end job and the fact that I am doing the job of 2 people is as much of a promotion as I can hope to get. Three, there really is no point to worrying, because the bosses really are in their own self-aggradizing world.
That's how it is, I can't change it, and I just gotta keep rolling with the punches.
I think my response to the email was the best it could possibly be:
"Thanks for the advise, I'm preparing the final details now.
Glad you discovered The Secret - it's a great book!"
I can't really be specific, even though this is a "anonymous" blog, but let me just say that the entire exchange just proves my work frustration right.
My colleague, who is technically a "boss" took about an hour to write a letter in response to the numerous CYA ("cover your ass") emails I've written to her and a couple other "bosses" over the past month about an event this weekend.
She must have literally taken an hour to tell me that this is "my" year, so I should go above and beyond to do certain stuff (which I've already done, by the way), and by the way, I should go and pick up a copy of "The Secret", which, as you'll find out, is the biggest laugh of my day.
That's the part that really offended me and the more I think about it, the more frustrated I get, and honestly, it just confirms that I should just "not care" more. Let me tell you why...
Uh, honey, I want to tell her, sorry to disappoint, but I've known about "The Secret" since way back in the day. If you were more interested in spending hours talking to people other than your ex-boss in the company, and the pothead editor about boxing, b.s., and your high school drug use and glory days, you would know that about me.
If you actually spent more than 5 seconds saying "hi/bye" to me, you'd know that I've been into "self-help" for eons. Honey, (I want to say) I AM "The Secret".
It makes me wonder how she's judged me and what she really thinks of me, and that must really not be a lot, which is a shame, because I think I'm a pretty nifty person, as evidenced by my 25 Random Things. No, I didn' t peak in high school, and no, I'm not and have never been a drug user, but I have pretty far ranging interests besides those things.
Putting on my amateru analyst hat, I can tell you this about her -- she has low self-esteem and it's a constant fight for her. She has a high position, but doesn't really have the qualifications for it, and if she were in any other company, she wouldn't have her title. My work bff and I agree -- she has issues. Comes into work with mood swings, always unpredictable. Girlfriend needs her meds.
The thing about "The Secret" is that for years, about 10 now, I've been interested in self-help and general motivational books, going back to when a former coworker and friend handed me a copy of "The Celestine Prophecy", a book that changed my life and helped shape my perspective of my own self and the rest of the world.
The radio station we worked for was a part-time self-help station, and as a result I was rapidly immersed in the world, and I've done my homework through the years. Deepak is my homie. As for "The Secret", when my ex-left me for the first time 6 months into our marriage about 3 years ago now, I briefly attended the church of one of the contributors.
At the time, I was beyond devestated. As a result of MY low self-esteem, I had totally lost my self-worth in my marriage and was literally destroyed. I worked at the fancy department store in Beverly Hills and would come into work and cry all day. Just cry in front of customers, squat behind my makeup counter and cry my eyes out. Cry, cry, cry.
A few days into the cry fest, a kind co-worker took me aside and said, "You need to go to Agape."
Agape is a non-denominational spiritual center, and it was just what I needed.
The thing about Agape is that it is one of the most amazing places I've ever been. You don't have to be a particular religion, you don't have to be a member of the church, you can just go, and that's what people do. En masse. This is before "The Secret" was on Oprah, and even back then the parking lots were flooded with people. They had to change service times and lengths, because so many people want to go. I haven't been there in a while, but I imagine the crowds have only gotten so intense.
It's hard to describe, but a service at Agape is an intense and amazing experience. They have ushers who are dedicated to passing out Kleenex because it just breaks you down that way.
I stopped going for a couple of reasons - one, I got everything I needed out of it and was back on the path to healthy self-esteem (never mind that shortly after I got back together with my ex), and secondly and very silly, but there was a choir member who's head movements drove me batty. Apparently it didn't cure ALL that ailed me.
Ha ....
As for my work situation, the email just proves a couple of points that I've been arguing internally and in this blog for years. One, my bosses are out of touch with reality. Two, my job really is a dead end job and the fact that I am doing the job of 2 people is as much of a promotion as I can hope to get. Three, there really is no point to worrying, because the bosses really are in their own self-aggradizing world.
That's how it is, I can't change it, and I just gotta keep rolling with the punches.
I think my response to the email was the best it could possibly be:
"Thanks for the advise, I'm preparing the final details now.
Glad you discovered The Secret - it's a great book!"
Sorry, but you suck
Sarcasm ahead, just a warning.
Don't you love it when people who are completely ignorant about everything try to tell you how you can change your life? Don't you love it even more when these are people you report to?
I had the pleasure to receive an email from the female Michael Scott (from "The Office") telling me how I can make this my year, and make positive changes in my life.
It only makes me want to punch her. Why? She has dubious intentions, and trust me, if anyone is in need of help this year, it's not me.
Grrrrr.... So, sorry female Michael Scott, but you just don't get it, but I get you and your game, and YOU SUCK!
Don't you love it when people who are completely ignorant about everything try to tell you how you can change your life? Don't you love it even more when these are people you report to?
I had the pleasure to receive an email from the female Michael Scott (from "The Office") telling me how I can make this my year, and make positive changes in my life.
It only makes me want to punch her. Why? She has dubious intentions, and trust me, if anyone is in need of help this year, it's not me.
Grrrrr.... So, sorry female Michael Scott, but you just don't get it, but I get you and your game, and YOU SUCK!
Another realization
If you haven't been able to tell, I've been in a great, big old funk recently, and it's taken me a while to understand the roots of the discomfort.
As usual, I came to another one of my great realizations while in the bathroom -- I'm surrounded by a lot of negative energy.
One thing I've learning my my 3 decades on this planet is that negative energy has a black hole effect -- it drags you down in to dark places without you knowing it's happening half the time. So, it's been in my life.
Last night I was resisting packing my bags and preparing for the weekly trip to my mom's house. I was literally dragging my feet, finding ways to procrastinate, making excuses, doing things the round-about way. And why is that? Because my parent's house is a hotbed for bad energy.
It's not just that all four of my parents and siblings are sick and have been sick for the last couple weeks, a lot of it is that my sisters are both under tremendous school-related stress. I know that stress - it's the reason I had a cold once a month when I was doing my undergrad. Literally. One weekend a month I would have a sore throat, nose drainage, then recover by Monday. It was odd and yet symptomatic of what ailed me.
For my sisters, it seems as if their stress is a little bit worse. My youngest sister is who really concerns me ... for a variety of reasons, I can see her having a breakdown at some point.
And then, there's Archie Bunker herself, my mom, who has a negative story for every brief mention of anything you say to her. It's the reason I've never been emotionally close to her. For any bit of news you mention, she finds a way to twist it, to make you feel bad for telling her in the first place, and it's the reason I've been shutting her out of my life for the majority of it.
That's the way they are, and this week, the negative feelings are multiplied times a thousand. It's rough,and only adds to the negative energy at work, which I've well documented.
My challenge right now is not to lose my head in all of this -- it's easy for me to do, and I'm finding myself at the edge of dispair, which is a place I *cannot* afford to me. As the "strong" one, I need to keep myself going.
Not need, MUST.
As usual, I came to another one of my great realizations while in the bathroom -- I'm surrounded by a lot of negative energy.
One thing I've learning my my 3 decades on this planet is that negative energy has a black hole effect -- it drags you down in to dark places without you knowing it's happening half the time. So, it's been in my life.
Last night I was resisting packing my bags and preparing for the weekly trip to my mom's house. I was literally dragging my feet, finding ways to procrastinate, making excuses, doing things the round-about way. And why is that? Because my parent's house is a hotbed for bad energy.
It's not just that all four of my parents and siblings are sick and have been sick for the last couple weeks, a lot of it is that my sisters are both under tremendous school-related stress. I know that stress - it's the reason I had a cold once a month when I was doing my undergrad. Literally. One weekend a month I would have a sore throat, nose drainage, then recover by Monday. It was odd and yet symptomatic of what ailed me.
For my sisters, it seems as if their stress is a little bit worse. My youngest sister is who really concerns me ... for a variety of reasons, I can see her having a breakdown at some point.
And then, there's Archie Bunker herself, my mom, who has a negative story for every brief mention of anything you say to her. It's the reason I've never been emotionally close to her. For any bit of news you mention, she finds a way to twist it, to make you feel bad for telling her in the first place, and it's the reason I've been shutting her out of my life for the majority of it.
That's the way they are, and this week, the negative feelings are multiplied times a thousand. It's rough,and only adds to the negative energy at work, which I've well documented.
My challenge right now is not to lose my head in all of this -- it's easy for me to do, and I'm finding myself at the edge of dispair, which is a place I *cannot* afford to me. As the "strong" one, I need to keep myself going.
Not need, MUST.
Today I am grateful for ...
- Large, black sunglasses
- Trader Joe's Wasabi Wow! trail mix, a combo of peanuts, almonds, cranberries, wasabi peas, and raisins.
- Diet Hansen's Pomegranate Soda
- Lip gloss, for just a tinge of added glamour when I most need it.
- A good hair day
- Trader Joe's Wasabi Wow! trail mix, a combo of peanuts, almonds, cranberries, wasabi peas, and raisins.
- Diet Hansen's Pomegranate Soda
- Lip gloss, for just a tinge of added glamour when I most need it.
- A good hair day
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
$150/month
I'm getting ready to pack up for the weekly trip to my mom's and taking my time at it. I didn't go to the grocery store, but went to Starbucks and got a salted caramel hot chocolate as a treat and had a little chat with the lead barista who is gaga over the baby and makes a fuss over him every time he comes.
She's good people and a reminder of why I like my neighborhood so much. No, it's not as wealthy, or pretend wealthy, as my parent's Orange County neighborhood, but the people are genuine and family-oriented and I get more out of talking to these folks than the "mani/pedi/botox" crowd at my parent's 'hood.
She was mentioning that the benefits at Starbucks aren't just good, they're great. For $150/month, she has ppo health/dental/vision insurance for her entire family of four and it covers pretty much anything.
Wow.
I want to go back in time and tell my ex this -- the same ex who got an application from Starbucks, made me fill it out for him, then refused to turn it in, because apparently it is a huge shame to work there when you have all of his degrees.
The same ex is who is still insurance-less, working in the same community college tutoring center, and still working on the book that was supposed to make him internationally famous over a year ago.
Hah!
She's good people and a reminder of why I like my neighborhood so much. No, it's not as wealthy, or pretend wealthy, as my parent's Orange County neighborhood, but the people are genuine and family-oriented and I get more out of talking to these folks than the "mani/pedi/botox" crowd at my parent's 'hood.
She was mentioning that the benefits at Starbucks aren't just good, they're great. For $150/month, she has ppo health/dental/vision insurance for her entire family of four and it covers pretty much anything.
Wow.
I want to go back in time and tell my ex this -- the same ex who got an application from Starbucks, made me fill it out for him, then refused to turn it in, because apparently it is a huge shame to work there when you have all of his degrees.
The same ex is who is still insurance-less, working in the same community college tutoring center, and still working on the book that was supposed to make him internationally famous over a year ago.
Hah!
Guys are Gross
As you all know, my cubicle is located in a very prestigious location - right across from the most heavily travelled men's bathroom in the building.
My ears are aching, so I took a break from the headphones/Pandora blessing just in time to hear a loogie being hocked, a fart, a nose being blown, and a toilet being flushed in rapid succession.
Maybe I should be glad I have a front row seat to an orchestra?
My ears are aching, so I took a break from the headphones/Pandora blessing just in time to hear a loogie being hocked, a fart, a nose being blown, and a toilet being flushed in rapid succession.
Maybe I should be glad I have a front row seat to an orchestra?
This is what it is ...
... I don't mean to keep pounding down the same road, regurgitating the same complaints, but I've figured out what ails me re: work. When pretty much everyone looks up to you in your life, or holds some kind of regard for you, and then the people you work with don't give you 2 seconds and pretty much look down at you, it's a deep and painful rejection.
That's all.
That's all.
Pocket Full O' Sunshine
Well, its another day, and another dollar.
After last night's sleep-too-early-for-too-long debacle, I managed to get some needed cooking done, shower, and get to bed by 3:30 am. I even looked through my recipe file and made a shopping list, which is something I keep intending to do because I tend to forget essential items at the grocery store.
The baby came into my bed about 4 am, he slept through all the snoozed alarms, and we managed to wake up at 7 am and 7:30 am, respectively. Getting ready can be a challenge, especially since I am to be awake at 6:30 am when I'm at my house, but we managed to pull it out and I am so thankful to my dtv machine and Sesame Street for helping ease the transition between home and grandma's house.
Pre-baby, even living 20 minutes away, I used to get into work at 7:30 am, and I wish it could still be that way. I love being an early bird, and even though my work hours are flexible, it still makes me somewhat irritated to get into work at 8:30 am -- the later I arrive, the later I leave!
Well, it's another day and I'm feeling the love. My hormones are off kilter because I seem to be *losing* weight, depite my recent feeding frenzy. It's weird the way that works. For lunch I'm heading down to the recycling center to get cash for my aluminum cans, since they're now closed on Sundays, which is my usual day to get that job done.
Then, going home tonight and packing up for my parent's house. Tra la.... Another Wednesday is here.
After last night's sleep-too-early-for-too-long debacle, I managed to get some needed cooking done, shower, and get to bed by 3:30 am. I even looked through my recipe file and made a shopping list, which is something I keep intending to do because I tend to forget essential items at the grocery store.
The baby came into my bed about 4 am, he slept through all the snoozed alarms, and we managed to wake up at 7 am and 7:30 am, respectively. Getting ready can be a challenge, especially since I am to be awake at 6:30 am when I'm at my house, but we managed to pull it out and I am so thankful to my dtv machine and Sesame Street for helping ease the transition between home and grandma's house.
Pre-baby, even living 20 minutes away, I used to get into work at 7:30 am, and I wish it could still be that way. I love being an early bird, and even though my work hours are flexible, it still makes me somewhat irritated to get into work at 8:30 am -- the later I arrive, the later I leave!
Well, it's another day and I'm feeling the love. My hormones are off kilter because I seem to be *losing* weight, depite my recent feeding frenzy. It's weird the way that works. For lunch I'm heading down to the recycling center to get cash for my aluminum cans, since they're now closed on Sundays, which is my usual day to get that job done.
Then, going home tonight and packing up for my parent's house. Tra la.... Another Wednesday is here.
Blargh
Ok, why does internet explorer have to suck so bad and close down when I've finished my blog that somehow wasn't saved by blogger?
I love how Liz Lemon on 30 Rock says "blargh" randomly because that's how I feel right now. For the umpteenth executive night in a row, I've fallen asleep for 3 plus hours when putting the baby to sleep, and that makes me MAD because I really need to do stuff for those 3 plus hours. That's my magic time. Now it's 1 am and what the hell am I going to do?
Oh, sweet baby Jesus. This is one of those single mom times that just makes me want to scream my head off because wouldn't it be so nice if I wasn't the only one who was responsible for all the evening duties? Wouldn't it be a nice idea if I could actually do the money-saving food cooking I NEED to do?
On top of that, my neck hurts like crazy. Seems like I tried to adjust my uncomfortable work chair at work and it only made me more uncomfortable.
Meh. I'm going to stay up for 3 plus hours, just to stick it to the universe.
----
[5 minutes later, when i've somewhat calmed down and managed to finish painting my nails-that-were-in-need-of-attention and smudging them just a little after moving baby from his crib to my bed ... long story]
I know the sleeping in part is symptomatic with a larger problem, namely that I am bleeping exhausted after 17 months (happy birthday, baby) of having a mom's brutal sleep schedule. However, this is my life and I really have to get stuff done around the house, which frustrates me to no end. What do I do... not eat at work?
On top of everything, I have been so hungry for everything the last couple of days, defying my former low-carb incarnation of myself and stuffing down cookies and sweets galore. The problem is that I'm genuinely hungry and it's for sweets and I this evening I found myself downing shredded coconut leftover from my holiday cooking in order to satisfy my cravings.
This is officially a hot mess.
Is it too late to turn in my adult card?
I love how Liz Lemon on 30 Rock says "blargh" randomly because that's how I feel right now. For the umpteenth executive night in a row, I've fallen asleep for 3 plus hours when putting the baby to sleep, and that makes me MAD because I really need to do stuff for those 3 plus hours. That's my magic time. Now it's 1 am and what the hell am I going to do?
Oh, sweet baby Jesus. This is one of those single mom times that just makes me want to scream my head off because wouldn't it be so nice if I wasn't the only one who was responsible for all the evening duties? Wouldn't it be a nice idea if I could actually do the money-saving food cooking I NEED to do?
On top of that, my neck hurts like crazy. Seems like I tried to adjust my uncomfortable work chair at work and it only made me more uncomfortable.
Meh. I'm going to stay up for 3 plus hours, just to stick it to the universe.
----
[5 minutes later, when i've somewhat calmed down and managed to finish painting my nails-that-were-in-need-of-attention and smudging them just a little after moving baby from his crib to my bed ... long story]
I know the sleeping in part is symptomatic with a larger problem, namely that I am bleeping exhausted after 17 months (happy birthday, baby) of having a mom's brutal sleep schedule. However, this is my life and I really have to get stuff done around the house, which frustrates me to no end. What do I do... not eat at work?
On top of everything, I have been so hungry for everything the last couple of days, defying my former low-carb incarnation of myself and stuffing down cookies and sweets galore. The problem is that I'm genuinely hungry and it's for sweets and I this evening I found myself downing shredded coconut leftover from my holiday cooking in order to satisfy my cravings.
This is officially a hot mess.
Is it too late to turn in my adult card?
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
I've realized
that what I really need in my day-to-day life is interaction with the general public and the opportunity to do things out of the ordinary.
For instance, this morning I had the opportunity to run some work-related errands around town. Took 30 minutes, and as a result I feel content about getting my long-list of "to-dos" done.
It doesn't hurt that unlike yesterday's ghost town, I have people flitting about here and there, coming over to chat and take a personal interest in my life. Feeling like I actually exist and being acknowledged will do wonders for your self-esteem.
For instance, this morning I had the opportunity to run some work-related errands around town. Took 30 minutes, and as a result I feel content about getting my long-list of "to-dos" done.
It doesn't hurt that unlike yesterday's ghost town, I have people flitting about here and there, coming over to chat and take a personal interest in my life. Feeling like I actually exist and being acknowledged will do wonders for your self-esteem.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Playground Tales
The baby is with my exMIL on Monday, Tuesday mornings, and Wednesdays. Those days, given the weather and his general condition, she takes him to the local playground for an hour, walking him while he sits in his little red wagon.
He always has an amazing time - plays in the sand, climbs the equipment, goes on the swing. Parks were made for kids and he's at the age where he enjoys everything about it. The cutest part about all of this is that he's made friends with several of the park regulars his age and is always greeted with hellos from his friends and their mommies.
My exMIL calls me with an update from the park and I can't say that I don't hear them without a tinge of jealosy. Hearing that my baby is having fun and interacting with kids and doing things that new and not being able to witness them really just breaks my heart because that should be ME with him at the park every day, having fun with all the other little mommies.
When in I said in my last post that I am not completely happy with my life as it is right now, this is one of the reasons. I am proud that I am providing for my son at work, but I can't help feeling that I am missing out on such a huge chunk of his life and development and that makes me very sad.
He always has an amazing time - plays in the sand, climbs the equipment, goes on the swing. Parks were made for kids and he's at the age where he enjoys everything about it. The cutest part about all of this is that he's made friends with several of the park regulars his age and is always greeted with hellos from his friends and their mommies.
My exMIL calls me with an update from the park and I can't say that I don't hear them without a tinge of jealosy. Hearing that my baby is having fun and interacting with kids and doing things that new and not being able to witness them really just breaks my heart because that should be ME with him at the park every day, having fun with all the other little mommies.
When in I said in my last post that I am not completely happy with my life as it is right now, this is one of the reasons. I am proud that I am providing for my son at work, but I can't help feeling that I am missing out on such a huge chunk of his life and development and that makes me very sad.
It's not just that I have to work, it's that I am so unfulfilled by it and that adds to a huge chunk of the general guilt/discomfort/unhappiness I feel about life.
Today was another toughie ... no one was in the office and I was literally isolated from everything/everyone. My chair is uncomfortable, my butt was numb, the lighting was starting to make my eyes hurt. To top it off, my cubicle neighbor started in on a drawer slamming session that nearly made my skin peel.
I feel like such an ingrate about life complaining, I really do, and I don't want to - but I can't help feeling this way.
So, trying to be proactive about everything, I've started asking myself questions about the big picture. What do I have to do to be happy? What is causing my greatest unhappiness? I think, in the big picture, my unhappiness stems from the fact that I feel like I'm *STUCK* in every conceivable way and to make changes would be impossible and I just have to learn how to DEAL with life instead of making positive changes.
Another thing I've been doing is calling out the positives of my current situation, even though it seems like there wouldn't be any. For instance, even though my job is largely thankless, it is indespensible. When I came back from maternity leave, literally NOTHING had been done, and it took me a long time to get things back together. And when a coworker with another magazine was laid off, I took over and have been juggling her duties with mine ever since and doing a good job of it. Another thing -- my son knows me as his mother and loves me very much. We have our own special rituals in the evening and he falls asleep in my bed every night cuddled up against me because that makes him feel secure. He loves books and he loves reading and that is because of me and all the reading I've been doing with him since he was born.
What is it that I want from life? What do I think is going to make me happy in this life? For one, I wish I didn't have to work full-time, and instead had the ability to support my son and spend more time with him by working part-time and doing something that made me excited to go to work. I wish I worked with people who "got" me and appreciate all the hard work I do. I wish I had a partner in this life that I could trust, could work WITH instead of AGAINST. I wish I had the time to do the hobbies that interest me and not worry about money while doing them. I wish, I wish, I wish.
Most wishes do come true ... right?
Once Bitten, Twice Shy
Well, at the urgings of mssinglemama, I'm on twitter now, and I've realized that I'm slowly edging my way back in to the dating mix, slowly making it known that I'm available.
And I'm feeling resistant about it.
I think the best way to describe me right now is once bitten, twice shy, and I've realized that online dating isn't for me. Why? Because I'm extremely shallow-minded about appearances and am quick to dismiss someone if they have a weird haircut. How am I to know that they might be the perfect one for me, and I'm shooting them down because their hair is straight out of 1989 and it wouldn't hurt to throw on some "Just For Men"?
The best blog post I've read recently comes courtesy of my internet friend and fellow single mama LilCyndiLuWho -- she is awesome and I want to be like her. Really ... she is fulfilled, she is happy with her life, and her attitude is that a man is just icing on the cake. That is where I want to be. Cyndi, thanks for being a good role model. :)
As for me, I am far from fulfilled from life, and am currently desperately seeking to make mine better. There is so much I need to do that in my mind, a man would just be a distraction. Yes, it would be nice to have them around for "fun" stuff, but then you gotta worry about getting rid of them after fun time is done. That's what I originally thought my relationship with my ex was going to be, and it took a visit to hell and back to get rid of him.
This morning I got a message from someone who's following me on Twitter. It's a strange world ... you just follow people, you don't have to know them, and since there's limited personal info about you, it seems just a little bit easier to let them in. This guy wants to be part of my facebook/myspace network. My first response was ... uh, not with that hair! How terrible am I? Terrible!
The real and better response that I thought of was -- you know, I just can't add people I don't really *know* and invite them into my life like that. It's not worth the hassle, and plus I think I need to avoid online dating all together. It's how I met my ex and I can't go there right now. I need to focus on me, I need to focus on my son, and I need to feel like I'm living my ideal life. Call me when I have a couple new hobbies.
