sight isn't always necessary

Not a good mother

2012-01-15T21:39:00.001-05:00

I have resigned to sitting in the bathroom with the fan on to get away from my children tonight. Craig keeps on getting home exceptionally late, which leaves me to deal with these kids all day and all night, and having started this weekend with a 30 hour stretch of being awake, I am tired of everything at this point. I'm not "PMSing", this isn't hormones getting in the way of clear thought. This is just exhaustion. And I'm pretty sure that I'm a horrible mother, so even when I try to do things right I know in the back of my mind that I can't, I'm not cut out for this in the first place. Oh, sure, I can put on a happy smile and make a cute cake for a birthday and play tag once in a while and my kids seem to like it. But in the hard times, when i've asked for something again for the 15th time, when all I want is alone time and Connor won't stay in his room, its in these times that I know I'm no good. I hate myself in those times, because I have no self control over my words, and sometimes it is literally shaking me how hard I'm trying to control my actions. All I want to do is swear and kick stuff, and I don't think that's a good way for a mom to be. I've bought books an how to do this, I was a child myself so I have a little experience with how to raise a kid, but I'm beginning to think that a part of a person has to actually be skilled in this, and its a skill I completely lack.

Crazy

2012-01-04T03:42:00.001-05:00

So, I'm here at work, trying to figure out how in the world I manage to always get screwed in everything I do. Why do I go from place to place in this life, wondering how people could be so crappy, but always going back to trusting that they will "come around", be decent, have a heart? Even in nursing, maybe especially here, people are so much more out for themselves, doing little to help coworkers, doing little to help patients. Complaining about requests for pain medication, unabashedly taking a break, then another, without concern for assisting anyone else. I watch this all in total amazement. Can it be? Did I give up a high paying job as a programmer, incur a ton of debt, wreak havoc on my family, all for this stupid license that screams, "SHIT ON ME! I PROBABLY WILL LIKE IT! "
NEED A DAY OFF.

Ruining the first post of the year

2012-01-01T04:47:00.000-05:00

I probably should write about something prolific and deep, but instead this will be just a quick post, commenting on one of the first things to annoy me in the new year. I'm only mildly annoyed, maybe even more entertained than annoyed because the specific topic of interest made me want to write a little. You see, I'm not on Facebook. I was, had a couple hundred friends, and then deleted my account because of how out of control it can get. I can't see how being "friends" with someone on the internet, sharing intimate details about my day-to-day life with these strangers, but then being depressed about no one calling me on my birthday could possibly be a good thing. Plus, Zuckerberg and his cronies have too many secret ways of getting our personal information and using it against us to make themselves money. Though fictional, after watching "The Social Network", I was angry at "the man" and got rid of my account a few days later.

So. Point... where did it go....

Ah. Craig still has an account. Many of his friends were my friends, my family is all still on the network, so every once in a while I log on to his account to see if anything interesting is going on. And dude, this is the kind of crap I see - four or five people had written prayers to God for a healthy, prosperous, and whatever new year. They wrote these prayers to God as their status messages. AS IF, in his infinite greatness, God can pay attention to every living thing on Earth... and check everyone's Facebook status for some more details.

I didn't miss out much when I deleted that account. Guess if we have some huge revolution here in the states, I may be at a disadvantage because I'm not all socially connected. Otherwise, I'll live without.

Resolution

2011-12-30T10:05:00.000-05:00

I hate New Years resolutions, mostly because they're always a distant memory by about 2 weeks after the ball drops. What's the point in dedicating yourself to a life-altering commitment when you're just going to feel guilty about not following through, then end up eating a quarter of a cake to get over your guilt? Not for me, suckers.

But I do want to make a change this year, and it's related to this here blog-thingy. I'm depressed. I'm constantly searching for something better and it's a futile search, plus my half-assed attempt usually fails me and I'm left with a feeling of emptiness, loneliness. Makes no sense, does it? I'm married to a wonderful husband, have two amazing children, a ridiculously loving smelly dog (ridiculous because we call him names all the time, because he smells bad), have a few good friends, really great parents that are still alive and healthy... what sense is there in being lonely? It's just me, it's just the way I am, and feeling bad about it all the time is one of the things that I continue to do really well, for my entire life. I've perfected self-doubt.

So here's my resolution - blogging therapy. For myself. I want to write a post a week this year, to put in print what is in my heart, and hopefully open up some space in there for things like:

Happiness

Confidence

Motivation

Laughter

Nag me when it's getting close to two weeks apart on a post, because you know I'll feel like a failure if I don't follow through on my resolution. Then I'll eat cake, then I'll be mad that I devoured so many carbs, then I'll be mad that Craig watched me eating cake while he nibbled away at celery and peanut butter in his uber-perfection with a low carb diet, then I'll be mad at him for being so perfect, then I'll go run on the treadmill for too long so I hurt my hip or knee or ankle...

The list goes on. Better to just nag me.

Why am I invisible?

2011-10-05T15:57:00.000-04:00

So, I'm working a 16 hour shift tonight, and its not too busy, which has given me a lot of time to stew on things. Mostly to mope about myself, even though I have little to mope about. But I'm sitting here, working with one of my so-called friends, who happens to be having an hour long conversation with someone from another floor. I've passed by countless times and never even had a smile from either of them pass my way, so I'm left to wonder if there's any chance that I have become invisible. It has happened in the past, I think, so its definitely possible. Whenever this happens, too, I don't respond the right way. Someone else may just jump into conversations when they're not invited, but I'm way too introverted to try that. So I just stew on feeling angry for being ignored. Maybe it'll carry me through to the morning.

Winded

2011-09-15T17:30:00.000-04:00

I haven't been able to pause and wonder about my life for a long time - this week has given me that. The scary thing is that I'm not so sure that where I am is where I want to be. That includes children and husband - I'm just not sure I'm satisfied with it all. I know it's selfish and terrible. I also know it's wholly allowed across our culture, not even a wince or a scowl from so much of the population when selfish people do selfish things - how many movie stars and football players missed a child's first step because of something "really important"? A special game? A million dollar movie? Whatever. My point is that I'm here now, a nurse, working for people that have no interest in seeing me succeed or fail - I could wash away into the background and they'd never notice. I'm 31, and I can run 5 miles in less than 45 minutes. I have a degree in math, political science, and nursing. I served my country. I set a world record once. I am not to be passed off, brushed aside, inquired about at a later time. My point is that I'm tired of where I am, and I know that certain people in my life will be so upset that I'm never satisfied, but why would I change who I am now, when it's never really hurt me or anyone I love thus far?

How to get out of this mess?

How to wander somewhere more... appreciative?

I wish there were a Wizard of Oz. I'd contact him right now.

Muse

2011-09-14T18:27:00.000-04:00

I'm listening to Muse right now, because ever since I heard "Uprising" the other day on the radio, I've been feeling inspired. Especially working for a government agency, the idea of an uprising, or drastic change, is ever more appealing to me. It's all just a wild idea in my head though, and nothing I would or could ever act on. Just got a good song in my head, which ignites a good feeling in my heart, and I'm inspired to write.

I've worked my butt off lately, literally and figuratively. I've been working 3-4 days in a row, week after week, since February when I started my new job. I called in sick one day, and truthfully considering the fact that I have two young children, one call-in for seven months has got to be a record. Anyway, this week I had three days off, what they like to call "Vacation", I guess, but I have coworkers that get seven days off in a row repeatedly, and never need to take a single day of vacation. Regardless of the disparity in scheduling, this week has rocked. I've done nothing relaxing, just things that have sat and waited patiently for my time for months and months. I'm ripping plants up. I painted Connor's room and reorganized things. I'm in the midst of throwing half of the toys we have in the house away. Actually I'm pretending that I'm going to have a garage sale, but I don't have the patience for it. I'm just going to drive up to the hospital and donate a ton of stuff. None of it is crap, but all of it hasn't been touched by a child's hands in a long long time. I've been running every day, 3-4 miles at a time, and at a pretty quick pace too. I feel good! I'm not exactly enjoying my time at the VA right now, and except for the patience and love of the amazing vets that I take care of, this mini "vacation" of super-productivity is the only thing getting me by. Connor makes me nuts, Elly gets a kick out of copying him (and thus, Elly makes me nuts), Craig is so obsessed with himself and his diet that it's hard to say if we have anything going on lately, and I wish I were still in school. Thank goodness for painting walls.

Maybe I should quit this and get into painting. It was fun, at least.

Things to do

2011-05-18T17:46:00.000-04:00

Craig's parents were asking us on Skype this morning about suggestions for what to do today. Craig's uncle and aunt are in town from Oklahoma, and his grandfather is getting pretty old too, so they wanted to spend some quality time together while they were in town. Craig suggested that they go to the Detroit Institute of Arts, because it's a great art gallery and there always is a lot to see there.

Craig's mom literally said this, word for word: "Eew, no, that place has too much black stuff."

Ugh. These are my in-laws. My tolerance for that kind of ignorance is SO low.

Mother's Day Present

2011-04-28T12:29:00.000-04:00

Today Craig said he got me a Mother's Day present, and he wanted to know if I wanted it now or later. It's several weeks away, so I said I'd wait, unless I get something on Mother's Day too... and he called me "Connor" and left the room. So now I'm curious, and apparently Craig knew what that would lead to. Elly is the easiest target in this quest to determine what he bought me, because she inevitably went with him to buy the gift. She happened to be sitting on the toilet, and Craig went outside to get the garbage cans, so my moment had arrived - I went into the bathroom to ask Elly what they bought for mommy today. Do you know what she said?

"Boogers and farts."

Craig trained her. So unfair.

S & M

2010-10-22T19:45:00.000-04:00

Let's see how many hits I can get with that title.

Ok, so recently, I spent a ton of time reading the Twilight series instead of reading the crap I have to read for school. And the stuff for school is not crap, it's just that I have a hard time focusing on anything as of late, and it was something that kept my attention better than nursing policy, pathophysiology, or nursing behavioral theory, so I stuck with it. I'd read it when "supposedly" studying for the NCLEX, I'd read it when putting my children to bed, I'd read it when I arrived at school early and had a few minutes to kill. It's not that the series was so amazing, because it wasn't. It's that it gave me temporary reprieve from my life, and without harming any of my loved ones, that's something I crave frequently. I can now see why Mom (with a capital M) reads a lot.

Now I'm done with the series, but the emotion and warmth ignited within the series still heats some secret side of me, so I searched for some kind of vampire crappy love story to fill the void. In my search, I decided to find Anne Rice novels, because I know that mom used to read her constantly, and I also was really enamored by the Interview With A Vampire movie, so I figured it was a good search item.

What I came up with, however, was more than I bargained for.

I'll just say this - if you ever are looking for something interesting, different, and way beyond your imagination (sexual, that is), you can read "The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty", by Anne Rice. Her original novels were under a pen name, but she has since claimed authorship. I finished the book this afternoon, and I'm pretty sure it was the first and last of the series for me. It's not that a bunch of naked spankings, impossible ways to hang humans up by hooks (without hurting them), and crazy sexual acts are not my "thing", it's just that in my personal experience, some of that was impossible. And it was delivered in a way to make it seem like it was possible in the books, which was enticing to say the least, but I like the Twilight modesty right now. Maybe I'll gradually build up to reading the next book of the series.

Read it if you dare. You'll know if it was worth it by... page 3. If you get to the line "And then her blue eyes opened", and you dare to read further, you're brave. And crazy.

Both of which, apparently, I am.

Clarity

2010-06-18T06:36:00.000-04:00

Sometimes it's helpful, just to stay sane, to write things down. I have a personal journal that I recently purchased to help me in getting these thoughts on paper whenever I need to expunge my brain. Right now my fingernails are too long and holding a pen is irritating, so I'm writing shit down here.

A bipolar girl told me about journaling. She said it saved her life. Maybe it'll save mine.

Pretty soon I'm going to have my eyes checked for possibly getting LASIK surgery, and then my "blindlizzie" title will be obsolete.

I have so much work to do. I'm going to write again, maybe not here, but at least I took a 10 minute break for mental health.

Thoughts about death

2010-04-15T05:35:00.000-04:00

I'm currently in my "complex care" portion of nursing school, and thus my clinical experience is in critical care areas where patients are extremely sick. Most of my patients have been on ventilators, or had central lines, or have been comatose due to brain ischemia or infarct. Only some of those patients are on pain medications; though pain is a known phenomenon of being ill, if a patient cannot describe their pain, especially with the lower quality nurses I've observed, pain is not treated. Even more heartbreaking is the fact that when families are not present, patients in these states of dying are often ignored completely except for scheduled "maintenance", i.e. giving medications, turning them every two hours, cleaning wounds and changing dressings. The most compassionate person I have met is the medical assistant that bathes the patients; she is rough with everyone, but it is a necessary roughness (it takes a lot of strength to move a person alone). She takes the bottles and cans from nursing staff on the unit, turns them in for money, and buys specialty soaps and lotions for the patients on the floor. Most of the time when you visit the hospital, the smell is of sterility and excrement, but in the area I am working in, there frequently is an undertone of pleasant coconut, cucumber melon, or clean smelling soap.

I find it so depressing, so disheartening, that this field of nursing is supposedly so compassionate, but because we're so overwhelmed with all of the medical necessity, we tend to let the love of people go by the wayside. Because I have no responsibility yet, because I am not yet licensed, I often go stand by a patient's bedside and just hold their hand. They usually don't hold my hand back. I've cried, and I try to hide it because I feel so weak that I can't handle death well.

Am I not ready for this?

Potty Rules

2010-04-05T19:32:00.000-04:00

I was in the bathroom at the School of Nursing today, and I'm ashamed to admit it, but I tooted.

In the bathroom. Which is... where you're supposed to toot.

So, I wasn't even a little embarrassed about tooting at that point. I peed, tooted, wiped, left. For all of you that are men, this is normal procedure for women in the potty. Normal. Believe it or not, sometimes we toot. My toot happened to be silent, fairly benign (or so I thought), and I shrugged it off as normal toilet procedure.

Then I'm at the sink, innocently washing my hands. Another girl was in the stall next to me, doing her thing, and she joined me at the sink to wash her hands. She was, as I was, acutely aware of which stall either of us had used, because the bathroom in question had only two stalls. A third girl walks in, just as I'm grabbing the paper towel to finish my toileting experience. She walks in to my stall, the one I had just been in, and says, "Ooh! Stinky stinky!", and walks out to use the other stall.

Devastating, that was. Insulting and frustrating and humiliating. I mean, all I did was toot! And my sense of smell is coming back since my wintertime illnesses, so I don't think I made the bathroom rank! I said something sheepish, like "Oh, yeah, it is a little gross in here today", but I'm pretty sure the whole situation called to attention that Liz Beckman has icky toots.

So here's the rule. Men - you may ignore this rule and go back to your own rules of never looking at and assessing the length of anyone's penises while you're peeing (as I understand it, that is also an icky and freakish habit). I'm sure gas-passing is a little more celebrated in a men's bathroom, so do congratulate each other if necessary. Women, however, pay close attention. If a restroom stall is smelly when you walk in, especially if you're in nursing school and are expected to be able to handle it, just pee and get over it. Announcing your issues with smell is strictly prohibited, especially if there are people at the sink washing their hands. Most people don't enter restrooms unless they have to 1) do their business, or 2) wash their hands. These said people should be able to accomplish their tasks guilt-free, even if those tasks involve a tiny toot.

Thank you. Enjoy your day.

- Liz

Weird

2010-02-13T12:34:00.000-05:00

I'm trying to study. I have a big test on Tuesday, I never get a chance to study, and today Craig took the day off... so I'm in the library "studying". But it's so boring! So in preparation for my evening tonight with the fam, I googled "fun evening family games". Y'know what's really weird? Every single site that came up on the first page of the initial search was some religious site. Most of them, in fact, were for the LDS church. Does that mean that if you're looking for fun games to play with the family in the evening, you have to be some religious nut? Families like mine, with few religious beliefs (we're quite moral, we just don't pin ourselves down to one faith), are supposed to go out and party or shop or participate in some other heathen activity? I just wanted some ideas for normal things to do, besides our evening dance party/jump on the couchfest.

The idea of playing "10 Commandment Hopscotch", "Pin-the-tag on the missionary", or "Scripture Chase" makes me gag. Are these people for real?

Lost

2009-12-30T18:27:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve (didn't you know?) I'm trying hard not to hold on to past years' fantasies with the day; a passionate kiss underneath a lit holiday display, an exciting party with friends I know, an intimate moment with my husband. I'm dreading tomorrow though, because I know that this is what it'll be: Craig's parents will arrive with extreme excitement and noisiness, thus waking Elly and Connor up beyond calming, and we'll stress over getting them relaxed for a good hour and a half. Then I'll quickly make ourselves presentable and we'll leave, with me freaking out hoping a cigarette will appear in my hands the whole drive to his coworker's house.

Arrival, quick drinks, drunkness, departure. Nothing in between will matter worth shit.

Arrival at home. Screaming baby, kindergardener dozing on grandma's lap on the couch.

Will it be worth it? Probably not. I'm so irritable and indifferent and frustrated lately that it doesn't matter anyway. I'll worry about my sister, her daughter, my son and his relationship with his father, my hesitation at writing any of this. I just want Connor and Ashley to beat certain boards on MarioKart so I can forget that they exist.

Grrrr...

2009-12-07T16:36:00.000-05:00

I am SO sick of... everything. Nursing school is more than difficult sometimes, not because of the classes or the information being studied, but because of the students! I just can't stand being caught up in the hype and craziness of everyone else, but I still find myself scanning Facebook for stupid shit posted by my classmates, as if it's a fatal car wreck and I might catch a glimpse of a mangled body.

Honesty is the best policy?

2009-11-01T10:48:00.000-05:00

I've been wondering about this lately. I've been wondering about it especially because I've been so stressed out that I find myself muttering things under my breath that I dare not let slip out in full force. Then, when I'm talking to myself to console myself on how it's ok that I'm having these feelings, the "other" me tells the stressed out one that I'm just being honest with myself, as if that is an acceptable excuse.

Is honesty that useful if it hurts the people closest to me? Is it beneficial to be standoffish to my husband just because I'm bored or stressed or his beard is bothering me, or should I ditch the honesty and fabricate a carefree "me", willing to drop all television programs and late-night studying for some good one-on-one time with my husband of almost ten years? Maybe if I was able to lie to myself more often, I could get more frequent "relief" of stress. In bed, that is.

Maybe I should stop being honest with myself. Maybe all of this internal honesty is just the easiest coping mechanism, much easier than actually trying to relax or trying to prioritize or trying to be more efficient. Instead of making excuses for myself, I probably should try to change some of these behaviors and habits I have developed.

I should work on school related items, for instance, when I finally have a few hours alone because Craig took the kids to the museum. I should complete some assignments, and maybe even study, rather than post on my blog.

The beginning of madness

2009-09-08T17:03:00.000-04:00

Not only is tomorrow the first day of full-day Kindergarten for our first little kid, but it's also the day I have to go into school and get checked off on some skills competencies for nursing school. The day after that is my first full-day lab, and the day after that is my first full-day clinical experience.

It's not that I'm worried I won't be successful, I'm just wondering how I'm going to handle the stress. This week especially has been relaxing and uneventful, and I'm almost wishing it were more hectic to ease me into this lifestyle I've been moving toward; one of rushed dinners and late-night studying. And more. I've deleted about ten different "other" things that my life will include just while writing this post, because each of them seems so dark and dreary, but in fact this is what I've been striving for all this time.

