Oh, for fudge's sake

It's 4:30 am, I'm fully awake, sitting here with my fully awake son who woke up at 3:30 am and refuses to let go of my arms. Makeup from yesterday is caked on my face. I need a shower.

Single parenting ... the hardest job I've ever had.

What any self-respecting mom would do ...

... when her child has gone to sleep at 8:30 pm on a Saturday night for the first time in ages (hello baby on messy bed):






... play with her makeup and give her camera some serious face time! Ha ha ... sometimes, you just gotta have fun, and it really was such fun to dig into my cosmetic goody boxes and beat down my face in a way I haven't since my baby shower two years ago. For those of you who don't know, I used to be a professional makeup artist, and retired my makeup brushes after Baby was born.


I was a makeup ho, and when I say that, it's no joke. Seriously, it was my obsession, my livelihood, my passion, and I had a good old time making myself and other people pretty. While it was a lot of fun, it was also pressure-filled and after dealing with a so many Bridezillas, you kind of burn out after a while. When I became pregnant I knew it would be a good chance for me to step away from it for a bit, to give myself some time to regroup, to see if my burning need to be involved in the makeup world would return after a sizeable break.

When I first started working for Smack Cosmetics at the big Beverly Hills department store, it was like a dream come true -- I mean, I was doing makeup in Beverly-freaking-Hills, right? There were times when it was truly a thrill -- bumping into favorite celebs, giving makeup advice to people you've admired for years, and so on. But, on the other side of the coin lies pure horror -- nobodies with an unbelievable sense of entitlement cursing you out, crazies making you cry, feeling like you've come so far, and yet have come to nowheresville.

That's the thing about Los Angeles -- it's a beast of a city, really and truly. I love it, and I hate it, all at once. But that's just me.

When I made the decision to retire my makeup brushes, I was working at my current office job, and still had quite a clientele on the weekends. Brides, parties, bar mitzvahs ... you name it. My name was out there more than ever, and yet I knew it was time to call it quits.

It's very flattering to know that people still call and email to see if I still do makeup and would be available for their events. I guess I could figure out babysitting if I were so inclined ... but really ... the thrill I used to feel when sitting down with a bride? The joy that used to come my way when I would see a client's eyes light up when they picked up a mirror? Gone ... just not even there anymore.

Maybe one day it will return. Maybe ....

A day in the life

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Pimp my blog

My blog's template is, well, giving me the BLAHS.

I am so ready for a change, something brighter, cheerier, and indicative of this new phase in my life.

Any suggestions on resources for pimping out this blog?

MeMe Time!

Thank you, LilCyndiLuWho, for nominating me! Confession, I always thought it was pronounced "meem", but then I realized ... oh " me me" ha ha ... who knew?!

Ok, here we go ...

1. What is your current obsession? The junk that does not want to leave my trunk. It's killing me. I think my anti-depressant is hindering my efforts, which are considerable. I do an intense weight workout 3 x a week, get my cardio in, am careful with my eating, and yet ... my ass is the size of Kentucky. Ok, maybe not that bad ... I'd say it's the size of Rhode Island and half of Delaware. Oh, ok, it's the size of Texas. Who am I trying to kid?

2. What is your weirdest obsession? Microwaving slices of Trader Joe's Lite Havarti cheese for a minute until it's firm and putting their olive tapenade on it. OMG... sooooooooooooooo delicious (and low carb).

3. Recall a fond childhood memory? When my family was moving to California from Tennessee, we had a couple of visits to San Francisco beforehand. I had wanted a certain Hello Kitty mini-clipboard so very badly and by chance, my mom took me to the huge Sanrio store in Union Square (I don't think it's there anymore, even the changed location is gone I think). She bought me a $1 ticket to play this fishing game, where you'd pick out a bag with goodies in it. And guess what happened to be in mine? The very same Hello Kitty clipboard I so coveted! That was a thrill that made up for the earthquake exhibit at the science museum that haunted me for years to come.

4. What’s for dinner? Not sure ... I'm writing this on Friday, so my mom is cooking at her place. I'm publishing this on Sunday, so I'm thinking mac and cheese for Baby, three bean stew for me?
5. What would you eat for your last meal? Cheese pizza from Costco, a hand dipped ice cream bar (no nuts) from Costco, a nutella and a strawberry cupcake from Frosted Cupcakery in Long Beach, CA, a double double animal style with animal style fries, enchiladas, and as many Lemon Drops and Starbucks iced mochas as I could handle. I like carbs, but carbs don't like me.

6. What’s the last thing you bought? Tank o' gas. Nothing to write home about. Times is rough. Oh, and a 12 pack of Coke Zero. Have since discovered that Coke Zero is BAD as it gives me heart flutters. Scary!

7. What are you listening to right now? (typing this on Friday at work). People typing away, and NOT people blowing their nose in the men's bathroom (for once!).

8. What do you think of the person who tagged you? Cyndi is one of my favorite single parent bloggers - she keeps it real, is always funny, and I can relate to her divorce story. I think our toxic ex's are brothers from another mother. :) Cyndi is also amazing because of her job -- I admire you so much for what you do!

9. If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished, anywhere in the world, where would it be? Hmmm ... San Francisco! I would so love to live there. Never did - always commuted from a suburb over an hour away.

10. If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go? To Burke Williams, where I could get rubbed down and SLEEP and no one would bother me. SLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

11. Which language do you want to learn? French, because I think it's a lovely language and Bozo hated it.

12. What’s your favorite quote (for now)? "... you know that love survives, and we can rock forever." MJ in "Rock With You"

13.What is your favorite color? I've had a green obsession for a while. Kelly green.

14. What is your favorite piece of clothing in your own wardrobe?A gorgeous zebra print tunic with a sequined collar and hem, courtesy of exMIL who works for INC @ Macy's. Oh, I NEED an occasion to wear it! Universe, send me someone to ask me out on a date, PLEASE.

15. What is your dream job? Writer, public speaker, photographer, work-from-home mom.

16.What’s your favorite magazine? InStyle, Domino (R,I.P.), Vanity Fair

17. If you had $100 now, what would you spend it on? Food - cupboards are currently bare, gas, massage.

18. Describe your personal style? A funky spin on the classics. Actually, anything that is in my clothes pile that seems presentable and I haven't worn already that week. Just keeping it real.

19. What are you going to do after this? Get back to procrastinating, I mean work, of course.

20.What are your favorite films? Hedwig and the Angry Inch, The Wizard of Oz ... so many.

21. What’s your favorite fruit? Nectarines, mangoes

22.What inspires you? My beautiful sonshine, other single parents, my exMIL for her intrinsic goodness.

23. Your favorite books? 1984 changed my perception of the world when I read it 13 years ago. I finished the book and just sat there numb for a good half hour. The Celestine Prophecy was another perspective-changer.

24. Do you collect anything? Compliments. ;)

25. Any advice that’s come from bitter experience? You can't let bad experiences get you down. Always aim to move forward in live, never backwards. When a door closes, another opens. True dat.

26. What makes you follow a blog? (Copying this from Cyndi) Good humor, real stuff as opposed to painfully thought out dissertation that reads like a text book with no personality, stuff I can relate to, stuff that makes me feel.

For my tags, I'm choosing three gals who inspire me with their words and thoughts - Jenn from Random Thoughts, Christine from Sugarplum(Swank) and Lisa from Girl With a Curl. Nina, I wanted to add you, but I can't get into your blog! Where are you?!