In the end, I didn't reply to his message. I just hit delete, and that's good enough for me.
And I'm feeling resistant about it.
I think the best way to describe me right now is once bitten, twice shy, and I've realized that online dating isn't for me. Why? Because I'm extremely shallow-minded about appearances and am quick to dismiss someone if they have a weird haircut. How am I to know that they might be the perfect one for me, and I'm shooting them down because their hair is straight out of 1989 and it wouldn't hurt to throw on some "Just For Men"?
The best blog post I've read recently comes courtesy of my internet friend and fellow single mama LilCyndiLuWho -- she is awesome and I want to be like her. Really ... she is fulfilled, she is happy with her life, and her attitude is that a man is just icing on the cake. That is where I want to be. Cyndi, thanks for being a good role model. :)
As for me, I am far from fulfilled from life, and am currently desperately seeking to make mine better. There is so much I need to do that in my mind, a man would just be a distraction. Yes, it would be nice to have them around for "fun" stuff, but then you gotta worry about getting rid of them after fun time is done. That's what I originally thought my relationship with my ex was going to be, and it took a visit to hell and back to get rid of him.
This morning I got a message from someone who's following me on Twitter. It's a strange world ... you just follow people, you don't have to know them, and since there's limited personal info about you, it seems just a little bit easier to let them in. This guy wants to be part of my facebook/myspace network. My first response was ... uh, not with that hair! How terrible am I? Terrible!
The real and better response that I thought of was -- you know, I just can't add people I don't really *know* and invite them into my life like that. It's not worth the hassle, and plus I think I need to avoid online dating all together. It's how I met my ex and I can't go there right now. I need to focus on me, I need to focus on my son, and I need to feel like I'm living my ideal life. Call me when I have a couple new hobbies.
In the end, I didn't reply to his message. I just hit delete, and that's good enough for me.
Holla!
Thank goodness for people you are kind of, but not really related to and their spouses/life partners.
For the last few weeks, I've been worrying about income taxes and wondering how I'm going to pay for preparing them. Due to a previous bad experience that cost me $700 about 7 years ago, I've been taking my taxes to HR Block every year, which is kind of pricey, and considering I always owed up until the little guy came a long, extra pricey!
This year I know I'm due for a refund (how I adore my little tax deduction) and I just don't have the cash to pay for the services, so it would be a matter or later rather than sooner and it would just be very helpful to have the extra cash now.
And oh, do I have plans for that money. What I really SHOULD do is put the entire amount of the refund to my Visa bill, which I plan to eliminate completely this year. However, I do have other fish to fry, so I'm going to finally buy a proper tv stand to replace the $30 ikea coffee table, which is suffering under the weight of a toddler who loves to pound on it, and a Disneyland annual pass that has Sundays open, which will be a good activity for me and the baby. The rest will be for the Visa bill.
Anyway, tonight when I went to pick the baby up from his dads, my ex's stepsister and her life partner were around the the life partner mentioned that on HRBlock.com, they have a free option for e-filing. Uh, ok ... JACKPOT!
I checked it out and it's true ... they have various levels of efiling options online and there's a $15 one that gives you access to a tax pro, which is what I think I'm going to do in order to avoid any potentially expensive snafus.
Oh, yes! :) That's a good start to the work week, which I'm not looking forward to. Admittedly, my cubicle gives me anxiety and it's not a place I look forward to inhabiting. It's not just that it's a cubicle, it's that it's awkwardly placed, by the men's room (gross), and my next door neighbor is possibly the most annoying person ever. Ever. Ever.
Five more days till the weekend....
For the last few weeks, I've been worrying about income taxes and wondering how I'm going to pay for preparing them. Due to a previous bad experience that cost me $700 about 7 years ago, I've been taking my taxes to HR Block every year, which is kind of pricey, and considering I always owed up until the little guy came a long, extra pricey!
This year I know I'm due for a refund (how I adore my little tax deduction) and I just don't have the cash to pay for the services, so it would be a matter or later rather than sooner and it would just be very helpful to have the extra cash now.
And oh, do I have plans for that money. What I really SHOULD do is put the entire amount of the refund to my Visa bill, which I plan to eliminate completely this year. However, I do have other fish to fry, so I'm going to finally buy a proper tv stand to replace the $30 ikea coffee table, which is suffering under the weight of a toddler who loves to pound on it, and a Disneyland annual pass that has Sundays open, which will be a good activity for me and the baby. The rest will be for the Visa bill.
Anyway, tonight when I went to pick the baby up from his dads, my ex's stepsister and her life partner were around the the life partner mentioned that on HRBlock.com, they have a free option for e-filing. Uh, ok ... JACKPOT!
I checked it out and it's true ... they have various levels of efiling options online and there's a $15 one that gives you access to a tax pro, which is what I think I'm going to do in order to avoid any potentially expensive snafus.
Oh, yes! :) That's a good start to the work week, which I'm not looking forward to. Admittedly, my cubicle gives me anxiety and it's not a place I look forward to inhabiting. It's not just that it's a cubicle, it's that it's awkwardly placed, by the men's room (gross), and my next door neighbor is possibly the most annoying person ever. Ever. Ever.
Five more days till the weekend....
Sunday, January 25, 2009
That time vs. This time
I remember the end of the so-called "Internet Age" very well. It was 2000 or so and I was working for a business radio station that was founded to take advantage of the thousands of new businesses with plenty of venture capital money.
Those were rich times ... money flowed in and out, with nary a care. In San Francisco, where I worked, people were letting the good times roll, and my relatively modestly-paying job was a huge contrast to the six-figures and beaucoup benefits my former college classmates were raking in.
Then, that one day in September, 2001 that caused a literal shutdown of the city, and after that, everything changed. Over a period of a few months, the businesses that were once booming dried up, the radio station's ad reveune dropped off. The once-millionaires with stock options galore were unemployable.
On a more tangible level, I saw the riders on my subway drive home change dramatically. Once carrying pdas and laptops, reverted to riders with newspapers and books. On the way to work I used to pass by a financial magazine's offices and over time saw the desks get emptier and emptier and one day the lights were turned off.
These days, it's a similar feeling, but not as dramatic. However, I do think things are worse all around. Jobs just aren't there anymore. Unfortunatly, I hear people all the time lamenting their laid-off status, everywhere I turn. Things are tighter, consumption is a little less, we're getting serious this time around.
As for me, I don't feel the pinch so much because money has been tight for the last few years and this is nothing new to me. I don't feel as confident in finding a new job because nothing is really guaranteed, and this one is not one I can afford to lose.
History is cyclical, and we'll rebound from all of this ... leaner, but wiser and stronger.
----
Today is baby's afternoon with dad and I'm going to pick him up shortly. No lunch this time, and my ex wanted to know why. I just shrugged my shoulders, and went on with things. It didn't help that he was wearing a beanie he made that says something sexually suggestive in my cultural language. Bozo. Pure Bozo.
His mom is there, which makes me feel a zillion times better, especially since my little guy is a major mommy's boy these days and I had to come back into the house 2 times because he realized I was gone and all hell broke loose.
These days, he reminds me of an imp, my little guy. A sweet and adorable little imp that I want to hug all day long and feel bad for when I have to cook or tend to stuff around the house and leave to his own devices. Am I overprotective? He's finally feeling better after a week and I'm GLAD, because it is such a relief to see his smiles instead of hearing his crabby growls.
Ok, off to get some stuff done before I go and pick up that little imp o' mine.
Those were rich times ... money flowed in and out, with nary a care. In San Francisco, where I worked, people were letting the good times roll, and my relatively modestly-paying job was a huge contrast to the six-figures and beaucoup benefits my former college classmates were raking in.
Then, that one day in September, 2001 that caused a literal shutdown of the city, and after that, everything changed. Over a period of a few months, the businesses that were once booming dried up, the radio station's ad reveune dropped off. The once-millionaires with stock options galore were unemployable.
On a more tangible level, I saw the riders on my subway drive home change dramatically. Once carrying pdas and laptops, reverted to riders with newspapers and books. On the way to work I used to pass by a financial magazine's offices and over time saw the desks get emptier and emptier and one day the lights were turned off.
These days, it's a similar feeling, but not as dramatic. However, I do think things are worse all around. Jobs just aren't there anymore. Unfortunatly, I hear people all the time lamenting their laid-off status, everywhere I turn. Things are tighter, consumption is a little less, we're getting serious this time around.
As for me, I don't feel the pinch so much because money has been tight for the last few years and this is nothing new to me. I don't feel as confident in finding a new job because nothing is really guaranteed, and this one is not one I can afford to lose.
History is cyclical, and we'll rebound from all of this ... leaner, but wiser and stronger.
----
Today is baby's afternoon with dad and I'm going to pick him up shortly. No lunch this time, and my ex wanted to know why. I just shrugged my shoulders, and went on with things. It didn't help that he was wearing a beanie he made that says something sexually suggestive in my cultural language. Bozo. Pure Bozo.
His mom is there, which makes me feel a zillion times better, especially since my little guy is a major mommy's boy these days and I had to come back into the house 2 times because he realized I was gone and all hell broke loose.
These days, he reminds me of an imp, my little guy. A sweet and adorable little imp that I want to hug all day long and feel bad for when I have to cook or tend to stuff around the house and leave to his own devices. Am I overprotective? He's finally feeling better after a week and I'm GLAD, because it is such a relief to see his smiles instead of hearing his crabby growls.
Ok, off to get some stuff done before I go and pick up that little imp o' mine.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Typical Saturday
Yep, that's the back of my car on a typical Wednesday evening and Saturday afternoon - filled to the brim with the stuff I take back and forth to my mom's from my house. Just keeping it real, this is what I gotta do for the next couple of years.The thing that keeps me going is that it CAN'T be more than a couple more years of this. Things will change,the baby will go to school, and I won't have to take this caravan of love all that much longer.
In other news, I was reading this article that said that record number of young Chinese people are going to internet rehab because they spend hours and hours and hours of their day online and have lost their ability to interact in the real world.
That, I can understand, especially since I've become more entrenched in social networking sites, of late. It's tempting and addictive to have your fingers on the pulse of this society we've created, and in many ways, it's my way of communicating to the outside world. That's sad, but it's true. As a single mom, when all is said and done, when the baby's been put to sleep and the mess put away, it is so nice to be able to turn on my computer and access people who understand what I'm going through and that I've made a connection with. Just doesn't happen in the real world,and with everyone having a hectic schedule, it just works this way.
Also, it gives me a moment to shine, to be the funny, snarky, sassy person I really am when I'm out in social situations. In my day-to-day work life, it's extremely isolating to the point where I NEED an out, or else I would be on the strongest dose of anti-depressant I could get my hands on.
As for work, all is the same. I haven't posted much about it lately because nothing has changed, and if anything is going to change, it's going to have to be from me. I'm still doing the work of 2 people, still being ignored, still brain numb to avoid dealing with the ridiculousness of it all.
This evening as I was in the bedroom with the baby, entertaining him around the bookshelf with some old photo albums, I came upon a little book I bought a few years ago at the new age church I used to attend (that's a whole other post in itself - coming up soon). It's called, "Seeing Good at Work", and that time I was going through the wringer at Smack Cosmetics.
At that time, I had so much stress in my life from that job that I was paralyzed on the right side of my body. I couldn't sit down without being in extreme pain and couldn't turn my neck very well. Those were bad times.
It's a good book, broken down into 52 weekly steps and has some really good ways of changing your perspective and improving your outlook. I just flipped open to week 41, which is "Other Ways to Do Things".
Here's a tidbit ... "Many of uos grew up with the idea that for every problem there is a right answer and a wrong answer -- a view emphasized in traditional education. As adults, we may be surprised to learn there can be more than one right answer for any problem. In fact, it can be fun and creatively stimulating to occasionally ask yourself, 'What is the other right answer to this question?"
Good food for thought and I need to have something to keep me going in all of this and I need to keep my strength up for my second shift at home with the baby.
I am desperate for change. I am craving change. And yet, I am also scared of it.
Notes from crazyville
It's Saturday evening and I'm back from my parent's house. Not a moment too soon. My mom, dad, and youngest sister are all very sick and it's made them even crazier than usual.
My mom's Archie Bunker alter ego had a flare up and I was treated to anti-Obama comments all the live long days. For example, she claims he had a white line in his nose, and that means he's on heroin. "That would be cocaine," my youngest sister corrected her. Yeah, and how does she know THAT in the first place??
Oh, that was just one of the many, many gems.
Then, my dad got mad at me for making animal noises with the baby. He does imitate me and I think it's not only adorable, but good for his development. "Say words to him!", he kept yelling at me, "None of this moo,moo, baa, baa stuff!"
Oh, my family.
My mom's Archie Bunker alter ego had a flare up and I was treated to anti-Obama comments all the live long days. For example, she claims he had a white line in his nose, and that means he's on heroin. "That would be cocaine," my youngest sister corrected her. Yeah, and how does she know THAT in the first place??
Oh, that was just one of the many, many gems.
Then, my dad got mad at me for making animal noises with the baby. He does imitate me and I think it's not only adorable, but good for his development. "Say words to him!", he kept yelling at me, "None of this moo,moo, baa, baa stuff!"
Oh, my family.
Friday, January 23, 2009
25 Random Things
There's a survey going around Facebook about 25 random things about yourself. Since my mom reads my Facebook and since I want to fill out one of them, here's my list, without any kind of censoring, and a little peak behind the brains of anonmom:
1. I love photography and love visiting photographer blogs. One day I hope to be a professional photographer.
2. The best day of my life was the day my son was born. He is the best gift I’ve ever received.
The second best day of my life was the day I ended my marriage.
3. I believe in karma.
4. I believe in ghosts and have had a couple ghostly encounters in my life.
5. My hair is actually straight. I’ve been perming it for years. PSYCHE! Ha ha ….
6. For a while I had a jewelry business and I tried to sell handmade stuff. This is before digital cameras and Etsy. What was I thinking?
7. When I worked in Beverly Hills I met several celebrities. The nicest ones were Richard Simmons and Nia Vardalos.
8. I can read, write, and understand basic Farsi. But my conversational skills are horrid.
9. Same thing with Spanish, but my conversational skills are not as horrid.
10. I won several writing and speech contests throughout elementary and high school.
11. I was in a severe car accident the day before the Columbine incident and broke my right hip and ankle and was in a wheelchair for months.
12. I love all kinds of dancing and wish I had more time for it. Single mom seeks salsa partner.
13. My mom legally changed the birth date on my birth certificate.
14. I was the “Voice of My Hometown” for two festivals in the late ‘90’s.
15. I haven’t been back to my hometown since I left 6 years ago. Time flies.
16. My parents didn’t let me wear makeup until I was 18 – and then I ended up working for Smack Cosmetics and made up for lost time. And then some.
17. I believe that gemstones have energy and certain healing properties.
18. At age 10 I broke my nose on my mom’s knee.
19. I broke my arm the day of the Challenger explosion at age 7 – I’ll never forget that day.
20. I became a naturalized American citizen at age 8.
21. I finished my undergrad in less than 3 years. As for my master’s degree, that’s a whole other story.
22. I can remember intimate details of events that happened 27 years ago, but don’t ask me what I had for breakfast.
23. I've been involved in an online beauty forum for almost 10 years and have met some of my best real-life friends through it.
24. I'm a karaoke super star -- in my own mind.
25. I didn't get my ears pierced until I was 18 - my parent's wouldn't let me!
1. I love photography and love visiting photographer blogs. One day I hope to be a professional photographer.
2. The best day of my life was the day my son was born. He is the best gift I’ve ever received.
The second best day of my life was the day I ended my marriage.
3. I believe in karma.
4. I believe in ghosts and have had a couple ghostly encounters in my life.
5. My hair is actually straight. I’ve been perming it for years. PSYCHE! Ha ha ….
6. For a while I had a jewelry business and I tried to sell handmade stuff. This is before digital cameras and Etsy. What was I thinking?
7. When I worked in Beverly Hills I met several celebrities. The nicest ones were Richard Simmons and Nia Vardalos.
8. I can read, write, and understand basic Farsi. But my conversational skills are horrid.
9. Same thing with Spanish, but my conversational skills are not as horrid.
10. I won several writing and speech contests throughout elementary and high school.
11. I was in a severe car accident the day before the Columbine incident and broke my right hip and ankle and was in a wheelchair for months.
12. I love all kinds of dancing and wish I had more time for it. Single mom seeks salsa partner.
13. My mom legally changed the birth date on my birth certificate.
14. I was the “Voice of My Hometown” for two festivals in the late ‘90’s.
15. I haven’t been back to my hometown since I left 6 years ago. Time flies.
16. My parents didn’t let me wear makeup until I was 18 – and then I ended up working for Smack Cosmetics and made up for lost time. And then some.
17. I believe that gemstones have energy and certain healing properties.
18. At age 10 I broke my nose on my mom’s knee.
19. I broke my arm the day of the Challenger explosion at age 7 – I’ll never forget that day.
20. I became a naturalized American citizen at age 8.
21. I finished my undergrad in less than 3 years. As for my master’s degree, that’s a whole other story.
22. I can remember intimate details of events that happened 27 years ago, but don’t ask me what I had for breakfast.
23. I've been involved in an online beauty forum for almost 10 years and have met some of my best real-life friends through it.
24. I'm a karaoke super star -- in my own mind.
25. I didn't get my ears pierced until I was 18 - my parent's wouldn't let me!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Barack and Michelle, Sex and the City, My Grandparents - I swear this all comes together
As I was watching the events of the recent inauguration, I was struck by one major thing that I noticed during the "first dance" -- Barack really loves Michelle. I mean, he LOVES her in that pure, agapic way you only hear stories of and respects her as his wife and mother of his children.
It's there in his body language, in his eyes, in the way he holds her. All in all, that was a pretty hot first dance! Can you envision hearing stories about some Washington intern having her way with him and a cigar in the Oval Office?
How refreshing is that. In today's world of cheaters and divorces and this and that, they're showing the world that a good marriage can exisit, which reminds me about my maternal grandparents and the pure love they had for each other.
Theirs was a marriage of difference - my grandmother had a wealthy father who had mulitple wives/girlfriends/children (this is Islam, people! LOL ...) and was considered upper class. She was highly educated and a very smart lady. My grandfather came from more a more humble family - his dad had married a woman who died very young from a heart condition and he raised their children as a single dad. My grandfather was part of a 'street gang' of sorts that went around their city enforcing laws and justice, making sure people didn't do bad things. He was a good guy. :)
Then, one day, my grandfather happened upon my grandmother walking around the city and that was that. He pursued her, married her, and was extremely in love with and devoted to her until the ends of their lives, a sad story at that.
One of my biggest sorrows in life is that I didn't know either sets of my grandparents very well, mostly on account of the fact that they lived in an entirely different continent and when they came to visit I couldn't speak in their language. That was tough, and I've always wished it were different.
My maternal grandparents did visit about 3 times and on their middle visit, when I was about 11, my grandmother was at the beginning stages of Alzheimer's disease. Alzheimer's is a nasty, viscious disease and a cruel way to die, in my opinion, because you lose your loved one in front of your face. Over time you're left with their shell for years, with their soul having left the building long ago.
Watching my grandfather's heart break over his wife's condition is something I'll always carry with me. He was so kind to her, so tender, so patient with her increasingly erratic behavior. He let her buy hundreds of pairs of knee high socks (oh, grandma), kept reading a note to her that ensured her jewelry was in a safe place, because she swore someone had stolen it. It was just sad times all around.
But, ultimately,what they had was that pure love, that devotion to another person's well-being that cannot be broken in any way, shape, or form.
That kind of love just seems so out of reach and impossible to me. One of the reason's I was attracted to my ex in the first place is because he had a lot of my grandfather's qualities, or so I thought. I was dickmatized, remember? Definitely not in my right state of mind.
Now, with the perspective of a divorce behind me, I can see that he has zero of my grandfather's qualities. None. He says he cares about me, that he "loves" me, but at the core of it all, he never valued me or our marriage above anything else in his life.
The phrase "love isn't selfish" comes to mind, which makes me wonder - are the majority of married couples just pretending? Is that why so many men cheat on their wives? The fact that so many men DO cheat on their spouses is the main thing that scares me to death about committment and marriage. Why should I expect to NOT be cheated on. It happened to me with my ex, even though I went into the marriage with good intentions.
History shows us that men are just unfaithful in general. Even in my own family, my paternal grandfather took another wife and left my grandmother and her kids to pretty much fend for themselves because he could. From my friends and social network, I hear stories day in and day out about how so and so cheats on their spouse. Even a former female boss espoused the "always have a plan b" theory and regularly cheated on her husband/father of the child.
As a die-hard Sex and the City fan, I of course went to see the movie right away. Took a day off even, because I knew that was the only way I would get to see it - this being before my custody agreement and alternate free Sunday afternoons.
In the movie, one of the characters finds out that her husband has cheated on her, and it's not the sex that bothers her so much, but the fact that he lied and deceived her.
That's my question, that's my conundrum, that' s my issue with committment- is it JUST sex? Should women say, ok ... it's JUST sex, it's something that men are compelled to do, so why not let them do it and close my eyes and let them bring home the bacon.
A few weeks ago, while I was at my parent's house, my sisters were watching Dr. Zhivago, which I'd never seen before. Shocker, since I'm the old movie queen, but I'd just never seen it before. For all their naivete, my sisters are pretty progressive thinkers and we were commenting on how it's kind of ridiculous how this story about a man cheating on his wife is considered a classic. I mean, he cheats on his pregnant wife! He cheats on his wife, in general! Cheat, cheat, cheat, cheat, cheat!
I want to believe that pure love, pure devotion is possible - we've all seen examples of it. But, is it something that is possible for everyone? Is it something only a lucky few get to experience?
Don't ask me why - it's late and I'm still sick - but I feel compelled to close with this line from the Hataway song, "What is love, baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me no more."
Yes, I do have problems - I'm fully aware of that.
It's there in his body language, in his eyes, in the way he holds her. All in all, that was a pretty hot first dance! Can you envision hearing stories about some Washington intern having her way with him and a cigar in the Oval Office?
How refreshing is that. In today's world of cheaters and divorces and this and that, they're showing the world that a good marriage can exisit, which reminds me about my maternal grandparents and the pure love they had for each other.
Theirs was a marriage of difference - my grandmother had a wealthy father who had mulitple wives/girlfriends/children (this is Islam, people! LOL ...) and was considered upper class. She was highly educated and a very smart lady. My grandfather came from more a more humble family - his dad had married a woman who died very young from a heart condition and he raised their children as a single dad. My grandfather was part of a 'street gang' of sorts that went around their city enforcing laws and justice, making sure people didn't do bad things. He was a good guy. :)
Then, one day, my grandfather happened upon my grandmother walking around the city and that was that. He pursued her, married her, and was extremely in love with and devoted to her until the ends of their lives, a sad story at that.
One of my biggest sorrows in life is that I didn't know either sets of my grandparents very well, mostly on account of the fact that they lived in an entirely different continent and when they came to visit I couldn't speak in their language. That was tough, and I've always wished it were different.
My maternal grandparents did visit about 3 times and on their middle visit, when I was about 11, my grandmother was at the beginning stages of Alzheimer's disease. Alzheimer's is a nasty, viscious disease and a cruel way to die, in my opinion, because you lose your loved one in front of your face. Over time you're left with their shell for years, with their soul having left the building long ago.
Watching my grandfather's heart break over his wife's condition is something I'll always carry with me. He was so kind to her, so tender, so patient with her increasingly erratic behavior. He let her buy hundreds of pairs of knee high socks (oh, grandma), kept reading a note to her that ensured her jewelry was in a safe place, because she swore someone had stolen it. It was just sad times all around.