I should be doing a hundred different things; getting binders ready, downloading stuff onto my netbook so it'll be available, putting Connor's lunch together (or at least adding this little note I wrote to him... way cute), reading the hundreds of pages of crap that I need to have read by Thursday.

I'm blogging. Where the heck is my brain?

The meaning of the word

2009-08-04T16:37:00.000-04:00

Fuck.

I use this word abundantly, and so for me, the brashness of the word is lost a little. I try hard not to, but I use it around my kids all the time, too. I'm a lot better about not doing it around other children. I know I shouldn't say it around Connor especially, because he's like a little sponge and is likely to use it around his friends at school, but if it's a little mistake I make in parenting than I'm willing to live with the consequences. He knows I love him, he's well fed and happy, and if his mommy has a dirty mouth it's a pretty minor offense, in my opinion.

As far as it goes for this blog, I use the word constantly and without care. I also use this blog constantly and without fearing the repercussions of what I write. The reason? It's stream-of-consciousness writing that helps me to diffuse myself before I explode on someone I love. If I explode on my keyboard, the only thing that could happen is I break it, and have to spring another $30 for a new one. If I explode toward Craig for a simple thing like buying Lunchables, I'm risking creating a rift in my marriage that cannot be mended, and that's a risk I'm not willing to take (usually). So I explode here.

Emotions aren't meant to be held in. I let them out freely and honestly because I don't want to become something I'm not; I don't want to put on a happy face just to please the masses when it doesn't please me. I'm not an unhappy person, and this blog is what helps me to BE a happy person. Really, if I can get rid of negativity by putting it in print, isn't that a good thing?

I've been stressed lately. Isn't that probably always the case in life? But very recently, my stress levels have been elevated, so my entries here have been exceptionally angry and frustrated. I'll get through it. This too shall pass.

I was making cookies with Connor yesterday and he was making me crazy, so I was yelling at him and moving stuff around frustratedly, when he looked up at me with his big blue eyes and said, "Mommy, sometimes you just need to relax."

Bam.

I did.

Wouldn't it be nice?

2009-08-02T18:16:00.000-04:00

If I weren't always so pissed off?

Today has been hard. I don't even know why - probably unseen stress in my life. Maybe it's the fact that I have two fucking days to take a final exam, which is comprehensive by the way, and absolutely no time to study for it? Yeah, that could be it. I was going crazy this morning with my kids, so I took them to the beach. I figured the half hour drive there and back might give me a whole one hour of fucking rest all day, so I packed up a little lunch and hit the road. I was irritated at the beach but at least there was sand and sun, so I managed. The rest of the afternoon was uneventful. I put both of the kids to bed, and Elly has been up a bunch of times at least screaming her head off since I put her down. The first eight times she cried, I was the only one here to calm her down because Craig was out getting the groceries we needed so badly. Now he's home, and he's been up there two or three times, one of which ended in him bringing her downstairs so that I could feed her. After I fed her, I took her up to lay down again, and she was sleeping when I left the room until my foot hit the top stair, when she started screaming again. I gave up and Craig went upstairs to console her, so I walked down to the groceries to help put them away and check out what he bought. Right now I'm so mad right I could cry, or rip out my own hair, or at least kick a dog. So instead, I'm sitting downstairs blogging.

Here's why I am mad, and you may laugh, and maybe some day I will too, but for this exact moment, I'm steaming. I don't try to freak out too much about Connor's food; I've really tried to be relaxed (ha!) about what we do, within reason. I want him to have vegetables and fruit at least once a day. I like him to have a "healthy" snack once in a while, rather than just cookies and shit all the time. I'll buy McDonald's on occasion, because kids seem to like that crap.

I suggested to Craig the other day, and it must have been completely asinine conversation in his mind because he obviously ignored me, that I wanted to get a little plastic container with dividers in it, so I could cut up pieces of meat and cheese and make a "homemade Lunchables" for Connor's lunches. He's going to camp this week, and I thought it would be cool for him, and it might actually get him to eat food without someone bugging him to take every bite. And seriously, my suggestion was boring conversation really, but it wasn't like I was suggesting something crazy like "I'd like to make homemade sushi for Connor to take to school" or anything - just a simple idea. Boring. Silly.

Craig went to the grocery store tonight and bought 5 little Lunchables kits for Connor's lunches. With pasteurized processed cheese food and everything. Yay for Connor! Here's some garbage for you to eat.

Fucking fuck fuck. That was just for good measure.

Sorry, more venting

2009-07-24T17:42:00.000-04:00

I just can't seem to get enough of venting lately. It's like I'm a pressure cooker gone way past the pressure it can stand, and at any moment I'm going to totally explode. To vent on this blog is to save my sanity, so I write.

We went for a little trip on a train today. It was originally thought up as a "treat" for Connor for not freaking out all the time, but that was scrapped when we went to the doctor for his stomach issues. We still decided to go on the train trip though, and just have a good time traveling via a method we usually don't get much of around here. Michiganders love their cars! Anyway, we took the train into Royal Oak, and because Craig's parents live close by they came out to dinner with us before we caught out train back. The train trip was fun, though Connor forgot his backpack (or I forgot it, but it's easier to blame it on Connor) and was bored the majority of the time, and walking around town for the first 20 minutes or so was fun as well. Then we had to meet Craig's idiot parents. At first I could cope; I just bit my tongue a lot, nibbled at it a bit, holding back little curses from exploding out of my mouth. By the end I was full-out choking on the profanity vomit that I wanted to let fall out of my head. I think I did a good job of looking like a sane functioning person, but inside I was going wacko.

Katelyn, when you had a crush on Craig in the beginning, you really did yourself a favor by introducing him to me. Believe me, this shit with his mother is a serious curse. I'm thinking Tom probably was a better choice for me, at least as far as mother-in-laws go. Your mom likes me. Maybe I still have a chance... Shoot. Who put this ring on my finger!?!

Anyway. Ok, so first Craig's mom stresses that the day is "Connor's big boy day" and it's all going to be about celebrating him. I guess way back when we mentioned a train, Craig said it would maybe be a prize for having a month of good days, not freaking out at night about having a stomachache. He never told his mom that the plan changed, so I guess I'll give her the benefit of doubt.

*slight irritation*

Then we find a restaurant - Monterrey's - and go inside. Elly was asleep in her stroller, the first time she had been sleeping for the entire day, less the 15 minute nap she took driving from our house to Ann Arbor. I guess there's a rule at that restaurant that no strollers are allowed at any table, and whereas I can understand the usefulness of that rule, I did not want to wake Elly up for a stupid meal. The hostess looked down at Elly and noted, "Oh, her eyes are open, I think she's awake." Ugh. So I picked her up and she immediately lay her head on my shoulder, obviously still very sleepy. Craig's mom came up and yelled (because she has but one volume), "Who's my sweet little baby?" Then Craig's dad came up and shook her hand and said something else asinine and loud, and I had a little tiny flip out.

*more irritation*

"Papa! She's still sleepy, I was hoping I could keep her calm for a little while longer before we sit down?" They both looked shocked (all the while they were both totally ignoring Connor), and I explained that she hadn't slept much, and though it's fun to do those things with her, her exhaustion will eventually creep up and I'll be the only one to be able to calm her... nothing gets through though. Bah. By this time her head was up, she was spitting out her pacifier, so I gave up. I handed her to Munga. I called Papa back over (he walked away looking depressed) and told him it was okay.

*feeling like crawling out of body for a while*

We sat down. Craig's mom told a charming story about how some place they walked by down in Royal Oak was "full of homeless people". Then she told another charming story about how all of their idiot friends are gone so (and this was a funny joke, I guess) they were considering calling up some other douchebag friends they used to associate with years ago, but had a falling out with. She mentioned about six times that they are going camping tomorrow and suggested an additional six times that we should visit them while they are camping. I briefly interjected that it's supposed to storm all day tomorrow, and rather than reply to me, she just talked in a baby voice to Connor about how "we'll just snuggle up in the camper then!" Fuck no. "Our doggies, you guys, your doggie, it'll be so much fun!" Fuck, fuck, fuck no. Then she mentioned that one of our old teachers' granddaughter (Mrs. Falucca) fell out of her crib and broke her leg. It was all very stimulating conversation, really.

*chewing violently at inside of cheek, hoping the pain will distract me enough*

Then the food came. Connor ordered a children's Mexican pizza, which was about six inches across. We always have been pretty firm about getting him to eat some good food during every meal, but with Craig's parents I'm willing to make an exception, because it's easier to allow Connor to eat a crappy meal than to deal with their looks and comments about it. They act like I'm some kind of fucking nutcase (which I am, but for different reasons) for wanting my child to eat a vegetable. Anyway, his mom really stepped on my authority right away, because she told Connor that he only had to eat a QUARTER of it. That is literally ONE BITE for Craig, maybe two bites for me. Tiny. A snack. That stupid fucking bitch. Uggggghhhhhhh.

*chewing my face now more than I'm chewing my food*

Finally I had enough. I got up to take Elly to the bathroom to feed her, and Connor needed to go to the restroom too so he and Craig stood up to go with me. They got back to the table well before Elly and I did, and I guess Craig did tell his mother and Connor that he had to eat more food than just a quarter of the little pizza. His mom is so fucking passive aggressive though, so she's making these little comments to Connor the whole time like, "Okay baby, only these two little more bites, and I know you don't want to but it's just a tiny bit, sorry baby boy!" Like he's suffering. It's a fucking pizza, bitch.

*trying to find a happy place*

We got up to leave finally, and I was a few paces behind everyone exiting the restaurant. When I caught up, Connor help up a huge handful of after-dinner mints, exclaiming, "Look what Munga gave me, mom!" It was about as many pieces of candy as he had bites of dinner. Did anyone know that Connor has been having stomach issues lately? Because I thought it was pretty clear. And the last I heard, a buttload of candy was not the remedy for stomach pain. Craig's mom thinks that eating only 3/4 of her humungous sour cream burrito (barf) was "taking it easy" though. And they didn't take Craig to the doctor when he was 13 for his Crohn's until he was shitting blood (sorry, it's just true).

*can't find mental happy place, so considering going to Noir Leather because I know they won't follow me in*

My venting is almost making me feel better. One last thing. When we went back to the train station, Connor was acting up. I'm sure it was because he was exhausted, but I had to make him sit down to prevent him from hurting himself or Elly; he was just acting crazy. Craig's mother is just SOOOOO passive aggressive - the SECOND I had to discipline him, she says to Craig, "Why don't you let us take him for the night?" Oh yes! Please, take our first-born son! He doesn't need a carseat. All he needs is candy, and your amazing "Munga-love" that you talk so much about! Oh, and scary movies! Please, take him, so that you can let him watch movies like Ghostbusters and Freddie Got Fingered, which are the most child-friendly movies of all time!

(Don't even ask about Freddie Got Fingered; luckily it doesn't actually involve Connor... yet.)

*puked in my mouth a little, swallowed it back down*

Craig firmly said, "Mom, we don't have a carseat." End of story.

I write all of this down, with a little twinge of humor, because I'm trying as hard as I can to cope with my life, but when exposed to those people I have a real problem with everything. I can't talk about it with Craig because he really just sits there and randomly changes the subject, not ever acknowledging that I have done a good job of putting up with that shit again. I can't call my mom and complain because she takes Ann's side, or at least is WAY too sympathetic with Ann, 95% of the time. Nobody else listens long enough. I don't usually talk a ton, but I need some serious decompression time when I deal with my in-laws. This blog is all I've got.

Dreading tomorrow

2009-07-18T18:39:00.000-04:00

Craig's parents are coming over to go to the air show tomorrow, and though I should be studying for a pharmacology exam, instead I'm blogging about how much I dread tomorrow because of those douchebags.

On Mother's day, Craig's mom had a fit because we didn't go to her house to see her. Ahem. Because she's the only mother around.

On July 4th, which unfortunately happens to be my birthday, she and her husband traveled to Indiana for a camping trip. They couldn't get into the campground in the state park near where my parents live, so they were camping somewhere 45 minutes away. We went to Indiana for the 3rd and 4th, and we had to come back on the 5th because Craig had to work. So. We traveled 2 hours on the 3rd with a four year old and an infant, and when we got to Indiana we wanted to relax... which we did. We didn't know where Craig's parents were camping until late that afternoon, actually, when Craig finally talked to them and they insisted that we visit. Craig tried to politely decline. They were disappointed, but didn't sound pissed. They also insisted that we come out the next day (my birthday) because they had a present for me, but Craig said that I really wanted to spend time with my family on my birthday, and we were having a big barbecue, so he invited them to come. They didn't give an answer.

On the fourth, the day began wonderfully. Craig made me an awesome breakfast, which Sandy and Jean came over to share with us, so we had a big feast in the morning. We spent the day playing with toys, going over to Sandy's house to play with the dogs, and getting stuff ready for the barbecue later that day. Craig talked to his mom in the afternoon to see if she was going to come over, but she gave him the lame excuse that she wanted to "let Liz enjoy the day with her family", so they were just going to stay at the campground. Whatever.

Craig bought me a HP Mini for my birthday, and a sweet new stethoscope. Yay! Dinner rocked, and there were pretty cool fireworks that night.

Ok, so July 5th, we had to leave by lunchtime so that we could get home in time for Craig to take a nap to prepare for work that night. He talked to his mom that morning, because she was really hoping to get us to come out to their camper sometime, and they were going to be at the state park that day. Craig told his mom that we had to leave by noon, and she whined that they weren't going to be at the campground until noon, and he basically said "Well, sorry mom, can't do it." She was pissed.

A week later, they were traveling home from their excursion in Indiana and called Craig to see if we could all meet up sometime that afternoon. Craig had to work that night, and Christine was visiting so she and I and the kids were going out to lunch, so it wasn't really an opportune time to visit with the in-laws. Craig told his mom that he had to take a nap for work, but they were more than welcome to stop by for a while if they wanted to. His mom reluctantly agreed, and they hung up the phone.

About 5 minutes later, his mom called back but for some reason Craig didn't answer the phone; I think he was in the bathroom. She left a message and basically said "Oh, forget it, *sniff sniff*, we're not coming. Bye."

I guess the fact that we didn't drop everything in our lives to cater to his psycho mother was too much for her to handle. UGH.

Ok, so LOOOOONNNNNNGGGG story short, we got some tickets to the air show tomorrow. I suggested to Craig that maybe we should ask his parents if they want to hang out, just to smooth things over with them. He thought it was a good idea. But THEN I brewed on how shitty they are a little, and I wanted to take back my suggestion because I can't stand those fuckers, plus I'd rather take Christine and Russell to the air show because they are WAY cooler.

Breathe, Lizzy.

Just a little crazy venting, really. I just hate it that they said yes, and I really want to go see the Blue Angels tomorrow, but at the same time I wish I could be someone else and see the Blue Angels away from my family, because my family will have shithead company, and I don't want to be anywhere near them. Fucking douchebags.

Whoo! That feels better.

Baby sleep

2009-07-16T17:33:00.000-04:00

We have been having problems lately with Elly sleeping. She doesn't go to sleep easily - it's a struggle for both Craig and I - and then she wakes up 3 to 4 times a night on top of that. Most nights I end up taking her into my bed and sleeping next to her, and she's happy to be near me. I already have one child that was terrible about sleep for a long time, and it seems to me that we have another one... and I honestly don't have any idea what to do about it. I am not willing to let her cry it out, even though about thirty people have suggested it. It's just not for me, and that's that.

Ok, so I'm not writing this to get suggestions on what to do, because I'm pretty good at scouring the internet for crap information and I've read it all by now. Seriously - I did a buttload of research with Connor, and another buttload of research for Elly. I'm on research and information overload.

What I'm irritated about with all of this is that in the middle of the night when I'm up with Elly, tired beyond tired and rocking an 8-month old baby, I'm thinking about how other people seemingly have perfect babies and I've been blessed with two poopy sleepers. As if I have the space in my brain to waste thinking about how other people either do or *think* they do have it better than me.

Anyway. A good show is on TV. Gonna watch it.

can't help myself

2009-07-13T17:54:00.000-04:00

I tried to hold it in, but I couldn't mom. You'll probably soon have the chance to tell me "I told you so."

Last night, Elly was up constantly. She went to bed at about 9, but woke up every hour after that, whining and needing her pacifier, and for about two hours beginning at 2am, she was wide awake and irritable. Craig and I were arguing, fighting about who should go in next and why the FUCK wasn't the previous person fixing things, and in the end of the night Craig ended up sleeping on the couch while I lay in the bed trying to calm Elly down for a while. The minute she fell asleep, Connor came into my room, and at that point Craig was dead to the world so he couldn't help with anything. Connor wanted me to fix a bad cramp in his leg, and when I was done I put him back into his bed, found and extra blanket, put Elly into her bed, and was hopeful about getting an hour or so of sleep all alone in my own little bed.

Somehow I woke up with Connor tucked in behind me, and Elly curled up to my chest. My arm was asleep, and I had a bad cramp in my neck.

So, you're telling yourself now, why was Liz mentioning her mother in the beginning of this post? What does she want to tell us that she's been warned to keep to herself?

Here it is. On our family blog the other day, Carole expressed feelings of distress and irritation at the whole parenting thing. She felt "bleh", and I can honestly say I've felt the exact same feeling about a thousand times in the years I have been a mother, and that probably amounts to every single day of my motherhood. It's not to say that I hate being a mother or I hate my children, I just feel crazy at least once every day, and I think mothers that don't admit that are maybe truly crazy.

Ok, so that's not so bad. Carole felt bad, and rightly so because she has a tiny little needy baby that's sucking, literally sucking, the life out of Carole. Sometimes that is a beautiful thing, and sometimes babies are wonderful in their peaceful innocence, but sometimes they scream their little faces off and there's not a damn thing you can do to help them, and you're not so fond of them those times. Parents facing this stress need to know that they are not alone, their resentment and irritation and frustration and anxiety are things that ALL parents feel, and they are not bad people for going down mental roads that they may not have ever expected to come up. These parents need useful tips, they may need to hear them over and over again, things like "Sleep when the baby sleeps" and "Go outside for a breath of fresh air when she's crying" and "Get a bottle of milk ready for nighttime feedings to share the responsibility a little"... these tips may never actually be followed but if they are and if they help, it was worth the tipster sharing the information. When Elly was tiny, Craig and I were struggling every night to stay awake while rocking her to sleep, and I was actually worried that Craig would fall asleep with Elly in his arms and drop her. Mom said to me on the phone, "Move that rocker from her room into your room so you have a place to rest." It was like a miracle - my mind was so frazzled that a simple thing like moving a chair never occured to me until mom said it, and after we did move the chair into our room we both started to get a little more sleep each night. Maybe it wasn't comfortable sleep, but every little bit helped.

Wow, I sure have a knack for rambling.

Ok, so long long long story short, Carole was upset, and Mom and I both wrote little things to her to let her know that we heard her, remembered and felt her stress, and hoped that things would get better. We put our little helpful tips down, just in case maybe they would help.

Then Mari wrote. I've been careful over the years to not upset my older sister, and when I've tried to think of a reason for tiptoeing around her, I can't come up with a good one. I guess it's just fear or something, who knows. But when I read her comment about Carole's feelings of "bleh", I really got irritated. She said, and I quote, that "for inspiration", we should all know that her son sleeps from 9pm to 5am every night.

I've gotta say, it was really not fucking inspirational last night for my sister's words to be going through my head when I was rocking my daughter for the fifteenth time. Carole, I'm sure, does not feel inspired by Mari's perfect baby when her "not-s0-perfect" baby is crying for a boob again after only feeding her less than two hours before. I'm sure that my frustration now and last night is fueled by my exhaustion and the other stressors in my life getting me down, but I don't think it's unwarranted.