Normal? Maybe, maybe not

On Tuesday evening when I picked Baby up after work, I asked Bozo if he would buy me a Blackberry.

He laughed at me.

Jerk.

The thing is ... I've wanted a Blackberry Curve FOR-EV-ER, eons before Bozo ever knew what one of those newfangled things were. And then we split up, and there he goes buying one for himself.

It's not fair.

If anyone here needs a Blackberry, its me of the epic commutes. Wah, wah, wah. At this point, I'll have my once-fashionable Razr for the next five years.

---

At a family gathering a couple weeks ago, a family member asked me if I'd seen Bozo's new Facebook picture. "Uh, like he's totally blocked from my Facebook page, no doy," I replied.

Curious, I signed off of my Facebook page and searched for his name, to find him. Profile pic, nothing to write home about. However, amongst his friends was the woman he cheated on me with in Lebanon.

But, of course, to Bozo that wasn't technically cheating, because he'd broken up with his bride by phone a month after arriving overseas.

Bozo is a piece of work.

I hate the fact that I'm the most competitive person I know, even at games of Uno, because the first thought that ran through my mind after seeing that pic was, "Ha ha, bitch, LOOK WHO WON!"

I mean, with Baby, after all.

My second thought: "Meh, she can have him."

The thing about breakups is that they're never easy. Never.

He's free now

Numb, shocked, saddened. So many emotions swirling around about the death of Michael Jackson, about the many memoires, about seeing his tiny body transported to the morgue.

---

It was around 2:15 pm, I was settling into an afternoon of work and turned on my trusty ipod, going to my Michael Jackson playlist. "Bad" seemed like a good choice ... "Smooth Criminal" brings back so many memories of 1989, of riding in a van to basketball games against a rival Christian school team, of wondering if he was really saying "Annie are you ok" or "Eddie are you ok"?

A few minutes go by, I'm on "Leave Me Alone", and then I check twitter. And then ... boom.

---

Yes, he did have numerous problems, I'm positive he engaged in criminal acts, he had become a worldwide laughingstock, but he was, and will forever be, the musical icon of our times.

As a child of the 80s, I knew him as the biggest star in the world, and at one point he was so admired and so universally loved. Always imitated, never duplicated.

His music ... amazing ... so many of us know the words to most of his songs having sang along to them, danced to them, had them on repeat for so many years. Looking back on his profilic record, there is just no question that his contribution to the music world is priceless.

Thinking about his many woes, I feel that at the root of it all, Michael Jackson was a tremendously troubled soul. After years of pressure and demands, of too much fame too early, of feeling uncomfortable in his own skin, can any human being be expected to hold all that stress?

A few years ago, I bought a dvd compilation of his music videos, a look at how he'd changed through the years. It's fascinating to not only witness the not only how he changed physically, but there was a look in his eyes- a certain spark - in the early videos that left as the years went on. In the beginning of his solo career there was just an innate joy expressed when he danced and sang ... he was feeling the music, he was living for the music ... and then how quickly that faded.

---

Over a decade ago, when he was first accused of molestation, when his plastic surgery was more than apparent to the world, I was talking to my parents about the drastic changes that he'd made, of how crazy it all was. What's going to happen to him when he's older, I wondered.

"He's not going to make it that long," was my dad's answer.

---

A tortured life, sad end, a cautionary tale, but hopefully - so very hopefully - a good future for his children.

Bye, MJ

RIP

Haunted by a song

I could meet someone tomorrow, I could meet someone never.
---

Being so much older than my two sisters was a good thing ... it was a sneak peek into parenthood, if you'll call it that. Long known as the built-in babysitter, I did just that with them for years. When they were older than babies and our parents went out for the evening, we would bake a frozen pizza, make lots of popcorn and watch lots of old timey movies our mom would rent from the library.

One movie that's stayed with me from all those years ago is the Shirley Temple film The Blue Bird, made by 20th Century Fox as their answer to MGMs Wizard of Oz. As we were watching the film, I didn't pay a whole lot of attention -- after all, there were Sweet Valley High books I had to read. However, there was one part in particular that struck me and I remember to this day. The main characters were in dreamland, I think, where souls live in the form of children before it's their time to go to their mortal lives on Earth.

The souls lived in pairs, as we humans so often live on this earth. When one of pair was separated before their voyage to Earth, they protested in tears, begging to be kept together, against their fate. And so, they were destined to long for their missing partners over their lives.

Maybe that's how my life on this earth is. Maybe I'm never going to find that person to walk by my side in this life. Maybe that's ok.
....

Lately the universe has been showing me examples of healthy relationships. Not partners who maliciously cheat, like a few years ago during the Bozo years, but truly wonderful, mutual pairings. Inspiring, really.
...

This song is haunting me. I've posted it here before, but it's in my mind all the time, right on the tip of my tongue. I'm singing it to myself while I'm changing Baby's dirty diapers, in the shower, in the car, while at work.

I suppose deep in the depths of my charcoal-colored Grinch-like heart ... I really believe true love is possible for me in this lifetime.




There may come a time, a time in everyones life
where nothin seems to go your way
where nothing seems to turn out right
there may come a time, you just cant seem to find your way
for every door you walk on to, seems like they get slammed in your face
thats when you need someone, someone that you can call.
and when all your faith is gone
feels like you cant go on
let it be me
let it be me
if its a friend that you need
let it be me
let it be me
feels like your always commin on home
pockets full of nothin and you got no cash
no matter where you turn you aint got no place to stand
reach out for something and they slap your hand
now i remember all to well
just how it feels to be all alone
you feel like youd give anything
for just a little place you can call your own
thats when you need someone, someone that you can call
and when all your faith is gone
feels like you cant go on
let it be me
let it be me
if its a friend you need
let it be me
let it be me

Layoffs

Not for me, but they're starting again. Could be me, who knows.

Scary times.

If I ever get married again (photographer love) ...

... I wanna get married in San Francisco, and hire this photographer. Holy schmoley, those are some GORGEOUS photos.

The brave and courageous ones

I've been crying a lot lately. Not out of frustration for my own woes, but for those of my countrymen.

We are living in a truly amazing time, where information is spread faster than ever, when in even the most hostile situations, the world is informed through video and photos and newsclips, despite the deliberate misinformation spouted from official media sources.

Thes are truly sad times of frustration and anger and over 30 years of pent-up feelings being released. To the brave and courageous ones standing up for their beliefs, marching against an institution created out of fear and violence, you are heroes to the rest of the world, who is watching on in disbelief . You are my heroes.

A Green-Winged Longing
Rumi

This world of two gardens, and both so beautiful.
This world, a street where a funeral is passing.
Let us rise together and leave "this world,"

as water goes bowing down itself to the ocean.
From gardens to the gardener, from grieving
to wedding feast. We tremble like leaves

about to let go. There's no avoiding pain,
or feeling exiled, or the taste of dust.

But also we have a green-winged longing
for the sweetness of the Friend.

These forms are evidence of what
cannot be shown. Here's how it is

to go into that: rain that's been leaking
into the house decides to use the downspout.

The bent bowstring straining at our throats
releases and becomes the arrow!

Mice quivering in fear of the housecat suddenly
change to half-grown lion cubs, afraid of nothing.