But, ultimately,what they had was that pure love, that devotion to another person's well-being that cannot be broken in any way, shape, or form.
That kind of love just seems so out of reach and impossible to me. One of the reason's I was attracted to my ex in the first place is because he had a lot of my grandfather's qualities, or so I thought. I was dickmatized, remember? Definitely not in my right state of mind.
Now, with the perspective of a divorce behind me, I can see that he has zero of my grandfather's qualities. None. He says he cares about me, that he "loves" me, but at the core of it all, he never valued me or our marriage above anything else in his life.
The phrase "love isn't selfish" comes to mind, which makes me wonder - are the majority of married couples just pretending? Is that why so many men cheat on their wives? The fact that so many men DO cheat on their spouses is the main thing that scares me to death about committment and marriage. Why should I expect to NOT be cheated on. It happened to me with my ex, even though I went into the marriage with good intentions.
History shows us that men are just unfaithful in general. Even in my own family, my paternal grandfather took another wife and left my grandmother and her kids to pretty much fend for themselves because he could. From my friends and social network, I hear stories day in and day out about how so and so cheats on their spouse. Even a former female boss espoused the "always have a plan b" theory and regularly cheated on her husband/father of the child.
As a die-hard Sex and the City fan, I of course went to see the movie right away. Took a day off even, because I knew that was the only way I would get to see it - this being before my custody agreement and alternate free Sunday afternoons.
In the movie, one of the characters finds out that her husband has cheated on her, and it's not the sex that bothers her so much, but the fact that he lied and deceived her.
That's my question, that's my conundrum, that' s my issue with committment- is it JUST sex? Should women say, ok ... it's JUST sex, it's something that men are compelled to do, so why not let them do it and close my eyes and let them bring home the bacon.
A few weeks ago, while I was at my parent's house, my sisters were watching Dr. Zhivago, which I'd never seen before. Shocker, since I'm the old movie queen, but I'd just never seen it before. For all their naivete, my sisters are pretty progressive thinkers and we were commenting on how it's kind of ridiculous how this story about a man cheating on his wife is considered a classic. I mean, he cheats on his pregnant wife! He cheats on his wife, in general! Cheat, cheat, cheat, cheat, cheat!
I want to believe that pure love, pure devotion is possible - we've all seen examples of it. But, is it something that is possible for everyone? Is it something only a lucky few get to experience?
Don't ask me why - it's late and I'm still sick - but I feel compelled to close with this line from the Hataway song, "What is love, baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me no more."
Yes, I do have problems - I'm fully aware of that.
Happy Feet, or, Anonmom Wants to Get Her Dance On
* Long, convoluted post ahead, but I have a point to support. There’s a method to my madness (and yes, I think I’m on the verge of it).
When I was doing my undergrad degree in communications, I learned a lot about human behavior that’s stayed with me through the years. I’ve forgotten all the equations, graphs, charts, and such from my economics classes, but the things I learned while taking naps in lecture halls during comm lectures have really stayed with me.
The exhaustion I feel now as a single, working mom is nothing new – I was worked to the brink in my undergrad years and looking back, the only thing that saved me was those naps during lectures, which was a given. I would sit in class, work on the NY Times crossword in the student newspaper, nod off, wake up 15 minutes or so later, slurp on my iced mocha (yeah, caffeine means nothing to me), and get right back to my crossword. It might seem ridiculous, but it worked and I got good grades.
Anyway, one thing I learned about the way men and women behave has to do with how we socialize children on the playground based on Deborah Tannen’s research. While girls are encouraged to have tea parties, to talk, and generally discuss ponies and princesses, boys are encouraged to be rough and tumble, mauling each other with games and legos.
As a result, women want to hear words – we want to hear the “I love you” from our mate, want to know what is going on in their mind. We need that verbal confirmation to know that all is going well. As for men, actions speak louder than words. Men aren’t as inclined to verbalize their thoughts and show their love/affection for their mates through their deeds. They DO love, while women SPEAK love, per se.
When my ex and I first got together, he was my key to a more exciting life than what I was experiencing on my own. He spoke of dancing, hiking, travel – it was exactly what I needed to hear, and so to learn the skills he spoke of, I started taking social ballroom classes, language classes, and went on weekend hikes with his friends. My weekends were jam packed with the things he wanted me to do.
He was busy studying while I was doing all this, and kept promising that one day he’d join me and his friends. That never really happened, but we did go out dancing at a local Peruvian restaurant a couple of times and had a couple of dates a his university’s ballroom dance club.
As much as I wanted him to be involved in those activities, he just never participated …always giving me promises of some day, some day, some day. It took me a while to figure out that his actions – literally, nothing – spoke louder than words.
However, looking back at the things I did for our relationship, I really have to thank him in a way because I did end up finding activities and hobbies that I really enjoy. Hiking is awesome in so many ways - not just the exercise and exertion, but the discovering of the unexpected that’s hidden behind the cement jungle known as So Cal. Similarly, dancing changed my life in many, many ways. Although I’m not the most talented dancer, or the most coordinated person in general, I fell deeply in love with it.
When you have the right partner – not my rigid ex who told me I was clumsy but isn’t one to talk , nor the fumbling newbies I often got paired with in class – it is really quite the amazing experience and I find myself, years later, yearning for more.
I wanna dance, I wanna dance, I wanna dance!
It’s been years and years since – my ex kept promising and I finally gave up on those empty promises and then I became pregnant and then I became a single mom who has zero social life and zero time for one.
It just runs with that general theme of my life – I have to keep my hopes up, have to keep my chin up. It’s not always going to be this way – life will change for the better, and I’ll have more time to pursue my hobbies. I gotta believe it!
When I was doing my undergrad degree in communications, I learned a lot about human behavior that’s stayed with me through the years. I’ve forgotten all the equations, graphs, charts, and such from my economics classes, but the things I learned while taking naps in lecture halls during comm lectures have really stayed with me.
The exhaustion I feel now as a single, working mom is nothing new – I was worked to the brink in my undergrad years and looking back, the only thing that saved me was those naps during lectures, which was a given. I would sit in class, work on the NY Times crossword in the student newspaper, nod off, wake up 15 minutes or so later, slurp on my iced mocha (yeah, caffeine means nothing to me), and get right back to my crossword. It might seem ridiculous, but it worked and I got good grades.
Anyway, one thing I learned about the way men and women behave has to do with how we socialize children on the playground based on Deborah Tannen’s research. While girls are encouraged to have tea parties, to talk, and generally discuss ponies and princesses, boys are encouraged to be rough and tumble, mauling each other with games and legos.
As a result, women want to hear words – we want to hear the “I love you” from our mate, want to know what is going on in their mind. We need that verbal confirmation to know that all is going well. As for men, actions speak louder than words. Men aren’t as inclined to verbalize their thoughts and show their love/affection for their mates through their deeds. They DO love, while women SPEAK love, per se.
When my ex and I first got together, he was my key to a more exciting life than what I was experiencing on my own. He spoke of dancing, hiking, travel – it was exactly what I needed to hear, and so to learn the skills he spoke of, I started taking social ballroom classes, language classes, and went on weekend hikes with his friends. My weekends were jam packed with the things he wanted me to do.
He was busy studying while I was doing all this, and kept promising that one day he’d join me and his friends. That never really happened, but we did go out dancing at a local Peruvian restaurant a couple of times and had a couple of dates a his university’s ballroom dance club.
As much as I wanted him to be involved in those activities, he just never participated …always giving me promises of some day, some day, some day. It took me a while to figure out that his actions – literally, nothing – spoke louder than words.
However, looking back at the things I did for our relationship, I really have to thank him in a way because I did end up finding activities and hobbies that I really enjoy. Hiking is awesome in so many ways - not just the exercise and exertion, but the discovering of the unexpected that’s hidden behind the cement jungle known as So Cal. Similarly, dancing changed my life in many, many ways. Although I’m not the most talented dancer, or the most coordinated person in general, I fell deeply in love with it.
When you have the right partner – not my rigid ex who told me I was clumsy but isn’t one to talk , nor the fumbling newbies I often got paired with in class – it is really quite the amazing experience and I find myself, years later, yearning for more.
I wanna dance, I wanna dance, I wanna dance!
It’s been years and years since – my ex kept promising and I finally gave up on those empty promises and then I became pregnant and then I became a single mom who has zero social life and zero time for one.
It just runs with that general theme of my life – I have to keep my hopes up, have to keep my chin up. It’s not always going to be this way – life will change for the better, and I’ll have more time to pursue my hobbies. I gotta believe it!
Just another commute
Today on day 1 of my twice-a-week crazy commute, I very nearly got in a serious car accident. Due to the stop-and-go of Southern California freeways, the weather, and the fact that I am never fully awake on the drive in (or the drive out, either), I had to burn some serious rubber to avoid rear ending someone.
Geesh.
How much longer of this? Although I am grateful that my mom takes care of the baby those two days, it's been over a year of this and to be honest, it's too much.
The last thing I want to do is put negative energy into the universe and inadvertently lose my job in order to not have the commute, but what I do want is to change my life situation somehow where I don't have to worry about the horrid commute every week. I want those almost 5 hours back. Am I being selfish for asking for that? Or is this situation just something I have to learn to live with because of my single mom status?
As you all know by now, when I'm at my parent's house I'm a different person - my less confident, lower self-esteem self. It's just what happens when you're around fortunate people who love to complain.
Seriously, my mom just LOVES to complain. I love and appreciate her, but I didn't have much sympathy for her when she was going on about how the baby passed on his sickness to her and how she had to wake up at 6 am to take my sisters to school yesterday and then fell asleep for 2 more hours.
Yeah, mom, I'm really feeling bad about that. You know, I'm sick, too, and I've been sleeping 4 hours tops because on top of having to do my normal household stuff, I have a sick child to attend to AND I have to go to work for a living.
It's going to be one of those LONG weeks.
Geesh.
How much longer of this? Although I am grateful that my mom takes care of the baby those two days, it's been over a year of this and to be honest, it's too much.
The last thing I want to do is put negative energy into the universe and inadvertently lose my job in order to not have the commute, but what I do want is to change my life situation somehow where I don't have to worry about the horrid commute every week. I want those almost 5 hours back. Am I being selfish for asking for that? Or is this situation just something I have to learn to live with because of my single mom status?
As you all know by now, when I'm at my parent's house I'm a different person - my less confident, lower self-esteem self. It's just what happens when you're around fortunate people who love to complain.
Seriously, my mom just LOVES to complain. I love and appreciate her, but I didn't have much sympathy for her when she was going on about how the baby passed on his sickness to her and how she had to wake up at 6 am to take my sisters to school yesterday and then fell asleep for 2 more hours.
Yeah, mom, I'm really feeling bad about that. You know, I'm sick, too, and I've been sleeping 4 hours tops because on top of having to do my normal household stuff, I have a sick child to attend to AND I have to go to work for a living.
It's going to be one of those LONG weeks.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
A time to laugh, a time to weep ...
This evening as I was making my regular Wednesday night supermarket/errand runs around town, I picked up two sympathy greeting cards at Trader Joe's.
What happened?, the teller asked. Not exactly the best customer service ("uh, none of yo' damn bizness!"), but from frequenting the store I know he's an Iraqi war vet and a genuinely nice guy, so I started a conversation with him. My exMIL's aunt passed this morning after suffering from cancer for most of the year. She had a rough time of it recently and it was expected, but it's still sad as my son's great-grandma lost her best friend, my exMIL lost her dear aunt, and my exMIL's cousin lost her beloved mother.
The clerk and I talked about how it seems like there have been a lot of passings lately, and how it's strange -- we're both around the same age and it always just seemed like we were invincible and unfamiliar with mortality. Just this very morning I received word that a coworker's MIL also passed from cancer and it's been almost a month since another coworker herself succumbed to cancer.
I almost don't want to say it, on account of the creepy factor, but death is in the air, and lately it's been hitting closer to home. Thinking back on the past couple of years, I have had almost a dozen friends/aquaintances/relatives go on to their next lives. That's a lot of people. Even stranger to me is that of all the deaths, only one wasn't from cancer and that was a suicide.
On the other hand, I have more than a handful of friends who have recently given birth or are due any second. That's never happened before, either. Just this very afternoon, right after hearing the sad news, I received wonderful and amazing news. One of my oldest friends gave birth to her daughter today, very, very early, but she is here and will be well pretty soon.
And a time, every purpose under Heaven ....
Which makes me think ... all of this baloney, all of this stress, all of it -- there's reason behind the fear.
What happened?, the teller asked. Not exactly the best customer service ("uh, none of yo' damn bizness!"), but from frequenting the store I know he's an Iraqi war vet and a genuinely nice guy, so I started a conversation with him. My exMIL's aunt passed this morning after suffering from cancer for most of the year. She had a rough time of it recently and it was expected, but it's still sad as my son's great-grandma lost her best friend, my exMIL lost her dear aunt, and my exMIL's cousin lost her beloved mother.
The clerk and I talked about how it seems like there have been a lot of passings lately, and how it's strange -- we're both around the same age and it always just seemed like we were invincible and unfamiliar with mortality. Just this very morning I received word that a coworker's MIL also passed from cancer and it's been almost a month since another coworker herself succumbed to cancer.
I almost don't want to say it, on account of the creepy factor, but death is in the air, and lately it's been hitting closer to home. Thinking back on the past couple of years, I have had almost a dozen friends/aquaintances/relatives go on to their next lives. That's a lot of people. Even stranger to me is that of all the deaths, only one wasn't from cancer and that was a suicide.
On the other hand, I have more than a handful of friends who have recently given birth or are due any second. That's never happened before, either. Just this very afternoon, right after hearing the sad news, I received wonderful and amazing news. One of my oldest friends gave birth to her daughter today, very, very early, but she is here and will be well pretty soon.
And a time, every purpose under Heaven ....
Which makes me think ... all of this baloney, all of this stress, all of it -- there's reason behind the fear.
If you want to be judged by society...
... take your baby with a cold out in public while you run essential errands.
The baby is fine, he's doing a lot better, no infection of any kind in any part of his body, but he does have a cough on account of his nasal drip. It's a nasty sounding cough and not for the faint of heart.
So, standing in line at the grocery store yesterday ... cough, cough, cough ... I rub the baby's back, comfort him, and look up to see a woman giving me one of the biggest stink eyes I've ever received in my entire life.
This happened about 3 other times this weekend.
Ok, world, I'm sorry that I'm a single mom and that I have to work full-time for a living, and I have to pick up my child at a certain time and that I also have to run errands with him on the weekends because I don't have and can't afford a nanny or babysitter. I'm doing my part to stimulate the economy, and not only that, there is nothing edible in my refrigerator or freezer and this child does need to be fed.
Usually I'm pretty good about letting stuff like that roll off, but honestly, the looks I was getting were unlike anything I've ever seen before and yes, it did hurt conisdering I am one of the most overprotective parents I've ever met.
I think this is another one of those things that is just part of the single mom package.
The baby is fine, he's doing a lot better, no infection of any kind in any part of his body, but he does have a cough on account of his nasal drip. It's a nasty sounding cough and not for the faint of heart.
So, standing in line at the grocery store yesterday ... cough, cough, cough ... I rub the baby's back, comfort him, and look up to see a woman giving me one of the biggest stink eyes I've ever received in my entire life.
This happened about 3 other times this weekend.
Ok, world, I'm sorry that I'm a single mom and that I have to work full-time for a living, and I have to pick up my child at a certain time and that I also have to run errands with him on the weekends because I don't have and can't afford a nanny or babysitter. I'm doing my part to stimulate the economy, and not only that, there is nothing edible in my refrigerator or freezer and this child does need to be fed.
Usually I'm pretty good about letting stuff like that roll off, but honestly, the looks I was getting were unlike anything I've ever seen before and yes, it did hurt conisdering I am one of the most overprotective parents I've ever met.
I think this is another one of those things that is just part of the single mom package.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
So, why was I up at 3 am?
It seems as if I'm only productive after midnight.
The baby is still very sick, very grumpy, and although he fell asleep at 8:30 pm, he woke up at 11 pm and spent a good hour or so tossing and turning around in my bed. The side effect of letting your sick child roll around in your bed? Snotty sheets. Ew.
I was in the middle of watching 27 Dresses, a purely schlocky fluff romantic comedy that I felt I had to watch because who doesn't need fluff once in a while? Here are my thoughts --
1. When did mainstream movies get to be so BAD. I mean, they could at least try to make it a bit more believable. I knew everything that was going to happen. Even the acting was disappointing. No more rom coms for me. Is it that my taste has changed, or are films these days really this bad?
2. Uh, hello -- how the heck does a secretary in NYC afford such a fab apartment? Yeah, realism wasn't really the strong point of this movie.
3. Marriage ... my reaction to it is still to want to barf. I'm clearly not on the mend and not ready to think about committment for a long, long time.
After the film, after a shower, and after the baby was snoring soundly again, I started toodling around the kitchen and realized ... damn, my sink is a HOT MESS. It was a breeding ground for disease and destruction, especially the left side where the plates dry. So, I hauled out the Ajax I had the thought to buy earlier in the weekend and scrubbed a dub dub.
Scrubbing led to finally Swiffering my long-suffering floors, and a general wiping down. The place is already tremendously improved.
One thing my son has going for him is that he is a neat freak. Already. Yes, at 16 months, he already loves to take towels and wipe down counters and surfaces. It's amazing, because I am the exact opposite - cleaning is the LAST thing I want to do and I'm just glad he got this talent from my exMIL, who is possibly the cleanest, most organized person I've ever met.
As for me, I clean when I can't take the dirt anymore, basically. But, as a someone who aspires to be responsible adult, I've realized that something has to be DONE. I need a schedule, a list I can stick to. That will be my goal and hope for the future.
Doesn't everyone have hope today?
The baby is still very sick, very grumpy, and although he fell asleep at 8:30 pm, he woke up at 11 pm and spent a good hour or so tossing and turning around in my bed. The side effect of letting your sick child roll around in your bed? Snotty sheets. Ew.
I was in the middle of watching 27 Dresses, a purely schlocky fluff romantic comedy that I felt I had to watch because who doesn't need fluff once in a while? Here are my thoughts --
1. When did mainstream movies get to be so BAD. I mean, they could at least try to make it a bit more believable. I knew everything that was going to happen. Even the acting was disappointing. No more rom coms for me. Is it that my taste has changed, or are films these days really this bad?
2. Uh, hello -- how the heck does a secretary in NYC afford such a fab apartment? Yeah, realism wasn't really the strong point of this movie.
3. Marriage ... my reaction to it is still to want to barf. I'm clearly not on the mend and not ready to think about committment for a long, long time.
After the film, after a shower, and after the baby was snoring soundly again, I started toodling around the kitchen and realized ... damn, my sink is a HOT MESS. It was a breeding ground for disease and destruction, especially the left side where the plates dry. So, I hauled out the Ajax I had the thought to buy earlier in the weekend and scrubbed a dub dub.
Scrubbing led to finally Swiffering my long-suffering floors, and a general wiping down. The place is already tremendously improved.
One thing my son has going for him is that he is a neat freak. Already. Yes, at 16 months, he already loves to take towels and wipe down counters and surfaces. It's amazing, because I am the exact opposite - cleaning is the LAST thing I want to do and I'm just glad he got this talent from my exMIL, who is possibly the cleanest, most organized person I've ever met.
As for me, I clean when I can't take the dirt anymore, basically. But, as a someone who aspires to be responsible adult, I've realized that something has to be DONE. I need a schedule, a list I can stick to. That will be my goal and hope for the future.
Doesn't everyone have hope today?
Pride
It is with enormous pride and joy in my heart that I just saw the 44th president of the USA being sworn in.
Although we'd just received an email from the computer help desk asking us to please not stream the video as to not overload our server, a few coworkers gathered in an office and watched the event. There were smiles, tears, and along with the millions in Washington, a feeling that change is in the air.
My pride is multi-faceted -- I am proud to be a naturalized American citizen, I am proud to be alive to witness the historic change in command, and I am proud to be where I am ... right here and right now.
As I watched our President's speech, I found some true inspiration in his words and as a result, feel the renewed challenge as a mother. What I really want to know right now is what did his single mama do right.
What I'm taking home from the inauguration is that as a single mom I am responsible for a life and my job is to steer him on his way as best as I can. It's definitely not an easy road, but I know I am doing the right thing and I aim to always do the right thing for my son. He knows love, he knows security, and my goal in life is to raise him to be a self-sufficient, kind, responsible, and intelligent individual.
That being said, it was worth staying up till 3am last night cleaning the house, making our home comfortable and clean for him. It is also worth driving many miles and many hours each week, making sure he's in loving care so I can provide said home for him.
And one more source of inspiration from the President's speech that I will carry with me -- choose hope over fear. Amen.
Although we'd just received an email from the computer help desk asking us to please not stream the video as to not overload our server, a few coworkers gathered in an office and watched the event. There were smiles, tears, and along with the millions in Washington, a feeling that change is in the air.
My pride is multi-faceted -- I am proud to be a naturalized American citizen, I am proud to be alive to witness the historic change in command, and I am proud to be where I am ... right here and right now.
As I watched our President's speech, I found some true inspiration in his words and as a result, feel the renewed challenge as a mother. What I really want to know right now is what did his single mama do right.
What I'm taking home from the inauguration is that as a single mom I am responsible for a life and my job is to steer him on his way as best as I can. It's definitely not an easy road, but I know I am doing the right thing and I aim to always do the right thing for my son. He knows love, he knows security, and my goal in life is to raise him to be a self-sufficient, kind, responsible, and intelligent individual.
That being said, it was worth staying up till 3am last night cleaning the house, making our home comfortable and clean for him. It is also worth driving many miles and many hours each week, making sure he's in loving care so I can provide said home for him.
And one more source of inspiration from the President's speech that I will carry with me -- choose hope over fear. Amen.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Thank you, MLK
Oh, it was nice to be home today, and pretend to be a stay-at-home mom for the second week running. It's just NICE, period, to have that break from the grueling work/life schedule and enjoy my apartment, because it is something that so rarely happens.
The baby is still very sick, still feverish on account of emerging molars, and this morning he had a bloody mouth, which was scary, but all seems to be ok now. He's happy after a couple of drama-filled episodes and I'm hoping he goes to sleep early so I can actually go to sleep early. Yeah, right, but the intention is in the right place.
The baby went over to exMILs for a couple of hours while I ran some brief errands, and when I went over, I found out that apparently my ex and his equally as Bozo dad were on their way over. His dad is in town from Iraq and will be going back tomorrow.
A couple hours go by, and my ex breezes in briefly, no Bozo dad in tow. He himself got a ride there from a friend he calls the Sex Monkey ... too long of a story to explain, but yeah, just as dumb as you think it would be. Where's grandpa? He had to tie up some ends with his taxes before leaving town tomorrow.
And, as usual, baby's real grandpa has seen him for a total of 2 hours. I think he's seen the baby for less than 8 hours in his entire life. Never gifted him, didn't offer to help out with anything. Real lousy grandpa is more like it.
When my exMIL's husband came home, he was under strict instructions not to honk his horn. He and the baby have an evening ritual - not technically real, but really-great grandpa honks his horn, the baby comes out with grandma, and baby drives back and forth in the driveway with grandpa for a couple of minutes.
This evening, even though he didn't honk his horn, baby heard the engine and ran for the door, and had the time of his life sitting on my exMIL's husband's lap. He was just beaming as he pretended to drive the car.
That's what I call a real Grandpa.