Should I post this?

Exhausted

2009-07-02T11:39:00.000-04:00

I really feel emotionally drained and crazy today, so rather than calling everyone I know and giving updates over and over, I'm just going to write this here.

Connor is apparently fine.

We were worried about a multitude of things, and all of the testing didn't help to calm those fears, but after a lengthy discussion with a pediatric gastroenterologist today, it seems like he's maybe just...

constipated?

I don't know. All of the symptoms were all over the map, and the strange lab values were all together not indicative of any one thing. He had strange values in his differential white blood cell counts, but the actual cell counts weren't abnormal enough to warrant any concern. He's anemic, but that's normal for his age, weight, and family history. He doesn't have any of the indicators of celiac disease, irritable bowel disorder/Crohn's/ulcerative colitis. His x-rays on Monday didn't indicate any problem with backed up stool, but apparently there was a bunch of stool seen in the CT scan today. His history didn't seem like constipation was the cause, but it was the only thing that made any sense right now.

And this was a really good doctor! Or so we both felt.

So now, we're less freaked out. But all of the freaking out all week seems to have culminated in a huge whopping flop of a diagnosis, and I'm just exhausted. Connor was prescribed Miralax, but it's such a silly drug that it's actually not even covered by insurance anymore.

We'll see how this all pans out. I hope I answered whatever questions you may have about it all in this post, because at least tonight, I don't have the energy to relive it all again.

Overwhelmed

2009-06-11T08:24:00.000-04:00

Craig's schedule over the past two weeks has been as follows: last Thursday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday he had off, which he spent doing family stuff, playing, tiny mini vacation. Then he worked Tuesday and Wednesday night, which in and of itself isn't too much for me to handle. I get overwhelmed with these two kids, but two days, even three days with the prospect of having a break afterward, that I can handle. However, Craig only has tonight off, and then he has to work Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights. So, basically, he had a little vacation, and now he's working nonstop for almost six days. I have ONLY tonight to breathe, and all I can think about is the fact that the next four fucking days I have to be a single mom. I have a headache, it's raining, and I'm super crabby too.

I want a vacation. I need a vacation. I want to just cry, but I have to go to class.

Dealing with the mother in law

2009-05-26T05:06:00.000-04:00

I'm not sure what to do, if anything can be done, about my crazy mother-in-law. Over the years, plenty of things have happened to label her as crazy, and we've had our fair share of falling outs. The current issue started just before and during Mother's Day. Craig's mom was very offended that we didn't come to her house that Sunday, and has been holding a huge grudge ever since. She called around that time and left Craig a message about how she doesn't understand why he has to "ask permission" to go see his mother, and we are just using her for free babysitting, and she just wants to see her grandkids. Craig and I were upset for a few reasons, understandably, and had a very long discussion about how to control that situation. It was completely rude of his mother to question his authority in his own family - neither of us owns the other, and when it comes to making decisions about what to do and when, we work together. It was not that he was asking permission to go to his mother's house, it was that he wanted to talk it over with me because we have two children and need to plan accordingly. Plus, it was Mother's Day, and since I'm a mother too... it's only logical that I'd get a chance to decide what to do on my day. Whatever. That is too damn logical to get through Ann's hugely thick skull.

I was also upset because whenever Ann does this, she causes a lot of unnecessary stress in our lives. She's called to bitch Craig out about so many silly things, and it should be easy for Craig to brush it off and call her crazy, but she's so overbearing that he's usually incapable of doing so. She called recently to cry to Craig about how it's so unfair that Connor never has spent the night at her house, but he has spent the night at his other grandma's house. She called to bitch him out about having other people over to our house on the day that she came over with her old lady friends to see Elly (it was my dad's birthday, BTW). She bitches him out because I won't go on little lady trips with her and her friends - they wanted me to go to the Detroit Lady's Show on my last day of my Organic Biochemistry class.

Our lives are not so easy most of the time - raising kids is a very hard job, and losing your firm grasp of your dreams isn't something one can let go of so quickly. Each day we struggle to do right by our kids while also doing right by ourselves, and it's so much easier to do that when there are supportive people around. Craig's mom is definitely not one of the supportive people we have backing us up. Instead, she's a thorn in our sides, constantly shoving her drama in our faces. She makes Craig feel like crap, and he doesn't want to talk about it with me because he knows I'll get all worked up about it. We both end up bottling up this crappy feeling... is that fair for a mother to do that to her child, and still expect unconditional love from him? Especially when he's 31 years old? No.

So, Craig called his mom and told her so. Obviously after acting like such a bitch, she wouldn't answer her phone, so he had to leave a voicemail telling her how he felt. Craig really rarely tells his mom the whole truth about how he feels because she's really good at blowing things up. This was one time that he really laid it out for her - he didn't appreciate the way she was treating him and his family, he didn't want to keep his kids away from her nor did he want to stay away from her, but if she kept acting the way she is, he isn't coming over to be treated like crap. He said he loved her, he wants to talk to her, and could she please call him back.

She didn't call back. In fact, that coward instructed her husband to call, so Craig had to relay all of his feelings toward his mother through his dad, and that's never really useful. Craig's dad is not a good listener, and he has a real way of twisting and tripping over words. It was Craig's only option though, and I think that conversation was actually beneficial in some ways because it helped Craig to see even more clearly how his mother is trying to manipulate us all. Apparently Neil was recently diagnosed with Type II Diabetes, and because of his mother's drama, Craig wasn't ever even informed. So both Craig and his dad were realizing how twisted it was all getting, and though nothing was really resolved, it was easier for Craig to feel angry toward his mother without guilt getting in the way.

We arrive now at this morning, when Craig's mother called while he was in the bathroom. He didn't get to answer the phone in time, so she left a short irritating message.

Craig, I just wanted to call to set up a time for me to see the kids. You don't have to call me if you don't want to, just call your dad.

Bye.

Um, what? Now she's making "appointments" to see her grandkids, but she doesn't even want to talk to her son about it? She doesn't want to fix things with the human being that she actually grew and carried in her womb, gave birth do, raised and cared for, watched over in the hospital for countless hours, loved his entire life long? She doesn't care about that person anymore, it's all about the grandkids? That lady is fuckin' nuts. Craig didn't talk about it with me for long, he just said that he wished she would call and apologize. She could apologize for being a bitch, for treating him badly, she could even apologize for the fact that Craig hasn't realized that she's crazy yet. He just wants to hear "I'm sorry" come out of her mouth. It's SO not going to. As I said before, she's fuckin' nuts.

Any suggestions? Anyone?

"Accentuate the positive"

2009-05-22T17:20:00.000-04:00

I've been trying to figure out what's wrong with everyone else for so long, and I think I finally figured it out. It's not them, it's me! I just am so intolerant, and it's getting to me. I'm not sure how to change it though...

So my little idea a week or so ago was to sing this song to myself every time I feel like punching someone in the face. That hasn't been working quite as well as I thought it might, but it does help to remind myself that I'm being a wench every time I get ticked off at someone for doing something that slightly annoys me. For instance, just now I was on FaceBook looking at random people's status updates, and someone said something like "Can't wait to see you at Shar's wedding!" The "Shar" in that statement is really named "Sharlene", and the fact that she's getting married but still has a bunch of high school friends that she's best buds with and they all have shortened her name to something so damn snobbish... these factors all came together immediately in my mind and caused a little puke to accumulate at the back of my throat.

But I'm being highly critical and bratty because I'm a loser, sitting at home on a Friday night when my husband is at work, listening to nothing but the fly stuck in the paper lamp across the room lightly fluttering against the shade.

Mother bleeping mother's day

2009-05-09T18:18:00.000-04:00

I'm officially not a fan of mother's day. I'll tell you why - Craig's mom is a mother, and that woman is definately not something to celebrate. Also, the fact that she's a mother and I'm a mother means we have something in common, and the fact that I have something in common with her makes me a little ill.

Maybe I'm harsh, maybe I'm unforgiving, maybe I'm mean. That's irrelevant though, because she's worse. She's passive aggressive and conniving, and when you put those two things together in a big, loud, overbearing package, you've got a force to be reckoned with.

Sandy says it's a full moon, and that could be causing the forces of the world to be coming down on me a little harder than usual.

A week ago, Craig suggested that he take Connor and Elly to his mother's house for Mother's day. It would give me a "break", and I could get some much needed rest and relaxation. Now, keep these important things in mind: 1) Elly is 5 months old, 2) Elly is 5 months old, and 3) Elly is 5 months old. For one, that means that a "day of relaxation" would require me to prepare for this fabled day for a week or so, pumping and storing breastmilk for my infant child at any point I could find "free" to do so. She needs to eat every 2-4 hours, more or less, so I'd need to find time between feeding her to sit down away from her and Connor both, just to make even more milk for her, but this would need to be perfectly timed to be both useful (milk is actually produced), and not detrimental (doesn't piss off Elly the next time she wants to eat). That sounded like a really fun thing for me to worry about for a week just so Craig's mom would be happy.

So, say I got all of this milk ready so that Craig's mom could see my children and her son on Mother's day. Now, I'm at home, worrying about how the idiot furball dogs that Craig's parents own are most likely biting my son and growling at my daughter in between barking their fucking heads off and... ok, just fucking worrying about everything... supposedly relaxing. After three hours, I'm trying to relax still but something's happening in those food bags that I used to call my breasts. They tingle, itch, and feel like they're too tight in my bra. I wait another hour, relaxing as much as I can in between pacing around because I'm pissed off that my kids are at their idiot grandma's house on my special day. Now the food bags hurt. OH YEAH! I forgot! Elly is 5 months old, and is a breastfed baby, and that means... YEP! I STILL HAVE TO DRAIN THESE FUCKING THINGS EVEN WHEN SHE'S NOT AROUND! This isn't something I can just stop doing one day because my husband and his mother decide I'm supposed to be enjoying my day alone while they mess up my kids!

Ok, here's the last, and possibly most important, reason why the fact that Elly is 5 months old is important to why I don't want my children going over to Craig's mom's house tomorrow. I JUST PUSHED A HUMAN OUT OF MY BODY 5 MONTHS AGO. And that wasn't the first time that I grew something inside my body for almost a year and then pushed it out of a tiny hole not exactly meant for expelling large things on a regular basis. I thought that if anything, the clear vision of me doing that so recently would really stick out in Craig's mind - I'm an amazing woman deserving of celebration at least one full day a year. Craig's mom, on the other hand, did that only once, as recently as 31 years ago. In fact, in the past 10 years or so, she hasn't done much for her son other than cause unnecessary guilt, stress, and disgust on occasion. Once in a while she tries to purchase some love or attention. So yeah, going to her house, or the mere suggestion of it, pissed my off royally. That fight was fun.

Then today, Craig was at the table yelling at Connor to eat his lunch, when he casually but ever so subtly louder than he had been speaking, mentioned to Connor that he was stressed that he had to tell "Murphee Munga" that we weren't going to see her tomorrow and that he "was going to send flowers" but he didn't and now it's too late. Now, the reason why the flowers are significant was that in our argument in the week prior, I had become angry also because Craig was going to spend $50 on sending a bouquet via Proflowers.com for his mother's gift for Mother's day. I firmly objected for several reasons, the most important of which is our current financial situation. We just refinanced our house so that we can afford to stay living here, and he wanted to spend extra money on a big present that would be thrown away in a week. Stupid. Stupid to get flowers for his mom, stupid to get flowers for me! Flowers are stupid, unless they're randomly bought in an impulse buy when you're passing by a flower shop and thinking about someone you love. Then they're good. All other obligatory times, flowers are stupid. I suggested that Craig actually think about his mom, about what she would like, purchase it, and give it to her near Mother's day. Perhaps the following weekend we could go see them, or invite them over, and he could give her a gift then. I even looked online for a gift and found a cute little RV bird feeder that I'm sure Craig's mom would just love to hang outside their little trailer door on one of their camping trips this summer. Craig didn't follow through though and buy the damn thing. It was $19. I'll go as far as to reprimand my husband for spending our money frivolously on his mother, I'll search for presents for him for his mom... but I'm not his mother and I'm not going to go buying his gifts to other people for him. He's a man, and he needed to do a little of that work, but he didn't and that's his damn fault. Not mine.

The long-winded point is this: Craig mentioned to our Connor something completely meant for me - and in one short but extremely passive-aggressive statement, he pissed me off past boiling. Now all that I want to do is drive to MY mom's house and relax with my parents and my kids all day, but that whole idea is just totally shot - I couldn't take my kids to see my mother after screaming about going to Craig's mom's house for over a week. We're just stuck here tomorrow regardless. Honestly, I've been so pissed off today that I'm not sure how I'm going to handle tomorrow, and I almost wish I could just sleep through it. If I could just lower my expectations of life to a low enough point that these things wouldn't matter to me anymore, I think I'd be a happier, or at least mellower, person.

This is a long post. I'm a tired mom.

G'night.

Connor Logic

2009-05-02T03:26:00.000-04:00

In the mornings where Craig has worked the night before, I often have to tell Connor to go play alone in his room for a while so I can take Gus out to pee, make breakfast, and/or feed Elly. Today he went up happily, and wasn't yelling to ask if he could come downstairs for quite some time. When Craig came home, Connor started yelling over and over that he wanted Craig to come upstairs. Then he appeared at the top of the stairs with a candy cane in hand, a big grin stretched across his face because of the treat he had found. Craig said, "Seriously?" To which Connor replied, "Mom's making chocolate pancakes, and chocolate is candy, so this is candy and that makes it ok too!"

We couldn't disagree. He got to eat the candy cane.

Trying not to forget these notes

2009-04-29T17:01:00.000-04:00

While I was paying very close attention in class one day, a burst of writing energy struck me but I couldn't take the time out to satisfy that need. I wrote down a few notes instead, and though I should be studying for my test tomorrow, I'm going to finally get out these little thoughts so that they don't eventually die.

First - Connor and I watch Olivia all of the time (funny little kids cartoon), and Olivia stops frequently to address the camera with her numbered "Rules of Life". Connor is still pretty little, and some of these things are over his head. He apparently had misheard what Olivia was saying, too, because he thought she was saying "You look like" instead of "Rule of Life". So, he comes up with his own little rules all the time - it's really stinkin' cute. I was changing Elly's diaper today, and she was about to grab it and I yelped a little, and Connor said, "You look like number 42: When your mom is changing your sister's diaper and your sister almost grabs her poop, watch out because it's scary when your mom yelps." First off, the little rule is silly and really funny that he's coming up with his own rules. Second, it's funny to hear him say "you look like" instead of what it should be, and I want to correct him on it, but at the same time I'm just proud of him for being creative like that so I try to keep my mouth shut. One day I did tell him that Olivia is saying "Rule of Life" instead of what he's saying, and he just looked so bummed out that he got it wrong. Now I tell him to say it however he wants to, because it's his rules. Anyway.

Ok, here's the list of things in my notebook that I jotted down to write about. They're dumb, but the little "writing" notes on the page I'm studying are so much more interesting than the chemistry notes I should be looking at. First, there was a girl in the class that day that was wearing a mid-length jacket with a very strange pleat thing in the back. I've seen a lot of coats with a pleat in the middle of the back that opens up to the bottom of the coat, presumably to allow the coat more movement around the legs since the coat is longer. I've seen maternity coats with pleats in the front of the coat to give the woman more belly room to grow. This coat had a pleat in the back, starting probably at the shoulder blades, that opened up and then met again right above her butt. The way she was sitting made the jacket open up quite a bit in this pleat, so it looked like she had a big vagina on her back. I don't know anyone's names in my class, but I now secretly refer to this woman as "vagina jacket girl".

Sitting next to vagina jacket girl was a dude that usually is fairly well dressed. On this particular day, however, the weather apparently got the best of him. I think that when he woke up in the morning and looked out his window, the warm sunshine was so inviting that he decided to wear his summer clothes outside. He likely showered, thus feeling even warmer because of the hot water, and then donned his summer jean shorts and a white tank top. Then... he stepped outside. It was only about 50 degrees that day, which is still jacket weather. Realizing he was going to be late for class, he quickly grabbed a coat and was off to school. So, Mr. Well-Dressed was wearing leather sandals with no socks, jean shorts, a white tank top, spiky 'do, and a long leather trenchcoat. He looked like a freaky flasher motorcycle creep. I now secretly refer to him as "The Flasher". He sits next to a male Nurse Jabba (yes, the Hut) in class.

Went for a run!

2009-04-20T15:02:00.000-04:00

I went for a run today! I feel much better. Well, much worse at the current moment, for I just finished the run, but during the run I felt great. I was bopping along, thinking I was doing really well for not having run in a *long* time, and it was truly a thing I can do for myself, which is all I have going for me personally right now.

Anyway, now I have to go read Connor some stories. Maybe I'll continue this trend, and things will start to appear better, even if nothing actually is. It all about perception, right?

Thinking

2009-04-19T16:43:00.000-04:00

The past week has been hard. One would think that with three gorgeous days in a row, my spirits would be lifted and I'd feel good about life. I, however, was only mildly pleased with life due to the weather; why should the weather change my attitude about everything, especially when it's probably going to change and shit on me in a day or so anyway? I knew it would turn on me, and it did. It did. Today, the weather shat directly on my head.

So I'm feeling very alone. I don't have anyone to talk to, and I find myself in my closet sometimes, especially when it's late and the closed door can block out any hint of light, talking to myself. Talking to the darkness, wishing it would take me somewhere else. I'm crying just writing this. And I don't know what to do about this feeling I have, but I do know that in the past, writing about it has helped. The problem lately has been that every single ounce of my energy has been consumed by the people in my life, and when I finally get a chance to do something for myself, I end up sitting on the couch and zoning out to television because it's easier to do than facing my problems. Facing myself.

I've worked nonstop since I was 18 years old. Before then, I worked nonstop at getting the best grades possible in high school, all while doing a zillion extra-curricular activities in the hopes of proving something to someone. I can't figure out what that did for me still, but someday maybe I'll know. Since I was 18 though, and I joined the Air Force, I've been a career woman. Work has defined me, and my success at work is what made me feel like a productive and useful person. When Connor was born, I felt like I had participated in a miracle, but I had to go back to work immediately and again, my job defined my life, and my family was the extra padding around me to make me safe. When someone asked me what I do, I wouldn't say "I'm a mother" or "I'm a wife" first. I'd say I was a computer programmer, and honestly, if I didn't get the feeling that the person cared about kids or family, and the moment didn't come to mention my child or husband, I probably wouldn't. Maybe I'm a horrible mother and wife for that, but if I were a man, nobody would expect me to talk about my family all the time. Anyway, I'm rambling.

Now that I'm home, I feel completely useless and ugly and outside of society. I don't want people to know that I stay at home with my kids, because I feel less than because of it. I'm just putting this out there, and if you're offended by what I'm saying, stop reading my blog. I never thought that I was above the housewives in the world; I never really compared my life to their lives any more than jealousy because they could be with their children more than I could. Having never been in their shoes, I couldn't understand the loneliness and despair that they could be going through while they care for their families each day. I only knew that they were getting more baby kisses and sunshine than I was, and that had to be better than sitting in front of a computer all day.

I was wrong. This is hard. This is really hard. And I feel so damn lonely. I was on Facebook a second ago, and I noticed that Craig has something like 210 friends, and I'm still not even at 100. The vast majority of those are just people that maybe knew my name once. Even in the virtual world, I'm a lonely loser.