So let's begin the journey home,
with love and compassion for guides,
and grace protecting. Let your soul turn

into an empty mirror that passionately wants
to reflect Joseph. Hand him your present.

Now let silence speak, and as that
gift begins, we'll start out.

-- Version by Coleman Barks
(from a translation by John Moyne)

My mom took these pictures when I was cooking in her belly 31 years ago.

Bad dads

If there's one thing I've realized lately, it's that Bozo equals frustration, and battling my immeasurable frustration when it comes to Bozo will be my life's challenge until one of us finally kicks the bucket.

In general, I do a pretty good job dealing with my negative feelings towards Bozo -- really, I do, and I don't think it's unreasonable to still have these feelings 18 months post-separation, considering the fact that he is a Bozo after all, as well as my co-parent, and until he leaves for New Mexico in a few weeks, still an occasional caretaker for Baby.

Bozo doesn't have a lot of friends -- he has a few faithful followers he's known since his youth, and one in particular who lets Bozo trample all over him and his family. It's ridiculous, really, but they have this weirdly codependent relationship that will last for their lives. He even lets Bozo sleep on his couch a few nights a week, in the 2 bedroom apartment he shares with his wife and three kids.

I'm friendly with his wife, aka Friend of Bozo, and she is one of my social networking media friends, which is a huge minus for me because I really have to be careful about some of the things I express on Twitter and Facebook.

In honor of Father's Day, I wrote this on my Twitter and Facebook status update:

For all the responsible baby daddies, who actually care, have a great father's day. For all the other dads - you deserve a wart on your ass.

Friend of Bozo sent me this message via Twitter: I don't know the truth of the relationship between u n ur baby daddy, but I do know he loves and adores his son very much.

What can I say except that I blew my lid? There are some occasions where it is impossible to not react, and this was one of them. It was a combination of so many things, and the fact that it was Father's Day and my baby's father was a complete cow that day didn't help things at all.

My (edited) response: He doesn't want to spend that much time with Baby, plus he only gives me $150 a month in child support, which is NOTHING. I am drowing in bills and he doesn't give a damn and doesn't care about helping me out any further. He told me he won't give me more than $150 a month for the next few years, and that makes me furious. The fact that he doens't want to help us out financially means he deserves to go to hell.

Love schmove bove dove glove.

Ok, Friend of Bozo, so yes, he cares for his child, great, but he cares for him like he would a dog or a cat, not as a father. The truth, Friend of Bozo, is that Bozo ISN'T A FATHER, and what my son needs more than anything is a FATHER. Not a playmate, but a responsible FATHER.

A couple days ago on a park visit, I was surrounded by dads of young boys that were around Baby's age really FATHERING their sons. What is UP with this ... lately, no moms at the park, just dads apparently giving moms a break.

One of them was teaching his son how to go down the slides, and another was doting around his son, guiding him up and around the jungle gym, patiently soothing tears, giving him a water bottle, and carrying him around.

I'm attributing my sadness over this to PMS and not enough chocolate, but ... goddamn .... Knowing my son doesn't have an attentive father like the ones I see on the playground and pretty much everywhere? That hurts. It hurts more than the lack of child support, really. The truth about Bozo is, he is incapable of understanding what real love is all about. That's his loss, and ours, too.

While at the park a few days ago, I struck up a conversation with a dad while our sons, just two months apart, were swinging next to each other:

Father: "So, when are you and your husband going to try for another?"

Me: "Well, we're divorced."

Father: "Ah. You're an unsung hero."

Thank you for acknowledging that, random playground dad.

My son, the energizer bunny

My son, the Energizer Bunny, has been up since 3:30 am, which is when I finally collapsed into bed after an evening of cooking, preparing for the workweek ahead, and showering.

I'm spent.

His nose is running, but he was full of a ridiculous amount of energy and strength last night. I gave him a bottle, turned on Elmo, took a blanket to the couch, and tried to sleep as he kept climbing the couch and sitting on my head. He kept going and going and going ... chattering away, crying when "It's a Big, Big World" featured a story with a pickle, because apparently the pickle is scary.

If there's any time you should ever feel sorry for a single mom, it's times like these.

If I slide under my desk and catch a few z's, will anyone notice?

The Great Outdoors

"You really enjoy your weekends with Baby," exMIL said to me yesterday.

Yes, yes I do.

When you're trapped in an office, a car, and a teensy apartment for the majority of the week, you tend to want to take advantage of your glorious location near the coast. At least I do.

Tomorrow and for the next five days, I will spend many hours listening to a coworker blow his nose like a foghorn every half hour on the half hour. I will fend multiple mean and uniformed emails from my superiors. My house is a barely organized mess that needs a lot of attention. However, I do have these photos and memories of chasing ducks, of sitting on a cliff overlooking the sea with an iced coffee in hand, of spending hours pushing Baby on swingsets (that's no joke - the kid is relentless) from this past weekend ... memories of enjoying this life and the delicious weather.

I am so lucky to be here.

It's hard to do the adult thing

It's hard to do the right thing and act like a mature adult when you take your son to visit his dad at your ex-inlaw's house for the afternoon when your son's father is sleeping for 4 out of the five hours your son is there.

That's all.

Raised by a dragon

If there's one thing you should never, ever do, it's to put a book on Chinese astrology in the hands of my extremely superstious middle-eastern mom.

"This explains EVERYTHING!" She's been addicted to this book, translated into her language,for the last few weeks, waving it around in my face at any opportunity, demaning I tell her the birth years of everyone I've known for the past 15 years.

"You see! It's right! Bozo is a cow, and you're a horse, and he's a user and you're a romantic, and I'm buying of these for all 3 of you girls, and the next time you get married he has to be a cat or a rabbit and either 12 years younger/12 years older or 3 years younger/3 years older than you because you're a horse."

Oh, yeah. That's my mama.

She and exMIL are the same -- they're both cats. Patient, perfect, good people. My dad is a dragon, apparently, which is something I really didn't need a book to tell me.
---

It is one of my very first memories, and the feelings and textures of that time have stayed with me for 26 years or so. At age 4, I was a very happy-go-lucky kid. Adored by my neighbors and teachers and classmates, I skipped through my life, singing show tunes, making up stories, playing with my imaginary friends.

One day, I came home from preschool, eager to share my day's adventures, and barged down to the basement where he was holed behind a locked door, despite my mom's warnings to not go there, since daddy was angry. I opened the door, and he was stalking around with a cloud over his head ... furious at some unknown thing ... my mom wouldn't even look at him. I tried to talk to him, ran up to him, and the only thing he did to reciprocate my joyful declarations was to spank me, yell at me, and send me away.

The main feeling I remember from the aftermath of all of that was devestation. And with those actions, my innate trust and love for my father was broken, never to be restored.

---

There's this children's show Baby and I watch on PBS ... Animalia ... not one of my favorites since they repeat the episodes and Baby isn't all that interested in them, in the first place.

In one of the episodes, a dragon is intimidating the residents of Animalia, and it's up to one of the human characters to figure out why. Turns out, the dragon is such a, well, dragon, because he's afraid. Fear causes him to lash out, to act in mean ways, to intimidate and threaten anyone who dares come near him.