The baby is still very sick, still feverish on account of emerging molars, and this morning he had a bloody mouth, which was scary, but all seems to be ok now. He's happy after a couple of drama-filled episodes and I'm hoping he goes to sleep early so I can actually go to sleep early. Yeah, right, but the intention is in the right place.
The baby went over to exMILs for a couple of hours while I ran some brief errands, and when I went over, I found out that apparently my ex and his equally as Bozo dad were on their way over. His dad is in town from Iraq and will be going back tomorrow.
A couple hours go by, and my ex breezes in briefly, no Bozo dad in tow. He himself got a ride there from a friend he calls the Sex Monkey ... too long of a story to explain, but yeah, just as dumb as you think it would be. Where's grandpa? He had to tie up some ends with his taxes before leaving town tomorrow.
And, as usual, baby's real grandpa has seen him for a total of 2 hours. I think he's seen the baby for less than 8 hours in his entire life. Never gifted him, didn't offer to help out with anything. Real lousy grandpa is more like it.
When my exMIL's husband came home, he was under strict instructions not to honk his horn. He and the baby have an evening ritual - not technically real, but really-great grandpa honks his horn, the baby comes out with grandma, and baby drives back and forth in the driveway with grandpa for a couple of minutes.
This evening, even though he didn't honk his horn, baby heard the engine and ran for the door, and had the time of his life sitting on my exMIL's husband's lap. He was just beaming as he pretended to drive the car.
That's what I call a real Grandpa.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
I want to ...
say "muah hahahahaha" and cackle hilariously, but it's at the expense of someone else's misfortune, so I won't. Plus, it's late and would wake the baby.
Karma just happened ... what went around came around to someone/s in a past situation of mine. I'm a little shocked that it all went down, but it did, and I guess as painful as it was for me to go through the inital situation, I see that it's all been dealt with now.
Amazing.
Karma just happened ... what went around came around to someone/s in a past situation of mine. I'm a little shocked that it all went down, but it did, and I guess as painful as it was for me to go through the inital situation, I see that it's all been dealt with now.
Amazing.
The realm of possibilities
This afternoon, in an ill-advised move, I took the baby on a trip to the beach. It wasn't because of the weather that made it a tricky situation - the baby is still not 100% from his cold and he has molars coming out big time. The combination of the two made him a grumpy mcgrumplestiltskin and he was not having any of it.
Plus, it is just not easy to take a baby by yourself to the beach. More so when he's a highly opinionated one year old on top of everything. I can wholeheartedly say that from hauling his stroller across the sand (bad, bad, bad idea mommy) and then carrying all 27 pounds of him AND hauling the stroller up to the street, I burned all the calories from my Costco very berry sundae AND mocha freeze. I bought the sundae for the baby and maybe tasted a little more than I should have, but hey, he wasn't eating all of it and that would be wasteful. Right?
We came home and he was MAD, just mad and exhausted for a good hour and a half until the Motrin I managed to trick him into taking kicked in. I don't blame him since he was up for a couple of hours last night just cough, cough, coughing away. Poor thing.
BTW, my trick for getting him to take his medicine is to psych him out with a bottle and do a sneak attach with the dispenser. I'm surprised I even thought of it in the first place.
Some people, like my mom, would tell me I should have kept him home, but the truth is, I would have had major cabin fever and needed to go out and enjoy the world for a change. I really love the area where I live, as much as I wasn't sure I would leaving Los Angeles proper, and I've realized I don't take advantage of it like I should.
There's always one excuse or another, but at the risk of becoming like my slightly agoraphobic ex, I decided to just do it and not say I did.
Yesteday, after I'd arrived home from mom's and unloaded everything, I drove to the very same beach and parked on the esplanade overlooking the ocean and took some pics while the baby slept. I happened to notice a for rent sign at one of the buildings across the street. It was a slightly older building, nothing glamorous, but huge picture windows and vaulted ceilings. It wasn't so much that it was overlooking the sea that impressed me, but what really drew my attention to the empty apartment on the second floor was the layout of the space.
It had everything I've wished I've had in an apartment forever -- a large living room, an open kitchen that overlooks the living/dining room, and LIGHT. That's exactly what's been missing from my apartments ever since I've been on my own.
Dorms - enough said. In my first shared apartment, my roomate bogarted all the space and I usually stayed in my room with the bad carpet covered by rabbit poo, from her pet that used to roam about and occasionally sneak into my room. There is nothing scarier than hearing a rabbit scratch on your door when you're sleeping. Can you imagine?
In the studio I shared with my ex, space was nonexistent. I spent a couple of years walking sideways all over the place. Literally.
My current apartment is a huge improvement, but it's missing light, an extra bedroom, more storage closets, and the way the kitchen is set up I can't keep my eye on the baby while I'm cooking. It wouldn't hurt to have nicer flooring - the landlords installed the cheapest of the cheap carpet and I think my office actually has nicer carpet.
When my ex and I were living in that little studio and would fight so much I'd storm out, I used to drive around our neighborhood, which was in a chi chi-ish area. One thing about LA county is that it's a total amalgam. You'll find luxury homes/condos next to dilapidated shacks. I enjoy looking at the variety and also looking into other people's homes, so I can see first hand that not everyone has to live in a sardine can.
As I was looking inside that apartment yesterday, I thought for a brief moment ... could I? Should I?
This has been my eternal question lately. The economy has changed the rental game and what used to be unaffordable is becoming slightly more in reach to the common joe, or jane, in my case.
I'm taking it as another sign.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Why would I want to go back to that?
The baby is lying facedown on my bed, pjs half on, and he just pretty much fell asleep on contact.
And I'm blogging. My excuse? I'm exhausted ... it's Saturday and Saturdays are always marathon days in my life when I pack up from my mom's house and hea d back to my own. To make things a bit tougher, the baby is still not over his epic cold and is cranky as he can possibly be. I can't imagine him being any crankier or him kicking me anymore at night. Wasn't all that kicking supposed to be over when he was born? Yes, he does still sleep in my bed for part of the night sometimes. We both love it and it allows me to get a decent nights sleep, so I'll cross the him having to sleep in his own bed drama when I get there.
When I took him to our favorite chicken place for lunch, he threw himself out of the high chair, threw his fork across the restaurant, spilled salt all over the floor, and I could only scarf my food down and leave my apologies. Again - can't believe we haven't been banned. I really should leave a tip more often. They're saints.
This morning as I was getting ready to leave to get my car serviced the baby grabbed my phone and managed to call his dad. [note: finally taking break to go and put rest of pjs on baby, brb]. His dad texted me back to see what was going on and it led to him sending me a message that included this: <3 ... barf.
The question I have for him, which is rhetorical, of course, because he's too much of a lug nut to ever get that concept is ... why would I want to go back to THAT? Is he truly that deluded to think I'd want to go running back to his arms after everything that's happened?
It's not just the meanness, the threats, the abuse, the zillon other reasons why I fell out of love with him in the first place, it's something much larger. It's the fact that this time around, this second and most explosive breakup, something major happened ... I changed.
When we got back together the first time around, I don't think I was really *in love* with him anymore ... I was scared, sad, unsure of what was going on, and I think the fact that I got him back was kind of a "ha ha ha" boastful kind of thing.
This time around, with a baby's welfare to consider, the game has changed and I'm not that scared, naive person anymore and will never be again. Like I've said time and time again, for the majority of people, your true colors come out when you have a life in your hands. For me, it did.
And it's not only that, now I KNOW what I need from a relationship, I understand the concept of marriage, and realize that even if I did allow his words to woo me and put him back into my life, he fundamentally would not be what I NEED in a mate.
From my wedding planning website and photographer blog obsessions, I came upon a gem of a quote ... possibly the best thing I've ever read about marriage, a quote that I've found tremendously helpful in putting my scattered thoughts about life, love, and marriage into fruition.
Now, I don't claim to be religious, but I do believe in God and keep a fairly open mind about things and think there is a lot to be learned from those who have a more religious calling. From my experience in life, I think this quote is right on the money. It's by C.S. Lewis from his book "Mere Christianity":
Being in love is a good thing, but it is not the best thing. There are many things below it, but there are also things above it. You cannot make it the basis of a whole life. It is a noble feeling, but it is still a feeling... Knowledge can last, principles can last, habits can last; but feelings come and go... But, of course, ceasing to be "in love" need not mean ceasing to love. Love in this second sense — love as distinct from "being in love" — is not merely a feeling. It is a deep unity, maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit; reinforced by (in Christian marriage) the grace which both partners ask, and receive, from God... "Being in love" first moved them to promise fidelity: this quieter love enables them to keep the promise. It is on this love that the engine of marriage is run: being in love was the explosion that started it. "
Ok, can I get an AMEN?
Hallelujah, this is just what I needed to see and it came into my life at a good time. I can see, in terms of my marriage with my ex, that it wasn't a marriage based in love, and that was the entire problem. Does he honestly think that after all that happened that I could have love in my heart for him again? Also, does he honestly LOVE me? The answer to both of those is a resounding NO.
So, for now, I must continue to keep myself on "ignore" when it comes to him. He isn't my one, and I most certainly am not his and it may be that I'll never find my one. All I want right now, honestly, is for him to find someone so it takes the pressure off of me, because I don't want to take on his shit. No way, uh uh. For someone who was so cocky about having women when he left, he sure seems to be eating his words now.
Well, in the time I wrote this post,I put the pjs on the baby, q-tipped one of his ears, cut his nails and part of the skin on his right pinkie in the process, and now I'm going to catch up on my google blog reader, drink some limoncello, and then watch 27 Dresses. I don't know about you, but that's my kind of a happening Saturday night. :)
And I'm blogging. My excuse? I'm exhausted ... it's Saturday and Saturdays are always marathon days in my life when I pack up from my mom's house and hea d back to my own. To make things a bit tougher, the baby is still not over his epic cold and is cranky as he can possibly be. I can't imagine him being any crankier or him kicking me anymore at night. Wasn't all that kicking supposed to be over when he was born? Yes, he does still sleep in my bed for part of the night sometimes. We both love it and it allows me to get a decent nights sleep, so I'll cross the him having to sleep in his own bed drama when I get there.
When I took him to our favorite chicken place for lunch, he threw himself out of the high chair, threw his fork across the restaurant, spilled salt all over the floor, and I could only scarf my food down and leave my apologies. Again - can't believe we haven't been banned. I really should leave a tip more often. They're saints.
This morning as I was getting ready to leave to get my car serviced the baby grabbed my phone and managed to call his dad. [note: finally taking break to go and put rest of pjs on baby, brb]. His dad texted me back to see what was going on and it led to him sending me a message that included this: <3 ... barf.
The question I have for him, which is rhetorical, of course, because he's too much of a lug nut to ever get that concept is ... why would I want to go back to THAT? Is he truly that deluded to think I'd want to go running back to his arms after everything that's happened?
It's not just the meanness, the threats, the abuse, the zillon other reasons why I fell out of love with him in the first place, it's something much larger. It's the fact that this time around, this second and most explosive breakup, something major happened ... I changed.
When we got back together the first time around, I don't think I was really *in love* with him anymore ... I was scared, sad, unsure of what was going on, and I think the fact that I got him back was kind of a "ha ha ha" boastful kind of thing.
This time around, with a baby's welfare to consider, the game has changed and I'm not that scared, naive person anymore and will never be again. Like I've said time and time again, for the majority of people, your true colors come out when you have a life in your hands. For me, it did.
And it's not only that, now I KNOW what I need from a relationship, I understand the concept of marriage, and realize that even if I did allow his words to woo me and put him back into my life, he fundamentally would not be what I NEED in a mate.
From my wedding planning website and photographer blog obsessions, I came upon a gem of a quote ... possibly the best thing I've ever read about marriage, a quote that I've found tremendously helpful in putting my scattered thoughts about life, love, and marriage into fruition.
Now, I don't claim to be religious, but I do believe in God and keep a fairly open mind about things and think there is a lot to be learned from those who have a more religious calling. From my experience in life, I think this quote is right on the money. It's by C.S. Lewis from his book "Mere Christianity":
Being in love is a good thing, but it is not the best thing. There are many things below it, but there are also things above it. You cannot make it the basis of a whole life. It is a noble feeling, but it is still a feeling... Knowledge can last, principles can last, habits can last; but feelings come and go... But, of course, ceasing to be "in love" need not mean ceasing to love. Love in this second sense — love as distinct from "being in love" — is not merely a feeling. It is a deep unity, maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit; reinforced by (in Christian marriage) the grace which both partners ask, and receive, from God... "Being in love" first moved them to promise fidelity: this quieter love enables them to keep the promise. It is on this love that the engine of marriage is run: being in love was the explosion that started it. "
Ok, can I get an AMEN?
Hallelujah, this is just what I needed to see and it came into my life at a good time. I can see, in terms of my marriage with my ex, that it wasn't a marriage based in love, and that was the entire problem. Does he honestly think that after all that happened that I could have love in my heart for him again? Also, does he honestly LOVE me? The answer to both of those is a resounding NO.
So, for now, I must continue to keep myself on "ignore" when it comes to him. He isn't my one, and I most certainly am not his and it may be that I'll never find my one. All I want right now, honestly, is for him to find someone so it takes the pressure off of me, because I don't want to take on his shit. No way, uh uh. For someone who was so cocky about having women when he left, he sure seems to be eating his words now.
Well, in the time I wrote this post,I put the pjs on the baby, q-tipped one of his ears, cut his nails and part of the skin on his right pinkie in the process, and now I'm going to catch up on my google blog reader, drink some limoncello, and then watch 27 Dresses. I don't know about you, but that's my kind of a happening Saturday night. :)
Friday, January 16, 2009
Pics, cont...
Today I met my photographer to pick up the dvd from our photoshoot 2 weeks ago, and you can color me happy.
It's better than the sneak peak ... 121 pics, and they're all really good. There are a couple that show more back fat and more chin than I'd like to admit I have, but I definitely have some really great photos that I'll be pimping out at some point.
It's going to be hard keeping this a secret until March, which is when the grandmas have their birthdays. I'm definitely doing the digital keychain and I'm thinking about putting together a book.
Eeeeep! Stuff like this makes me so, so happy. Then again, I must just be really VAIN!
It's better than the sneak peak ... 121 pics, and they're all really good. There are a couple that show more back fat and more chin than I'd like to admit I have, but I definitely have some really great photos that I'll be pimping out at some point.
It's going to be hard keeping this a secret until March, which is when the grandmas have their birthdays. I'm definitely doing the digital keychain and I'm thinking about putting together a book.
Eeeeep! Stuff like this makes me so, so happy. Then again, I must just be really VAIN!
Humble Pie
Earlier this week, when I was incognito as a stay-at-home-mom wheeling a sleeping baby around the mall, I strolled around to a certain makeup counter I'll call Smack Cosmetics. You can figure out their real name pretty easily, I think.
As I stood there swiping eyeshadows from their recent collection on the back of my hands, testing out glosses and eyeliners, all I could think was ... "wow, Smack has really jumped the shark."
I used to work for Smack ... 3 to 4 years of my life either as a freelancer or fully-employed and it was, at one point, my dream job. It was the career choice I left my steady, dependable job in radio for and part of the reason I made the big jump from Northern to Southern California.
Oh, how I used to LOVE working for Smack. When I started, it still had a "oooh" mystery factor to it, having just been recently acquired by THE makeup conglomerate. It still had a shred of it's punk, independent past and hadn't really sold out yet. That's what drew me to it and I was so proud to be part of this really high caliber line.
Back then, it was good stuff ... high quality product at a decent price, a jump above drugstore cosmetics and priced to be available to the masses. Then, about a year into my time with the company, change set in. Collections came out faster, quality started dropping. People started complaining. Long time employees started leaving or being fired. It was a mess back then.
By the time I'd left the company, slammed the door in their faces and burned every last bridge on account of how shoddily they treated me, I barely wanted anything to do with Smack ever again. They'd used me up, kicked me around, and even though me and another employee/friend at the counter were the best sellers they'd ever had at the particular counter I was at (the celebrity counter, btw ... holla!), we were pretty much escorted all the way out.
Of course, I still use their products because of how much of it I have from employee gratis and discounts, but the thrill is really gone. That's sad, considering how much I used to love it and how much I gave up in order to follow my passion. I didn't even want to do freelance makeup jobs by the time I was done and when I became pregnant, I pretty much told everyone I'd hung up my brush belt for good.
This evening I got a Facebook message from one of my friends at that last counter I'd worked at. They've all been laid off, the company is pulling out of the department store.
Wow. I really never thought I'd see the day.
Ok, premonition alert, because this morning as I was getting ready for work, the very same topic came to mind - I thought to myself, "Smack will never leave that department store. Even if they do terrible, it's the CEO's favorite store."
Damn. The economy must really be that bad. I know the department store is doing bad because they announced layoffs this week, and Smack must REALLY be doing bad, because for the first time ever I've seen them have SALES and discounts that were never, ever, ever, ever ,ever thought possible. I mean, sales just weren't DONE. Damn!
Part of me wants to gloat, because this is good old karma coming around. My friend that left the company when I did is intuitive and she said to me at the time, "anonmom, this counter will never recover from our loss."
The thing about the two of us is that neither of us are the hard selling types. She has a truly magic touch and is possibly the best natural sales person and makeup artist I've ever known. She is genuine, friendly, compassionate, and girlfriend can beat down a mean face (that's a good thing! Just some makeup speak, for you.) As for myself, I went into the business looking to help people, looking to bring Kevyn Aucoin's message to the masses, which is to bring out the beauty in people. By the end, I was truly over it, but I still managed to sell, sell, sell ... my customers liked me and I always kept it real.
As for this news, it shocks me, but also affirms that 2 1/2 years ago, my friend and I made the right decision to leave. Management made us miserable for whatever reason.We used to pray in the parking lot ... please, please help us find our way out of there.
She got a terrific job and has done amazingly ever since.I found my stable job and despite my complaints, I'm secure in it. We've both become pregnant since - me with my little guy, and her with a little girl due in the next couple months.
Even though I failed at that job with Smack, it was nothing but a success in the end. The same thing can be said for my marriage ... yes, it failed, but in the end, a stronger and better me was born out of it.
As I stood there swiping eyeshadows from their recent collection on the back of my hands, testing out glosses and eyeliners, all I could think was ... "wow, Smack has really jumped the shark."
I used to work for Smack ... 3 to 4 years of my life either as a freelancer or fully-employed and it was, at one point, my dream job. It was the career choice I left my steady, dependable job in radio for and part of the reason I made the big jump from Northern to Southern California.
Oh, how I used to LOVE working for Smack. When I started, it still had a "oooh" mystery factor to it, having just been recently acquired by THE makeup conglomerate. It still had a shred of it's punk, independent past and hadn't really sold out yet. That's what drew me to it and I was so proud to be part of this really high caliber line.
Back then, it was good stuff ... high quality product at a decent price, a jump above drugstore cosmetics and priced to be available to the masses. Then, about a year into my time with the company, change set in. Collections came out faster, quality started dropping. People started complaining. Long time employees started leaving or being fired. It was a mess back then.
By the time I'd left the company, slammed the door in their faces and burned every last bridge on account of how shoddily they treated me, I barely wanted anything to do with Smack ever again. They'd used me up, kicked me around, and even though me and another employee/friend at the counter were the best sellers they'd ever had at the particular counter I was at (the celebrity counter, btw ... holla!), we were pretty much escorted all the way out.
Of course, I still use their products because of how much of it I have from employee gratis and discounts, but the thrill is really gone. That's sad, considering how much I used to love it and how much I gave up in order to follow my passion. I didn't even want to do freelance makeup jobs by the time I was done and when I became pregnant, I pretty much told everyone I'd hung up my brush belt for good.
This evening I got a Facebook message from one of my friends at that last counter I'd worked at. They've all been laid off, the company is pulling out of the department store.
Wow. I really never thought I'd see the day.
Ok, premonition alert, because this morning as I was getting ready for work, the very same topic came to mind - I thought to myself, "Smack will never leave that department store. Even if they do terrible, it's the CEO's favorite store."
Damn. The economy must really be that bad. I know the department store is doing bad because they announced layoffs this week, and Smack must REALLY be doing bad, because for the first time ever I've seen them have SALES and discounts that were never, ever, ever, ever ,ever thought possible. I mean, sales just weren't DONE. Damn!
Part of me wants to gloat, because this is good old karma coming around. My friend that left the company when I did is intuitive and she said to me at the time, "anonmom, this counter will never recover from our loss."
The thing about the two of us is that neither of us are the hard selling types. She has a truly magic touch and is possibly the best natural sales person and makeup artist I've ever known. She is genuine, friendly, compassionate, and girlfriend can beat down a mean face (that's a good thing! Just some makeup speak, for you.) As for myself, I went into the business looking to help people, looking to bring Kevyn Aucoin's message to the masses, which is to bring out the beauty in people. By the end, I was truly over it, but I still managed to sell, sell, sell ... my customers liked me and I always kept it real.
As for this news, it shocks me, but also affirms that 2 1/2 years ago, my friend and I made the right decision to leave. Management made us miserable for whatever reason.We used to pray in the parking lot ... please, please help us find our way out of there.
She got a terrific job and has done amazingly ever since.I found my stable job and despite my complaints, I'm secure in it. We've both become pregnant since - me with my little guy, and her with a little girl due in the next couple months.
Even though I failed at that job with Smack, it was nothing but a success in the end. The same thing can be said for my marriage ... yes, it failed, but in the end, a stronger and better me was born out of it.
Doing nice things for myself ...
The last couple nights have been brutal. Any one who's had to tend to a sick child knows what I mean. Brutal.
The baby's never been this sick before - never thrown up before - and his fever is making him antsy and uncomfortable, which mean that he's not sleeping well and making sounds for hours on end that are reminiscent of seals being skinned alive.
All in all, it's not pleasant for any of us, and I'm glad he's with my parents and my dad, the retired doctor, who can take him to his pediatrician in their area. He has two, one near my house and one near them, which makes me grateful for my PPO insurance, even though it costs me an arm, leg, and two teeth, and that's BEFORE getting a bill for what my insurance doesn't cover.
Sicko by Michael Moore, anyone?
Honestly, in my opinion and my experience, I would almost give an arm, leg and two teeth to be able to have the kind of healthcare experience my family members have in Canada. They have AMAZING healthcare coverage and they're pretty much taxed at the same rate we are here in the US. My aunt, who died of brain cancer, got unbelievably wonderful treatment and spent her last months in a technologically advanced hospital -- for free.
Ok, healthcare tangent over.
The point of my post is doing good things for yourself. I thoroughly believe that we all need to do nice things for ourselves, to allow ourselves some indulgences, or else you can so easily get caught in a spiral of too-much-to-do-I-can't-stand-it-anymore-get-me-outta-here.
With that in mind, I've done a couple of things to treat myself today --
1. Scheduled a 20 minute massage with the masseuse who comes by our workplace once a week. $25, but worth it, because my shoulder muscles are about to quit this bitch.
2. Stopped by my apartment this morning on the way to work and checked the mail, put some recent purchases away, made a quick breakfast of microwaved lite havarti cheese slices from Trader Joe's (heavenly, believe me), got some nail polish so I can replace my horribly chipped nail polish from the weekend, and got to work at my usual time.
Those couple of things are enough to keep me going, enough to get me through the last day of a tough work week and remind me there's more to life than this living in a cubicle or driving in a car.
Life is good.
The baby's never been this sick before - never thrown up before - and his fever is making him antsy and uncomfortable, which mean that he's not sleeping well and making sounds for hours on end that are reminiscent of seals being skinned alive.