It's not that when I was working I had more friends, but I was working and a mother, so having friends was a luxury I could live without, because I had no time for anything anyway. Now I'm a student mother, and I have no time for anything, but I would love to spend some time with someone who had no time for anything too, so at least my 4 year old child wouldn't have to watch his mother be sad all the time.

The definition of resent from the Mirriam-Webster Online Dictionary is "to feel or express annoyance or ill-will at". I resent my life. I resent my 5-month old daughter for needing me constantly for her basic sustenance, consuming all of my time so that I can't spend even 10 quality minutes alone with my 4-year old son in these long days we are together. I resent my son for so willingly going to his room to play sometimes, which makes me feel guilty for being a bad mother and not playing enough, and I resent him for for whining and complaining about it other times, making it hard for me to do whatever it is I needed to do with Elly at the time that I asked him to go play alone. I resent my husband for acting so tired when he's only had 4 hours of sleep and I desperately need someone to help me for a minute because I have to take a shit and Elly is screaming bloody murder when I put her down for a second. I resent him for yawning when he's playing with Connor. I resent him for wanting to do family things on his days off, instead of taking the children away and letting me have a few moments alone. I resent the dog for bringing his bone over to me a thousand times a day, begging and pleading with me with his sad, droopy eyes to just toss it a few times, just show him a little bit of love.

I feel so used up, and so useless at the same time.

Today we went to the grocery store to sell raffle tickets for Connor's preschool. Connor had a blast; there was another little boy there named Elliot who happened to be just as bright as Connor, and almost exactly the same age. They played like crazy, giggling and yelling at customers to buy tickets, pretending that huge chickens were going to come out of the conveyor belt, and just being silly. Elliot's mom was pretty cool too. In the brief conversations I had with her, I found out a few really key things about her and her life that made me instantly like her. For one, she has kids about the same age as mine - though her youngest is about a year old. Still, he's babyish enough for me to consider her life is about as hectic as mine. She's also at home with her kids; she was a school teacher in Iowa, but due to timing and silly rules about staying accredited, she's lost her license to teach and she'd have to go to school for another year just to get a good job in Michigan, if there were any. She's at home with two kids, living in a new house in a newish neighborhood like mine with very few trees.

Most importantly, she's pretty negative. She complained about the kids in her neighborhood being bullies and treating her cute little boy badly. She mentioned her husband's job in Iowa, and said something about it "sucking" and that's why they moved back. Her hair wasn't really done and the humidity had made it frizzy, and she complained about how it of course would be a crappy day on the day we all had to be outside all morning. So those may be reasons why most of you "normal" people would be like "Eeeeewww... I'm not really fond of this person." But I'm not like most of you, so there.

She reminded me of me. She seemed like the kind of person that I could be around and not feel like I had to act any differently than the way I wanted to act, and that's the most refreshing thing I've experienced in a while. I feel like I have to act happy and friendly to Craig even, and I've been married to him for almost 10 years, so it's really not a common thing for me to feel truly comfortable in my own thoughts or actions. You know why I act happy all of the time? Because I recently had a baby, so if I were to mention to someone that I was feeling shitty, they would automatically assume that it's postpartum depression and I need to go to a doctor to be put on some shitty drug that fucks with my brain. No one would bother asking if I were feeling shitty before the delivery when I was pregnant, or long before that. Don't you dare come after me with these suggestions after reading this post, because I'm really not interested in suggestions for how to fix my life with drugs. Being numb to my life isn't going to change what it is, is it? No thank you.

Anyway, I asked her for her phone number and insisted a few times that we should hang out, have a play date or something, and she seemed cool with it. Maybe it's just my perception of things though, but she did kinda leave in a huff. So now I'm worried, like a guy who just went out with a girl and is afraid to call her for a second date, that she really didn't like me and she won't pick up the phone when I call. She didn't ask for my phone number, after all, so she probably gave me a fake number anyway.

Now I've rambled for an hour, and I feel better. I'm going to go shower.

Sad for my kid

2009-04-04T18:01:00.000-04:00

When I was pregnant with Elly, with every day that my belly grew bigger, so did my guilt for being a bad mommy to Connor. I felt like I was screwing him over by taking some of my attention away from him. I contantly reminded myself that him having a sister was going to be good for him, and she would be a best friend to him for life - which is definitely one of the advantages of having a sibling. Since she's been around, it's been a blessing and a curse. I love her more than anything, and she's a beautiful addition to our family. I wouldn't have it any other way. But I've seen some changes in my little boy, and though they're a normal natural part of growing up, I'd have to say that his independence has blossomed much faster than I was prepared for since she arrived. He had a slight hiccup in his sleeping habits right after we brought her home, and after we got around that it's been like he's a new boy. He reads his own books at night and won't let me read to him (I have to beg him to let me read a few lines). He doesn't cling to me when I go to school, and in fact it's sometimes difficult to get him to give me a hug and kiss when I go out the door because he's so busy doing other things. He plays in his room for as long as I need him to (within reason) and is generally happy to do so. He told me the other day that I could go for a jog whenever I want to because he doesn't mind when I leave anymore, then he declared, "I'm growned up, Mom." These aren't bad things - they're good. But it feels like they happened too fast. I'm grateful, though I fear that some shit is going to definitely hit the fan soon, but I'm grateful for having the summer with these two beautiful children of mine. I'm glad I have a little more time to play with my "little boy" before he goes off and becomes a big boy in school.

I'd post more, but I should just get off this thing and save my brain space. It's been a difficult day.

unsolicited advice from strangers

2009-02-25T14:38:00.000-05:00

UGH. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, isn't it always SOOOO annoying? Unsolicited help from strangers when you're in need - that's a different thing. But today when I was out in Ann Arbor with Connor and Elly, we were confronted by a crazy woman in the street. And she had some very important information to give us... whether we wanted it or not.

We went to the Ann Arbor Hands On Museum today. It was fun, Connor had a blast, Elly slept a lot, and when we finished, we were hungry. We parked in the Ann Street parking structure, which is about two blocks away from the museum. About two blocks down from the parking structure is a Quizno's, and Connor said he wanted a sandwich. Elly was all wrapped up in the Mei Tai sling, so rather than taking her out of it to get her all snuggly in the car seat, we just headed out the door of the museum as is, ready to take on the brisk four block walk. Connor wasn't cold when we walked out; I asked him to zip up and he refused because he was too hot. It wasn't warm today, just 42 degrees, but it smelled fresh and springy and we were happy.

After block two, I was beginning to feel a little guilty about not wrapping Elly up. Her face was exposed to the air, and when the wind blew, she was wiggling uncomfortably. I still didn't think she was cold all over, because my body heat was warming her up, but the cold air on her face was obviously bugging her. I buttoned my sweater over her (I wasn't even wearing a coat, because I thought it was nice outside), and I covered her face with my hood. We kept moving on, Connor bouncing at my side, obviously not in the least affected by the weather. When we got to the corner of Main and Huron (a block away from our destination), a crazy woman basically ran up to me on the sidewalk.

"I can't believe you don't have your baby covered! I need to tell you something, this is just not the right kind of weather to have your baby exposed like that, and you really need to have a hood on her when you're outside. It's just so dangerous and awful, where is her hat! What are you doing!? Blah blah blah..."

This is where I cut her off.

"Um, I know you think you have something you need to tell me, but I don't need to hear it. I can raise my children just fine, thank you, and she's plenty warm being right up next to me, and I'm a nurse so I know exactly how warm she needs to be. Thanks."

It took a lot to not let a barrage of profanity flow from my mouth, but I had Connor with me and I didn't want to scare him. As we were walking away, she yelled out something like, "If you're a nurse, you should know of all the research that says..." and then she trailed off. I wasn't letting her waste any more of my time. PLUS, if she actually was right and I needed to get my child to a warmer place (or put a hat on her or something), why on Earth was she making me stand still in the middle of the sidewalk so that she could lecture me?

And who the fuck was she to tell me what to do or not to do with my children? Oh I was so irritated. SO fucking irritated.

Obsession with baby slings

2009-02-15T16:35:00.000-05:00

So, I've developed a tiny obsession with slings and carriers and wraps... basically anything I can tie Elly in and hook her up to my body to walk around in. I've seen a lot of cool ones at stores; they're generally expensive and have nice fabric but have such basic patterns. I usually end up doing crazy research after I see them just to find out if I can make one myself. So far so good! I made two pouch slings, and though those are easy to use, Elly just doesn't look very comfortable in them. They were very simple - basically just sewing a seam, and then sewing the sides to create finished edges. Then I decided I wanted something that would use both shoulders because the one shoulder thing was causing some pain. I found out that a very simple 5 yard section of jersey knit cloth tied in a fancy way could hold Elly up comfortably, and sure enough, it does! I ironed on a pretty pink embroidery thing on it, and when I wore it at the auto show, you wouldn't believe how many people asked me about it. I love this wrap.

Yesterday, Elly had a holy fit when I was reading stories to Connor, and Craig was desperately trying to get her to relax. If I were alone, I would have tied her into my wrap to calm her, but Craig wasn't able to figure it out. When I came downstairs, I embarked upon another search, this time for a solution easy enough for Craig to use, cool enough for him to wear, and comfortable for Elly at the same time. Found one! I just happened to have leftover fabric from making one of my pouch slings, so I went down to the basement this morning to sew this overall mei tai. Fun!

And, the best part about it... Craig can use it! And he DID use it today, he felt manly enough to answer the door while wearing it! We took it to the bowling alley with us and I even bowled while wearing it. And I got a few strikes!

Connor is a funny bowler. That'll be another blog entry.

petty annoyances

2009-02-12T16:37:00.000-05:00

I'm not "PMSing", so please don't dismiss this post as just being hormonal. I've just been very frustrated today. And it's not just today, it's been for like... weeks. I think I'm justified in my frustration, most of the time. Sometimes, when my frustration is aimed at Connor, I take it too far. Those days, like today, I feel frustrated and guilty of being the worst mother in the world. When I yell at Connor, he says "Don't get all mad at me!" or "Don't smack me!" - it's as if I do this ALL THE TIME. I do not beat my kid - he's getting really good at making me think that I must actually be beating him.

Example of my frustration - I just read to Connor for 30 minutes, all while holding Elly in one arm (with the help of a sling), carefully balancing the book on the bed so that I could read it, and gently "nice-ing" Connor's arm for him... it was, to put it mildly, hard to do. Elly was totally asleep for the entire thing, and Connor fell asleep after about 15 minutes. So then I came downstairs, set Elly down next to me on the couch, opened up the computer to write this blog... and her eyes popped open. She's not hungry, she's not wet, she's not poopy - she just knows that I want 2 minutes to do something without her in my arms, and she doesn't like it. I feel like a crazy person, because I want to yell at her or just put her down in her bed away from me or something, but I can't because it totally wouldn't work. It's making me crazy.

Anyway.

I went on Facebook today, and honestly, I'm thinking of just quitting being on that thing. Just getting rid of my user and everything. Here's the thing: a long time ago, I got on Facebook. I found a couple of friends, liked a couple of the little programs they had, and I decided that I'd become a FB fan instead of MySpace. Whatever, both sites are stupid, but... oh I have no good reason for being on either. And it was just affirmation of the fact that I have no friends, because I didn't have the thousands of friends that some people manage to accumulate, I only had a small few. Many of the people that were (and are) my friends were people I hadn't ever met, so it was really just this silly virtual world and I couldn't get really caught up in it.

Then I set up an account for Craig, I told him that it was cool, and he should get into the new and get on Facebook. So he did, and at first he didn't really embrace it at all. Then his coworkers found him, and a bunch of people from his graduating class, and a few other people that he's known over the years, and now he's a fucking FACEBOOK GOD, and about a million people wished him a Happy Birthday the other day. I can't even keep up; he could have girlfriends and secret little things going on all over the place, and I'm just lost in how "cool" he is. I may be taking this out of context, in fact I know I'm taking it down the wrong road, but I feel like our lives are just so different, and he enjoys his while I suffer in mine. Wow, how that relates to Facebook I'll never know, but that's where I am now.

Ok, so here's where this relates to Facebook - now I remembered, after a brief freakout session with Elly which ended with her lying on the couch near my and I'm not rocking her at all. She seems to like it that way. Imagine that. So on Facebook, Craig has a ton of friends. They all have little jokes with each other, and a bunch of these friends are his work buddies so they have even more "personal" interactions away from this house and the life we have together. Somehow, those people see this vibrant and happy man, so outgoing and funny and witty and clever, and they all love him like crazy. They just think he's the best thing since sliced bread, they compare him to Dr. McDreamy on that stupid Gray's Anatomy show. And then he comes home to us, and he's this skittish, indecisive, negative lump, constantly yelling at Connor (it's pretty common around here lately), always jumping out of my way instead of acting like he has a place here, and seriously - if I didn't freak out daily at the fact that nobody does anything without my direction, NOTHING WOULD EVER FUCKING HAPPEN AROUND HERE. I have to tell people to go to the bathroom, to shower, to play one thing or another - I mean, I guess I could let everything go and just not tell anyone anything, but I think I would lose my mind.

I can't wait for spring. I really really REALLY want to start running again, with Elly possibly, and the gray shittiness outside is making me nuts.

So that's my problem with Facebook. The fact that I feel even more like my husband is leading a double life - in one life he's happy (at work), and in the other life he's miserable (at home), and I don't want to be with someone that's miserable. I feel miserable thinking about it. Sometimes I feel like I do so much controlling around here, what the fuck to I need a husband around for to just add to the shit to control? And if he's so happy and cool at work, maybe he should just stay there. Like, permanently. Just move in with one of his cool nurse buddies and do fucking nurse shit all the time. Seems like they're always partying, and their families are perfect and amazing, and they all look good and whatever. His stories about his coworkers are all shiny and pretty. From what I've seen of them, they're generally fairly fake. I feel uncomfortable and icky around them. Craig feels good around them. We've been married 8 years, and sometimes I wonder how it happened.

I'm angry today. This was a long long long post and I'm really angry and unhappy and tired. And I feel huge and fat and ugly and misshapen and my head hurts. And now I'm crying.

This is fun!

2009-02-03T17:48:00.000-05:00

The other day, Connor's friend Natalie came over and played for a few hours during the afternoon. She brought over her Build-A-Bear that looked just like Connor's, and they did all kinds of silly pretend play things with them. When we finally kicked Natalie out of the house, Connor came down to hang out, still dragging around his stuffed penguin (who we lovingly named "Nerd" when we created him). Connor yelled for me to give him my Boppy, and I was a little distracted so I just handed it over to him without really wondering what he needed it for. A few minutes later, as I was walking to the door to the garage to leave, I noticed that Connor was carefully arranging the Boppy around him, sitting cross-legged on the couch, with his stuffed animal at his side. I asked what he was up to, and he said he needed to feed his baby. The next thing I know, he's lifting up his shirt and laying Nerd across the Boppy, apparently to feed him! A very brief moment later he picked up Nerd, patted him on the back for a few seconds, and switched the way he was laying - Connor explained to me that it was because he needed to feed him on the other side now.

Too friggin cute! I mean, Connor doesn't see babies eating out of bottles much, and I actually am just really glad that he things breastfeeding is as natural and normal as anything else that goes on in our house. He's even comfortable enough with it to pretend he's doing it himself, and that's just one of the most innocent and refreshing things I've seen in a while. I love my kids!

Trying to figure out windows live writer

2009-02-03T09:18:00.000-05:00

We got a new computer; I know that's not really a common purchase to be making during tough times, but the fact of the matter is that our laptop is over 4 years old, runs very slowly, and it'll make my classes easier if I have a reliable computer to use. We bought it and then paid off our credit card. Anyway, I'm trying to rationalize to you, the reader, why I bought our family a new computer, when really it doesn't need to be rationalized. I can buy stuff for my family if I want to. I've worked hard for it, that's the end of that story.

Anyway, my point is... there's this blog publishing software on this computer that I haven't used before, so this is a test post. WOW that was a lot of buildup for a simple "Here's a test post" message.

Oh, and here's a picture of my burrito baby laying next to me, slowly waking up to say "Gimme a boob!", and taken with the webcam on this new computer.

Labor and Delivery (finally)

2009-01-06T17:20:00.000-05:00

[caption id="attachment_210" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Me and Elly, 8 minutes after she was born"][/caption]

Just for my own recollection, really, I'm writing down here what happened on November 20th, 2008, the day my beautiful daughter Elly was born.

At 4am, I awoke suddenly to the feeling that I had started to pee in my bed. This is honestly not too uncommon for pregnant women as they approach the due date of their unborn children, because there is almost no space to accumulate urine anymore and a simple kick from the baby can cause little accidents. I started to get up, making note of the time first, and then I felt a sudden gush of fluid; this was no little pee accident. I hopped into the bathroom, calling out to Craig - my water had broken. It was time for Elly to come out!

Having worked in Labor and Delivery for quite some time, I knew that a few things could happen when a woman's water breaks - either they go into immediate labor and a baby is born soon after, or nothing happens and the doctors are forced to induce labor, or they slowly start to contract and eventually a baby is born. Because of this, I didn't rush to the hospital right away when my water broke, instead I took a leisurely shower, dried my hair, put on makeup, called a few people, had some breakfast... paced around a bit. I called Rachel and Amanda at around 5:30, and they arrived soon after to take care of Connor until my parents arrived. I did want to leave to go to the hospital before Connor woke up, because at that point my biggest concern was that my beautiful little boy would be seriously distressed at the whole situation.

When we got to the hospital, we had a lot of waiting to do. We waited for the nurses. We waited for the midwife. We waited to be admitted, to be moved to a room, for my IV to be placed, to be cleared to walk around the hospital. We waited for my mom to come in. We waited to call Connor and ask how he was doing. In all of that waiting, I was not having any contractions, and I wasn't really feeling anxious about what was to soon happen. It was a blur really, a blur of boring waiting.

Then we were finally allowed to walk. My midwife told me that they'd just let me do my own thing until 4pm, at which time they'd have to start me on Pitocin because I couldn't go too long with a ruptured bag of waters; this acts as a protective barrier for both the mother and the baby and invites infection if exposed for too long. The midwife and a few nurses all suggested that I do a bunch of "nipple stimulation" - this may sound like a fun pasttime but it's actually pretty stressful for a woman that is about to push out a watermelon. Nipples are very sensitive areas, and it's hard to approach that kind of suggestion with a serious tone; after all it does feel good! And in my head, I couldn't get over that - I was about to potentially go through some serious pain, and the strange ticklish feeling of nipple stimulation was definitely more stressful than helpful. So we ignored their suggestions, and we did about a thousand laps around the University of Michigan hospital. It was a blast. Actually, it was ridiculous - there were doctors and nurses and fancy schmancy people of all shapes and colors all over the place, and then there was me in my little delivery outfit and hospital socks shuffling around the hospital with mom and Craig at my sides. They'd look at me with concerned eyes every time I took a deep breath or made a face that indicated any amount of discomfort. I constantly asked if they were bored or needed anything, because I honestly wasn't feeling much at all, and I felt bad for having put them both out with my silly hospital walking. A few times we stopped at this out-of-the-way door for mom to step out and have a cigarette. Twice we passed by the Great American Smoke-Out stand and stole donuts. They were free.

Ugh. Then it was 3pm. We were quickly approaching the dreaded Pitocin hour, and I wanted to have some food before I was forced to be on that awful crap, regardless of the fact that I'd probably throw it up once real contractions started. I asked my midwife, she said yes, and I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich from "room service", as the UofM has so elegantly put it.