Fear. I've feared my dad for years, and even to this day, being around him means walking on eggshells ...tiptoeing around, never knowing if saying a certain word or looking at him a certain way will unleash the fury and fire of the dragon. Say this, don't say that, do this, don't do that, study this, major in that, don't act that way -- he raised me with an awful lot of conditions.

When people, especially Bozo, ask why I don't have any interest in speaking my parent's language, even though I spent years in classes learning it, I never tell them the real reason, which is that I associaite it with my father and the anger and fear he expressed with the language.

It really is a beautiful language -- it's the language of poets that has survived through thousands of years and countless invaders, but in my heart and in my head, it is the language of my dad's anger, of his temper, of his frustration that I've heard him expressing towards my mom for decades. I don't know how she's put up with his mercurial behavior for so long.

--

There are so many times, so many days I wish I had a "normal" relationship with my dad, wish so much he still wouldn't vent his anger at me, that he wouldn't have lectured me for 3 hours at a time for so many years, leaving me in a pool of tears and self-doubt every time. I wish so much he would retire his dragon nature and become a NICER person, a more understanding person, more willing to see that I am who I am, and to encourage my desires and my passions, instead of still imposing his desires and wills on me, while at the same time shutting me out. That's all I can ever be, and I can't change the fact that my interests are not his.

He's spent years studying Sufism and mysticism ... and yet ... he is no closer to figuring out the secret of humanity. He's never let anyone in ... and that is truly the biggest rejection I've ever faced with a man. I can' t help but think ... if our relationship had been healthier, if he had been a more nurturing father, would I have ended up running away from his harshness to the arms of an equally harsh Bozo?

---

Dad, there are just a few concepts I hope you can accept at some point in your life: I can't be the version of me you want me to be ... I can only be me, I can only follow the passions I want to follow, and I can't absorb and take on your hurts, your fears, your disappointments.

I'm sorry you're hurting, I'm sorry you feel the pain of your past, of your own father's rejection so accutely ... I'm sorry.

Happy Baby Daddy Day

Father's Day is this Sunday, and although it's not Bozo's allotted day, I'm wondering if I should send Baby over for some playtime. He hasn't mentioned anything about it, and I'm not sure if he even cares, but I thought the gesture would be nice.

As for a present ... nah. He did give me $20 for Mother's Day, which was a nice gesture, but he isn't the most "present" father, or even the most attentive, so I'll say pass. Maybe a photo of Baby, but that's it. That's also all I can really afford.

It's a shame .... He's really missing out on a wonderful son, but ... his life, not my worry. All I know is that I have a happy, wonderful, funny, silly son and we are going to enjoy the heck out of Sunday by visiting a nearby wildlife reserve and take a zillion photos and make just as many memories.

To all the father's out there who do care and love for their kids, especially to all the single dads, a very HAPPY Father's Day to you. May you get funny ties and golf balls and get to watch sports and drink beers today.

Are you ready for love?

Catch a star if you can
Wish for something special
Let it be me, my love is free
Sing a song to yourself
Think of someone listening

One melody, you're all for me
I'll write a symphony just for you and me
If you let me love you, I'll paint a masterpiece
Just for you to see
If you let me love you, let me love you

Are you ready, are you ready for love
Yes I am
Are you, are you ready, are you ready for love
Yes I am
Are you, are you ready, are you ready for love

You're the one like the sun
Shine your love around me
You'll always be the one for meSay the word and I'll be there
Loving you forever
Don't let me go
Just say it's so

We'll hear the music ring from the mountain tops
To the valley below us
We'll serenade the world
With a lullaby so the angels will know us
Angels will know us

Oh, dear goodness ... please tell me why ...

... I just went and revealed my blog to the five people who were on Facebook this late at night? Tweet Deck, thanks for NOTHING!

A day in the life

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Iran

The current situaton in Iran is one that is very near and dear to my heart. I was thinking of ways to express my feelings about it, but don't have to, as one of my very favortite bloggers wrote about the situation in a wonderfully eloquent way.

That's ok, because it's not my life

One of the thing that infuriates me about the workplace is that it is ripe with double standards. While my boss is cracking a whip, being all kinds of up and down and crazy and constantly breathing down my collar, I see so many other people goofing off all the live long day. Frustrating. One reason I don't feel bad for doing stuff online is because of this one particular coworker.

This is a typical timeline:

Saunters in at 9:30 am, spends some time checking emails, makes the rounds for a couple hours chatting with his friends, goes to lunch, surfs the web for an hour checking boxing websites, tries to fake the fact he 's taking a nap for another hour, does some writing, goes home.

The worst part? He just won a big time award ... talk about job security.


What a charmed life some people lead. But that's ok, because it's not my life, it's theirs.

A man, a white horse

You would have thought I said I belived the Holocaust was fake by the comments under my Facebook status update:


"Are you serious? What about love for you and Baby?"


"Uh, honey, money isn't everything."


"Hah! That's what you think?"


"Don't say that! That's horrible!"


What started this barrage of comments? A simple, sarcastic statement: "What do I have to do to be a trophy wife?"

Sarcasm doesn't always translate well online.

Ok, time for me to be brutally honest -- and I feel like I'm breaking a zillion rules about modern feminity by saying this -- but, I would be lying if I were to say I didn't wish that mythical figure of a man on a white horse would show up and take my financial problems away.

Yes, I do accept the fact that I am doing this alone, and will be for the forseeable future, but ... YIKES.

The truth is, I'm drowning. I do make a good amount of money, but my basic living expenses are monumental, and if I want to improve my living situation and life in general, they're only going to go up. And, I really need to move away from an apartment located next to a trailer park and the paranoid schizo upstairs.

Although I HAVE made my peace with Bozo's all-around failure to provide, there are brief moments when I'm going over my bills and a sense of fury passes through for a few seconds. The truth it, his lack of responsibility is completely outrageous, but all the outrage and bitter feelings won't change the fact that he won't change anytime soon.

And so, it's still all up to me. Putting on my suit of armor, getting ready to battle reality, yet again.

---

Monday night I was up until 3 am - not procrastinating, but actually getting stuff done, aka sending out my resume. I needed to get a ton of cooking and cleaning done, but that didn't happen, and that's ok. I found the perfect job. I mean, for me, it's an unbelievable match. All I can do is send in my resume and cross my fingers, and hope for the best.

Random thoughts and interesting online finds

Random thought:

Last night was my early night with Baby and so I took him to eat dinner at In n Out, where I couldn't resist the french fries despite my good intentions, and afterwards for a spin around the Home Depot next door. It was his first time going in and he has never been so well behaved in a store. EVER. He was amazed by everything in the store, just fascinated. Boys will be boys!

Interesting things I've found online:

Tips for job seekers via NPR. Long story short -- get with social media. Become lovers. Pronto.

Ripley's is having a hard time finding oddities for their museums, a side effect of these hard economic times. Who knew. Sidenote: I visited a Ripley's when I was 10 and their Iron Maiden display scared the bejeezus out of me permanently. I STILL shudder at the memory.

Found via Twitter, 20 Works of Urban Guerilla Street Art. Ah-MAY-zing! The carrot trees are tripping me out.

Yet another gorgeous bridal photo shoot from Jenna Cole. I love, love, love her work.

You get what you give

Crush Confession Corner: Ok, I have a slight crush, and have had one for over a year. It really is just the slightest crush ... an intense attraction is more like it.


Although we work in the same office, I rarely see him since he works on the first floor,and I on the second,and that may as well be different universes.