All in all, it's not pleasant for any of us, and I'm glad he's with my parents and my dad, the retired doctor, who can take him to his pediatrician in their area. He has two, one near my house and one near them, which makes me grateful for my PPO insurance, even though it costs me an arm, leg, and two teeth, and that's BEFORE getting a bill for what my insurance doesn't cover.
Sicko by Michael Moore, anyone?
Honestly, in my opinion and my experience, I would almost give an arm, leg and two teeth to be able to have the kind of healthcare experience my family members have in Canada. They have AMAZING healthcare coverage and they're pretty much taxed at the same rate we are here in the US. My aunt, who died of brain cancer, got unbelievably wonderful treatment and spent her last months in a technologically advanced hospital -- for free.
Ok, healthcare tangent over.
The point of my post is doing good things for yourself. I thoroughly believe that we all need to do nice things for ourselves, to allow ourselves some indulgences, or else you can so easily get caught in a spiral of too-much-to-do-I-can't-stand-it-anymore-get-me-outta-here.
With that in mind, I've done a couple of things to treat myself today --
1. Scheduled a 20 minute massage with the masseuse who comes by our workplace once a week. $25, but worth it, because my shoulder muscles are about to quit this bitch.
2. Stopped by my apartment this morning on the way to work and checked the mail, put some recent purchases away, made a quick breakfast of microwaved lite havarti cheese slices from Trader Joe's (heavenly, believe me), got some nail polish so I can replace my horribly chipped nail polish from the weekend, and got to work at my usual time.
Those couple of things are enough to keep me going, enough to get me through the last day of a tough work week and remind me there's more to life than this living in a cubicle or driving in a car.
Life is good.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Note to fellow Southern California drivers
If you see a woman clapping, throwing back her head, and apparently screaming at the top of her lungs driving in a silver compact car with a baby on board placard in the back window, she's not having a seizure. So, be rest assured and don't try to call 911.
This is the way said woman stays awake during her evening commute to her parents home. It's the only way she can keep from nodding off, so this is for your benefit mostly. Never mind the aesthetics - she knows it's not cute - but it works, and she gets home to her toddler safe and sound.
This is the way said woman stays awake during her evening commute to her parents home. It's the only way she can keep from nodding off, so this is for your benefit mostly. Never mind the aesthetics - she knows it's not cute - but it works, and she gets home to her toddler safe and sound.
Oh, boy ... random 4 am thoughts
- Dealing with a sick baby and his projectile vomit isn't fun. He's never thrown up this much, has a slight fever, but is active, so that's ok.
- Guilt has set in over going to work over an hour away tomorrow.
- Why did Bozo just send me an email about scholarships for single, working moms?
- Guilt has set in over going to work over an hour away tomorrow.
- Why did Bozo just send me an email about scholarships for single, working moms?
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Recent Lessons Learned
1. Do not, under any circumstance, overestimate a toddler's ability to be able to fall asleep while you're pushing him in a stroller. He MUST, repeat, MUST fall asleep on your bed or your car, and anything else is just caca and the catalyst for a hour of squeals that sound like a seal is being skinned alive. In a mall. As a punishment, you will be forced to carry an almost 30 pound baby on your shoulder for nearly an hour while you get necessary errands done.
2. Murphy's Law ... that shiz is for reals.
3. Chuck E. Cheese's is not only where a kid can be a kid, but where a parent can have a nervous breakdown.
4. Never take your kid to Chuck E. Cheese's unless they're over the age of 3, and never on a Saturday.
5. Being a stay-at-home mom is exhausting. All mom's need to take some kind of nap during the day, whether they work or not.
6. Walking around a mall for a couple of hours with a sleeping baby alternately on your shoulder and in his stroller is EXCELLENT exercise.
7. Babies are always so much happier after nap time.
8. When you think you've messed up a recipe beyond repair, it turns out it's the only vegetable dish your baby will actually eat and demand more of. Note to self -- purposely mess up more recipes.
9. Dark chocolate makes anything better.
10. So does sleep.
To say my day as a stay-at-home mom was challenging is an understatement. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed every single second, but it was different than a weekend because I had errands that NEEDED to get done and coordinating them with the baby's schedule and packing for my mom's house was just out of control. Out. Of. Control.
Turns out, I'm just as exhausted as from a regular working day, but what I realized is that I NEED to be able to have these types of home days more often. NEED. It would greatly benefit my mental health, because I realized how depressing it is for me to be stuck in an office all day with only a peep at what is going on in the real world.
As much as I would love to have the option to work from home, or just plain stay at home, the reality is that I will most likely have to work forever. Thinking about the near future, about daycare and preschool costs have me freaking out. It's crazy expensive, and although Bozo says he's going to help pay, he isn't exactly Mr. High Roller, and doesn't seem to be progressing towards a higher paying job.
Man, having all that kind of pressure is HARD. It's just hard, and I'm just going to acknowledge that. Feels good to, too.
Ok, off to bed. Promised myself I'd be asleep before 11 pm, and you know what? I'm gonna!
2. Murphy's Law ... that shiz is for reals.
3. Chuck E. Cheese's is not only where a kid can be a kid, but where a parent can have a nervous breakdown.
4. Never take your kid to Chuck E. Cheese's unless they're over the age of 3, and never on a Saturday.
5. Being a stay-at-home mom is exhausting. All mom's need to take some kind of nap during the day, whether they work or not.
6. Walking around a mall for a couple of hours with a sleeping baby alternately on your shoulder and in his stroller is EXCELLENT exercise.
7. Babies are always so much happier after nap time.
8. When you think you've messed up a recipe beyond repair, it turns out it's the only vegetable dish your baby will actually eat and demand more of. Note to self -- purposely mess up more recipes.
9. Dark chocolate makes anything better.
10. So does sleep.
To say my day as a stay-at-home mom was challenging is an understatement. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed every single second, but it was different than a weekend because I had errands that NEEDED to get done and coordinating them with the baby's schedule and packing for my mom's house was just out of control. Out. Of. Control.
Turns out, I'm just as exhausted as from a regular working day, but what I realized is that I NEED to be able to have these types of home days more often. NEED. It would greatly benefit my mental health, because I realized how depressing it is for me to be stuck in an office all day with only a peep at what is going on in the real world.
As much as I would love to have the option to work from home, or just plain stay at home, the reality is that I will most likely have to work forever. Thinking about the near future, about daycare and preschool costs have me freaking out. It's crazy expensive, and although Bozo says he's going to help pay, he isn't exactly Mr. High Roller, and doesn't seem to be progressing towards a higher paying job.
Man, having all that kind of pressure is HARD. It's just hard, and I'm just going to acknowledge that. Feels good to, too.
Ok, off to bed. Promised myself I'd be asleep before 11 pm, and you know what? I'm gonna!
I am ....
... playing the role of stay-at-home mom today. And loving it. Loving not having to rush to get ready, not having to navigate to exMIL's house amongst the crowded streets and kids on the way to school. Now, if only the baby wasn't too sick for the park.
Oh, I'm so glad for this day, and I'm goign to enjoy every single second of it. I'm even having a fabulous hair day, and who could ask for anything more?
Oh, I'm so glad for this day, and I'm goign to enjoy every single second of it. I'm even having a fabulous hair day, and who could ask for anything more?
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Single mom reality check
It's 12:30 am on Tuesday morning, and I'm trying to catch up on all the stuff I was supposed to do when the baby magically fell asleep at 9 pm and I did, too.
Blah.
When I don't have that free time, I miss it, and when I have that free time, I fall alseep. The perils of being exhausted.
However, I DID manage to make a chicken crockpot recipe from the back of Good Housekeeping that turned out really well, and I did the first part of it's prep - cooking the chicken over the stove - while holding an unhappy and slightly sick baby. Cause I'm a woman, w-o-m-a-n, I'll say it again.
I still want those 3 hours back.
Blah.
When I don't have that free time, I miss it, and when I have that free time, I fall alseep. The perils of being exhausted.
However, I DID manage to make a chicken crockpot recipe from the back of Good Housekeeping that turned out really well, and I did the first part of it's prep - cooking the chicken over the stove - while holding an unhappy and slightly sick baby. Cause I'm a woman, w-o-m-a-n, I'll say it again.
I still want those 3 hours back.
Monday, January 12, 2009
A new day
It's 1:30 am on Monday morning, and I'm catching my thoughts before I drop into a dead faint in bed. The shower is over, I've chopped the onions for cooking tomorrow, I've washed the dishes, cleaned up the legos, and made my lunch.
As I'm getting ready for the new day ahead, I'm thinking back to the past, and marveling at how far I've come, and yet how far I have to go. I'm not really that upset about Bozo's antics anymore, I'm just astounded at how really mentally challenged he is and worried that this is what I have to deal with for the next umpteen years.
I suppose I could take a lesson from my exMIL, who can handle her ex-husband and does a good job of negotiating him vs. her current husband. That's a ways away for me, but I do admire her for how she deals with that situation.
One thing I can say about my ex is that he is living in this giant bubble, in his own world, where he's the smartest person in the world, he can do whatever he wants, and there are no consequences. It doesn't matter that he called me every name in the book and then some. It doesn't matter that he caused me emotional anguish for a big chunk of my life. It doesn't matter that I'm pretty much entirely support my son, and even if I were to run back to him I still would be and then supporting him as well. It doesn't matter that I'm still paying off a medical bill that goes back to our son's birth. It doesn't matter that a year ago I was begging him for $10 to buy formula and he not only refused, but called me some choice words. It doesn' tmatter that 10 months ago he called me the worst woman in the world and stormed out forever.
None of these things matter to him. But, they do to me. As I was sitting on the couch for a minute, enjoying the art of doing nothing, I saw our ghosts from the past clearly -- him, backpack in hand by the door, screaming obscenities at me, while I was crying and telling him to get the hell out. And, then, the time I was wrapping Xmas presents and he started breaking the phone, tearing apart books, because of something he thought I did wrong.
He just doesn't get it. This isn't a game, but of course, in that little bubble, everything is a game, which is why he spends hours on end playing computer games, as does his dad, who is spending 3 weeks away from Iraq in his parent's spare bedroom doing the exact same thing.
Like father, like son, but most certainly NOT like grandson. There is no way I will allow any of this baloney to happen with my son. So, the decision is clear - no more "family" lunches when it's my ex's visitation.
I was doing it on advise that it is good for the baby to see both of his parent's together, which I agree with, but not like this. Not when Bozo starts slipping and falling into bad habits that end up affecting the baby. If he starts feeling relaxed, that he can just take advantage of my time on his visitiation days, it not only makes me mad, it throws the baby's schedule off big time, which ends up only hurting me, because in the end I'm the one who has to deal with it, and I'm the one who is supporting this child.
Respect my authority, right?
Another thing I've noticed about Bozo is that he is still desperately seeking his distant father's approval. He is absolutley desperate for it. It's probably a big chunk of the reason he is still in that little bubble.
As for me, don't worry. I'm not going to slip and fall back into his faux charms. I'm impenetrable - remember my cold, black, grinch-like heart? It's not going back to a rosier shade anytime soon. Plus, now in my wedding-planning obsession and related wisdom, I know that my ex cannot give me what I really want in life. He cannot understand what I want, what I need, and what I know is that I don't want or need him.
I'm enough for me.
As I'm getting ready for the new day ahead, I'm thinking back to the past, and marveling at how far I've come, and yet how far I have to go. I'm not really that upset about Bozo's antics anymore, I'm just astounded at how really mentally challenged he is and worried that this is what I have to deal with for the next umpteen years.
I suppose I could take a lesson from my exMIL, who can handle her ex-husband and does a good job of negotiating him vs. her current husband. That's a ways away for me, but I do admire her for how she deals with that situation.
One thing I can say about my ex is that he is living in this giant bubble, in his own world, where he's the smartest person in the world, he can do whatever he wants, and there are no consequences. It doesn't matter that he called me every name in the book and then some. It doesn't matter that he caused me emotional anguish for a big chunk of my life. It doesn't matter that I'm pretty much entirely support my son, and even if I were to run back to him I still would be and then supporting him as well. It doesn't matter that I'm still paying off a medical bill that goes back to our son's birth. It doesn't matter that a year ago I was begging him for $10 to buy formula and he not only refused, but called me some choice words. It doesn' tmatter that 10 months ago he called me the worst woman in the world and stormed out forever.
None of these things matter to him. But, they do to me. As I was sitting on the couch for a minute, enjoying the art of doing nothing, I saw our ghosts from the past clearly -- him, backpack in hand by the door, screaming obscenities at me, while I was crying and telling him to get the hell out. And, then, the time I was wrapping Xmas presents and he started breaking the phone, tearing apart books, because of something he thought I did wrong.
He just doesn't get it. This isn't a game, but of course, in that little bubble, everything is a game, which is why he spends hours on end playing computer games, as does his dad, who is spending 3 weeks away from Iraq in his parent's spare bedroom doing the exact same thing.
Like father, like son, but most certainly NOT like grandson. There is no way I will allow any of this baloney to happen with my son. So, the decision is clear - no more "family" lunches when it's my ex's visitation.
I was doing it on advise that it is good for the baby to see both of his parent's together, which I agree with, but not like this. Not when Bozo starts slipping and falling into bad habits that end up affecting the baby. If he starts feeling relaxed, that he can just take advantage of my time on his visitiation days, it not only makes me mad, it throws the baby's schedule off big time, which ends up only hurting me, because in the end I'm the one who has to deal with it, and I'm the one who is supporting this child.
Respect my authority, right?
Another thing I've noticed about Bozo is that he is still desperately seeking his distant father's approval. He is absolutley desperate for it. It's probably a big chunk of the reason he is still in that little bubble.
As for me, don't worry. I'm not going to slip and fall back into his faux charms. I'm impenetrable - remember my cold, black, grinch-like heart? It's not going back to a rosier shade anytime soon. Plus, now in my wedding-planning obsession and related wisdom, I know that my ex cannot give me what I really want in life. He cannot understand what I want, what I need, and what I know is that I don't want or need him.
I'm enough for me.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Reason #2522 I despise my ex
Today was one of those days that was just a plain ol' disaster.
It started off innocently enough ... Woke up at 8 am with the baby, made him breakfast, puttered around the house. Then, around 10 am, I called the ex (aka Bozo, he will heretoforth be known as either ex or Bozo, because he's just so ridiculous he is a clown) to remind him we needed to head out early to buy the baby new shoes.
Don't hear from him for a bit, and as 11 am is approaching, I call him, and call him and call him. Nothing. I call my exMIL and see if she can track him down. Nothing. It' s noon, his regular pick up time and still nothing.
I'm at my wits end and finally send him a text message: since you obviously don't care about the baby, forget about seeing him for another 2 weeks. Then, I take the baby to the park, hoping the ex will actually call at some point, and if not, then forget him.
At this time, I am beyond, beyond pissed. Just livid. I know the ex was up late last night because when I was checking email at 2 am after catching up with some stuff, he was online, too. He has to be sleeping and just not picking up the phone because he can't hear it. That's his modus operandi.
Back in our booty call days, this happened all the time and I used to call and call and call him, hoping he'd wake up at some point. But now, it's different. There is a baby involved, and on this particular visitation day, I actually had planned something for me to do sans baby. Novel concept. So, not only is it not responsible for my ex to be aware and awake of what time he has to pick up his child, but it is just plain old rude to not consider that I might actually have something to do.
Half an hour into the park, the ex calls and says sorry, he has a new phone, hasn't figured it out, his dad is in town from Iraq and has his car, can I go pick him up? Arrgh.
He gives me his street address, I figure out where his house is, and when I see it, my pissed off level goes off the charts.
It's a gorgeous house. That lucky s.o.b. He's renting a room from his friend, who was pretty much given this house by his mother. You can tell there is just a lot of room there and the house has everything I wish I had ... a yard, a front porch, room, light .... And who else do I find there, but my exFIL... my ex is in the shower (he really WAS asleep ... liar) and will be right out. Apparently, exFIL is coming with us, which is news to me.
So, the ex gets in the car and I see his new phone and my pissed off factor just jumps off the chart into infinity. His new phone is a freaking Blackberry. I've wanted a Blackberry since before he even knew what the hell a Blackberry is, and have never been able to afford it.
I start lecturing him on responsiblity, on how much he's inconvenienced me and thrown off the baby's schedule (this is true), and would have KILLED him to give me a head up????
His response, which I am about to write verbatim, sounds like something a 5 year old would say to get out of trouble: "You're pretty. You're cute. I love you."
At this point, I am so close to throwing him out of the car it isn't even funny. The only reason he said that is because I was so unbelievably livid. Livid.
I tell him that he's ridiculous, I don't and haven't loved him for some time, we're divorced, he's the one who left, and that ship sailed a long, long time ago, so please stop your silly games.
And then he says stuff, trying to make it better. And then he does something so completely unforgivable -- he farts in my car. In my second baby, the car I've been suffering for and giving up food purchases so I can make payments ever since I bought it. Farted.
I can't believe this guy. He's so oblivious, too. When we were outside of the shoe store, waiting for exFIL to come back from the bathroom (he was driving in my ex's car, btw), Bozo tells me that he still cares about me, being his baby mama, and he really tried to prevent our break up and he really wishes we could have worked things out.
At this point in the day, I am so beyond exhausted that I just ignore him. There is no point in reminding him how eager he was to leave, how he verbally and mentally abused me even after he left so he could get the divorce over with faster. There was no point in showing him the text messages he sent me on the day we broke up for good, telling me that he was finally free and no one else in the world would want to be with me, so it was my huge loss.
The rest of the day was just as crazy. My plans were totally ruined and I had only one hour to get things done. I came back and my exMIL's husband is yelling at my exFIL who has decided to take a nap on his couch. My mom calls and tells me she can't take care of the baby on Wednesday, and the reason I needed her to is because my exMIL absolutely cannot.
Then, I come home and all is well, just me and baby. I just want to hide from reality. It's worse than anything you'd see on tv. Fo' reals.
It started off innocently enough ... Woke up at 8 am with the baby, made him breakfast, puttered around the house. Then, around 10 am, I called the ex (aka Bozo, he will heretoforth be known as either ex or Bozo, because he's just so ridiculous he is a clown) to remind him we needed to head out early to buy the baby new shoes.
Don't hear from him for a bit, and as 11 am is approaching, I call him, and call him and call him. Nothing. I call my exMIL and see if she can track him down. Nothing. It' s noon, his regular pick up time and still nothing.
I'm at my wits end and finally send him a text message: since you obviously don't care about the baby, forget about seeing him for another 2 weeks. Then, I take the baby to the park, hoping the ex will actually call at some point, and if not, then forget him.
At this time, I am beyond, beyond pissed. Just livid. I know the ex was up late last night because when I was checking email at 2 am after catching up with some stuff, he was online, too. He has to be sleeping and just not picking up the phone because he can't hear it. That's his modus operandi.
Back in our booty call days, this happened all the time and I used to call and call and call him, hoping he'd wake up at some point. But now, it's different. There is a baby involved, and on this particular visitation day, I actually had planned something for me to do sans baby. Novel concept. So, not only is it not responsible for my ex to be aware and awake of what time he has to pick up his child, but it is just plain old rude to not consider that I might actually have something to do.
Half an hour into the park, the ex calls and says sorry, he has a new phone, hasn't figured it out, his dad is in town from Iraq and has his car, can I go pick him up? Arrgh.
He gives me his street address, I figure out where his house is, and when I see it, my pissed off level goes off the charts.
It's a gorgeous house. That lucky s.o.b. He's renting a room from his friend, who was pretty much given this house by his mother. You can tell there is just a lot of room there and the house has everything I wish I had ... a yard, a front porch, room, light .... And who else do I find there, but my exFIL... my ex is in the shower (he really WAS asleep ... liar) and will be right out. Apparently, exFIL is coming with us, which is news to me.
So, the ex gets in the car and I see his new phone and my pissed off factor just jumps off the chart into infinity. His new phone is a freaking Blackberry. I've wanted a Blackberry since before he even knew what the hell a Blackberry is, and have never been able to afford it.
I start lecturing him on responsiblity, on how much he's inconvenienced me and thrown off the baby's schedule (this is true), and would have KILLED him to give me a head up????
His response, which I am about to write verbatim, sounds like something a 5 year old would say to get out of trouble: "You're pretty. You're cute. I love you."
At this point, I am so close to throwing him out of the car it isn't even funny. The only reason he said that is because I was so unbelievably livid. Livid.
I tell him that he's ridiculous, I don't and haven't loved him for some time, we're divorced, he's the one who left, and that ship sailed a long, long time ago, so please stop your silly games.
And then he says stuff, trying to make it better. And then he does something so completely unforgivable -- he farts in my car. In my second baby, the car I've been suffering for and giving up food purchases so I can make payments ever since I bought it. Farted.
I can't believe this guy. He's so oblivious, too. When we were outside of the shoe store, waiting for exFIL to come back from the bathroom (he was driving in my ex's car, btw), Bozo tells me that he still cares about me, being his baby mama, and he really tried to prevent our break up and he really wishes we could have worked things out.
At this point in the day, I am so beyond exhausted that I just ignore him. There is no point in reminding him how eager he was to leave, how he verbally and mentally abused me even after he left so he could get the divorce over with faster. There was no point in showing him the text messages he sent me on the day we broke up for good, telling me that he was finally free and no one else in the world would want to be with me, so it was my huge loss.
The rest of the day was just as crazy. My plans were totally ruined and I had only one hour to get things done. I came back and my exMIL's husband is yelling at my exFIL who has decided to take a nap on his couch. My mom calls and tells me she can't take care of the baby on Wednesday, and the reason I needed her to is because my exMIL absolutely cannot.
Then, I come home and all is well, just me and baby. I just want to hide from reality. It's worse than anything you'd see on tv. Fo' reals.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Birfday parties
After today's toddler terror time at the local Chuck E. Cheese's, I've decided that if I never see that place again, it would be too soon.
Fo' reals.
Oh, my goodness .... imagine it, running after a rambunctious boy who wants to do things he's not supposed to, while trying to keep him from being trampled by a zillion other kids, and on top of that, trying to keep your eye on equally rambunctious by slightly older kids.
Hot. Mess.
It was a birthday fest for the middle child of my ex's best friend. Why was I there? Because me and his wife get along really well, and consider each other friends, and because I like the idea of the baby being around young kids. The youngest - who was being amazingly good and stayed in a high chair the whole time, which is just astounding to me - is just 2 months younger than my son.
My ex couldn't come, and that was for the best, but it was one of those occasions when I admit that it would have been best for him to be present. It was HAAAAAARD to control the baby, who is such a curious george and totally unaware of what he can/can't do. For example, instead of throwing balls up the skee ball lanes, he wanted to climb them and get to the top where you throw all the balls.
Babies. What a mess. But, I made it, and even though there were some tears shed as I had to continue to drag him away from the skee ball area, we made it out ok no worse for the wear.
The birthday boy turned 3, which means that it was exactly 3 years ago, after 6 months of marriage, that my ex bought a one-way ticket to Lebanon and left me. Those friends were with me as I wept so hard I got a bloody nose as I wished my ex off. He wasn't too eager to stay and dry my tears, which was a foreboding sign. The next day, their son was born and a mere month later my ex wrote me the email that said he would never be coming back.
That was a really tough time for me. I'm glad I have this limoncello-induced heartburn to distract me from the thought of it, because otherwise I would be shedding some tears. I was so confused, so sad, and trying to make the best of it. I was also at my heaviest ever. Not pleasant thoughts.
I remember going to the hospital to see the baby and they were all surprised I was wearing something other than black, which my ex demanded I wear because of my size. Asshole.
Back then, I would never have imagined that a year later, I would be celebrating that baby's 1st birthday WITH my ex and also my newly discovered pregnancy. Talk about a tumultuous year.