Then I retried nipple stimulation. I hopped into the shower, hoping the warmth of the water would help me to relax while I rolled my nipples around in my fingers. How weird. The shower didn't help; I still felt strange and perverted and stressed out because all of that nipple playing wasn't getting me any closer to getting the big lump out of my belly! I gave up and started to use the breastpump. With mom and Craig both in the room, pretending to have idle conversation about Barack Obama and politics and the Fox News Network, I hooked up an industrial strength breastpump to my boobs and flicked the thing on. About a minute later, I felt a very very strong contraction building up, so I turned the pump off and pretended like nothing was happening. Mom and Craig both looked at me with those concerned eyes, and I changed the topic of the conversation to John McCain.

The contraction subsided, I waited a few seconds, and then I turned the machine back on. About a minute passed, and another strong contraction started. I turned of the machine, the contraction subsided, and just as I was about to turn it back on, another contraction started, startled me. I breathed through that one, then turned on the pump again a minute or two later.

This continued for about... 10 minutes. I turned on the pump probably only 4 times in that period. Either my body was ready to start real labor, or the pump actually started to do its job - but I was finally in real labor. Strangely though, and unexpectedly, every contraction wasn't like the end of the world; it definitely wasn't anything like labor with Connor. I'd be in a conversation with whomever, a contraction would start and I would have to stop talking, and then it would go away and we'd pick up the conversation as if nothing had happened. I wasn't feeling pain in between, I was really just feeling good and energetic and happy. Mom and Craig were confused because they'd want to just be rubbing my feet or neck or whatever, and having the silent stillness that we had with my labor with Connor, but I'd be interrupting the silence with babbling about soap operas or birding in the Bahamas or whatever.

The nurse (Mary Ellen?) gave me a birthing ball to sit on to help make me more comfortable. This wasn't really a ball, it was more of an egg shaped thing, and it was fun to sit on. I rocked on it, I bounced on it, I was having fun. And then it popped. Popped! I was in the middle of a really strong contraction, so in an effort to find a place to feel comfortable, I jumped up onto the bed and started to rock back and forth on my hands and knees. Mom and Craig were looking around to see what had made me hop to my feet so quickly; I think they were both sure that the baby fell out. As it turned out, their suspicions weren't too far off; no sooner than the ball popped, I started to feel some serious pressure, the "I've gotta push" kind. Mom asked how my pain was, and I guess stupidly I said that it was about an eight - when going by this "scale of one to ten" thing, an eight is really low to a labor nurse. They only really do things quickly when you say your pain is a ten.

So, because I was only an eight, nobody called my midwife. They wanted to wait a bit, to give me a chance to get truly ready to push or whatever was the logic in their minds. I think I probably went through five contractions, so about ten minutes, before I suddenly seriously needed to push. The nurses made me "breathe through" two contractions, and that was maybe the longest two minutes of the whole ordeal, because I was sure I was going to give in and let a little push out and end up having the baby on the bed. Somehow, I managed to contain myself.

As soon as someone said "Holly is here!", I started to push. Once. Then someone said to wait a second (the order is head first, wait a second to make sure the cord isn't around the neck, then the body), so I waited, then someone said to push again, and then I heard a baby cry. I delivered her on my hands and knees, so when I heard her cry I had to turn over, sit down, and a second later I had this hot, wet, sticky mess of a little girl up on my half naked torso, screaming and crying and looking as blue as ever! I had no pain, no exhaustion, just pure joy at finally being able to meet the little being that had been growing inside me. After a minute or two, Holly asked me to push again to deliver the placenta (oh yes, that is another stage of labor that many women don't even realize exists), and so a little grunt later, the placenta was out. Hardly any blood though. Holly and my mom discussed the placenta for a few minutes (I heard it only faintly, as I was totally engrossed in Elly, but it was entertaining to hear my mom's great interest in that weird looking organ that had nourished Elly for so long). Someone started taking pictures.

In all of that, I think I made three noises - one yelp for the first contraction I had to breathe through, another yelp for the second, and a third yelp when I was allowed to finally push. Throughout the rest of the labor it was enough to take long, deep breaths, concentrating on how cool my belly looked when contracting (it turned into a pointy belly, rather than round, and it was fun to stare at and focus on). My mom said it was the most natural and calm labor she had ever witnessed, and it must be the way labor is intended to be. I don't know; it was amazing and surreal and graceful, but I've been in the room for women who yelled and screamed and threw stuff, and the babies come out looking innocent and pure anyway. It's all the same outcome - a new little life to shape and help grow.

Anyway. That's the story. Probably could use a little editing, but I'm hungry for some ice cream.

Random

2009-01-06T15:42:00.000-05:00

First, I must start with a quote from "The Little Prince", by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. Ravneet gave the book to Connor for his birthday, and it's taken some time to finally get some use out of it. Connor wants us to read to him, or actually he used to want us to tell him a story, while he falls asleep at night. I got very tired of coming up with stories, because it's actually very difficult to come up with a cohesive plotline at a moments notice. So, I decided to start reading longer stories, ones without pictures (pictures inevitably need to be looked at by Connor, so he'll pop his head up over and over again, pretending to adjust himself, just to see the pictures.) Pictures are sometimes a distraction anyway, they take away from our imaginations and force us to see what an illustrator wants us to see, rather than what we want to see behind our eyeballs.

So tonight I read "The Little Price", which I have been reading for the past week or so, and Connor fell asleep within minutes. That wasn't enough to really get anything out of the story, so I stood by his bed for an extra 15 minutes or so, just reading the book silently to myself while Connor slept in front of me. I ran across this little chapter, or I guess they're chapters but mostly it's just separation for the little sections of story; this one was in the middle of a page, short enough to take up about 3 inches of printed space.

"Good morning," said the little prince.

"Good morning," said the merchant.

This was a merchant who sold pills that had been invented to quench thirst. You need ony swallow one pill a week, and you would feel no need of anything to drink.

"Why are you selling those?" asked the little prince.

"Because they save a tremendous amount of time," said the merchant. "Computations have been made by experts. With these pills, you save fifty-three minutes in every week."

"And what do I do with those fifty-three minutes?"

"Anything you like..."

"As for me," said the little prince to himself, "if I had fifty-three minutes to spend as I liked, I should walk at my leisure toward a spring of fresh water."

Elly

2008-12-28T16:52:00.000-05:00

I don't have a lot to post today; I'm talking to Carole on the phone and messing around on the internet at the same time, also going through my pictures... I found this one. I think Connor took it! It's totally cute.

2008-12-09T17:55:00.000-05:00

SO - here we are, almost three weeks after Elly was born. I'll save the story of the labor and delivery for another day, because it was amazing, and I'm not in an "amazing story" kind of mood. I'm sitting here on my couch with Elly in my arms, watching TV, thinking about going to get Gus off the couch (thanks Dad for getting Gus into that... it's almost impossible to break him of it), and wondering how in the world I'm going to do this. I'm 28 years old, and now I have two children, double the responsibility, and for 36 of the hardest hours of the week, I'm alone with them. In complete care of two small children; one defenseless and tiny, the other small and looking for guidance. I feel so overwhelmed, and yet right now my house is peaceful. I know that won't last much longer, because soon I need to change the poopy diaper on this baby, then I'll move on to feeding her, grabbing a few hours of sleep, and back through the cycle. And then Connor will come into my room, probably at 3am or so, needing some love from Mommy (of course he'll phrase it differently, asking me to fix his stuffed cat's whiskers or something equally crazy). It's just so much, so difficult, so frustrating. I feel like I can't give Connor the attention he needs, and everyone keeps telling me that he doesn't need all of that attention. What I know is that before this all, before I started withdrawing my attention out of necessity, he was happier. Now he's not. And I feel like I'm always picking on him, always yelling at him. In all of this craziness, the most difficult part of it is that I feel totally guilty for doing this to Connor. Isn't that crazy? Crazy.

I guess the proper explanation for this is postpartum depression, or baby blues, or whatever. I'm hoping that by blogging it away, I can help myself.

"The party line"

2008-11-04T17:59:00.000-05:00

I talked with dad today briefly, and I don't know how we got on it, but we started arguing about me voting for Barack Obama. And I DID vote for Obama - I refuse to be someone like mom that will vote for someone but not publicly announce it, as if afraid of making the wrong choice and being blamed for more problems. I mean, everyone that voted for Bush for the past 2 elections doesn't admit that they had something to do with all of the problems we're messed up with now, so... why will I have to take any blame if all of my dad's crazy warnings come true?

And they are crazy, by the way. Not only crazy, but I really couldn't make sense of why he said McCain was a better candidate - just like on Fox News, he came up with a lot of jibberish but REAL SUBSTANCE was definitely lacking. He even rambled a little about being stuck in a forest, and running through and running into trees or something...

He did say a few things that really pissed me off though. For one, he said (and I don't know about these "figures", but that isn't really relevant anyway) that 90% of blacks in America are voting for Obama just because he's black, and they would vote for him even if he was threatening to sell all of their babies. What the hell does that mean? And right after dad said that, he claimed over and over that he wasn't racist.

If Hillary were in the election, would dad claim that all women voting for her were simply voting for her because she has a vagina?

Ok, the other thing he said was that he has so much experience because he's been here for sixty years, and I obviously couldn't have any original thoughts of my own (not his words, exactly), but I'm just "buying into the party line" of Barack Obama. I don't quite know how those two things correlate, but I do know this: Martin Luther King, Jr. was leading the Montgomery bus boycott when he was only 26 years old. Thomas Jefferson helped draft the Declaration of Independence when he was only 33 years old. Isn't it believed that even Jesus Christ (a human!) was only about 30 years old when was crucified, and for years prior to that, he had preached peace, love, and understanding across the areas he travelled?

So why on earth does age automatically qualify my dad to know more than me about why John McCain is supposedly a better candidate than Barack Obama? Why on earth wouldn't my dad let me finish any of my sentences?

I'm tired, and rambling, and whatever. Going to sleep before I find out who won.

It's hopeless...

2008-11-02T04:18:00.000-05:00

Craig's parents came over last night to watch Connor for a while so that we could go out for one last "fling" before Elly is born. We were hoping that she'd be motivated to arrive, especially since we were walking a ton, eating Thai food, and doing whatever other silly crap that they say can help start a labor. None of it worked, not that I really thought it would, but that's not the point of this post anyway. Needless to say, I am still as pregnant as ever. My right foot is swelling up like a stuffed pig now too, so maybe that's a good sign? A sign that she's moving down, and blocking off circulation in other places rather than just in my left foot?

I have been really on edge lately in anticipation of this baby. Mostly I'm anxious about what we're going to do with Connor when we go into the hospital for the delivery. If it happens in the middle of the night, it'll be fine - we'll just call up Rachel and Amanda, have them come over and sleep at our house, and Connor hopefully won't know anything even happened. Even if it's a rough morning for them, he'll have slept fairly well for the evening, and by that time my mom and whomever else we call can be at our house to provide him with more comfort, etc. That situation would be ideal.

If it happens in the daytime though, we might be screwed. Connor's life will be thrown all out of whack, and I don't want it to be a traumatic event, y'know? Our options are: if it's happening quickly, I call my mom, my sister, and Rachel, tell them all to come to the hospital, and whomever gets there first can take Connor at least into a waiting room to be out of the action. If we have some time, I can call my mom and dad, and hopefully they get to our house in time to have me, Craig, and my mom go up to the hospital, and then my dad and Connor can stay at home until the "coast is clear". We can even call Craig's parents at that point and tell them to go to our HOUSE, not the hospital, because if my dad is around, I know at least some reasonable childcare will be happening and his parents won't be at the hospital to bug the shit out of me. My dad will make good food for him, give him normal amounts of candy and junk for any grandparent, and insist that he goes to bed before it's a stupid hour. His parents can be contained, controlled, and out of the way of me - because if they show up at the hospital before I'm able to shower this time, I will throw a placenta at them.

Ok, so blah blah blah. Like it matters, anyhow. New babies throw everyone out of whack, and all of this planning is bound to make me crazy, let alone extend this pregnancy even further into the future (too much stress) and it'll all get screwed up in the end, anyway.

Back to last night. We got Thai food, it was yummy, we went downtown and walked around, shopped a little, went to Old Navy and bought a few things, went to a chocolate shop and ate a yummy chocolate fondue, walked a bit more, went to Blockbuster, came home. It was 11:00 p.m. CONNOR WAS STILL AWAKE. Not just mumbling in his bed, trying to fall asleep with the lights out. To me, it looked like they saw our lights shining in the window, and Craig's dad hurriedly took Connor upstairs while Craig's mom shuffled around turning off the TV and turning down the music, trying to make it look like he'd been up there for a while. She was basically panting when we came to the door, and Connor was upstairs yelling down to me that he wanted me to read him stories. DEAD GIVEAWAY - he hadn't read ANY full stories yet. They just started bedtime. He's four years old folks, and he had not napped during the day. On a day when I'm being relaxed about the whole bedtime thing, with those circumstances, Connor would still be asleep without any fuss at the latest by 9:30 p.m. With a nap during the day, I might stretch that to 10:00 p.m., and that's only because sometimes when I'm not paying attention, we can be out pretty late, and then winding down takes a little longer. Still, he'd CRASH by 10, and it would actually probably be harder to keep him awake.

Craig's parents though - those fuckers are totally retarded. And y'know what? It REALLY irritates me that I had to come home last night and STILL PUT MY KID TO BED. It wasn't a night out, y'know? It wasn't "carefree" - my mother-in-law acts like she's doing us a big fucking favor, but in reality she just created more chaos, and I still had to be the responsible adult and put the child in his bed and... that's not fair! Life's not fair. So I came in the house, went upstairs, did what any fucking normal adult with any fucking BRAINS would do and turned off the lights, closed the windows, put my child in his bed. I kicked out the dog, the cat, and the grandpa, read three pages of a book, and he was OUT LIKE A LIGHT.

But Craig's parents had already left. His mom was so afraid of how mad I would be that she was gone in three minutes. Craig insisted that he was trying to "educate" her on how stupid it was that Connor was still awake, but she didn't listen anyway. She never will. When she explained how the night went, she said that apparently they had gone out to eat, went to the mall, and when they finally got back to the house it was already 9 o'clock. So, instead of getting pajamas on and getting ready for bed, they turned on the Wii and proceeded to play video games for an hour. Then they asked Connor what time he normally goes to bed. This is what gets me - they treat him like he's a baby ALL THE TIME, except for when it matters - they're seriously asking a four year old child what time he goes to bed... and he doesn't even quite understand the concepts of YESTERDAY, TODAY, TOMORROW, or NOW yet? Of course, Connor gave an answer that he would be expected to give - he said something silly that a tired slap-happy little kid would say!

"I go to bed at all times, whenever I want to!"

OH REALLY? Oh really. They believed it.

Craig's mom said that when she tried to get him to get into his pajamas, he cried and complained that he didn't want to go to bed, so she just gave in and let him play a bit more. She gave him candy because he wanted it, let him play the Wii forever because he wanted to, let him run around like a crazy man because he wanted to.

And the thing of it all is, I know this is just a part of being a mom, and having stupid grandparents involved in the care of my child. I know that many many families have this situation - old stupid people that forgot what it was like to be a parent are taking care of a young child, and they can't bring themselves to be strict, or even REASONABLE, because it's too hard to see a little kid cry. My parents don't have a problem with it, because they can allow Connor to be nuts and give him candy and do dangerous crap - but they still get a carrot stick into his mouth every once in a while, and still savor the calmness of nighttime with a child asleep. Because my parents have been that way for the entire time Connor has been on this earth, I think they could manage getting Connor into his pajamas and sleeping at a normal time without him crying! But Craig's parents, the only people we definitely have nearby for when Elly decides she wants to be born, are totally fucking retarded, so factoring them into the plans is just something we cannot do! We'll go to the hospital, I'll push a baby out, we'll be awake for 24+ hours, and then when we come home we'll have to rewire Connor back into reality, because he's sure to be on a crazy sugar buzz and very little sleep.

I hate them. I truly do - I don't see their use. And that's mean, but I don't care. I'm just so sick of complaining about them; they're so stupid I can't stand it anymore. There are a lot of stupid people in the world, and it's fine for them to exist because they generally don't interfere with my life. When they do though, I'm entitled to do something about it - but not with Craig's parents! I have to stand here, hands behind my back, and let them fuck around with my life whenever they want to.

Fuck.

36 weeks picture update!

2008-10-20T08:21:00.000-04:00

[caption id="attachment_193" align="aligncenter" width="420" caption="Whoa Belly!"][/caption]

I'm sure you were all anxiously waiting for the next belly pic... and here it is! Hopefully it doesn't get TOO much huger - maybe a few inches more as Elly grows for these last few weeks. Pretty crazy, huh? I know I keep on trying to hurry up her arrival, but then I'll have to be doing things with a newborn... as if that's going to be any easier!!! I do want to be done with being pregnant, but more than that, I just want to meet her. I was talking to Craig last night about it; I haven't had any dreams about her, nor do I have any clue what she'll even possibly look like. It's kinda freaking me out!

So, there could possibly be another picture sometime in the next few weeks, but I have a feeling that with all that's going on, I may not have time to actually get one taken, uploaded, and a silly post written to go along with it. The next picture I post could be of our soon-to-be-born, positively beautiful, tiny baby girl!

Venting

2008-10-17T09:38:00.000-04:00

I need to vent. I'm really annoyed, and I know that's not anything new these days, but the annoyance factor goes WAY up when it involves Craig's parents, and I'm just about to explode. I know I shouldn't be doing this to myself, so please don't lecture me on how it's useless stress or whatever logical thought may be going through your head right now.

Brief history of the annoyance:

A month or so ago, Craig's parents mentioned this Halloween event that's going on at one of the campgrounds they go to. The way they presented this information was not just informative though, it was more like "So, you're letting us take Connor for that weekend in October, right?"

(Um, no. We're not. You're too stupid.)

Craig didn't say much at that point; he just acted surprised, which he was! He had no idea what they were talking about and neither did I, because the really funny thing is... they hadn't ever mentioned it before. So annoying. So Craig said something like "We'll see, I mean, that's pretty far in the future so we'll have to think about it." This, Craig should know by now, always translates in his mother's mind to "YES FOR SURE THEY ARE COMING BECAUSE I EXPECT IT AND THAT'S FUCKING FINAL."

I forgot about it, until maybe two weeks ago. They mentioned it again, gave us some flyer about how fun it's going to be, and OF COURSE, we find out that 1) I work today, so they can't take him today (which they wanted to), and 2) Craig works tonight, so there's no fucking way I'm going to take Connor and Gus out to some stupid campground with those idiot people when I'm NINE MONTHS PREGNANT... JESUS!
Whew. Anyway, I told Craig this. I really didn't want to go, and I really don't want them to take Connor. They're really really stupid! But he presented this to his parents differently - he said that they could take Connor if they could pick him up and drop him back off. I mean, that's OK in general - I'm not so protective over Connor that I wouldn't let him out of my sight in the care of another responsible adult for the day. Even overnight! But the fucking KEY WORD in that is RESPONSIBLE!!!

My mom calmed me down. She said that she would come over after she's done working, we'll hang out for the day and even get pedicures (maybe), and it will give me a chance to relax and prepare for Elly, as well as... well whatever. She's coming over, so I don't have to sit around all day and dwell on the fact that his parents have my child, and probably everything is chaos around my sweet little boy at every moment of my "relaxing" day. Mom will help. I did feel calmer after talking to her, and I thought that maybe we'd all enjoy our Saturday.