After seeing him on Monday on my way out to pay my traffic violation tickets ($228 to the State of CA, barf) and seeing him on his way back from lunch and exchanging genuine smiles, my heart became just a little bit rosier. Yes, my grinch like heart went from coal black to charcoal in the time it took to flash some pearly whites. Can you believe it?

What's so appealing about him? Simple and easy -- he's polite, nice, genuine. He opens the doors for women, he says "good morning", he dresses the way you'd expect an office professional to dress, instead of looking like you just rolled out of bed and put on some sneakers, which is how the everyone in the company looks, except the 78 year old owner who adds a hawaiian shirt to the mix.

Like this recent article from a dating website says, nice is what counts. Nice is what I want in my life. Nice is what I NEED in my life. For the first time, ever, I can say, "THAT is exactly what I want," instead of falling down the bad boy expressway.


Part of me wants to pinch his cheeks, the other part wants to jump his bones. I wish he was single, but alas he's engaged. There's always a fiancee or girlfriend, right? Does he have any friends who are the same as him? Men who like to open doors for ladies? (When did I become a lady, anyway?)


A single mom's enquiring mind wants to know.

Awesome blogs alert

Junk Camp.

You must check this out -- a blogger takes junk and turns it into great stuff. Amazing, and just what we all need to read in these tight economic times.

(You can thank my addiction to wedding blogs for this one ... lol.)

And then this very interesting blog post about accepting being single. (You can thank my addiction to wedding blogs for this one, too.) Here's an excerpt:

So what happens if we are alone? Do we exist and live in this world as the walking wounded? I hate to be the Negative Nancy right now, but I got to keep it real. The truth of the matter is that not everyone is going to be married, some are going to get divorced, and others are going to be widowed. Does that mean their life, as in the words of God, is not good? Absolutely not. Being desirous of relationship is normal and God-given. My issue is that people [read: women] tend to find themselves as the social leper who must scream, "Single! Single!" as they walk through the marketplace. In all of this discussion, I want people to understand that 1. aloneness is not good, 2. we weren't intended to do life alone, 3. God finds value in you in whatever station you are in because He cares for you.

If you're single, please remove the sackcloth and ashes! Start enjoying the season you're in and believe that God knows it's not good for man to be alone. Revel in this season and make your time count.

Troubles

Something's in the air.

There are troubles in my homeland, where the results of a recent presidential election has left the people so angry that they are taking to the streets in protest, setting things on fire, rioting. It's 1978 all over again. Pure turmoil.

There are troubles at my ex-inlaws house, where the growing pains of Baby's 11 year old step-cousin are leaving her grandfather in tears. I never thought I would see that man cry, but he has been, steadily, ever since his grandaughter erupted in a stream of anger, tears, and violence. The family has a history of bipolarism, and it looks like it's hit this little one. Talk about a hard thing to experience.

The thing is ... her mind is telling her that everyone hates her, everyone is against her ... but I've never seen people care so much about someone. She's the light of so many people's eyes. All anyone can do is take her to the right kind of doctor, and pray that they find an answer soon.

Last night while she was in the midst of a fit, I wanted to refer them to the episode of Keeping Up With The Kardashians where Bruce Jenner battled with his precocious 11 year old, but somehow I didn't think it was all that appropriate to mention it.

---

In spite of all the troubles, there are also many joys, many reasons to smile on a regular basis. I think this would have to be one of them -- it's Baby, doing what he just LOVES to do and you can't stop him from doing it.

Just ... nice

Seeing my longtime friend and her family this weekend was wonderful in so many ways - the abundant filipino food is one reason, seeing her adorable 4 month old daughter and doting husband is another, but mostly because I was surrounded by some of the most genuinely nice people in the entire world.

Seriously. Just NICE, and kind, and generous, and the complete antithesis of everything and everyone else I'm surrounded by on a regular basis.

I got to work, and it's like there's a dark cloud hanging over the heads of everyone. My boss is a monster, my coworkers are apathetic. My dad, who is the one who got all kinds of upset at me because I wouldn't answer a question the "right" way, has been ignoring me for almost a month. Bozo is being Bozo. It's just a whole lot of defensiveness, and anger, and bad feelings all around. That's my life.

This is what really freaked me out in a good way about my friend's family - they remembered my name and where I was from, and all the times I've visited with them. They remembered when I sang "Celebration" at karaoke night thirteen years ago. They remembered my son's name and were so kind to play with him and attempt to calm him down when he was having a tantrum.

Ok, call me nutty, but I'm crying as I'm typing this out, because ... well ... because I so wish I could have that kind of NICE in my life on a regular basis.

A Worn Out Mommy's Guilty Pleasure Confession

Today, my cute and adorable little toddler challenged me like never before. Seriously ... with all the ups and downs and wiggling out of my arm and running around the supermarket and crying for an hour while visiting some friends, I am kind of wondering how crazy I am to have planned a solo vacation with him next month. One where we're going to be in a car for five to six hours. I AM crazy.

It's the age he's in that's causing the hair-raising behavior, but phew ... it is wearing this single mama out! With that in mind, I have to fess up to one of the after hour indulgences I have that keeps me going. We all need something so frivolous, so silly that it keeps our minds off the fact that we're behind on some bills, that our toddler is discovering his independence, that we want to cry on a regular basis while at work.

Ok, here goes -- I am so incredibly ashamed about what I'm about to confess ... an addiction. To Keeping Up With the Kardashians, as seen by my cable-less self via YouTube.

Running and hiding now.

There's just something about the show that makes me keep watching it ... and I hate myself because all I think while I'm watching it is ... are these girls FOR REAL? What kind of la la land are they living in? Wait, they ARE living in La La Land, and they are just like all the rich, spoiled girls I used to wait on when I worked in the big name department store in Beverly Hills.

Who are the REAL people making their business decisions? And why do they get to live such an incredibly charmed life? Why them? They're all so entirely self-absorbed, so shockingly ignorant, so blissfully unaware of the real world. I can't stand it, and yet I can't stop watching.

It's driving me crazy trying to figure out what they've done to be so carefree and jetsetting, because honestly, they're kind of boring. I mean, Khloe is the only one who has a personality, the rest of them are just "wah wah wah", really.

Someone once told me LA is a city for people who have money, and they're right. Now how do I get an Anonmom reality show?

Things that inspire me, part 5

The written word ....


A Dream Deferred
by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

THE SONNET - BALLAD
Gwendolyn Brooks

Oh mother, mother, where is happiness?
They took my lover's tallness off to war,
Left me lamenting. Now I cannot guess
What I can use an empty heart-cup for.
He won't be coming back here any more.
Some day the war will end, but, oh, I knew
When he went walking grandly out that door
That my sweet love would have to be untrue.
Would have to be untrue. Would have to court
Coquettish death, whose impudent and strange
Possessive arms and beauty (of a sort)
Can make a hard man hesitate--and change.
And he will be the one to stammer, "Yes."
Oh mother, mother, where is happiness?

Rumi

When your chest is free of your limiting ego,
Then you will see the ageless Beloved.
You can not see yourself without a mirror;
Look at the Beloved, He is the brightest mirror.

From Thief of Sleep
by Shahram Shiva

That's what friends are for ...

It's Friday, it's Friday! Tra la la la la!