Can it possibly be 2 years since I found out I was pregnant? Wow, that went by in lightning speed, and yet it also seems like a lifetime ago. What a memory that one is... I probably won't tell the baby that at the time of his conception, I was praying "please, oh please don't let me get pregant, because I don't know if I'm going to stay with this bozo".
One of the reasons my ex was so eager to leave is that I couldn't get pregnant. It wasn't my time and my periods were so off base because of my weight issues. In the time he was gone, I'd gotten my weight and periods under control, and had no problem getting pregnant, obviously.
As good as things were with my ex at the time -- it was a total honeymoon phase, shortly lived, albeit -- I really wasn't sure if we would stay together. We had annulment papers ready to sign, and I didn't want him to get too comfortable, even though he had just moved in again from the apartment he was renting out with 5 other roomates.
And so, there I was. My ex, my exMIL, and one of his friends, and I had gone to Disneyland together just after new year's. That dayI had what I now know is the sign of early pregnancy, but I just brushed off as the first day of my period.
A couple weeks later, I had the day off for Martin Luther King day, and as I was running about doing my errands, I got into a road rage incident that left me in tears. Not just any tears, crazy people tears. I was crying for hours, and then it came to me ... late period, over emotional ... am I, could I be ... pregnant????
What a concept... I debated with my ex about buying a pregnancy test all day, and all until my next day at work. Somewhere mid-morning I decided to end the speculation, sent an email to a supervisior, went to Kmart (ugh, hate kmart, but was closest thing to me), got a test, took it at work, and unlike the hundreds of tests I'd taken when trying to conceive a year earlier, it was positive immediately.
That was a shocker. I stayed in the bathroom for a while, trying to wrap my head around the whole thing. Pregnant? Me? Really? No way. Just, no way. I was 28, so why not ... but then ... wow.
After I emerged, test hidden in my pocket, I went back to my cubicle (the same one I sit at today) and cried. I was happy, oh so happy, but also scared -- this is something I'm not going to tell the baby, either, but part of me was "oh, shit, I guess this means I HAVE to stay with Bozo now."
My work bff came by to see what happened, and she was happy for me, which was a good thing seeing as just a couple weeks earlier, she was having a miscarriage in the very same bathroom. She is good people.
And now, 2 years later, here I am. Sitting in the home I've made, knowing I have tons of cleaning to do, and a sweetly snoring son that I adore to pieces sleeping in the next room.
The love of my life.
Fo' reals.
Oh, my goodness .... imagine it, running after a rambunctious boy who wants to do things he's not supposed to, while trying to keep him from being trampled by a zillion other kids, and on top of that, trying to keep your eye on equally rambunctious by slightly older kids.
Hot. Mess.
It was a birthday fest for the middle child of my ex's best friend. Why was I there? Because me and his wife get along really well, and consider each other friends, and because I like the idea of the baby being around young kids. The youngest - who was being amazingly good and stayed in a high chair the whole time, which is just astounding to me - is just 2 months younger than my son.
My ex couldn't come, and that was for the best, but it was one of those occasions when I admit that it would have been best for him to be present. It was HAAAAAARD to control the baby, who is such a curious george and totally unaware of what he can/can't do. For example, instead of throwing balls up the skee ball lanes, he wanted to climb them and get to the top where you throw all the balls.
Babies. What a mess. But, I made it, and even though there were some tears shed as I had to continue to drag him away from the skee ball area, we made it out ok no worse for the wear.
The birthday boy turned 3, which means that it was exactly 3 years ago, after 6 months of marriage, that my ex bought a one-way ticket to Lebanon and left me. Those friends were with me as I wept so hard I got a bloody nose as I wished my ex off. He wasn't too eager to stay and dry my tears, which was a foreboding sign. The next day, their son was born and a mere month later my ex wrote me the email that said he would never be coming back.
That was a really tough time for me. I'm glad I have this limoncello-induced heartburn to distract me from the thought of it, because otherwise I would be shedding some tears. I was so confused, so sad, and trying to make the best of it. I was also at my heaviest ever. Not pleasant thoughts.
I remember going to the hospital to see the baby and they were all surprised I was wearing something other than black, which my ex demanded I wear because of my size. Asshole.
Back then, I would never have imagined that a year later, I would be celebrating that baby's 1st birthday WITH my ex and also my newly discovered pregnancy. Talk about a tumultuous year.
Can it possibly be 2 years since I found out I was pregnant? Wow, that went by in lightning speed, and yet it also seems like a lifetime ago. What a memory that one is... I probably won't tell the baby that at the time of his conception, I was praying "please, oh please don't let me get pregant, because I don't know if I'm going to stay with this bozo".
One of the reasons my ex was so eager to leave is that I couldn't get pregnant. It wasn't my time and my periods were so off base because of my weight issues. In the time he was gone, I'd gotten my weight and periods under control, and had no problem getting pregnant, obviously.
As good as things were with my ex at the time -- it was a total honeymoon phase, shortly lived, albeit -- I really wasn't sure if we would stay together. We had annulment papers ready to sign, and I didn't want him to get too comfortable, even though he had just moved in again from the apartment he was renting out with 5 other roomates.
And so, there I was. My ex, my exMIL, and one of his friends, and I had gone to Disneyland together just after new year's. That dayI had what I now know is the sign of early pregnancy, but I just brushed off as the first day of my period.
A couple weeks later, I had the day off for Martin Luther King day, and as I was running about doing my errands, I got into a road rage incident that left me in tears. Not just any tears, crazy people tears. I was crying for hours, and then it came to me ... late period, over emotional ... am I, could I be ... pregnant????
What a concept... I debated with my ex about buying a pregnancy test all day, and all until my next day at work. Somewhere mid-morning I decided to end the speculation, sent an email to a supervisior, went to Kmart (ugh, hate kmart, but was closest thing to me), got a test, took it at work, and unlike the hundreds of tests I'd taken when trying to conceive a year earlier, it was positive immediately.
That was a shocker. I stayed in the bathroom for a while, trying to wrap my head around the whole thing. Pregnant? Me? Really? No way. Just, no way. I was 28, so why not ... but then ... wow.
After I emerged, test hidden in my pocket, I went back to my cubicle (the same one I sit at today) and cried. I was happy, oh so happy, but also scared -- this is something I'm not going to tell the baby, either, but part of me was "oh, shit, I guess this means I HAVE to stay with Bozo now."
My work bff came by to see what happened, and she was happy for me, which was a good thing seeing as just a couple weeks earlier, she was having a miscarriage in the very same bathroom. She is good people.
And now, 2 years later, here I am. Sitting in the home I've made, knowing I have tons of cleaning to do, and a sweetly snoring son that I adore to pieces sleeping in the next room.
The love of my life.
When the other shoe drops
Even though my time in the Catholic high school only lasted one brief semester, I took home a couple of valuable lessons that have stayed with me.
1. Rich people aren't necessarily the happiest, as evidenced by all the rich teenagers who had cars, clothes, cash, and also massive substance abuse issues. Good to know for the baby's teenage years.
2. The concept of unconditional love. No, I did not fall into a rapture while at the mandatory mass [I also learned The Lord's Prayer - never would have learned it otherwise], instead, one of my classes was visited by a group of upper classmen who took their Catholicism seriously.
In that school, there were a few true Catholics, but mostly people like me - religionless, put our parent's thought it would be good for us to go to a privates school.
Even though I'd spent my entire education at Christian schools, I didn't pick up a lot of the dogma. I knew biblical history, but that's just about it.
The group talked to us about Unconditional Love, and the concept, quite frankly, blew me away. No matter what you do, what sins you commit, Jesus/God always loves you.
Interesting concept, because in my life, it seemed back then and still now, there were so many conditions to being loved by my family. If I did x, y, and z, I'd have my parent's love and acceptance. If I read a certain book, if I did the language homework my ex gave me, if I made friends with the people my ex wanted me to be friends with, if I wore certain colors or acted in a certain way, or watched what he wanted me to watch, then I would have his love and affection.
Love and the concept of acceptance has always come with conditions with them and in my mind, until recently, that's how I thought it just was. Those were the brakes. Which is probably the reason I ended up with my ex, because the love he was offering was what I was used to.
I had never really experienced unconditional love in real life until I'd met two people - my exMIL and my son.
My exMIL is a very special and rare person. She really and truly is, and even though we're not bound by law anymore, she'll always be a very special person in my life because she is pure of thought and heart. She bears no ill will for anyone, and not saying that she's always been this way, just that's the way she is now after life and experience has brought her to this point.
She loves me unconditionally, she loves her children unconditionally, she loves her husband and grandchildren unconditionally. Believe me, I've tried many times to get her to love me with conditions, especially during that postpartum hormone explosion, but still, she's there. Unconditionally.
It's been a good experience for me.
This morning, I was so irritated with my mom. Just irritated because of something silly she had done, which was not wash the baby's shoes after he'd trampled in the mud and now they're filthy and we have to go to a birthday party soon and what a lot of extra work and worry for me.
Then, I realized, maybe that's how my ex feels about me ... that I just didn't care about certain things and he had little tolerance for it. And that's how I felt about him ... he didn't care about lots of things and I couldn't tolerate them.
The vital part of the puzzle that was missing is that between the two of us, there was no underlying bond, no underlying love, no underlying sense of committment that we could use to make it through the hard times.
Till next time ... there will be some good food for thought.
1. Rich people aren't necessarily the happiest, as evidenced by all the rich teenagers who had cars, clothes, cash, and also massive substance abuse issues. Good to know for the baby's teenage years.
2. The concept of unconditional love. No, I did not fall into a rapture while at the mandatory mass [I also learned The Lord's Prayer - never would have learned it otherwise], instead, one of my classes was visited by a group of upper classmen who took their Catholicism seriously.
In that school, there were a few true Catholics, but mostly people like me - religionless, put our parent's thought it would be good for us to go to a privates school.
Even though I'd spent my entire education at Christian schools, I didn't pick up a lot of the dogma. I knew biblical history, but that's just about it.
The group talked to us about Unconditional Love, and the concept, quite frankly, blew me away. No matter what you do, what sins you commit, Jesus/God always loves you.
Interesting concept, because in my life, it seemed back then and still now, there were so many conditions to being loved by my family. If I did x, y, and z, I'd have my parent's love and acceptance. If I read a certain book, if I did the language homework my ex gave me, if I made friends with the people my ex wanted me to be friends with, if I wore certain colors or acted in a certain way, or watched what he wanted me to watch, then I would have his love and affection.
Love and the concept of acceptance has always come with conditions with them and in my mind, until recently, that's how I thought it just was. Those were the brakes. Which is probably the reason I ended up with my ex, because the love he was offering was what I was used to.
I had never really experienced unconditional love in real life until I'd met two people - my exMIL and my son.
My exMIL is a very special and rare person. She really and truly is, and even though we're not bound by law anymore, she'll always be a very special person in my life because she is pure of thought and heart. She bears no ill will for anyone, and not saying that she's always been this way, just that's the way she is now after life and experience has brought her to this point.
She loves me unconditionally, she loves her children unconditionally, she loves her husband and grandchildren unconditionally. Believe me, I've tried many times to get her to love me with conditions, especially during that postpartum hormone explosion, but still, she's there. Unconditionally.
It's been a good experience for me.
This morning, I was so irritated with my mom. Just irritated because of something silly she had done, which was not wash the baby's shoes after he'd trampled in the mud and now they're filthy and we have to go to a birthday party soon and what a lot of extra work and worry for me.
Then, I realized, maybe that's how my ex feels about me ... that I just didn't care about certain things and he had little tolerance for it. And that's how I felt about him ... he didn't care about lots of things and I couldn't tolerate them.
The vital part of the puzzle that was missing is that between the two of us, there was no underlying bond, no underlying love, no underlying sense of committment that we could use to make it through the hard times.
Till next time ... there will be some good food for thought.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Can you say "issues"
My goodness, I've finally figured out what ails me - I have a major oral fixation and it's driving me batty!
When I'm at work, I usually have a nice little stash of sugar-free spearmint gum to keep me going. My work bff relates - it is like a drug in a way that we can consume massive amounts of it in a way that "normal" people could never understand.
I can get work done fast and efficiently if and only if I have 3 pieces in my mouth at the same time. Nutty. Totally nutty. And yet, I've been doing it for years and years and years and years.
Today, Friday, the worst day of the week because you are just DONE with it all, I don't have any gum on me and it was driving me absolutely insane. I haven't been able to concentrate for the life of me.
And then, I did the unthinkable. You see, there has been this little plastic pumpkin on my desk since halloween, filled with cheapie bubble gum and taffy. Not exactly the healthiest thing and not exactly the freshest, either. Guess what happened next?
On the bright side, I am getting a ton of stuff done now!
When I'm at work, I usually have a nice little stash of sugar-free spearmint gum to keep me going. My work bff relates - it is like a drug in a way that we can consume massive amounts of it in a way that "normal" people could never understand.
I can get work done fast and efficiently if and only if I have 3 pieces in my mouth at the same time. Nutty. Totally nutty. And yet, I've been doing it for years and years and years and years.
Today, Friday, the worst day of the week because you are just DONE with it all, I don't have any gum on me and it was driving me absolutely insane. I haven't been able to concentrate for the life of me.
And then, I did the unthinkable. You see, there has been this little plastic pumpkin on my desk since halloween, filled with cheapie bubble gum and taffy. Not exactly the healthiest thing and not exactly the freshest, either. Guess what happened next?
On the bright side, I am getting a ton of stuff done now!
The Perfect Day
To cheer myself up from my long-lasting funk, I’ve decided to take a step in the positive direction and plan out my “perfect” day, because as you all know, my normal routine is cause for complaint after complaint after complaint. And then some more complaining.
So, here is some positive visualization, about what could be … and perhaps if I focus on the could, it actually WILL happen …
- Wake up on my own, around 8 or so ( 9 am if the baby decides to sleep in)
- Take us out to breakfast near the ocean and sit outside. On my perfect day I’m not worried about money and my bank account is full, so I order whatever I want.
- Spend some time running around with the baby at our favorite park that has ducks and a botanical garden.
- Take baby to exMIL’s house for naptime, during which I’ll run a couple of errands, spend some time in the bookstore, go to a Starbucks/Coffee Bean, take a cooking class, go to the gym. During my perfect day I can do all of this.
- Pick up baby, take him to the library, or maybe a local attraction. The zoo, perhaps?
- Come home in the early evening and do our normal evening rituals.
- After baby has slept, watch a movie, take a long and hot shower and go to bed early!!!!
My perfect day isn’t too different than a typical Sunday when I have the baby, but the difference is that I am not worried about money and indeed have a nice cushion in my account.
If I could only get over the working full time and money issues …
I do wish I had more time for things other than my usual, had time to do things that my schedule doesn’t restrict. I wish I lived closer to certain friends, or even had family near by that liked to go places. Being on your own when there is not really much of a support system really stinks. And by going places, I mean going places that aren’t a mall, or places you haven’t already been to a zillion times.
It would be so nice ….
So, here is some positive visualization, about what could be … and perhaps if I focus on the could, it actually WILL happen …
- Wake up on my own, around 8 or so ( 9 am if the baby decides to sleep in)
- Take us out to breakfast near the ocean and sit outside. On my perfect day I’m not worried about money and my bank account is full, so I order whatever I want.
- Spend some time running around with the baby at our favorite park that has ducks and a botanical garden.
- Take baby to exMIL’s house for naptime, during which I’ll run a couple of errands, spend some time in the bookstore, go to a Starbucks/Coffee Bean, take a cooking class, go to the gym. During my perfect day I can do all of this.
- Pick up baby, take him to the library, or maybe a local attraction. The zoo, perhaps?
- Come home in the early evening and do our normal evening rituals.
- After baby has slept, watch a movie, take a long and hot shower and go to bed early!!!!
My perfect day isn’t too different than a typical Sunday when I have the baby, but the difference is that I am not worried about money and indeed have a nice cushion in my account.
If I could only get over the working full time and money issues …
I do wish I had more time for things other than my usual, had time to do things that my schedule doesn’t restrict. I wish I lived closer to certain friends, or even had family near by that liked to go places. Being on your own when there is not really much of a support system really stinks. And by going places, I mean going places that aren’t a mall, or places you haven’t already been to a zillion times.
It would be so nice ….
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Feng Shui is taking the blame for this one ...
It's a bit past midnight, the wee small hours of Thursday morning, and I'm preparing to get to sleep at some point. At my parent's house, because as of tomorrow I am back to the usual, non-holiday schedule and making that big old 4 hour haul to and from work.
Lord help me. Puh-leeeeeeze.
I'm ok. You're ok. We're ALL ok. And I'm just a little bit bonkers. Just a teensy bit. But it's ok, because I'm ok ... remember?
Early this - I mean yesterday - morning, as I was tossing and turning and starting to realize that I had to wake up pretty soon, I was trying to rearrange my still wet-from-the-shower hair [sidenote: I long for the day when I can take a morning shower again on a regular basis], made a wrong turn, and heard an ominous *crunch* in my neck area.
Ouch.
Yes, I managed to throw out my neck, and what a shame it was in such an unexciting way. I mean, hair toss in the early morning doesn't sound as nearly intriguing as what I *could* say about it. Ha ha.
And does my neck ever hurt like heck. It's something that happens about once a year or so, sometimes maybe two, and has been happening for maybe 6 years or so. I can directly attribute it to stress and bad feng shui.
My cubicle at work is situated in possibly the most terrible position EVER. Not only am I cut off from the rest of my team, but I'm also at the tail end of a long runway, near the men's restroom (enough said), and sandwiched between nosy neighobors.
Last year a sweet coworker gave me a mirror to ward off negative energy I might pick up frm passegers. It has made a huge difference in my happiness factor, but at the same time I still pick up the negative energy.
...
Sidenote -- picking this up tokkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk ... Sidenote 2: I just fell asleep writing "tomorrow".
Yes, I AM a hot mess.
-- ok, it's the next day and I'm back. To pick up where I left off, my work cubicle is what I'm blaming for my neck injury, which is slightly better today. Because of where it's positioned, I pick up a lot of energy - good, bad, and mostly stressful. There aren't a lot of happy people walking around here.
As a result, I usually sit hunched over, jaws clenched, and go home feeling positively drained. What I wouldn't give for a window or even a view. I feel bad for complaining, when there are children chained to sewing machines in dank rooms in parts of this world, but it really does affect my mood and state of being. Through my little mirror, I CAN see a bit of the outside through a window way, way, way at the end of the hallway, but that doesn't really count.
A few years ago, I was having lunch with my empowerment coach friend, and she turned me on to this very insightful book by Linda Hay called, "You Can Change Your Life". It's a very interesting concept and it posits that our phyical problems and pains are a manifestation of our thoughts, and lists what pains correspond to what internal issues. For instance, neck problems/pains are related to difficulties in making choices, making decisions. You don't know which way to turn. The story of my life and yes, I can see that's why I have a major neck blowout every once in a while.
I woke up this morning and the first thing I felt was an overwhelming sense of GUILT, over everything and nothing in particular. Seriously, I felt guilty for complaining about my parents, I felt guilty for complaining in general, I felt guilty for going to work and leaving my baby, I felt guilty for just being. That's not the way to start a day -- WTF is going on with me?
As I drove that long haul to work, I was so glad that there wasn't a lot of traffic. Things generally lighten up after the holidays and I am grateful for it. I'd intended to wear a dress from my exMIL, but I didn't realize how short it was and that it wasn't that work appropriate unless I was to wear it with opaque tights, which I don't have at the moment. So, I thew on some jeans and made a side trip to my own apartment, where I changed my top, threw on some perfume (a rarity), put on some snazzy earrings and heels, and was glad to be able to do this.
Now THAT'S a much better way to start the day. :)
Lord help me. Puh-leeeeeeze.
I'm ok. You're ok. We're ALL ok. And I'm just a little bit bonkers. Just a teensy bit. But it's ok, because I'm ok ... remember?
Early this - I mean yesterday - morning, as I was tossing and turning and starting to realize that I had to wake up pretty soon, I was trying to rearrange my still wet-from-the-shower hair [sidenote: I long for the day when I can take a morning shower again on a regular basis], made a wrong turn, and heard an ominous *crunch* in my neck area.
Ouch.
Yes, I managed to throw out my neck, and what a shame it was in such an unexciting way. I mean, hair toss in the early morning doesn't sound as nearly intriguing as what I *could* say about it. Ha ha.
And does my neck ever hurt like heck. It's something that happens about once a year or so, sometimes maybe two, and has been happening for maybe 6 years or so. I can directly attribute it to stress and bad feng shui.
My cubicle at work is situated in possibly the most terrible position EVER. Not only am I cut off from the rest of my team, but I'm also at the tail end of a long runway, near the men's restroom (enough said), and sandwiched between nosy neighobors.
Last year a sweet coworker gave me a mirror to ward off negative energy I might pick up frm passegers. It has made a huge difference in my happiness factor, but at the same time I still pick up the negative energy.
...
Sidenote -- picking this up tokkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk ... Sidenote 2: I just fell asleep writing "tomorrow".
Yes, I AM a hot mess.
-- ok, it's the next day and I'm back. To pick up where I left off, my work cubicle is what I'm blaming for my neck injury, which is slightly better today. Because of where it's positioned, I pick up a lot of energy - good, bad, and mostly stressful. There aren't a lot of happy people walking around here.
As a result, I usually sit hunched over, jaws clenched, and go home feeling positively drained. What I wouldn't give for a window or even a view. I feel bad for complaining, when there are children chained to sewing machines in dank rooms in parts of this world, but it really does affect my mood and state of being. Through my little mirror, I CAN see a bit of the outside through a window way, way, way at the end of the hallway, but that doesn't really count.
A few years ago, I was having lunch with my empowerment coach friend, and she turned me on to this very insightful book by Linda Hay called, "You Can Change Your Life". It's a very interesting concept and it posits that our phyical problems and pains are a manifestation of our thoughts, and lists what pains correspond to what internal issues. For instance, neck problems/pains are related to difficulties in making choices, making decisions. You don't know which way to turn. The story of my life and yes, I can see that's why I have a major neck blowout every once in a while.
I woke up this morning and the first thing I felt was an overwhelming sense of GUILT, over everything and nothing in particular. Seriously, I felt guilty for complaining about my parents, I felt guilty for complaining in general, I felt guilty for going to work and leaving my baby, I felt guilty for just being. That's not the way to start a day -- WTF is going on with me?
As I drove that long haul to work, I was so glad that there wasn't a lot of traffic. Things generally lighten up after the holidays and I am grateful for it. I'd intended to wear a dress from my exMIL, but I didn't realize how short it was and that it wasn't that work appropriate unless I was to wear it with opaque tights, which I don't have at the moment. So, I thew on some jeans and made a side trip to my own apartment, where I changed my top, threw on some perfume (a rarity), put on some snazzy earrings and heels, and was glad to be able to do this.
Now THAT'S a much better way to start the day. :)
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
I'm missing out on all the fun
Oh, today is one of those days I feel bad, mad, and sad for being a working mom. You see, when you have to go to the coal mines to pay the bills, you miss out on all kinds of fun stuff that your kid does during the day.
Today the baby is with my exMIL and not only did he see his playground girlfriend this morning, but right now he is playing with four young relatives and their respective moms (two for two).
Meh.
I so, so, so wish I could be there.
Today the baby is with my exMIL and not only did he see his playground girlfriend this morning, but right now he is playing with four young relatives and their respective moms (two for two).
Meh.
I so, so, so wish I could be there.
A Resolution
After the photoshoot this weekend, I packed my and my son's tired selves into the car and headed over to my exMIL's house for dinner, which is the biggest perk of living nearby.