But then... we went out last Friday. Craig's parents came over to watch Connor for the three hours that we were gone. Connor didn't nap that day, because he's kindof straying away from napping. But, without a nap, Connor usually goes to bed easily and without any fuss at around 8:30 or even 8:00 on a busy day. Connor had a cool dinner, a lot of activity during the day, and though he was ready to play with his grandparents, his day was sortof winding down. There is NO winding down with those people though, it's RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN and then CRASH!!!! I've been hoping over the past four years that they would try a little bit to adopt some of our mellowness, but it's not happening yet.

I told Connor as we were leaving that I had recorded a movie for him on the DVR (which he knows how to use) and he could watch it later for bedtime. I purposefully gave him a long movie, because I knew that those retards would keep him up regardless; I thought that maybe I could try to make it at least a little normal (with a child-oriented quietish movie... it was something about Elmo). Craig's mom especially likes Connor to fall asleep on her, so I really really was thinking ahead. Anyway.

They ran around like mad people until 10:30ish. Craig's parents treat Connor like he's a baby, and even though he IS a small child, he is really smarter than they make him out to be. From the stories his mom was telling me when we got home, it seems like they don't understand anything he's talking about, ever. He tells funny little jokes, has a bright imagination, and is really very literate! More so than them, even! But all of the things they found "silly" were real comments from Connor, things that he's talked to me about, or things relevant to him over the past week... real thoughts. But they let him run around, made fun of how silly he was the whole time, and then probably when they realized that we'd be home soon... they couldn't figure out how to work the GOD DAMNED TV. Fucking RETARDS. So, Connor was all wound up but also TOTALLY exhausted, and he really wanted to watch that movie that I recorded. He can figure out the DVR, but of course they never gave him the remote to let him do it himself, because they always underestimate him. I guess at some point Craig's mom took Connor up to bed and told him that she'd come and get him when Papa figured out the TV. He finally fell asleep with that lie in his head - a lie because there was no way Papa was going to figure out the TV, even though he's some "big man" that should be able to figure out all electronics simply because he has a tiny cock. Connor was on top of his blankets, his daytime clothes were still on, the window was wide open though the forecast said it was going to be 40 degrees that night, and the blinds/shades were open as well.

I know that story is really stupid and I shouldn't overreact to it, but it's just been happening for SO long. The only reason I was less hesitant to go out that night than I am to let him go to a campground with them is that at home, he's less likely to get hurt or to encounter someone icky that could take him or do bad things to him. At home, he knows where the phones are, and he knows how to get ahold of someone if there was an emergency. At home, he knows where the neighbors are, knows where the mommies live, feels comfortable in his surroundings. So, at home, with crazy idiot adults supposedly "watching" him, he can somewhat manage on his own if it became necessary. They are going to have him out in some remote campground, surrounded by freaky camper people (they're all voting for McCain because Obama's an "Ay-rab" Muslim terrorist, so that speaks for itself how insanely dumb they all are)...

I'm dwelling like crazy, but I just feel so trapped. I feel like this kind of stuff happens too often, and though I know we can't control everything in our lives, I'm just so much more willing to relinquish control when it's NOT Craig's parents that I'm giving it to. I feel like Craig is constantly holding back when it comes to telling his parents that we're adults and can make our own decisions, and he's also constantly giving them more information than necessary... stuff that they'll use against us in the future. The most awful thing about this all is that I don't feel like I have support from anyone; my family always makes me out the be the crazy person (sorry Mom, you do), Craig's never supporting me in this, Connor likes them because he gives them candy...

But you know what? Connor gets lots of crap from them. Gifts, sweets, sugar. That's what he thinks of when he thinks of Munga Murphee and Papa Murphee - what are they going to give me this time. When they load him up with sugar he has fun with them, but they then give him back to us to deal with the aftermath. When he's in the bathroom crying because his butt hurts and his belly hurts from all the crap he ate when they were around, he doesn't link THEM to the pain NOW. He couldn't possibly; he really is just four years old and those advanced linkages are not part of his development yet.

Blah blah blah.

What sparked this whole huge lingering crappy post was this string of emails that went back and forth between Craig's mom and I today. Craig, for some psychotic reason, had to tell his mom that MY MOM was coming over while they had Connor out for the day. As if that's relevant to anything... but what that little bit of information DOES do is it gives Craig's mom a reason for thinking that she's doing me a favor by stealing Connor for the whole day. I'm just pissy.

Here are the emails. They're copied and pasted from Outlook, so the first email from Craig's mom to me is actually at the bottom, then my response to her, then her response back to me, and the last email (what I forwarded to Craig) is at the top.

Craig's mom spells "POTATO" with an e.

Message
I figure if you're not going to be straightforward with your mother about shit, I might as well. And seeing as how I'm pregnant, uncomfortable, and crabby most of the time - I also figure I can get away with it. Here's the interaction that transpired today; tell me your mother isn't yelling at me and I will promise not to punch her in the face.

-----Original Message-----
From: Ann Beckman [mailto:abeckman@bbcu.org]
Sent: Friday, October 17, 2008 1:35 PM
To: Elizabeth Beckman
Subject: RE: Tomorrow

YES ON THE COSTUME

From: Elizabeth Beckman [mailto:ebeckman@aliquant.com]
Sent: Friday, October 17, 2008 1:07 PM
To: abeckman
Subject: RE: Tomorrow

My mom isn't coming over until 4pm because she works tomorrow, so it's really not a beauty "day", more of a beauty moment (if we even go). Even so, I really don't want to spend the day at the campground - it's hard enough being comfortable in my own house, in my own bed, on my own couch - I just really don't need to add any more complication to getting comfortable. Thanks for the invite though.

Connor doesn't need any special food or drinks; he really eats normal food like anyone else most of the time, we just try to get healthy options into him during the day (random fruit, veggies, whatever.) He's not on any special diet or anything though. Sleep is a precious commodity these days, so waking up earlier than 8ish to get him ready is always something I dread, so can Neil pick him up at around 9? Also, just because bedtime is really cruddy with both him and Gus running around, it would be good to have him home at around 7pm. I'll send his backpack with jammies and whatever else he wants to bring, books/etc.

I assume he needs his costume too, right?

- Liz

-----Original Message-----
From: Ann Beckman [mailto:abeckman@bbcu.org]
Sent: Friday, October 17, 2008 12:35 PM
To: Elizabeth Beckman
Subject: Tomorrow

Thank you so much for letting Connor spend the day with us tomorrow. He and we are going to have so much fun. The only thing that would make it better is that you and Craig could come too. If you and your mom get done with your beauty day, try to come out we will be in Brighton- Bishop Lake Brighton Recreation. on Chilson road. I always love showing off my beautiful family. I will have my cell phone with me at all time, and will keep watch on Connor every second. He is going to be so busy. If there is anything special food or drink you want for him let me know, I will get it. It will most likely be hot dogs and burgers but I am having sloppy joes, chicken noodle soup and potatoe salad. I have organic choc and strawberry milk for Connor and juice and water. He will need a jacket and if you want me to put him in his pj's before we bring him home give them to Neil. His bicycle and helmet. If you have any requests please let me know. We do not have the dogs, they are at the doggie hotel until Monday.

Thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Love you

Ann & Neil

Countdown

2008-10-17T05:03:00.000-04:00

I just realized that I haven't posted a picture in weeks. That's not exactly going to be remedied here, but I do realize it, and sometime soon I'll post one. Before I was proud to put up pictures - now I'm just embarrassed at how huge I'm getting. I'm hoping that she'll come outta there soon, because I really can't handle blowing up any bigger than I already am. I'm still about 30 pounds shy of my final weight when I was pregnant with Connor, so I guess things are still looking up... slightly.

Connor comes into our room every night to sleep. Well, usually it's every morning, but once in a while it's at night. Last night it was 3am, and since it's near impossible for me to sleep in general, after he came into our tiny bed and started wiggling around, there was no hope for me to get back to sleep without either taking a massive dose of some drug or having someone clobber me over the head with a blunt object. Neither option was readily available, so I dragged myself downstairs and watched TV for an hour or two, until I fell into a restless sleep before being awoken again at 7am to get ready for work.

Why am I still working?

Anyway, this is not fun anymore. I guess being pregnant wasn't ever "fun", but it wasn't quite such a pain in the ass as it's becoming. And that's a pain, both literally and figuratively! It'll all end soon, I just have to keep telling myself that...

We went to a haunted house last weekend at an apple orchard near our house. I was so surprised that Connor wanted to go in, because being a pretty timid four year old boy I was positive he'd wimp out. He didn't! He made me carry him, and he did get pretty scared at one point when we were in this squishy wall thing that was smelly and hot and very claustrophobia-inducing. But for the rest of it he was super brave, laughing at times, and holding on to my shirt for dear life the whole time. When we left, he talked about it for hours... he's still talking about it and we did it last Saturday! Last night we called my mom and he told her about it - his description was very vivid, very accurate, and took a long time for him to get through. Mom said she was cracking up the whole time!

That was random. I have a massive headache, I'm sitting at work in uncomfortable clothes and feeling icky, and I just needed to do something to get my mind off... well, everything. This isn't working.

people who think they know too much

2008-10-01T09:23:00.000-04:00

Grr.

Having a dog is almost as irritating as having a child - when talking to someone about your choices in care for the specific being, that is. Almost everyone has something to say about child discipline, child rearing, feeding children, bedtimes, etc. It is very infuriating at times, causes extreme confusion and indecision if I allow it to get to me, and usually isn't very good advice anyway, especially if unsolicited. I seek out my own answers, and choose to raise my child based on my own research and experience.

I have been doing the same thing with Gus so far, and though we're not at "Dog Whisperer" status by any means, we seem to be doing okay with taking care of a puppy. We give him a loving home, we feed him decent food, we discipline him and train him based on things we've read and things we enjoy, and we even sought the advice of a certified dog trainer to give us "expert" analysis of what we're doing and advice for what might work better. As far as I'm concerned, we've got it handled. Sometimes I feel a little overwhelmed and I complain to my mom, and usually that just results in her reassuring me that we're doing fine. I can then calm down, feel better about hitting a bump in the road and getting over it, and go back to being sane. That's why I call mom; she's not pretending to be an expert at dog care (or child care, though having and raising four children qualifies as expert status, in my opinion), and she just understands that sometimes the best way of supporting someone is to simply support them, not offer unsolicited babble about what should be done.

Not very many people are like mom.

In the lunchroom today, which I usually avoid like the plague because I rarely emerge feeling anything but annoyed, I was asked by a colleague how things were going with our puppy. I bet you can guess what colleague that was! Of course, it was the dog expert, NP. Henceforth, I will refer to him as "Dog Wiener". Mostly he let me just talk about what was going on with Gus, but a few times he interrupted to ask an obnoxious question or two like, "So, Craig is the only alpha dog in the house?" or "Wow, you're really feeding him four times a day?" The questions were phrased in such a way that I knew what was coming next was a lesson on how I should do things. I just smiled and nodded mostly, because I didn't feel energetic enough to tell him to fuck off. I mentioned that we are planning on getting the PetSafe collar system, to keep Gus within a specific radius of our house, but we just hadn't done that yet because of his small size. Dog Wiener immediately said "Oh, yeah, you should get that at PetSmart." I told him that they have the exact same thing at many places, including the Devil Store (WalMart) and at Cabelas, which happens to be 15 minutes from our home. He then "learned" me about PetSmart, and I didn't catch all of his babble because... fucking A dude! It's PETSMART!!! It's a store! I've seen it! I know, not only because of the name but also because I've been there, that they SELL PET SHIT! Is it really necessary to act like I'm either some retarded blond ditz, or someone that just emigrated from China?

Anyway, I passed it all off as typical for this place and the wieners that work here, filled up my water cup, and went back to my cube to mope (and blog) a little. A few minutes later, I heard the little "bing!" that sounds off when I get a new email, so I maximized my Outlook to check it out. Dog Wiener had sent me a message with the subject "petsmart", and within the body of the email he simply left me two links: one to PetSmart, and one to Cabelas.

As if I couldn't look that shit up myself. I'll make sure, Dog Wiener, now that you have provided me with the immeasurably useful and difficult to find links to two extremely common stores, to only ever get to these stores online by clicking on your links.

Or, even better, maybe you could just fuck off.

I can't stand those people

2008-09-27T12:18:00.000-04:00

Some people, I guess I should say. Craig's parents - they're a good example of the type of people that make me want to vomit, constantly, for every second of every minute I have to spend with them. I often find myself choking back that barf while trying to seem pleasant.

Today, Craig's mom and dad came over to take us out to lunch; apparently they had to pick up their trailer in Trenton, and decided to come see us first since it was "on the way". Here's a map to illustrate how stupid this plan of their was (point A is their house, point B is our house, point C is where they were going):

[googlemaps http://maps.google.com/maps?f=d&saddr=42.514927,-83.203583&daddr=Orchard+Lake+Rd+to:7400+Kensington+Dr,+Ypsilanti,+MI+48197+to:2960+W+Jefferson+Ave,+Trenton,+MI+48183&hl=en&geocode=%3BFXRgiAIdQA0I-w%3B%3B&mra=dme&mrcr=0&mrsp=0&sz=16&via=1&sll=42.513899,-83.203583&sspn=0.00813,0.016565&ie=UTF8&s=AARTsJrSfl1wNd3nSW-Y2HEjMLEi-L3Brw&ll=42.334184,-83.325806&spn=0.609106,0.823975&z=9&output=embed&w=300&h=300]

Ok, so now that we've established that Craig's parents are idiots, here's how the encounter went. First of all, Craig's dad insisted on picking up our little dog like he was one of their retarded dogs within 2 minutes of coming into our house. It irritated me. I can't wait for Gus to get bigger so that this practice can stop. Then we went downtown to get lunch. I don't know why we chose downtown, I only know that Connor initially picked Applebee's, and I'm just not interested in shitty food to cause heartburn for the rest of the day. Connor will eat anywhere; he just knows the names of a few restaurants and was spitting out what came to his mind. Craig's parents would latch on to a crap food place like that, and once they were determined to go there, there would be no turning back. They, in fact, had suggested the Cracker Barrel. I'm not trying to be snobby or anything, and I'd eat at Applebee's or the Cracker Barrel on any normal day, but I'm fucking 8 months pregnant, uncomfortable, and whatever. We weren't paying = let's not go somewhere shitty, please.

Of course, Craig phrased this suggestion this way: "Mom, why don't we go to Zingerman's - Liz really doesn't want to eat at Applebee's." So, I was singled out as the one to oppose the choice of the 4 year old, and of FUCKING COURSE, my husband was the one to do it. There's NO way he'd ever take a fall for me in front of his parents; he can't stand the idea of being on their bad side. Anyway, I digress.

So we're in Ann Arbor. We passed through the farmer's market, and there were some Obama supporters there selling t-shirts and pins and stuff. I decided, seeing as how I'm going to be at an Obama rally tomorrow with Connor, that we'd get some shirts to wear while we're there. As soon as I slowed down, apparently Craig's mom made the sign of the cross with her fingers, anti-vampire style, toward us. Craig questioned her as to why she's so anti-Obama. I was not involved in this conversation, as I was buying the shirt and talking to a few of the people who were trying to get people to register to vote.

Here's what I've come to understand about why Craig's parents hate Obama so much. For one, he didn't wear an American flag pin on his lapel, which means he's not American.

Also, Sarah Palin seems like a real "down-to-earth" woman.

Apparently, being a member of Congress does not give a person as much experience in politics as, say, being the governor of a remote state, because Sarah Palin has "what it takes" to run our country, but Barack Obama is too inexperienced and untrained.

Barack Obama is a Muslim, and "can't wait to be sworn in while placing his hand on the KOOran".

Can you believe this shit? When I caught back up to them after buying my items, I didn't know how the conversation was going exactly, but I did catch some anti-Obama blabbering coming out of Craig's mom's mouth. Well, I just put it bluntly, because they're some of the most ignorant racist people I know, and said "Why don't you like Obama, because he's BLACK?!?" And I know it didn't sink in, I know it didn't. It was slightly fun to say though.

Ok, long story short, we got to Zingerman's, the line was too long for Craig's mom, so we went to an Italian restaurant nearby, and the service was too slow for Craig's mom. So then we left, and they told Connor that they'd have to take a rain-check on hanging out with him today, because they have to go pick up their trailer. So not only did they manage to piss me off beyond belief because they represent everything stupid in our country, but they also really really disappointed their grandson, and he's been kinda bummed since.

GOD. I don't know where Craig came from, but all of this shit does kindof explain why I have issues with him sometimes. Slight issues, because he's SO much different from his parents, but some things can't ever be erased. Anyway.

Just when I thought everything was OK...

2008-09-12T05:30:00.000-04:00

It seems that just when I think everything is going great, I'm brought back down to reality with a really bad night with Connor, or a fight with Craig, or both combined into an evening of fun.

Last night was fine, actually, until around 3am. Connor has a habit of coming in my room and sleeping in my bed, especially on nights that Craig is working. And I normally don't mind at all! I mean, I'm lonely in my bed alone, having slept with someone next to me for the past 8 years, and if it makes Connor feel safe, warm, and happy, then I have no issue with it. The problem arises when Craig is at home; when Connor wants to come into our bed on those nights, it's just not comfortable. He refuses to sleep in the middle of us, Craig is a big fucking lump at 3am and doesn't move no matter what Connor's doing to him, so I end up in the middle. Or on the very edge of the bed. Can you imagine!?! A big fucking pregnant woman, being kicked out of her own bed by her 4 year old son, with a lump of a husband to watch it all go down (or sleep though it all, rather)!?!

So we have conversations about it. Connor and I talk at length about how the nighttime is going to proceed, he agrees that he's not going to come into Mommy's room, I remind him that if he needs a kiss or has a bad dream he can ask me to come in for a minute to help him relax. All seems well. Then 3am strikes, and he's obviously sleepy, and he forgets everything we've talked about. He MUST come in my bed, RIGHT NOW, because HE WANTS IT AND HE'S THE BOSS. Or whatever. He refuses to hear me, he cries and wakes up the puppy, he whines constantly and calls "Mommy!" a thousand times; it's crazy! And no amount of threatening or consoling or anything works for him.

One time he asked if I would lay with him for a minute in his bed; he clings to that now too. Again, totally absurd, to expect a big pregnant woman who can hardly sleep anyway to get in bed with her preschooler, crunched into the wall (he refuses to be on the inside), just because he wants it. When I ask Craig to help me with this, it only gets worse. Not only can I hear Connor whining and crying and insisting on ridiculous things, I can also hear Craig giving his long-winded and way too in-depth explanations (especially for 3am) to Connor about why he can't have what he's asking for. Connor does not respond well to Craig's explanations; I wouldn't either. They're boring, they don't make sense, and they assume that not only is Connor older than he is, but he can comprehend things going on around him at that late an hour. I mean, our kid is amazingly intelligent, but Craig's expectations of what Connor should be are way out of line, in my opinion. Anyway, I'm missing my own point.

Craig went into Connor's room, the second time he got up, and started to "deal with the situation." Mostly he just blabbed in a voice too loud for the hour, and everything began to escalate. Connor got louder, Craig did too, Connor started crying, Craig didn't try to stop it (he yelled at him for crying, but didn't grab a tissue or insist in a firm but QUIET voice that Connor stop crying), so now... Connor's all congested, Craig's annoying the shit out of me with is stupid big words and stuff that will definitely make Connor tune out...

So I ended up on the couch!!! ME! ON THE COUCH!