Today just happens to be my 3rd anniversary at my job - yay me (insert sarcastic tone here). I truly can't believe I've made it this long ... althought it is far less than ideal, longer than any other job, and even for a longer period than my entire marriage.

You all know how I feel about it, but this work week has left me feeling defeated; I might not have all the answers, but I do know one thing ... this is baloney.

In a way, it feels like someone is putting their shortcomings on me, and the pressure is tremendous. FYI, motivating your staff does not include belittling them on any kind of level FOR THINGS YOU MADE A MISTAKE ON! I get better praise from our freaking clients. but again, don't want to beat a dead horse ....

One good thing ... I know that when this is all done, years from now, I will be able to say in reference to this job, "That was the worst boss I ever had." And that will be true.

So, yes, ah ... on to a busy, fun-filled weekend - I live for busy weekends, and this Saturday there is an extremely sweet treat in store. One of my dearest friends that I've known since we were 14 is in town with her husband and new baby girl and she's invited us to a local a family party. With karaoke and filipino food. SCORE!

It's a little surreal to me ... hard to two realize that we're both MOMS now. Yes, we're in our 30s and far out of spring chicken-ville, but in my minds eye, I see us still as our bright-eyed, youthful selves -- the sheltered girls who used code words to describe boys , passed notes in classes to each other, spilled our secret desires to each other.

Friends like her don't come around this often. It's like that old song: Make new friends, but keep the old, some are silver and the other's gold.

Life Wisdom, Via Twitter

If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. And if they don't, they never were. - Kahlil Gibran

Relationship?

Walking in my West LA neighborhood a couple months ago with baby in tow, I spotted a familiar site on a crosswalk, felt a familiar feeling. There was a girl, chubby, wearing a hoodie, hiding behind the sign she's being paid to hold at the corner and wistfully looking at a handsome guy going towards an equally lovely gal.

The couple are gorgeous -- they're thin, well-dressed in appropriately second-hand clothes .... and I know what sign girl is thinking and feeling ... why couldn't that be her ? I wanted to tell her ... homegirl, you aren't missing out on much, because cute french-looking guy there? He needs to wash his hair, and that ain't really all that attractive. Plus, I'm sure that although he looks suave in those adorable courduroys and vneck sweater, he is guaranteed to have a terrible BO problem. So don't trip out on that too much.

Life ... you're funny.
....

It's rather incredible what's happening now, and it's with a lot of joy in my heart that I'm seeing so many of my fellow single parent bloggers pair up recently. What is going on??!! Something in the stars is aligned, because love is in the air big time! Right and left, here and there ... dang, Cupid has been BUSY lately. :)

For the first time in my life, I don't feel a hint of jealousy about any of this love business. Maybe it's maturity, maybe it's just that I've faced the reality of my life situation, but most likely it's a great deal of built up cynicism and fear.

As for me, I'm no where near closer to being in any kind of relationship other than the one between me and my son. In fact, with Bozo's impending departure this coming July, I can't imagine having any other kind of flexibilty that would even allow me to date. But then again, I can't imagine meeting anyone who is datable at this point and time in my life.

Two days ago I got back in contact with a friend/excoworker of mine who was around for the whole Radio Man debacle ... she's been dating for years, looking for that special someone, and I wasn't surprised when the first question she asked was, "Are you dating?"

My response was classic new me: "Gave up on dating."

This is true, partly because I'm scared to death of myself. What if I lose myself again? What if and losing myself to another bad Who would want to date me and my crazy schedule? Who would want to date this post-baby/not-getting-back-into -shape-anytime-soon body?

I have to face a hard fact within myself and realign my thoughts and ideas of what a relationship is all about. Having been raise on fairytales and Disney movies, I always thought the goal was to get married -- meet your prince charming, he'll fall in love with you, you'll fall in love with him and he will step up to the plate and get things done.

Reality has proved otherwise.

Should I date in order to find my future husband, or to find someone for that moment? Should I just accept that any relationships could just be short term and not turn into anything but what they are at the moment? So, what's the point of getting into a relationship? Companionship? To be honest, I am DYING to go out on a date with a grown-up that I find interesting and likewise, I am so ready to meet a man who wants to treat me right.

A friend, a support system, a sympathetic ear, a sports partner, a companion, a person to share my stories with? I think, more than anything, I'm seeking a partner that I feel like I can accomplish things with, that I can grow with, that I am in sync with. With Bozo, I was constantly fighting ... himself, myself, our circumstances ... relationships shouldn't be that difficult. Yes, hard, but not where I'm afraid to speak my mind, not where I automatically flinch if he looks at me with a certain glint in his eye.

No, I don't NEED a man to save me or rescue me, but I do very much want to have a healthy relationship with a man, one that would wash away my cynicism, and show me that such things DO exist and are possible for me. I think somewhere, deep inside, I managed to convince myself that I don't deserve a healthy relationship. I need to change that.

I'm really just very confused.

Wise Words

Thanks to T, an amazing single mom blogger, I discovered this quote:

"If you want to live a happy life, tie it to a goal, not to people or things." ~ Albert Einstein

It was just what I needed to read, and I think it's something that a lot of people in the healing process from relationships, families, jobs, life, whatever need to read.

It's making me think - What ARE my goals at this moment? I don't believe in making 5 year/10 year goals, because life changes so quickly, but for the forseeable future, here are the things I would like to accomplish:

1. Improve my photography skills and actually read my camera's manual.

2. Get a big chunk of school work done, with the assistance of 2 helpers (ahem, ahem, ahem).

3. Keep pounding pavements - send out my res. every day.

4. Keep up my exercise - weights and long walks.

5. Take Baby to the beach once a week.

6. Refinance my car, see if I can refinance my student loan.

What are your goals?

Today's message from the universe

A wise one, indeed:

There will always be people in your life who hold you back, who cost you too much, and who fail to see all you've done for them. But, of course, they're just there to teach you that you do have time, that you'll always be rich, and that your own high standards are all that matter.

Dear people, please come buy my junk

It 'sTuesday, and I'm already sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo excited about the weekend. Yes, I know I'm never not excited about the weekend, but this coming one promises to be better than ever because of a neighborhood yard sale I'm participating in is happening this Saturday.

Once a year, exMIL's neighborhood - which is just 5 minutes up the street from me - has a huge yard sale, bringing people from far and wide in search of bargains and discarded treasures. Considering my driving tickets are due this coming Monday and I am a couple months behind on some bills (single parent reality check), I am understandably stoked. The last time I participated I was hugely pregnant, ready to get rid of mementos from my baby-free life, and made about $300. Come on big money!

Preparing for this event is requiring me to do something strenuous and difficult -- that is, clean!


Small apartment with minimal storage space means our belongings are stacked, cramped, and crammed anywhere possible. It's a disaster, and most of the cleaning was done to clear a pathway to the acutal closet, where I've been unable to actually walk in, but stick my hand in the dark, feel around, and randomly pull out picture frames, clothes, shoes, and an elf hat with ears on it.


I'm not the most organized person in the world.


You find the funniest things when you clean. As I was ruffling through the closet of doom, I found a couple pieces of my wedding out fit ... the black jacket with the uncomfortable collar I'd bought from Target, because I could use it afterwards for job interviews, and then the gorgeous champagne strappy heels that were comfortable exactly one time - when I tried them on in the store.