We were both exhausted -- I've learned that modeling is not as easy as it looks! We were both parched and my legs were killing me from running up and down soggy grass hills in heels after the baby, plus a couple of close calls going down hills. It was hilarity at its best.
Part of the reason I did the photoshoot was for my mom and exMIL's birthday. In a funny coincidence, they were born in the same month and same year, only a few days apart from each other. They are both HORRIBLE to shop for because they don't *NEED* anything, and won't use certain things you give them.
The best thing about having the baby is that now I have the *PERFECT* gift to give them for any occasion - the gift of photos! They both love getting photos and it's been fun to surprise them both with the gifts I've made up on various photo sites. Oh, how I just love modern technology. The notepads with a pic of the baby were a huge hit last year.
This year, for their birthdays, I 'm getting them both one of those digitial keychain photo albums that you can add about 70 or so photos to. They're about $20 at Bed Bath & Beyond, and of course, they have those wonderful 20% off coupons.
So, when I arrived at exMIL's house this Sunday, she looked at me in my made-up, fancy glory and said, "wow, you look nice!", which is a huge indicator of my usual slovenly ways. Seriously, on the weekends, I barely look changed out of bed. No makeup, no hair care, baggy everything. I care about my comfort. Obviously.
To throw her off my trail, I told her my new year's resolution was to dress better on the weekends, which is honestly something I'd just pulled out my ass at that very second. But, thinking about it, that IS a good resolution.
I've been fortunate to not run into anyone I know while looking a step above homeless, but that could change at any moment. So, while I haven't decided to trade in my sneakers or flip flops, I WILL make an effort to accessorize and wear non-baggy attire.
I think every new mom, especially a newly divorced mom, gets a year of flexibility with their appearance. Yes, that's something I just made up, but my year is just about over. I'm slowly rejoining the land of the living.
One thing I tend to do is think, ok, I might look sloppy now, but I always have LATER to dress nice. Well, as I've learned from recent sad events, that later might never come! Better to live fully and not worry about saving things for something that might never come.
I feel empowered. :)
We were both exhausted -- I've learned that modeling is not as easy as it looks! We were both parched and my legs were killing me from running up and down soggy grass hills in heels after the baby, plus a couple of close calls going down hills. It was hilarity at its best.
Part of the reason I did the photoshoot was for my mom and exMIL's birthday. In a funny coincidence, they were born in the same month and same year, only a few days apart from each other. They are both HORRIBLE to shop for because they don't *NEED* anything, and won't use certain things you give them.
The best thing about having the baby is that now I have the *PERFECT* gift to give them for any occasion - the gift of photos! They both love getting photos and it's been fun to surprise them both with the gifts I've made up on various photo sites. Oh, how I just love modern technology. The notepads with a pic of the baby were a huge hit last year.
This year, for their birthdays, I 'm getting them both one of those digitial keychain photo albums that you can add about 70 or so photos to. They're about $20 at Bed Bath & Beyond, and of course, they have those wonderful 20% off coupons.
So, when I arrived at exMIL's house this Sunday, she looked at me in my made-up, fancy glory and said, "wow, you look nice!", which is a huge indicator of my usual slovenly ways. Seriously, on the weekends, I barely look changed out of bed. No makeup, no hair care, baggy everything. I care about my comfort. Obviously.
To throw her off my trail, I told her my new year's resolution was to dress better on the weekends, which is honestly something I'd just pulled out my ass at that very second. But, thinking about it, that IS a good resolution.
I've been fortunate to not run into anyone I know while looking a step above homeless, but that could change at any moment. So, while I haven't decided to trade in my sneakers or flip flops, I WILL make an effort to accessorize and wear non-baggy attire.
I think every new mom, especially a newly divorced mom, gets a year of flexibility with their appearance. Yes, that's something I just made up, but my year is just about over. I'm slowly rejoining the land of the living.
One thing I tend to do is think, ok, I might look sloppy now, but I always have LATER to dress nice. Well, as I've learned from recent sad events, that later might never come! Better to live fully and not worry about saving things for something that might never come.
I feel empowered. :)
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Sometimes I wonder...
... will there be a time in my life when I'm not constantly exhausted, when I'm not overstretched, when I'm not worried about pennies?
It seems ridiculous, but you know you've hit rock bottom when you're worried about your penny supply.
In a way, I guess, it's me keeping it real, and I think in the larger picture of my life, it gives me a much greater appreciation of where I've been and what I've done and what I've done to earn my experience.
There is a quote I've put in my facebook, by woodrow wilson (I think - too lazy to check) that is absolutely brilliant - the reward for suffering is experience. That is right on the target. So right on the target.
By definition, I'm not poor, just lower middle class, but by the time I'm done paying what needs to be paid, the reality is scary. Scary!
I really don't intend for this blog to be complaint central, but I often wonder if this is going to be my life forever? Will I constantly be fretting over being able to pay what needs to be paid, to be able to save just a little?
This afternoon, my group went to lunch to celebrate a birthday. As I've mentioned, I ABHOR these things - stilted conversation, bad food, wasting an hour of my hard-earned vacation time because I'm not on salary -- basically paying $20 for torture. We went to a Hawaiian restaurant that had a $5 buffet -- unbelievable. What was even more unbelievable is that the 4 of us who chose to do the buffet got to pay for it separately, meaning we got to pay $7 instead of the $15 everyone else was.
That was a first, but AWESOME for me, because I was not looking forward to shelling out the extra bucks. This is going to sound so sad and horrible, but last week my grocery bill came out to a little more than I expected and as a result I am on major, major, major budget breakdown until the next payday.
This is my life - it just is how it is. And I don't want it to be that way. I really don't, and I'm asking the universe right here and right now -- how can I get out of this pattern? Show me the way!
The good news is that I'm returning the final piece of the outfit my ex bought me for Xmas and I'll have some cash becasue of it ... phew! I was worried about him finding out and getting upset, and was hesitant to even do it, but then I realized ... why should I care what he thinks!!!!
It seems ridiculous, but you know you've hit rock bottom when you're worried about your penny supply.
In a way, I guess, it's me keeping it real, and I think in the larger picture of my life, it gives me a much greater appreciation of where I've been and what I've done and what I've done to earn my experience.
There is a quote I've put in my facebook, by woodrow wilson (I think - too lazy to check) that is absolutely brilliant - the reward for suffering is experience. That is right on the target. So right on the target.
By definition, I'm not poor, just lower middle class, but by the time I'm done paying what needs to be paid, the reality is scary. Scary!
I really don't intend for this blog to be complaint central, but I often wonder if this is going to be my life forever? Will I constantly be fretting over being able to pay what needs to be paid, to be able to save just a little?
This afternoon, my group went to lunch to celebrate a birthday. As I've mentioned, I ABHOR these things - stilted conversation, bad food, wasting an hour of my hard-earned vacation time because I'm not on salary -- basically paying $20 for torture. We went to a Hawaiian restaurant that had a $5 buffet -- unbelievable. What was even more unbelievable is that the 4 of us who chose to do the buffet got to pay for it separately, meaning we got to pay $7 instead of the $15 everyone else was.
That was a first, but AWESOME for me, because I was not looking forward to shelling out the extra bucks. This is going to sound so sad and horrible, but last week my grocery bill came out to a little more than I expected and as a result I am on major, major, major budget breakdown until the next payday.
This is my life - it just is how it is. And I don't want it to be that way. I really don't, and I'm asking the universe right here and right now -- how can I get out of this pattern? Show me the way!
The good news is that I'm returning the final piece of the outfit my ex bought me for Xmas and I'll have some cash becasue of it ... phew! I was worried about him finding out and getting upset, and was hesitant to even do it, but then I realized ... why should I care what he thinks!!!!
Sleeping Arrangements
The baby is the best roomate I've ever had. Sure, he is guaranteed to wake me up at least once during the night, but he's not too noisy, he doesn't snore, and he doesn't kick me in bed or steal the sheets. The best co-sleeper I've ever had.
I know it's time for us to move to a larger apartment, just because we're really starting to crowd out this little play with various legos, building blocks, stuffed animals, books, and not to mention my closet which is overflowing with a ton of crap.
This apartment isn't THAT tiny, and I do think that if it had a little more storage space, a couple more closets, it would be perfect, but as it is, I'm feeling the heat. We need a 2 bedroom, more space to call our own.
However, being in California and with my budget constrictions, this is a tall order to fill. Although I know the baby should have his own bedroom at some point, the overprotective mom in me thinks he's fine the way he is.
Part of me feels guilty for wanting more space. There are many single moms downsizing to one bedrooms, and in places all over the world families live in smaller quarters. What makes us any different? Plus, what if a stranger comes in at some point and takes him from the bedroom when I'm sleeping? Can you imagine? It happens, but I don't want that happening to my little guy.
Ok, I admit I have issues. This is the way my mind thinks. Am I over-reacting? Yes. However, it is also a response to living like a mouse for the last 4 years, always in tiny quarters, with the last apartment I shared with my ex being a studio.
FYI, couples living in studios = bad news all around, unless you are both saints. I'm certainly not one, and my ex isn't either, and considering that, we should have cohabitated in separate wings.
I feel like I'm truly in between a rock and a hard place right now ... I have a lot of important life decisions ahead of me and it's hard to do. I need to be more secure finacially, I feel, before I can pursue those tentative decisions.
Meh ....
I know it's time for us to move to a larger apartment, just because we're really starting to crowd out this little play with various legos, building blocks, stuffed animals, books, and not to mention my closet which is overflowing with a ton of crap.
This apartment isn't THAT tiny, and I do think that if it had a little more storage space, a couple more closets, it would be perfect, but as it is, I'm feeling the heat. We need a 2 bedroom, more space to call our own.
However, being in California and with my budget constrictions, this is a tall order to fill. Although I know the baby should have his own bedroom at some point, the overprotective mom in me thinks he's fine the way he is.
Part of me feels guilty for wanting more space. There are many single moms downsizing to one bedrooms, and in places all over the world families live in smaller quarters. What makes us any different? Plus, what if a stranger comes in at some point and takes him from the bedroom when I'm sleeping? Can you imagine? It happens, but I don't want that happening to my little guy.
Ok, I admit I have issues. This is the way my mind thinks. Am I over-reacting? Yes. However, it is also a response to living like a mouse for the last 4 years, always in tiny quarters, with the last apartment I shared with my ex being a studio.
FYI, couples living in studios = bad news all around, unless you are both saints. I'm certainly not one, and my ex isn't either, and considering that, we should have cohabitated in separate wings.
I feel like I'm truly in between a rock and a hard place right now ... I have a lot of important life decisions ahead of me and it's hard to do. I need to be more secure finacially, I feel, before I can pursue those tentative decisions.
Meh ....
Keeping it real
The life of a single mother ... tra la! Here's a little snippet into my life -- it's 1:30 am and here I am, procrastinating so I my mind gets a break from the reality ahead of me.
The baby's new bedtime of 10:30 pm vs 8:30 pm seems like it's here to stay. Rough. Really rough, because as much as I love how he's become so attached to me and he's in a major mommy's boy phase, I need to get stuff done! Aaah! Which is part of the reason I still have a good hour of house stuff ahead of me.
The good news about the mommy's boy phase is that it's keeping me grounded. Instead of freaking out, which I am wont to do, but at the same time refuse to do in front of him - just won't, my attention is diverted by the silly songs I sing him and stories I read to him and general chasing around and laughing that happens in the evening. It's a fun thing for me and him, and I love it.
Tonight is especially rough, considering I fell asleep right next to baby tonight for 2 hours. Given my exhausted state since I've been running on empty with the holidays and all that, it was necessary, but I needed those 2 hours! Aaargh!
Oh, well.
The baby's new bedtime of 10:30 pm vs 8:30 pm seems like it's here to stay. Rough. Really rough, because as much as I love how he's become so attached to me and he's in a major mommy's boy phase, I need to get stuff done! Aaah! Which is part of the reason I still have a good hour of house stuff ahead of me.
The good news about the mommy's boy phase is that it's keeping me grounded. Instead of freaking out, which I am wont to do, but at the same time refuse to do in front of him - just won't, my attention is diverted by the silly songs I sing him and stories I read to him and general chasing around and laughing that happens in the evening. It's a fun thing for me and him, and I love it.
Tonight is especially rough, considering I fell asleep right next to baby tonight for 2 hours. Given my exhausted state since I've been running on empty with the holidays and all that, it was necessary, but I needed those 2 hours! Aaargh!
Oh, well.
Monday, January 5, 2009
My wish
When I was a little girl, my mom bought me a series of Disney read along books - you know, the short story books accompanied by a 45 record (oh, so old school) of the book being narrarated with a couple of songs at the end.
One of my favorites was a book about the Small World ride at Disneyland/Disneyworld/all the other disney properties, the ride with the infamous song about us all being connected even though we might all seem so different. The main character was an orphan who felt like he didn't belong anywhere, until he went through the ride and realized that we humans belong to each other. Hah! How's that for toddler motivating psychology?
It was a cute book, and I thought about it lately when I was thinking about my self-esteem issues and my family, in particular. For a large part of my life, I simply haven't felt like I've belonged anywhere - not to my family, not to any particular group or religion, not to my husband, not to pretty much anything, really. I feel like this lack of belonging is what contributes to my poor sense of self - I'm just drifting along in life.
One thing my dad has done in my life is ask me, "What are your PLANS, anonmom? Do you have PLANS?"
It used to drive me CRAZY, and eventually he got the point to not ask me about my plans anymore.
The truth is ... I don't! Never have, much to my detriment. In my youth, my parents never allowed me to play sports, to join groups, and barely allowed me to go out with my friends, and it's still a deep, intense struggle for me to join the real world. They pretty much discouraged me from everything, even career paths, leaving me to struggle to find what I want in this world.
In large part, this is exactly why I bristle so much when I'm staying with them. They hardly EVER go out into the real world, are isolated from everyone, and don't even get along with their neighbors. They're just miserly. It's their thing.
What I sought for so long was to experience living amongst people, which is the main reason I get along so famously with my exMIL and love how she deals with my son. She takes him for walks in the neighborhood, she takes him to the part, he gets to interact with the outside world.
Which brings me to my main point - my wish that I have for my son ... in his life, I want him to feel like he BELONGS to something, to feel like he is part of something larger than himself, to know that he is not alone in this world. I will do everything I can to assure this.
It has to come from me, I know, and I am actively looking for ways to do this.
One thing about my relationship with my son that has magically changed my life is that after all my life, after all these years, I finally have that mystical sense of belonging. Because I know that no matter what, I am part of this little family unit I've established.
Now get out there and make this day a great one!
One of my favorites was a book about the Small World ride at Disneyland/Disneyworld/all the other disney properties, the ride with the infamous song about us all being connected even though we might all seem so different. The main character was an orphan who felt like he didn't belong anywhere, until he went through the ride and realized that we humans belong to each other. Hah! How's that for toddler motivating psychology?
It was a cute book, and I thought about it lately when I was thinking about my self-esteem issues and my family, in particular. For a large part of my life, I simply haven't felt like I've belonged anywhere - not to my family, not to any particular group or religion, not to my husband, not to pretty much anything, really. I feel like this lack of belonging is what contributes to my poor sense of self - I'm just drifting along in life.
One thing my dad has done in my life is ask me, "What are your PLANS, anonmom? Do you have PLANS?"
It used to drive me CRAZY, and eventually he got the point to not ask me about my plans anymore.
The truth is ... I don't! Never have, much to my detriment. In my youth, my parents never allowed me to play sports, to join groups, and barely allowed me to go out with my friends, and it's still a deep, intense struggle for me to join the real world. They pretty much discouraged me from everything, even career paths, leaving me to struggle to find what I want in this world.
In large part, this is exactly why I bristle so much when I'm staying with them. They hardly EVER go out into the real world, are isolated from everyone, and don't even get along with their neighbors. They're just miserly. It's their thing.
What I sought for so long was to experience living amongst people, which is the main reason I get along so famously with my exMIL and love how she deals with my son. She takes him for walks in the neighborhood, she takes him to the part, he gets to interact with the outside world.
Which brings me to my main point - my wish that I have for my son ... in his life, I want him to feel like he BELONGS to something, to feel like he is part of something larger than himself, to know that he is not alone in this world. I will do everything I can to assure this.
It has to come from me, I know, and I am actively looking for ways to do this.
One thing about my relationship with my son that has magically changed my life is that after all my life, after all these years, I finally have that mystical sense of belonging. Because I know that no matter what, I am part of this little family unit I've established.
Now get out there and make this day a great one!
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Oh, so happy...
Although it was not to the advantage of my funds (which are as sorry as ever), I booked an appointment with the photographer with the rock bottom prices for today. Being the photo whore I am, I just couldn't help myself and I just really wanted a redo after the way more expensive photo session from the summer.
And I am THRILLED to report that it went extremely well! I got a sneak peak of the photos and I am just bowled over in excitement. Really!
The photographers are a husband-wife team who are starting up on their own after being part of a group, hence the introductory rock-bottom prices. First and foremost, I was extremely impressed by their equipment, which is top of the line stuff. Nothing impresses me more than that.
I was also impressed by their creativity, flexibility, and that they listened to me. It was definitely a workout, because a certain unnamed toddler was busy being rambunctious, but the results were worth it.
Whoopee!!! Now that's what I call a GREAT way to ring in 2009!
And I am THRILLED to report that it went extremely well! I got a sneak peak of the photos and I am just bowled over in excitement. Really!
The photographers are a husband-wife team who are starting up on their own after being part of a group, hence the introductory rock-bottom prices. First and foremost, I was extremely impressed by their equipment, which is top of the line stuff. Nothing impresses me more than that.
I was also impressed by their creativity, flexibility, and that they listened to me. It was definitely a workout, because a certain unnamed toddler was busy being rambunctious, but the results were worth it.
Whoopee!!! Now that's what I call a GREAT way to ring in 2009!
Home, sweet, sweet home
Ah, hear that? It's the sound of my sanity returning from places unknown. Nice to hear, isn't it?
It's 2 am, and I just took a very long, hot shower after sitting down with limoncello and season 4, disc 2 of Entourage. I love Lloyd. Who wouldn't?
I never got around to making that meatloaf, or getting the Pinkberry, because the day just sped on past me, and this daylight savings time crap is really cramping my and the baby's style.
What I realized after this madness inducing long weekend is that I can only take my family in small doses, and that's the truth. When I'm at work and don't have to be around them for that long, it's ok, but when I'm spending full days with those lotus eaters, it really is enough to drive a gal bonkers.
When I was going through my teenage and adult rebellions, my parents pushed me to therapy. You know what every single one of the three therapists I visited told me? That I was ok, I really was, and what I needed was to either leave my parent's home, and develop coping strategies in the meanwhile. It's true! That's just the way they are, and as much as I wish they were different, you can't make a zebra change it's stripes, and that goes both ways, for me and them.
My mom has been pushing me to move to a community about 15 minutes away from them ... I either tell her no, loudly, or silently think, "no way jose" every time she brings the subject up, which is once every couple weeks or so. It's just not going to happen because, a) I have no interest in living in that part of Orange County, which although it is wealthy has zero of the conveniences I have at home, and b) distance makes the heart grow fonder!
When I got home today, I unloaded the car, shot the shit with my 2 cool neighbors and complained and laughed about our horrible neighbors (they really are terrible), changed the baby, and took him to our favorite chicken place, where they don't necessarily know us by name, but by the major cleanup that is required after we leave. I say this often, but it's true - I can't believe they let us in!
As I was sitting there with our half chicken, steamed veggies, and mediterranean fries (parmesan, feta, and garlic smothering steak fries ... mmmmmmm) and kept putting chicken on the baby's fork (because that's the only way he'll eat - he demands an adult-sized fork), the manager walked by and said, "You two are best friends, huh?". "Yep," I replied, "He's my buddy."
He really is and thinking about how things are and how they could have been, I'm lucky in many, many different ways. First and foremost, I totally scored with the visitation schedule, which include no overnight visits, and as far as dedicated dad/baby hours, it's every Monday, Tues, Weds, while I'm at work, and he goes in and out from work, and every other Sunday from noon to 5 pm, which is just enough time for me to get some serious self-maintenance done.
As much as my ex demanded overnights, and accused me of being selfish, mean, and all other choice words/phrases, I stuck to my guns, explained my side to his lawyer, and the lawyer talked him into the current schedule.
Why no overnight visits? I understand it's important for boys to have a male role model, but my ex really isn't the most positive role model and HE is someone who I can only tolerate having my child around for limited period of time.
When my ex lived with us, he was stuck to his computer most of the day and night, watching weird and dumb shows, playing video games, and working on the book he *promised* was going to make him a millionaire and world famous in matter of months, but I still haven't seen that happening yet. He barely helped me out with the baby then, and given that he has no stability in his life, I don't see that attentiveness happening anytime soon.
When he's not hanging out at his mom's, he lives with a friend and his girlfriend, who are a sore subject with me and part of the reason I am SO GLAD the overnights aren't mandatory. To be frank, I don't like his roommates because I don't trust them as far as I can throw them, and they really aren't the best role models for my son to be around.
Maybe I AM the control freak my ex accuses me of being, but the thought of my baby being around that environment brings out the monkey maternal instinct in me. I will rip them to shreds if anything happened to the baby around them. I can barely handle the baby being around my flaky mom sometimes, so how can I trust anyone else.
Why don't I trust them ... for many, many reasons. The friend is a 40 year old loser my ex knew in his undergrad years, and his girlfriend has a child that she sees every other weekend. A mom not having full-time custody of her child and who does not seek to better herself so she CAN have more custody is something I cannot wrap my head around. Can't. Plus, neither of them sent any kind of gift or acknowledgement when the baby was born, and as SILLY as I realized that is, it's a big old no no with me. You don't acknowledge me or my child, I don't acknowledge you.
I realize that may sound harsh, but I gotta set ground rules somewhere, and that goes for me as well. One thing I was aware of in my pregnancy and even before that is the tendency of parents to put their problems on their kids, to put their anger, anxiety, and other issues on the innocent minds of their children. I know this, because it happened to me, and maybe it was unknowingly, but I still suffer from the hang ups I received courtesy of my parents. My ex did this to me, too, and it took me a while to recognize what he was doing.
This afternoon, while waiting for parking, I started getting irritated and verbalizing it, but I caught myself and quickly turned the "HURRY UP!" into a song. I can wait for parking. What I don't need is a future therapy bill.
My son IS my buddy. Even though he doesn't really talk, he is a great companion and I surely do enjoy his company. Who could ask for anything more?
It's 2 am, and I just took a very long, hot shower after sitting down with limoncello and season 4, disc 2 of Entourage. I love Lloyd. Who wouldn't?
I never got around to making that meatloaf, or getting the Pinkberry, because the day just sped on past me, and this daylight savings time crap is really cramping my and the baby's style.
What I realized after this madness inducing long weekend is that I can only take my family in small doses, and that's the truth. When I'm at work and don't have to be around them for that long, it's ok, but when I'm spending full days with those lotus eaters, it really is enough to drive a gal bonkers.
When I was going through my teenage and adult rebellions, my parents pushed me to therapy. You know what every single one of the three therapists I visited told me? That I was ok, I really was, and what I needed was to either leave my parent's home, and develop coping strategies in the meanwhile. It's true! That's just the way they are, and as much as I wish they were different, you can't make a zebra change it's stripes, and that goes both ways, for me and them.
My mom has been pushing me to move to a community about 15 minutes away from them ... I either tell her no, loudly, or silently think, "no way jose" every time she brings the subject up, which is once every couple weeks or so. It's just not going to happen because, a) I have no interest in living in that part of Orange County, which although it is wealthy has zero of the conveniences I have at home, and b) distance makes the heart grow fonder!