And you know what so infuriating? Nobody has any useful advice. Mari's advice is to punish/reward, and it doesn't work with Connor. As "similar" as she thinks our children are, the fact is that Connor's a boy, he's my child and has my level of determination for things - even if it's insisting on getting to sleep in Mommy's bed, and he's six months older than Savannah. Rewards work for a day, a week maybe. Then they immediatley fizzle out. Believe me, we've tried that.

Spankings... just don't work. Maybe they worked for me, but I resent them, and I don't know if it really was an effective way of teaching us anything (except for how to be more deceptive and sneaky, to avoid spankings). Plus, spanking at night is just shitty - he's already exhausted and cranky, so I'm going to make his butt hurt and make him feel like he's a bad person... and then expect him to fall asleep peacefully? The threat of a spanking is sometimes somewhat effective, but I feel all dirty and nasty for using that one when I do, because I told Connor explicitly that we are not going to have spankings in our house anymore. If I break my word on that, he will remember.

Christine didn't really offer any advice, only said that she thinks the reason why Ashley didn't have these problems was because they really did just sleep with her all the time. They saw no reason not to, and looking back at the way things were working out for them, I kinda agree! I mean, it was more hectic, and if Ashley needed to have that comfort at the end of her day, it wasn't worth putting up a fight about. So I can't do what Christine did, because their situation does not match mine.

Mom suggested talking to him about it, which seems to work until, like I said, the middle of the night. The doctor said we're "doing everything right", and her only advice was to maybe stay in his room for less time when we're putting him to bed. That also doesn't work, and I can't put all of the blame on Craig but I have to say he's been the first one to break every time we've tried something like this; he spends about 20 minutes telling Connor these elaborate stories at night, so that when he leaves the room Connor is fast asleep. All of the advice you can ever get in books or online or wherever says not to do this, and that kids need to fall asleep on their own so that they know how to get back to sleep when they wake up in the middle of the night. Whatever; if it's easy for Craig, he's going to resort to it. Anything to make his life immediately easier, even if it makes our collective lives harder in the long run.

UGH. I guess I just have to read through the rest of that book I bought, to see if eventually the author is going to get to something tangible for me to try. It's really hard to feel all hopeful and good about this change we're going to make when every night things seem to get worse!

I took Gus to the vet the other day, too. I asked the vet about his aggressiveness and his tendency to bite, and I got a lot of good information to take home about how to train Gus to relax a little. I read it. I want to follow it. And then there's my husband, who really thinks that his "reasoning voice" can train not only a tired child at 3am, but a brand new puppy as well! Gus bites Craig, and instead of providing Gus with something that he can bite, Craig will say "No!" about 20 times. "No bite, Gus. No. No bite Gus. No. No. No." BLECH! JUST GET HIS THING HE CAN BITE! Do the whole "Yip" thing and then walk away from the puppy! Teach him the way the VET TOLD US TO TEACH HIM, not your own crazy "rationalizing" way of training everything! Can Gus understand English? Does Gus indicate to you that he knows that "No" means don't chew on that incredibly yummy finger?

I'm really frustrated today. Frustrated for so many reasons, but the number one reason is that I don't know if I'll ever feel like I'm in charge of the things that go on around me. And I'm frustrated because my blueberry stuff was rotten. And I'm frustrated because I'm exhausted, but the smell of my coffee makes me want to vomit.

my mental dilemma

2008-09-03T05:52:00.000-04:00

di·lem·ma [di-lem-uh] (n.): a situation requiring a choice between equally undesirable alternatives.

Every time I come into work, I wonder why I did. I hate it here, and I can't even explain why anymore. I just do. I'm feeling useless, uncomfortable, weird. I don't know where I should be, I don't know what I should do, but I do know that it's not here, not doing this.

Then I remember my other life, the one where I'm a woman, a wife, a mother, trying to manage a household and grow a person inside my body at the same time. The life where I dread waking up because it means I have to entertain all day long, as well as clean and cook and educate and maintain this facade of "we're doing great over here" all the time. I think about reading passages from books called "Motherhood without Guilt" and realizing that the entire fucking book assumes that a mother stays home, and a father goes to work. That the guilt a mother would feel is always going to be guilt over not being able to provide for her family because the husband is the one to bring home the bacon, and that our lives must, just because we're mothers, only involve guilt over asinine things like that. My guilt doesn't arise from feeling insufficient or inadequate in my "money making" skills; I've been the main breadwinner in my little family for years and years. My guilt arises from the fact that often I wonder what it would be like to leave completely and never look back. My guilt comes from the unending urge to be free and single and hot and sexy and alone, sleeping in my own bed or with someone that I can quickly use and kick out. My guilt comes from the part of me that wishes my only obligation was to myself, and the fact that I cannot for the life of me kick that person out of my head. That I could have these thoughts makes me feel guilty - are there any books out there to help me with these feelings, without also assuming that I'm fucking barefoot in the kitchen making dinner for all of my babies and planning some romantic cock sucking for my amazing husband later that night? Fuck.

Why am I here? And is this going to last for the next two months, this feeling of anxiety and discomfort? Mentally?

AAAAHHHHHHHH! Belly!!!

2008-08-31T09:49:00.000-04:00

Here's me at 28 weeks. The belly is gettin' HUGE! I still can't believe I gained as much as I did last time - I weighed 200 lbs at the end, and this time I'm only at 160 (so about 20 pounds total so far), and I'm "nearing" the end! OH if only 12 weeks felt like a short time...

[caption id="attachment_158" align="aligncenter" width="140" caption="28 weeks pregnant exactly!"][/caption]

Random again

2008-08-27T06:46:00.000-04:00

I hate having to think of a title for a blog entry.

Last night I had really bad dreams. They actually started out good, exciting, dirty... and then monsters and demons and evil stuff crept in, and I spent the rest of the night trying to get back to the original dream. I never succeeded. I hate it when I wake up from a bad dream, because it really sets the mood for the day. Today I'm afraid, and for no good reason, of zombies and bogeymen coming out of the shadows to get me.

...

So for the first hour of work, I did random stuff, mostly not related to programming or finishing any of the many things I have on my plate. I checked out if anyone gives a crap about me (i.e. looked at the different registries we have to see if any new things were marked off - none were), fiddled around on Facebook, looked at my invites for the party this weekend, and then I noticed that Jason had responded to the invite. He wrote:

Bud Light and a "sprinkler set up" ... holy crap is that ever a tempting offer. Unfortunately, I shall have to decline because parties are so stupid.

What a jackass. I understand that Jason Jones has some issues, I don't understand what they are exactly, but mostly I think his brain is messed up and he likes to take that out on others. I still don't think he needs to shit on everyone's parade all of the time; he probably would be more beneficial to people if he wrote more random notes about interesting topics on Facebook or wherever he decides to write them, and kept his mouth shut about things that make other people happy. His comment combined with the feeling I've had this morning from my nightmares made me even more surly. I guess he succeeded.

...

I walked into the bathroom earlier and a very prissy looking woman was leaving one of the stalls, having just flushed the toilet. I got so irritated though, because she was the only person in the bathroom, and she chose to pee in the stupid handicapped toilet. Maybe the people in this building are so fucking retarded and oblivious that they don't notice that the toilet in that stall flushes for a full minute, but FUCK! People! It FLUSHES FOR A MINUTE! For fucking pee! And I wanted to tell her that she's an idiot, and that next time she fucking pees, or the next 15 times she pees, she shouldn't flush the toilet because she's wasted SO MUCH WATER in that one flush that she'll never make up for it, but instead I just gave her a forced smile (hopefully making it look exceptionally painful) and walked into one of the other 4 normal fucking stalls in the bathroom. God. People are idiots.

The last rant seems related to the anger I'm feeling to day, but in fact it's not; I've had this feeling about people using the handicapped stall for a long time. I mostly hold that shit in and don't let people know how annoying they are, but this one had to escape today.

...

Ok, so I'm sorry for writing a bunch of angry ranting random crap. I also wanted to write something about Connor, and this time it's not angry.

Yesterday, as Connor and I were driving through the Lincoln Consolidated Schools property (we cut through on the way to school), Connor noticed that a single construction worker was out in the football field, digging with a shovel. They've been doing some prep work for a while now, and he must have been the first one on the scene for the day. I didn't notice the man, because I was looking at a large group of men closer to the school around a big machine, presumably getting ready to take it out to the field and dig, too. Connor and I were being pretty quiet for the drive because we were both a little tired, and the cool breeze coming in through the open sunroof felt good and urged a silence.

Connor broke that silence with this, "Mommy, that guy out there is digging all alone. Nobody's out there bothering him. That looks peaceful." [He pronounces it peace-a-ful.]

I just smiled. He's only three, almost four, but wise beyond his years, and definitely beyond my wildest imagination of the wisdom a child could possess.

Date calculations

2008-08-18T11:40:00.000-04:00

So, I'm sneaky. Casey is pregnant, and she hasn't "announced" it yet - or at least not officially to anyone but the sneaky shitheads (sorry Nick) she talks to, and apparently the people she also emails, and probably everyone else except the unprivileged people within 20 feet of her on a day-to-day basis. It bothers me, but not that much, because what I can do now is wish upon her all of the terrible ailments I have suffered through both of these pregnancies, and hope that they happen to her (or worse). Or not. Maybe I'll just forget about it - I mean, she'll be entering her third trimester right about the time when Elly is due, so she won't be that big yet and I won't really have to deal with her annoying me with being pregnant for too long.

I talked to an account manager in Connecticut today, and in talking about our pregnancies and the time we have left, she mentioned that Casey is also pregnant (so she knew, too!) I said, "Oh, yeah, I heard that - she's not really telling many people around the office yet, strangely." She apologized, as if... she had something to do with Casey being a bitch? Who knows. Then, because I'm sneaky and nosy and nobody will tell me and I refuse to ask Casey, I said something like, "Well, it's early yet for her, although I'm not completely sure of her due date." So she told me! HA HA! She's due February 28th. So the calculations in my brain started to esssssplode out.

If Elly is born on November 20th, 6 weeks after that will be the beginning of January. I don't plan on coming back right away though, so I'll probably take about 6 more weeks of unpaid maternity leave, which brings us to mid-February. And if I come back then, Casey will likely be gone or leaving very soon after. And if she takes 6 weeks off from her proposed due date, that'll bring us to mid-April, 2009...

AND THEN I CAN LEAVE THIS POO-HOLE!

And never have to deal with working with people I can't stand again! Or... at least not these people that I can't stand. I'm sure I'll find more people to despise down the road.

I can take my profit sharing money (hopefully it'll be $25K or so!) and HIT THE ROAD! Maybe pay off part of the house a bit, put the rest into the bank, and use that as a "few more months off", or time to spend with Connor and Elly before school starts, or time to plan on making money from home... whatever. It'll be time for me. Time well deserved, and hard earned.

They say that you should "live life in the present", but today I'm happy that I can see the future and it looks to be pretty OK. Pretty good, even. I can't even see any buses running me over, which is usually what I see when I look to the future (the whole "what if I get run over by a BUS tomorrow!?!" scenario), but today the future seems bright. Bus-free.

Another belly pic

2008-08-16T17:20:00.000-04:00

Almost 27 weeks! THIRD TRIMESTER, Here I COME!

I don't seem to be gaining as much this time as I did when I was pregnant with Connor - but then again, I didn't take a ton of pictures when I was pregnant with Connor. I regret that, but I guess I was really swollen so I probably would look back on this pictures and groan at this point. I was a whale!

My ankles are becoming a bit more swollen lately though, which is a little concerning. Or my left ankle at least, which is the one I sprained a few years ago so maybe it's just some vascular issue. Either way, it's uncomfortable.

Even more uncomfortable is my brain lately, but actually after talking to both Ravneet and Rachel I'm feeling a little better. And I wrote a post to one of those parenting boards, and it seems my crazy thoughts of inadequacy aren't that uncommon. Lots of women go through the same thing. And lots of men pretend like it doesn't affect them, or maybe they really are just oblivious.

Anyway, I don't have much more to say. I want a chocolate shake!

crazy

2008-08-15T09:17:00.000-04:00

I had a new thought today, and I have to keep blaming things on my pregnancy hormones, but sometimes things can't be so easily shrugged.

Maybe we should just concentrate on Craig going to CRNA school? Maybe if he's doing that, and he becomes a big fancy CRNA, I could stay at home with my kids for a while and do what is right for them, and for me, for a short while?

Is that SUCH a crazy thought? I mean, I know I want to be a midwife, but it will mean more care for Connor by other people, other people I don't trust and that don't have my child's best interests in mind. I'm dwelling.

So the truth is, I have this ONE simple task to do at work today before Ravneet gets here, and I keep procrastinating because I really really really can't get Connor out of my head.

Spanking

2008-08-14T06:14:00.000-04:00

I think every parent has a few moments they are not proud of; I know I had my first devastating parenting moment when Connor was only a few days old. I was exhausted and in pain, and trying to breastfeed at 3am. Connor would not latch on, and he was fidgeting and fighting like crazy. I smacked him on the head. A tiny, insignificant little smack, not enough to really do anything but surprise him, which it did... and then I decided I was the worst mom on the planet (that also threw me into weeks of depression, which was fun). I've decided that a bunch of times, actually, and last night I decided I'm going to change it.

Connor was a butt last night, he really was. We had a good evening, as it usually is, until 9:40 when I was finally telling him "Good night" for the last time. It's always like this - he has this strict regimen of things to go through in preparation for sleep (not entirely directed by us, because he's the one who insists on it all now), but when it comes down to actually sleeping, he fights it like a mad man. He doesn't only fight it, he's defiant and manipulative while he's fighting it. If I ever warn him that he needs to be quiet or I'm going to shut his door, he doesn't hear the "be quiet" part, only the "shutting the door" part, and he immediately screams out "BUT WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO OPEN IT?!?!" It's very aggravating.

Last night I was pretty sure it would be a pleasant night, because when I left his room finally (no fighting involved), he was being somewhat quiet, and usually if I go downstairs and mess around in the kitchen for a while, he'll calm down and sleep. But not last night. He talked, he sang, when I asked him to be quieter, he yelled louder, he insisted that he needed to "pick his nose in the bathroom", he said he was having nightmares (he hadn't slept a minute). I had a headache, I'm irritable, and I'm pregnant, and I went off the deep end. Several times. At midnight, he was still coming onto the top of the stairs and yelling stuff, and I spanked his butt hard, like 4 times. I forcefully put him in his bed, much more forcefully than I ever should have. I SCREAMED at the top of my lungs, and I wasn't swearing, but the voice coming out of my body was not mine, and if I were a child I know I would be scared shitless.

Is this the kind of mother I want to be?

After my blood pressure went down, I sat down on the couch and cried for a long time. Then I went online and looked up things, ranging from anti-spanking websites, to anger control support groups, to parenting advice from random strangers, and I'm certain now that spanking is no longer going to be in my repertoire, or in Craig's, for that matter. I grew up with it, and I will admit that I'm a well behaved and decent human being now, but I think that something was unhinged within me during the many spankings I received (I think of all of my sisters, I may have got the most), and it's an angry fury that I sometimes cannot control. If I allow myself even the backup plan of a tiny swat on the butt for doing something really wrong, I'm letting myself have too much slack. I just can't do it, can't mention it, can't support it, can't have my child exposed to that part of me anymore. I explained to him this morning that mommy was wrong for spanking him so hard last night, and he's so innocent that he was very understanding about it all. He shouldn't be understanding! He should be upset about it, but I think that children handle things differently than adults, and maybe his coping method is to be outwardly fine, but he's building up the same wall of distrust that I built when I was a kid.

I'm not saying that I was raised wrong, because at the time (and probably some people still think that this is the time), that was the way parents disciplined their children. I don't think many of my friends had quite the same strict rules that we had, and I know they didn't get spanked with a board, but they got swatted. Their mothers would smack them across their faces for talking back or swearing, and the whole "child abuse" thing wasn't really mentioned all that much. The next generation of kids took it to the opposite end of the spectrum; they all had "time out" in their well-stocked rooms, where they could play video games and watch TV without any interruptions from their pestering parents. And now, here I am, with SuperNanny to tell me one way (the "naughty seat"), and my upbringing telling me I should handle this child a different way... and I'm really having a hard time with either.

Is there something else I can do? I asked Connor to brainstorm with me this morning, and he said he's going to try to be good from now on. I don't want my kid to think he's bad; he's a GREAT person, and the nighttime issues we have aren't reflecting who he really is. The dinnertime battles we have are the same, it's just that he's really thinking for himself all the time, and doesn't realize (or doesn't want to realize) that he's not in control of everything. Actually, he's not in control of much, and I think that really bothers him. How do I give him more control over his life, while still being the parent to direct him and guide him in the things he hasn't yet learned?

I don't like this parenting thing. As I'm sitting here typing this, Elly is constantly nudging me in the belly, reminding me that I need to overcome this dislike soon, because it's not going to be any easier when she comes along. There's just too much responsibility involved.

Ugh. And a puppy soon, too. I'm insane.

Another thing to waste time on

2008-08-13T05:47:00.000-04:00

Puppies. I've been at work for 2 hours now, and I've done... almost nothing. I'm not completely proud of it, but I'm very unmotivated for this job. Plus, I now have another thing to focus on rather than work - the little Bassett Hound we'll be bringing home in a little over two weeks.

Now it's 10:22 and I've also spent time inviting another person to the party on the 31st. But I had to search for her email address first, which also involved rummaging through FaceBook for a little while. I'm so bad! I wish I could focus, but I don't seem to have much trouble focusing at home... maybe that's a sign?

Anyway. Puppy. Or baby. Anything but this. I'm really conflicted - I could go home at lunch and work from home the rest of the day, or I could stay here and work uncomfortably and unhappily for the rest of the day. I suppose it's a better idea to stay; people are all antsy and shitty around here and will (if they haven't already) start to look down on me and my work ethic. Or maybe they won't - who knows - none of them have ever carried a baby in their womb (NONE of them!), so maybe they really have no idea what it's like and are just glad it isn't them. Maybe every time I'm not here, they're glad to realize, once again, that they aren't pregnant and don't have to deal with whatever it is that I may be dealing with.

Today I'm not dealing with anything but indigestion, intense hip/groin pain, and the strong urge to NOT be here. The last one is definitely a symptom of being gone for a few days. Anyway.

Guess I should work. What a boring post.

Conversation

2008-08-07T07:26:00.000-04:00

** Names have been changed to protect the innocent, and the not-so-innocent. Very boring conversation, but it makes me laugh. And this is MY blog, so I'll do what I want to do with it! NEENER! **

- Sassafras

The office door thing, though totally something I should let go about a thousand years ago, really perplexes me. So I sent a note to Lemming. He'll get it when he gets back. Maybe he'll shed some light.

- Succotash

you just asked him to explain why they do it? lol....

- Sassafras

i wrote:
What is with you office turds closing your doors when you're gone? It made sense when Weiner One did it, because... whatever. It's Weiner One. And maybe Weiner Two, because he has employee data files or whatever. But you? IntelligentWeiner? Evil Wench? Gumpy? Did you have a big conference and decide that this is the final separation between office and cube employees? You can lock up your... useless crap? We can't?
You're the only one I could ask, because the rest would be all "secretive" about their lemming rituals.

- Succotash

that's kind of hilarious.
I'll be curious to see what he says.
so you don't think there could have been some sort of lame policy set by Weiner One, possibly to comply with insurance privacy rules or something? Not that they would have sensitive materials in their offices, but there could conceivably be a stupid rule um ... for health insurance stuff ... that offices have to be locked when not in use.