When I bought those shoes, they were SO Carrie Bradshaw in Sex and the City to me, and the only thing besides my bouquet that screamed "I'M THE BRIDE." I remember telling an indifferent sales person -- "These are my WEDDING shoes!"Ah, memories.

It's time for them to bring a smile to another woman's face. I hope she falls in love with them.

Letdowns

You know things have to change when your high from a fantastic weekend wears off as soon as you step foot in the workplace, and the light, happy feeling in your heart is replaced by dread and fear.

There are a few people here who I DREAD having to interact with, because they're guaranteed to make a couple grey hairs pop up immediately. I just don't understand how people can live with such poison in their hearts.

Toxic. That is what this is.

Off to push more pencils and pound more pavements.

A day in the life

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Why I left in the first place

So, picture it -- you're sitting in a Starbucks, journaling, getting some reading in ... maybe a trashy tabloid ... ah, those were the single days of yore ... and a middle-aged guy comes up to talk to you, striking an easy conversation.


Oh wow, you think, a new friend. Could he even be hitting on me? Yay! i'll get to enjoy the experience of rejecting a suitor!


You smile, nod at the appropriate places, ask questions about him ... and then ...


Out comes a laminated flip chart. 'you know," he says, turning the conversation, "Bill Gates said Quixtar will be the biggest company in just a matter of time. "


Boom.


Picture that happening every where you turn. Not just at Starbucks, but at work, at the mall, at the auto repair shop. Sell, sell, sell, sell, sell, sell, sell. No one wants to be your friend, they want to sell you something. What can you do for them? What can they leech out of you? That was Northern California 7 years ago. Exhausting.

Enough was enough, and I had to go, had to explore new ventures, had to be in a place where I might actually meet a man (SO hard to do up north), might find my dream job, my dream everything, even though I didn't really know what those were. And also, Radio Man was moving in to town, to start his tv show ... I didn't think I could handle seeing his face on tv, on billboards, on everything and anything.

And so, I moved, experienced the most shocking homesickness, endured bad roomates, made new friends, moved on. And no one has ever asked me to join Quixtar, Mary Kay, or even Scientology, since.

Minor miracle.

You wanna know what happiness is?

This ...

Single Mom Seeks Vacation

After years and years and years and YEARS of saying it, I do believe this is the summer I'm not just going to say it, but DO IT. Take a vacation, that is, a break from the ordinary and a trip to my past.

It seems odd, but it's been 3 years since I last took a proper vacation, which was a 3 day getaway to SF for a friend's wedding. Short and sweet, it was a nice break and a nice time for me to unveil my newly svelte self to my high school friends.

Looking at some old pictures, some from just a few months ago, I hardly recognize myself anymore. My old self that cared about self-preservation has been replaced by a frizzy ponytailed, sad, dark under-eyed stranger, self-esteem in the shitter. Who am I right now? A mere shell of my former self.

I used to laugh a lot more. I used to enjoy being silly. I miss that person. So much.

It's time to go back ... money ... who cares. I'm going to visit my hometown and SF and it's going to be fabulous and just what I need. I won't have to worry about paying for a hotel, or food, most likely, just gas for my car. It will be just what I need.

For REALS.

The simple truth is ... I miss my hometown something awful. I so desperately need to go back to welcoming arms, to old friends who will be geniuinely happy to see me again and meet my son. Thinking of seeing old familiar faces is bringing tears to my eyes. Through the years and distance, these people are STILL my friends, still sending emails and calling and being there.

After all, I've missed seeing these hills. They will be brown and dry when I get there, but I'll take a drive through the backroads, visit the fruit stands, and enjoy what I couldn't wait to get away from almost seven years ago, now.

Via, Flickr.

Well, that would make things make sense

Although I'm not a medical professional, I've long suspected both Bozo and his father (Bozo Sr.) reside somewhere along the autism spectrum. Sounds odd for me to claim that, but having spent time around them and long-suffering because of their social awkwardness, they both display characteristics that lead me to believe there's something larger going on.

They're both brilliant in certain subjects -- Sr. in math, Jr. in languages -- but on the emotional side, less than stellar.

If they do indeed fall somewhere on the autism spectrum, it would make certain things make so much sense and explain why they just can't relate to most people. Neither have that many friends, and new friends they do manage tgo aren't often long-lasting. With Bozo, I've seen him do certain things and act in ways that have me convinced this is the answer.

It kind of makes me feel better about things -- it's not that he's inherently evil, he's just incapable of acting in a "normal" (relatively speaking) way, and unfortunately, that cannot sustain a relationship. It makes me feel not so angry at him anymore.

We haven't seen each other lately, just in brief as I'm picking Baby up on visitation days. It's the strangest thing, though. I look at him, and it's like I'm seeing a complete stranger. He doesn't figure into my life anymore, and I can't remember how he ever did. How were we when things were good? I don't really know, anymore.

This place where I'm at right now? In the side of self-awareness and higher self-esteem? It's a good place to be.

Today's awesome photo of the day

Via here.

File this under SCARY

Ok, so, after reading this update and doing my research, I am never letting Baby out of the apartment again!

My friend posted this on her FB page last night:

I'm freakin out!! 2wks ago I took my kids 2Chuck Ramsey park in R.B. off of Flagler/Beryl St. My Dad n Stepmom were with us. We were watching the kids play/ having lunch. My Dad noticed this funny looking guy by the bathrooms playing an accordion. He knew this man was up 2 no good and became disgusted. Said, "look at this guy trying 2lure children into the bathroom. 2day, I saw this mans face on Megan's law website!!

Curious as to what I would find, I went to the Megan's Law website and did a search on my neighborhood, and found that a sex offender who has raped children under the age of 14 lives a mere 131 feet away from me.

This is so not cool.

I'm just a mom with a camera

That last post ...

... is why I need to go to the beach more often.

Less haterade, more Baby cuddle time needed.

It's my blog

... so I'm going to have a whine-fest. Bring the cheese and crackers.

I hate sitting next to the men's restroom.

I hate sitting next to the men's restroom.

I hate sitting next to the men's restroom.

I hate that I've mentioned this hate numerous times to management, and it is promptly ignored, even though there is PLENTY empty cubicle space.

I hate sitting next to someone with Tourette's. Seriously, it's killing me.

I hate that I'm not taken seriously.

I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I HATE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Whining for the day has commenced.

Thanks for listening.

Would you call it karma?

In the last few days, I've been hearing about some interesting updates to a few situations.

- Neighbor who just declared bankruptcy & moved to NY -- the company that unfairly fired her 2 years ago and told her she couldn't sue them because they had better lawyers and would win anyway (for reals) declared bankruptcy themselves the day before she was scheduled to fly out.

- The fancy schmancy Beverly Hills department store I worked at 3 years ago is handing out pink slips left and right. They weren't the best employers, was a very hostile work environment. They let people bring DOGS in there, and some fool brought in their pet wolf one time. Truth is stranger than fiction.

- At my current company, one of the publishers who was notoriously evil to her admin and pushed her out last year is now assistant-less. Sales have been in the dumps for a long time and it's just not in their budget. Some may call it the economy, I say it's all due to not treating your admin's right.

It's interesting how some things happen.

In the moment

It was one of those moments I deeply lamented not having my camera with me. The setup was absolutely perfect for some beautiful photos of Baby and our surroundings. And you know how much I love taking pictures of Baby.