When I got home today, I unloaded the car, shot the shit with my 2 cool neighbors and complained and laughed about our horrible neighbors (they really are terrible), changed the baby, and took him to our favorite chicken place, where they don't necessarily know us by name, but by the major cleanup that is required after we leave. I say this often, but it's true - I can't believe they let us in!
As I was sitting there with our half chicken, steamed veggies, and mediterranean fries (parmesan, feta, and garlic smothering steak fries ... mmmmmmm) and kept putting chicken on the baby's fork (because that's the only way he'll eat - he demands an adult-sized fork), the manager walked by and said, "You two are best friends, huh?". "Yep," I replied, "He's my buddy."
He really is and thinking about how things are and how they could have been, I'm lucky in many, many different ways. First and foremost, I totally scored with the visitation schedule, which include no overnight visits, and as far as dedicated dad/baby hours, it's every Monday, Tues, Weds, while I'm at work, and he goes in and out from work, and every other Sunday from noon to 5 pm, which is just enough time for me to get some serious self-maintenance done.
As much as my ex demanded overnights, and accused me of being selfish, mean, and all other choice words/phrases, I stuck to my guns, explained my side to his lawyer, and the lawyer talked him into the current schedule.
Why no overnight visits? I understand it's important for boys to have a male role model, but my ex really isn't the most positive role model and HE is someone who I can only tolerate having my child around for limited period of time.
When my ex lived with us, he was stuck to his computer most of the day and night, watching weird and dumb shows, playing video games, and working on the book he *promised* was going to make him a millionaire and world famous in matter of months, but I still haven't seen that happening yet. He barely helped me out with the baby then, and given that he has no stability in his life, I don't see that attentiveness happening anytime soon.
When he's not hanging out at his mom's, he lives with a friend and his girlfriend, who are a sore subject with me and part of the reason I am SO GLAD the overnights aren't mandatory. To be frank, I don't like his roommates because I don't trust them as far as I can throw them, and they really aren't the best role models for my son to be around.
Maybe I AM the control freak my ex accuses me of being, but the thought of my baby being around that environment brings out the monkey maternal instinct in me. I will rip them to shreds if anything happened to the baby around them. I can barely handle the baby being around my flaky mom sometimes, so how can I trust anyone else.
Why don't I trust them ... for many, many reasons. The friend is a 40 year old loser my ex knew in his undergrad years, and his girlfriend has a child that she sees every other weekend. A mom not having full-time custody of her child and who does not seek to better herself so she CAN have more custody is something I cannot wrap my head around. Can't. Plus, neither of them sent any kind of gift or acknowledgement when the baby was born, and as SILLY as I realized that is, it's a big old no no with me. You don't acknowledge me or my child, I don't acknowledge you.
I realize that may sound harsh, but I gotta set ground rules somewhere, and that goes for me as well. One thing I was aware of in my pregnancy and even before that is the tendency of parents to put their problems on their kids, to put their anger, anxiety, and other issues on the innocent minds of their children. I know this, because it happened to me, and maybe it was unknowingly, but I still suffer from the hang ups I received courtesy of my parents. My ex did this to me, too, and it took me a while to recognize what he was doing.
This afternoon, while waiting for parking, I started getting irritated and verbalizing it, but I caught myself and quickly turned the "HURRY UP!" into a song. I can wait for parking. What I don't need is a future therapy bill.
My son IS my buddy. Even though he doesn't really talk, he is a great companion and I surely do enjoy his company. Who could ask for anything more?
Saturday, January 3, 2009
I'm ok
Last nights late night post was cathartic for me, and a long overdue breakdown. I am of the opinion that those are healthy for us to have every once in a while.
One thing I know is that every time I am with my parents, I am instantly transported back to the frustrated, younger version of myself. Our relationship is strange, the dynamic is strange in the family, and I feel like I am spending the whole time just feeling sad.
This is the way it is for now, and I just have to learn how to DEAL, that's really what it comes down to.
No one said this path was easy.
So, I'm currently stealing a few minutes away from packing and tidying up and will be on my way home soon where I will go for some Pinkberry, let the baby play in the car and pretend to drive the car while I eat it, go visit exMIL at work, and make a meatloaf, which is one of the few things my picky son will eat!
One thing I know is that every time I am with my parents, I am instantly transported back to the frustrated, younger version of myself. Our relationship is strange, the dynamic is strange in the family, and I feel like I am spending the whole time just feeling sad.
This is the way it is for now, and I just have to learn how to DEAL, that's really what it comes down to.
No one said this path was easy.
So, I'm currently stealing a few minutes away from packing and tidying up and will be on my way home soon where I will go for some Pinkberry, let the baby play in the car and pretend to drive the car while I eat it, go visit exMIL at work, and make a meatloaf, which is one of the few things my picky son will eat!
Friday, January 2, 2009
I had a dream
Thinking about life, death, and hearing about the recent passing of some friends/family/acquaintances, I had a very interesting dream last night that reflects on those themes.
In my dream, I had been diagnosed with an illness - I don't remember the specifics, just that it was guaranteed that I would die at some point from it. I had the opportunity to kill myself, to take some kind of medicine that would slowly kill me, and I took that chance. I was by myself in a hospital room, no one came in to see me, and I was writing in a journal all the while I was slowly dying. It felt weird. I was getting sleepier and sleepier and notice myself slowing down. It was taking a very long time - hours - and at some point I realized that I wasn't ready to die. I wanted to live!
There was a remedy and I took it. The strange thing is that in the entire time, no one came in to help me or assist me. No mention of the baby at any point, which I find strange. I took all the drugs by myself and was lying in that bed by myself the entire time, until the end, when my youngest sister came in the room and I told her that I took the remedy.
Strange dream, but I think it goes along with my life in general right now. I don't want to die, or be stagnant -- I want to experience life, I want to feel the pains, the highs, the lows. Even though times are tough all the time, there is so much ahead of me, so much to explore and discover.
When I'm at my parent's and I have a lot of time on my hand - because everyone is so LAZY around here and we never do things we say we're going to do - I tend to overthink things, playing the "what if" game, which is dangerous.
What if I were to lose my job? I don't think that is a possiblity, but in the off chance that I do, it would be completely devestating to me. I don't have any savings, I live paycheck to paycheck, I wouldn't be able to afford my rent/car payment/auto insurance/health insurance/food/student loans/medical bills/visa payments.
That scares the shit out of me.
It also reminds me of all the responsibilities I carry, which I don't really think about because if I do, I would become just as freaked out about it as I currently am. What would I do? Where would I go? Would I be tempted to get back together with my ex so he could pay half the rent?
Ugh. Perish the thought!
As much as my ex is feeling sentimental because of the holidays and keeps offering to take me and the baby to dinner, buy me clothes, etc, I can't believe he is so short-memoried about how terrible things were between us at the end.
When I was on my disability/maternity pay, it was about as much as unemployment and I was just at the ends of my ropes about making ends meet. All I did during those first few months of the baby's life was beg and beg and beg my ex to apply for a high paying job, to take a job at Starbucks, to get an overnight shift at Albertsons, to please help me. All he would do was nag me about how he had to pay the entire deposit at our apartment, until I would remind him that I was paying all the medical bills PLUS the $350 a month health insurance costs, which I couldn't afford.
Just thinking about how hard those days were for me, being postpartum and worried, I get a lump in my throat and thing about my ex -- HOW DARE HE???
Yes, it's nice that he is buying me and the baby clothes, taking us out to eat, offering to take us to Claim Jumpers, or where ever, but how does he possibly think that is what matters?
You know what I would have appreciated and wanted much more than the outfit (with the ugly pants) my ex bought me? You know what I really need? I need a tv stand. I would so appreciate the gift of a Target TV stand, which is the cost of all the clothes put together, delivered to my apartment and assembled.
I have tons of sweaters, I have tons of pants, I have tons of scarfs. I also have a flimsy coffee table from Ikea that stands in for the TV stand and is barely holding up since the baby loves to climb on it and try to change the tv channels.
It's stuff like that ... even being here at my parent's with all the silence makes me think of all the rough times in my relationship with my ex - how he often called me a burden, how I was a terrible person, how no one will ever want to be with me.
The sucky thing is that sometimes I think that way - I really do - about the no one wanting to be with me. Unfortunately for my self-esteem, I read too many girly magazines at work, see too many tv programs, hear too many radio station listeners call in and say how much the physical appearance of a woman means that she's going to get THE man, how she's going to be the one valued and chosen.
And now I'm crying. Crying because I don't believe in myself. I don't have the perfect body - never have, never will. I struggle to even look at myself in the mirror sometimes, in denial of what is really going on with the pregnancy pounds that refuse to leave. I am not perfect, so who would possibly want to be with me.
Plus, how easy is it to find a normal man? One with no hang ups, one who is emotionally balanced, who doesn't depend on his mommy to clean up his messes, who doesn't expect his wife to carry the burden of the family. I hear all these stories about couples finding each other and you know what ... I DON'T BELIEVE IT IS POSSIBLE FOR ME. That I'm doomed to live this unhappy life forever.
The thing about work is that as grateful as I am to have a job, and really, I am VERY grateful, I hate it so much. I hate that I feel like I'm dying every single minute of the day, that the snubs from my coworkers pierce me like an arrow. I hate that most of all, at the end of the day I just feel defeated. It really hurts, and there is no way out.
But on the bright side, and there is one, I have my beautiful, beautiful son. The light in my life. But, don't I deserve to have light in all parts of my life, too?
In my dream, I had been diagnosed with an illness - I don't remember the specifics, just that it was guaranteed that I would die at some point from it. I had the opportunity to kill myself, to take some kind of medicine that would slowly kill me, and I took that chance. I was by myself in a hospital room, no one came in to see me, and I was writing in a journal all the while I was slowly dying. It felt weird. I was getting sleepier and sleepier and notice myself slowing down. It was taking a very long time - hours - and at some point I realized that I wasn't ready to die. I wanted to live!
There was a remedy and I took it. The strange thing is that in the entire time, no one came in to help me or assist me. No mention of the baby at any point, which I find strange. I took all the drugs by myself and was lying in that bed by myself the entire time, until the end, when my youngest sister came in the room and I told her that I took the remedy.
Strange dream, but I think it goes along with my life in general right now. I don't want to die, or be stagnant -- I want to experience life, I want to feel the pains, the highs, the lows. Even though times are tough all the time, there is so much ahead of me, so much to explore and discover.
When I'm at my parent's and I have a lot of time on my hand - because everyone is so LAZY around here and we never do things we say we're going to do - I tend to overthink things, playing the "what if" game, which is dangerous.
What if I were to lose my job? I don't think that is a possiblity, but in the off chance that I do, it would be completely devestating to me. I don't have any savings, I live paycheck to paycheck, I wouldn't be able to afford my rent/car payment/auto insurance/health insurance/food/student loans/medical bills/visa payments.
That scares the shit out of me.
It also reminds me of all the responsibilities I carry, which I don't really think about because if I do, I would become just as freaked out about it as I currently am. What would I do? Where would I go? Would I be tempted to get back together with my ex so he could pay half the rent?
Ugh. Perish the thought!
As much as my ex is feeling sentimental because of the holidays and keeps offering to take me and the baby to dinner, buy me clothes, etc, I can't believe he is so short-memoried about how terrible things were between us at the end.
When I was on my disability/maternity pay, it was about as much as unemployment and I was just at the ends of my ropes about making ends meet. All I did during those first few months of the baby's life was beg and beg and beg my ex to apply for a high paying job, to take a job at Starbucks, to get an overnight shift at Albertsons, to please help me. All he would do was nag me about how he had to pay the entire deposit at our apartment, until I would remind him that I was paying all the medical bills PLUS the $350 a month health insurance costs, which I couldn't afford.
Just thinking about how hard those days were for me, being postpartum and worried, I get a lump in my throat and thing about my ex -- HOW DARE HE???
Yes, it's nice that he is buying me and the baby clothes, taking us out to eat, offering to take us to Claim Jumpers, or where ever, but how does he possibly think that is what matters?
You know what I would have appreciated and wanted much more than the outfit (with the ugly pants) my ex bought me? You know what I really need? I need a tv stand. I would so appreciate the gift of a Target TV stand, which is the cost of all the clothes put together, delivered to my apartment and assembled.
I have tons of sweaters, I have tons of pants, I have tons of scarfs. I also have a flimsy coffee table from Ikea that stands in for the TV stand and is barely holding up since the baby loves to climb on it and try to change the tv channels.
It's stuff like that ... even being here at my parent's with all the silence makes me think of all the rough times in my relationship with my ex - how he often called me a burden, how I was a terrible person, how no one will ever want to be with me.
The sucky thing is that sometimes I think that way - I really do - about the no one wanting to be with me. Unfortunately for my self-esteem, I read too many girly magazines at work, see too many tv programs, hear too many radio station listeners call in and say how much the physical appearance of a woman means that she's going to get THE man, how she's going to be the one valued and chosen.
And now I'm crying. Crying because I don't believe in myself. I don't have the perfect body - never have, never will. I struggle to even look at myself in the mirror sometimes, in denial of what is really going on with the pregnancy pounds that refuse to leave. I am not perfect, so who would possibly want to be with me.
Plus, how easy is it to find a normal man? One with no hang ups, one who is emotionally balanced, who doesn't depend on his mommy to clean up his messes, who doesn't expect his wife to carry the burden of the family. I hear all these stories about couples finding each other and you know what ... I DON'T BELIEVE IT IS POSSIBLE FOR ME. That I'm doomed to live this unhappy life forever.
The thing about work is that as grateful as I am to have a job, and really, I am VERY grateful, I hate it so much. I hate that I feel like I'm dying every single minute of the day, that the snubs from my coworkers pierce me like an arrow. I hate that most of all, at the end of the day I just feel defeated. It really hurts, and there is no way out.
But on the bright side, and there is one, I have my beautiful, beautiful son. The light in my life. But, don't I deserve to have light in all parts of my life, too?
I am not...
...enjoying hearing my dad squeak his teeth this morning. All morning.
It's what threw me the edge when I lived with them full time. It's annoying, gross, and what led me to wear earplugs around the house for almost 10 years. Did I mention that before? I'm not sure, but when I was around 15, I couldn't take the noises that he has a tendency to make, the same way I couldn't take my ex's almost constant nose snorting.
Ugh.
More and more, as I am getting older and knowing myself better, I sometimes think I need to move to the mountains with the mole people, or maybe I'm just best suited to live alone. It's one of the reasons I love my little apartment. It's mine, I don't have to hear anyone else's noises (well, except for my next door neighbors, but those are easily muffled by running water).
I wanna go home.
It's what threw me the edge when I lived with them full time. It's annoying, gross, and what led me to wear earplugs around the house for almost 10 years. Did I mention that before? I'm not sure, but when I was around 15, I couldn't take the noises that he has a tendency to make, the same way I couldn't take my ex's almost constant nose snorting.
Ugh.
More and more, as I am getting older and knowing myself better, I sometimes think I need to move to the mountains with the mole people, or maybe I'm just best suited to live alone. It's one of the reasons I love my little apartment. It's mine, I don't have to hear anyone else's noises (well, except for my next door neighbors, but those are easily muffled by running water).
I wanna go home.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Six
In a couple short weeks, I will be celebrating the sixth anniversary of an important milestone in my life, the one that ultimately led me to my ex and my son. It's the sixth anniversary of my move to southern california from a little city nestled in between Sacramento and San Franciso.
My, my, my how time flies. Six years? For reals? Damn ... thinking back, I hardly recognize the naive, socially awkward young woman who took it upon herself at age 24, after being in the working world for 4 years, to quit her job in corporate america, plunge into a career of jewelry designing and makeup artistry, apply and get into grad school, fit her life into the back of her station wagon, and move hundreds of miles away from home.
Thinking back, it was a very courageous thing for me to do and it was one I was so ready for. I felt stalled in northern california, where my jobs were all in San Francisco, which was an almost 2 hour public transporation commute away from my parent's. I was also desperately ready to move out of their house. Being the extremely overprotective people they are, they only gave me two options to move out -- get married, or go to grad school.
Well, it wasn't as easy as they thought it would be. First of all, who was I going to marry? They never let me out of the house -- I remember one night I came home at 9 pm from belly dancing classes 40 minutes away (and they weren't too happy about the belly dancing) and they read me the riot act. 9 pm!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes, it was entirely ridiculous. Besides keeping me trapped inside the castle walls, they just aren't very socially active whatsoever, and the people they did come in contact with didn't have any males around my age, so I don't know how the hell they expected me to meet someone.
Well, I do know, thinking back - my mom put up an online ad for me for people of our culture. And, yes, I actually did end up talking to someone who I immediately rejected when the photo of him ended up being a hideous disaster. Shallow, you call me? I just say I'm choosy.
Anyway, at age 24, having never been kissed (nerd alert confession), having been on one date during which I'd forced myself on the guy and begged him to kiss me and then having him rudely diss me (karma, are you out there?), I'd had enough. If I wanted to get my MRS degree, if I even wanted to get a date, I knew I had to take drastic measures.
And so, fed up with my home of the past 18 years, fed up with nothing much going on in northern california, I did what I had to do, bid goodbye to my friends and family, and moved on. I haven't been back since, and honestly don't want to. I've been to SF since, but why go back to my hometown when the magic of google maps street view lets me look at the bowling alley and mall from the convenience of my laptop, which I could even see in my bathroom, but wouldn't, because that would just be gross.
My parent's ended up moving down 6 months after I did. They'd bought a house earlier in the year, and I guess if I hadn't gotten into grad school, I would have moved down with them anyway. However, the 6 months difference in move times gave me, for the first chance in my 24 years, FREEDOM.
I guess I could have had freedom earlier, could have forced my way into an apartment on my own, but maybe I just wasn't ready yet. It wasn't my time and also, I had a major shopping habit. Bad me.
Anyway, armed with student loan money and a new attitude, I made the move into a dorm room, occupied by 4 18 year olds and a 21 year old, who was (thankfully, oh so thankfully) my roomate.
If you want to know the definition of hell on earth, it's making a 24 year old, who has already gotten the wild (somewhat) out of her system and making her live with 18 year olds who are loud, noisy, horny, and ready to party. Hell. Yes it was.
It was also a very hard adjustment for me -- there were many times my mind played tricks on me and I swore I was back home, that I would just step outside the classroom and walk on the streets of San Franciso. It was one of the strangest, weirdest feelings in the world. I wonder if there is a term for it?
However, it was freedom, and I was just besides myself in excitement. Looking back, I feel like I could have spent my first 6 months differently - gone to different places, involved myself in different activities. But, it was a learning experience and learn I did. I really didn't want to move back in with my parent's, but my retail job paired with expensive rents (and after the dorm situation, no way jose did I want roomies) led me back to them after living in one apartment on my own for a month at $1000, which ironically is about what I pay now, but back then it was too much of a stretch for me.
So, I moved back with them, fought with them for over a year (newly found freedom plus rules don't mix), ended up meeting my ex, got into explosive fights with my family, ended up moving/storming out, finding a cheap roomie situation, stopped communication with my family for what ended up being 2 years, gained and lost and gained hundreds of pounds all together, got married on a whim, and after lots and lots of drama, found myself where I am right now. In my and the baby's room in my parent's second house in southern california, where I'm writing about being a single mom.
Looking back, I am definitely grateful for the journey. It's been crazy, confusing, sad, ecstatic, and I can say that I found myself in the midst of it all, which I wouldn't trade for anything.
Six years ... wow. What a wild ride.
My, my, my how time flies. Six years? For reals? Damn ... thinking back, I hardly recognize the naive, socially awkward young woman who took it upon herself at age 24, after being in the working world for 4 years, to quit her job in corporate america, plunge into a career of jewelry designing and makeup artistry, apply and get into grad school, fit her life into the back of her station wagon, and move hundreds of miles away from home.
Thinking back, it was a very courageous thing for me to do and it was one I was so ready for. I felt stalled in northern california, where my jobs were all in San Francisco, which was an almost 2 hour public transporation commute away from my parent's. I was also desperately ready to move out of their house. Being the extremely overprotective people they are, they only gave me two options to move out -- get married, or go to grad school.
Well, it wasn't as easy as they thought it would be. First of all, who was I going to marry? They never let me out of the house -- I remember one night I came home at 9 pm from belly dancing classes 40 minutes away (and they weren't too happy about the belly dancing) and they read me the riot act. 9 pm!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes, it was entirely ridiculous. Besides keeping me trapped inside the castle walls, they just aren't very socially active whatsoever, and the people they did come in contact with didn't have any males around my age, so I don't know how the hell they expected me to meet someone.
Well, I do know, thinking back - my mom put up an online ad for me for people of our culture. And, yes, I actually did end up talking to someone who I immediately rejected when the photo of him ended up being a hideous disaster. Shallow, you call me? I just say I'm choosy.
Anyway, at age 24, having never been kissed (nerd alert confession), having been on one date during which I'd forced myself on the guy and begged him to kiss me and then having him rudely diss me (karma, are you out there?), I'd had enough. If I wanted to get my MRS degree, if I even wanted to get a date, I knew I had to take drastic measures.
And so, fed up with my home of the past 18 years, fed up with nothing much going on in northern california, I did what I had to do, bid goodbye to my friends and family, and moved on. I haven't been back since, and honestly don't want to. I've been to SF since, but why go back to my hometown when the magic of google maps street view lets me look at the bowling alley and mall from the convenience of my laptop, which I could even see in my bathroom, but wouldn't, because that would just be gross.
My parent's ended up moving down 6 months after I did. They'd bought a house earlier in the year, and I guess if I hadn't gotten into grad school, I would have moved down with them anyway. However, the 6 months difference in move times gave me, for the first chance in my 24 years, FREEDOM.
I guess I could have had freedom earlier, could have forced my way into an apartment on my own, but maybe I just wasn't ready yet. It wasn't my time and also, I had a major shopping habit. Bad me.
Anyway, armed with student loan money and a new attitude, I made the move into a dorm room, occupied by 4 18 year olds and a 21 year old, who was (thankfully, oh so thankfully) my roomate.
If you want to know the definition of hell on earth, it's making a 24 year old, who has already gotten the wild (somewhat) out of her system and making her live with 18 year olds who are loud, noisy, horny, and ready to party. Hell. Yes it was.
It was also a very hard adjustment for me -- there were many times my mind played tricks on me and I swore I was back home, that I would just step outside the classroom and walk on the streets of San Franciso. It was one of the strangest, weirdest feelings in the world. I wonder if there is a term for it?
However, it was freedom, and I was just besides myself in excitement. Looking back, I feel like I could have spent my first 6 months differently - gone to different places, involved myself in different activities. But, it was a learning experience and learn I did. I really didn't want to move back in with my parent's, but my retail job paired with expensive rents (and after the dorm situation, no way jose did I want roomies) led me back to them after living in one apartment on my own for a month at $1000, which ironically is about what I pay now, but back then it was too much of a stretch for me.
So, I moved back with them, fought with them for over a year (newly found freedom plus rules don't mix), ended up meeting my ex, got into explosive fights with my family, ended up moving/storming out, finding a cheap roomie situation, stopped communication with my family for what ended up being 2 years, gained and lost and gained hundreds of pounds all together, got married on a whim, and after lots and lots of drama, found myself where I am right now. In my and the baby's room in my parent's second house in southern california, where I'm writing about being a single mom.
Looking back, I am definitely grateful for the journey. It's been crazy, confusing, sad, ecstatic, and I can say that I found myself in the midst of it all, which I wouldn't trade for anything.
Six years ... wow. What a wild ride.
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