Last night, needing a break from the ordinary, I took Baby to In-n-Out for dinner after picking him up from his dad's and on a whim decided to make the short trip down to the beach for a walk. Sure, I was still in my work clothes and I'm still sick, but the timing was perfect. It would be 7 pm by the time we got there and the weather was decent and even though Baby was wearing his "lounge wear" (pj pants set), he could wear my cardigan to keep warm.

Totally worth the trip.

Looking like a ghost clod in a black sweater, Baby and I headed for the sands and chased around some birds for a good half hour, played in the sand, and had some quality cuddle time. Bliss, just bliss.

I saw his toddler features set against the white sands and golden sunset, and in that time and space, all was right with the world. He was happy, I was happy and neither of us had a single care. I didn't even care that our stroller, which I had dragged partway into the sand from the walkway, was a good chunk of a mile from us.


For the longest time, my life has felt like the same old same old ... I wake up, go to work, feel stressed the entire day, rush to pick up baby or drive and feel stressed that entire time, come home, put on Elmo, try to clean, try to cook, try to put Baby to sleep, try to get stuff done, collapse into bed.

It can get to be a little much. Stress overload. Big time.

Even though I don't have photos of my evening jaunt, I'll hold the memory of Baby's shining face in my heart, think back on that perfect time years from now when he's a teenager who's driving me crazy.

We all need more of those out-of-the-ordinary moments, whether that means taking a different route to work, taking a break in the work day, or even just shaking up your home time routine. I figure, why not enjoy what we have right in front of us?

Life happens in those little moments.

I know I have a problem

... yes, an addiction to photography, because there is this one local photographer I have on my Google Reader, and everytime a new blog post comes up, I check it immediately, and gasp in horror at his terrible photo editing skills.

Seriously, his work is true crap in comparison to the mileu of talented wedding/lifestyle photographers in Southern California. It just bothers me SO MUCH, and I can't understand why he's in such demand. I guess different people have different needs and tastes when it comes down to it.

Doing a quick google search of his company, apparently they don't get the greatest reviews ... slow service, arrogant attitude ... so at least I know it's not just me thinking this.

Ok, a secret confession -- I love to Google names of people and addresses from my past, just to see if there are any negative reviews about them. Horrible, I know. BAD! But, I will admit to getting a major amount of enjoyment over seeing Radio Man bashed on Yelp. Muaahahahahaha.

Baby and the case of the disappearing bedtime

It's been almost 17 months since I've been a single mother, and as much as I love being a single mother, there is one time period that makes solo parenting suck big time. That time you ask? When the single parent in question is sick.

Considering that no one is nearby to help out, it's even a little bit worse to feel like you've been drug up from the depths of the underworld and run after your very active child at the same time. Which is even worse because your very active child is the one who gave you a cold that can almost be described as radioactive in the first place.

This cold slammed into me like a mack truck over the last couple days; I felt the initial throat twinge on Saturday, felt it develop into a big time sore throat yesterday, and throughout Monday it morphed into the most painful chest cold. Wasn't very smart of me to take a 1 mile walk through the park during lunch - my lungs were on FIRE!

The good news is that this is a. fast-moving bug. Baby is already fine and I actually feel so much better than when I left work on Monday afternoon. I just need a hot shower and a humidfier tonight and I'll feel much better, for sure.

The thing that's making this cold so hard on me is that in the last few weeks, my child went from being a decent sleeper to the complete opposite, getting progressively worse until he fell asleep at midnight yesterday.

It's currently 11 pm on Monday as I'm writing this, and his hands are on top of mine, typing along with me. Not sleeping. Fully alert. Won't go to sleep for a while, huh? Actually, he just yawned, but I'm not buying it! He is a world class psycher-outer. Stinker!

The changing bedtimes is tiring me out ... in a way, I don't blame him, since he has a total of 3 location changes during the normal week (exMIL's, my mom's, my place) and all that moving around can't be easy on his little system. But then, he was always fine BEFORE just recently.

Kid, I need my beauty sleep!

Typical evening: he whines for evening bottle about 9 pm, which isn't totally abnormal. He jumps on our shared bed, bats around the drapes, and fools me into thinking he's done for the night. That is, until, he realizes I've given him the GREEN binky, which is apparently the worst and most disgusting color for a binky EVER. I grab the blue binky, his preferred color (he doesn't whine about the back up purple and pink ones ... go figure), and I lie next to him, thinking he's going to sleep and that I'll get a quick catnap in.

A couple minutes go by, he's relaxing, and then:

"Goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. IIIIIIIIII gooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. GO! GO! GO! Goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo."

Where he wants to go, I have no clue, but this kid is CONSTANTLY wanting to go places.

Sigh.

"Baby! Let's go nighty night!" By this point, he's wriggled his way out of bed, and is on to his next adventure, while I lag behind and mourn my continual exhaustion.

This scene? Repeats up to two more times, until we have magic, which is usually precipitated by a crying fit.

I am at a loss as to what to do. I've tried EVERYTHING, and he just wants to do his own thing.

Which is why I don't feel ashamed for just consuming half a jar of Nutella and some Beligian crisps from Trader Joe's. Feed a cold, right?

Facebook, Schmacebook, Guilt Trip

Reconnecting on Facebook has it's ups and downs.

Ups -- "seeing" people you thought were best left for dead, because how else would you ever get in contact with them? Best friends from years past, relatives, former love interests.

Downs -- "seeing" former love interests and their spouses/significant others; seeing how much more successful than you some of your friends are.

Guilt trip: Doing an informal survey of my childhood friends, a LARGE portion of them are healthcare providers -- doctors, psychiatrists, therapists, opthalmologists, dentists, pharmcists.

I, obviously, am none of those.

And I would never want to be.

And yet ... I don't want to struggle to make a living anymore.

Did I go wrong somewhere along the way? Or somewhere terribly right?

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When you go to sleep at 1:30 am, and your child fusses through the night before finally waking at 5 am, you realize single parenting isn't for sissies. Neither is it when he has his favorite word on repeat while you're attempting to but him to sleep and you're semi-napping: "Go, go, go, go, goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo, go, go, go, go, gooooooooooooooooooooooooo." Nor it is when it's 11:30 pm, you have a zillion things to do, and your child - who's sleep schedule was terribly thrown of - is running around and running you crazy.

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I feel all kinds of anxious about going to work tomorrow. My boss doesn't want me there. As a result, I don't want to be there. I'm itching to walk out those doors forever. But I can't.

When all of this is said and done ... I do believe I will be immensley happier ... I mean, really, weird company. I thought that at the beginning, learned to live with the weirdness, forgot that it really is weird, and now am remembering that it is, in fact a very strange company. And that's ok.

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After retreating for the last couple weeks, crazy neighbor is back at it. Sigh. I don't even want to get into it, but spent an hour on the phone with my clueless landlord, who never took care of the situation, as promised, two weeks ago. So over this. ----
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My neighbor and friend left for good on Saturday, and her generosity brought me to tears. She is truly one in a million ... a mensch, as her people would say. She reminded me that I am so tremendously blessed. Even though my life isn't ideal at the moment, it is FILLED with good things, and on top of that, both me and my son have our health.

What I've learned is that even though I don't have the job/house/man/life I dream about, there is something to be said about having things to aspire to ... the big dreams we have that keep us going.