- Sassafras

yeah, maybe. lame, anyway. i have more SSNs and privacy data on my desk than IntelligentWeiner will ever have - he rarely works with client data. i think, more likely, it's some lame thing they decided.
"makes it easier to distinguish who's here" or whatever.

- Succotash

I agree that it's lame.... whatever.
I still think you should try to set up your own door or barrier to your cube, and if queried, you could say that you might have sensitive information in your cube and you're trying to protect it.

- Sassafras

that would be hilarious.
if that's his answer for why they shut their doors, i'm totally going to do that.
someone needs to slap idiocy in the face, and i feel like it's a fun job to have.

- Succotash

I feel like the wingdings are such a great example of what happens every day around here. One person does something by using X, another person uses Y. If anyone could give me a single rational reason why I have to do Y instead of X, i'd be happy to do Y. That's great. Y is the way to go. But 95 percent of the time, it's just ... a person prefers X or X looks "better" to them.
I just sometimes take a step back and have to laugh at all the wasted time and energy around here.

- Sassafras

that is the way things work around here. there's a fine line between being fanatical about it and having realistic expectations of people. for instance, i very frequently have to look through the code that other people are writing, in an effort to use the generalized stuff. and lots of the code around here REALLY sucks, in my opinion. but, if i wanted to make it all "perfect", i'd be spending all of my time correcting other people's code "mistakes", when in reality their way works too. maybe not as efficiently, maybe not as easy to read, but it works. so most of the time i just help them get through the crap they really broke, so that they don't blame my stuff for not working.
it's just not worth it, the wingdings thing.
unless, of course, the people freaking out about stupid shit have nothing better to do with their time (Weiner One and Weiner Two are famous for doing that).

- Succotash

I'm all for improving code where there is clear improvement to be made or ACTUAL efficiency to be improved, but I'm not interested in wasting time fussing about purely stylistic issues with code that come down to someone's judgement call about which code is "better".

- Sassafras

Tight Pants hates when "if" statements aren't capitalized. he'll go through an entire script and change every lower case "i" to an upper case "I". it's psychotic.

- Succotash

that's just dumb and a waste of everyone's time.
oh yeah, capitalization. WTH? who fucking cares? Like, I have my capitalization thing I do, and it's consistent. But why should I unilaterally get to decide how other people capitalize their code? Why is my way better? And who cares?

- Sassafras

exactly. if only people could see my thought bubbles.
and yours, for that matter. our cynical comments about how retarded everything is.

- Succotash

haha ... like I know that I have lots of room for change, evolution, improvment, etc. as far as coding goes. But capitalization or wingdings or shit like that ... that is not evolution. It's just a waste of time.
but then I feel like if I don't have my own psychotic, fussy, anal, coding standards or follow someone else's anal standards, I must be the crazy one. There must be something wrong with me for wanting to know WHY people do the things they do.

- Sassafras

oh, no. see, that kind of thought will take you down the lemming path. it will lead you to being a nutjob, like the rest, and not using reasoning and logic in your daily work life. there IS something wrong with freaking out about stupid crap that happens in the big gray box. there is.
LIFE is TOO SHORT to give a shit about wingdings.

- Succotash

haha ... oh, don't worry ... that will NEVER happen. I just get infuriated.

- Sassafras

me too. all the time. whenever i see a shut door.
you know what bugs me the most about the closed doors? i know i'm dwelling. i'm trying not to. but what REALLY bugs me is that this kind of thing happens - a big group of people start doing something weird constantly, and it turns out that they had some kind of secret meeting about it or whatever and now they do this - but nobody else knows about it. and i can't stand those secrets, especially given the fact that most of the turds in offices haven't worked here much longer than i have, i don't have much respect for them or what they do, and in general i think they're a bunch of weiners! not even in general, they are a big lot of turdwads. and their stupid secrets infuriate me even more than if, say, the entire middle row there started putting their shoes outside their cube doors.
because then it would be like, "heh, you guys are weird." but the office door thing is most certainly a "this is what we'll do from now on, but there's no need for anyone to know why".

- Succotash

and I think that's exactly why it bothers you. I see why its ridiculous, but it doesn't bother me. Because to me, they have always been "higher up" on the (imaginary) hierarchy. But for you, well, you and they are all on the same level, so when they try to set up some sort of distinction between us v. them, you KNOW its a bunch of shit, and it must just seem like a slap on the face. Like them trying to seem better or more important. I bet they did have a "secret" meeting about it. But why? Like ... let's say they all did decide to do it or there is some reason they "have to", or someone told them to. Whatever. It's NOT secret material. It's just meaningless and small and stupid. The very fact that they hold it aside as some kind of secret is really the offensive part. Like "we have special things we do because we're different" or whatever.

- Sassafras

well yeah! that is why it bugs me! and it bugs me that people like SoulGlo and Turd and Weinerriffic know the reason, too, because they either are fucking an office person, or they're related to an office person, and so the separation between "us" and "them" extends to within the cubes, so we can't even have a unified "US".
meh. it's just something to waste my brain space on. it's kinda fun to waste brain space on it though, for me at least, because sometimes i come up with witty shit to put on my blog and it makes me feel all warm and squishy inside. like i'm "getting even" or something, with my silly words that are read by all of like... 5 people.

- Succotash

ugh ... you know, I don't even know who is related to who or who is fucking who in this office. Well, maybe I do, but I try not to think about it. Like ever.

- Sassafras

i'm just causing rumors, mostly, but SoulGlo is related to Gumpy (brother and sister). and Evil Wench and Weinerriffic have a strange intimate relationship that with her evilness and his lack of morality could only result in naked time between the two of them. or maybe they're just "really good friends". whatever it is, it's not normal.

- Succotash

gross

- Sassafras

anyway. hey! thanks for letting me vent for a while. i'm feeling spunky today!
feisty!

- Succotash

maybe she's preggers with Weinerriffic's baby

- Sassafras

eew!

- Succotash

<shudder>
can you imagine what that baby would look like....? dear lord

- Sassafras

we should write a show about our office.

- Succotash

except nobody would want to watch it because it would be annoying and depressing

- Sassafras

well, we'd have to embellish a little
a lot.
but, we could base it on the characters here. and we could exaggerate things, like there could be a cube FULL TO THE CEILING with boxes, and we could film funny clips of people trying to pack another box into that cube.
we'd have to start recording Evil Wench's laugh, so we could have a lot of track time of all of the different varying annoying levels of it. i don't think even an actor could get that thing down.

- Succotash

we wouldn't have to ... haha ... I was just going to mention her laugh
we wouldn't have to exaggerate it, though.
it's already as exaggerated as a laugh could be

- Sassafras

oh, no. just paste it into the show once in a while, kinda randomly (as it seems her laugh just randomly invades my ear space).
dude. this show already rocks.

- Succotash

let's script it.

Connor's questions

2008-08-05T04:38:00.000-04:00

We got this book at the library called "Everyone has a belly button", which describes how a baby develops in the womb from being a tiny cell through when the baby is born. It's longer than many of Connor's books, so he really likes to choose it every night because it means he can stay up later with me. I read all of the words in the book exactly how they are written, because I'm not really afraid for Connor to know correct anatomical words or for him to ask questions about how things are happening. It doesn't go into any detail about how sex happens, so I don't have to travel down that road yet (he is, of course, only three years old). However, the book does use terms like "uterus", "placenta", "vagina", and "breasts". Once in a while, Connor giggles or says "Va-CHINA" a few times just to bug me. Last night, however, he was tired and ready for bed, so he was even more focused on what the book was telling him. He listened carefully and didn't interrupt throughout almost the entire book, but then on one of the last pages where it describes the mommy's uterus squeezing the baby out of her body, through the vagina, and into the world... he stopped me. He looked at me with a very VERY concerned face, and asked "Mommy, does it hurt when the baby comes out of your vaCHINA? Because I don't want that to happen if it hurts."

I had to reassure him that yes, it hurts a mommy a lot, but after the baby is out she is so happy to meet the baby that she doesn't even remember it hurting. He seemed OK after that.

Then he wanted me to tell him the story about when he was born. After a long night of fighting and arguing, it all ended really sweetly.

Sad

2008-08-04T11:54:00.000-04:00

I'm sad today. I'm not completely sure why, but I think it's a combination of being overwhelmed with life, being away from my son, working at a place I despise, and being pregnant. That would probably explain the sadness. I'm sad that last night I had such little patience with Connor, that I couldn't even enjoy the last night of my weekend because I spent so much of it being frustrated with him and the way he ate his dinner. I'm sad that I obviously do not mean much around here, and that as much as people who don't work here want to blow smoke up my butt, I'm really not that important. I just work here, just like anyone else, and although that does leave me with a lot of freedom because I lack responsibility, it also makes me feel like I've wasted too much time here.

Last week on Friday I finally talked to Scott about our "arrangement" for when I go part-time. The conversation began very professionally, with him explaining the different benefits that would continue without a problem, and the other snafus that we're going to run into (like the fact that I can only have medical coverage if I work at least 30 hours per week). When, however, I mentioned the salary issue, he started to get defensive, and caught me off-guard a few times with his disrespectful remarks. At one point we were discussing the fact that this is happening earlier than he expected, and he said something to the effect of "at least now we'll be able to get used to you being gone sooner, and we can sort through things that need to be done before you go." I simply agreed, that yes, this will make things easier than if we just ignore the fact that I'll be out of here in November until November comes! Then he said, "Don't act like you're doing me any favors." He mentioned at one point that it would be easier on him if I weren't leaving earlier, if I weren't leaving at all, in fact it would be easier if I weren't pregnant to begin with.

Who in their right mind mentions to a pregnant woman that the situation would be better if the pregnant woman weren't even pregnant? Because then... what if I miscarried? What if something terrible happened? What kind of idiot makes a comment like that in general, let alone to an emotional wreck of an employee? TO AN EMPLOYEE, ever? I was appalled. I think I hid it well, because I didn't cry when I was in there, but it did feel like he thought I was scum for choosing family over his precious company, and I really didn't want to ever come back in to work for him after that. But, here I am.

There were so many other things that came out in that conversation that I can't remember in full detail to be able to write it all down. The real result is this: I'll be going "part-time" starting on August 15th, working 3 days a week in the office and figuring out a way to get in an extra 6 hours elsewhere. I can work my own hours, so if I want to come in late, I can, and I believe if I want to skip a lunch and just work straight through, I can do that as well. Once I get closer to my due date, I can work one of those 3 days completely from home, so long as I get my hours in. I'm not going to be salaried - they're going to pay me an hourly rate based on my current salary. I'll still get medical, I'll still get profit sharing, and I'll still get my bonus at the end of the year (although I was informed that by going part-time, the amount will be "impacted", whatever that means). I'm not completely clear on how maternity leave is going to work out, but I still qualify for it, and I believe it's still going to be paid - though whether it will be paid based on my hourly rate or my previous salaried rate is still a question. They don't have an official policy on it yet, surprise surprise.

All of that is good, actually. I'm excited for August 15th to come, and I'm glad that part is over with. I'm not excited to deal with my coworkers giving me grief for working less, but they could do it too if they wanted to make less money... they'd just need to ask. There are consequences, and if anyone walks around here thinking I'm a scumbag for working less but not feeling the effects of it - they can shove it up their butts. I'm feeling the effects of it already, and soon it'll become even more clear.

What sucked about the conversation, and what is taking me some time to get over and get used to, is that I've been working here for almost 5 years and I feel like nothing good has come from it. Well, not nothing. I have new friends. We bought a house, and are raising a child, and we were able to put Craig through school because of the sacrifices I've made by working here. But, in all that time, my boss still has no respect for me or my decisions, and even though it shouldn't hurt, it does. I think if it were anyone treating me this way, not just Scott, it would be hurtful, but the fact that it is someone that knows me and has grown maybe not to understand me, but to know about a few intimate details of my life... that feels even worse.

I judge people like crazy in my day-to-day life. I judge whether a person is a good driver or not simply based on they way he changes lanes. I think most teenage kids are probably jerks or self-absorbed, I think many of the people in my neighborhood are disrespectful, and I'm sure my neighbor is a raging alcoholic though I rarely ever actually see him drinking. So I'm not claiming that I'm faultless here - I have plenty of room for improving my views of the human race in general. But I still cannot understand how Scott could treat me like I've become one of the "undesirables" that he so adamantly despises, simply because I choose my family over this place. I'm able to see how he could choose this place over his family; he has no family, nor any desire, and so this place does define him.

I'm really babbling. It was a way to pass time. I'm leaving in seven minutes.

slightly irritated

2008-07-25T06:42:00.000-04:00

A response! Not the one I wanted, but Scott finally acknowledged today that I sent him that huge long in-depth proposal for a flexible schedule. His response was filled with all things despicable about Aliquant; that they would see this as an attack on them rather than a viable solution to a real problem that one of their employees faces. And that they would push it to the side (though that was adamantly denied) and ignore the problem, until one day... what happens? The employee bites back? Threatens to quit? They don't know, and they somehow don't even consider the possibility that an outcome like that could occur. I don't know, I guess I'll just be patient. The conversation essentially went as follows: Scott lets me know that he's not ignoring the email, he just needs to discuss it with Saraab and she's busy with the conference. He'll get back to me next Friday. I agree, that sounds fine, thanks for taking a look at it.

A few minutes later, I realize what this means. It means that they're not going to discuss it, Friday of next week will come and go and nobody will give me the time of day, and I'll continue into yet another week of my pregnancy, another week of time lost, waiting and wondering if my life is ever going to be any easier. So, I message Scott again - I'm just concerned that this is an issue that could be ignored for some time, and as I have little time left, my anxiety over it is growing. I will be patient until next Friday, but I'm essentially telling him that I'm not giving up until they give in. He assures me it won't be swept under the rug, they'll discuss it, my benefits should not be impacted but since it's asking to go part-time, my maternity leave may be affected.

So. What does that mean? That if I start going part-time now, I won't receive any maternity leave? I mean, I guess that's okay, and Craig and I will by then be able to figure out ways of making ends meet a little better than we can now - we can't sit down for any time now to make up a budget. We have no time. Or, at least, I don't have any time, and I don't have any motivated people in my life to do it for me (my husband, basically), so until I find some time, it won't get done.

LIFE IS STRESSFUL.

And now, back to work.

23 weeks picture update

2008-07-23T18:00:00.000-04:00

BLECH. I'm not liking this new form. Today we went out for Japanese food, and the waitress immediately said "You're having a girl!" Wow! She's right! I was impressed, so I asked how she knew... and her answer was that I'm carrying wide. I guess that could be true, I'm not really sure, but it doesn't feel pretty. Then we went to Dairy Queen afterward (Craig insisted - it wasn't my idea!) and there was a tiny skinny black woman there with a cute little bubble belly and I was so jealous. That's all I have to say about that.

Hey, is it allowed to say she was black? Do I have to say she was African American? What if her ancestors weren't from Africa?

I gave Scott my proposal for working part-time today, and strangely he never even addressed it. He acted as if he never received it, so I'm almost tempted to send it again. I set a date within the proposal of beginning this adjusted schedule on August 15th, so he doesn't really have a whole lot of time. If he doesn't say anything tomorrow, I'll definitely bring it up again so that we can schedule a discussion for Friday. I hope he mentions it tomorrow. I spent some serious time on that thing.

I'm feeling worn out today, and my brain's not working quite right. At dinner I had a long discussion with Rachel about the office and the inner workings of it, and I don't feel like I helped her at all; when we left I was sure that I had made things worse for her. I'm hoping that it's just my insecurities getting in the way of rational thought, because I usually can be a good listener and a motivational speaker (hey, another new career choice!) - but the rhythm just wasn't with me today. If she just up and quits, I will make sure to let it be known the reason why, because this kind of thing can't keep happening. If she sticks it out, hopefully she will be able to create positive change at least for her own well-being. It's really defeating to see all of these good people get worn down by that place. I'm always confused as to how I've lasted so long, but I think I've developed some kind of survival mechanism that keeps me alert and aware of the pain and suffering, but able to persevere.

Maybe I should find out how I do that, and try to teach it somehow.

Now, I will turn on the TV and mush out.

desperation

2008-07-18T04:09:00.000-04:00

I'm not really sure what to do now; every day has major highs and major lows. Today I woke up happy, because the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, Connor slept the whole night long and didn't whine (much), and I'm just extremely glad that it's Friday. So then I got ready, came to work, and before starting real "work", I decided to check out car prices for a while. Just to see what we could get for our Rav4, and what we could do after selling it. As it turns out, we owe about $7,000 more than the trade in value, and about $4,000 more than the private-party value, and that means that if we do decide to go get a new car, we'll be paying an extra $4,000 - $7,000 for the car, meaning we have to buy a scooter or something to make up the difference. WHY did we decide to buy that stupid Rav4 in the first place? Do you know why? To keep up with the Joneses. To look like we were doing well, and we were doing well, but now I think I want things to change a bit, and I don't really care about keeping up with anything. I want a functional car, a safe car, and one that doesn't cost $500 a month to pay for. And I want valid suggestions for how to do that. I know that if we asked Craig's mom for advice (she works in a bank, after all), she'd suggest doing something stupid and retarded like she always does - just get a HUGE car, waste TONS of gas, and finance it forever! No thanks! I mean, I guess for now, a good option may be to lease a car, even a long lease (like 3 - 5 years), and pay a lot less per month to drive a car to where we need to go. That could be feasible, but there's still the problem of getting rid of the Rav4, which is a really nice car by the way, but nobody wants an SUV anymore because gas costs $4.25 a gallon. I'm screwed, and really, I feel so alone in this battle against the world sometimes. Craig doesn't look this stuff up, he doesn't feel or notice the implications that simple things like "we can't sell our car" mean for us. What it means is that I can't go work part-time right now, or I can but something else, and something big needs to be cut out of our budget - but what? What do we get rid of? What do we stop doing? Do we cancel our satellite service? Do we sell the huge TV? Do I start offering to make people roman shades for their homes for pay? That's not a bad idea, really. Anyway. I just feel like it's all on me, there's this huge weight on my shoulders all the time, and I don't want this load anymore. I have a "load" that I'm carrying around in my belly, and God knows my head is full of shit, and I'm feeling so worn down and tired of it all that I can't carry around all of this financial bullshit all the time too. Do you realize that I've worked full time since my son was only 6 weeks old? Never had more than a week off at a time, almost missed his first steps? I'm just losing it. Losing everything, and I'm so positive that the shit we have isn't worth the shit I've missed. What's infuriating is that I have to work on "convincing" Craig that he needs to be less materialistic and start conserving - he always wants to be frugal with things like groceries, but then he has to have the Wii and the best TV and the fancy car and nice furniture and a cool phone, and I like all of those things too - but I don't think I've been the one to need them as much as he does. Anyway. I guess since I'm here, I might as well do a little work.

And don't even suggest working some multi-level marketing plan thing, dad. I just don't need that kind of frustration right now. I don't need someone blowing steam up my butt, I need reality. But a better one.

Fishing! And other random notes...

2008-07-09T07:03:00.000-04:00

Connor caught a fish today! TWO fish, actually! I wish they didn't always go fishing when I was working, but I guess it's a cool father/son thing to do, and I don't need to be around for it all the time. Connor called me and was very concerned because one of the fish had the hook really stuck in his mouth, and he was worried that it was going to die. But then daddy fixed it, and it went back into the water, and swam away (which, in a three-year-old's mind, means it was ok).

Random thought: why in the world do people use those ridiculous toilet seat covers when they go to the bathroom to pee? I never use them, they're stupid. You're sitting on the toilet for all of 30 seconds (usually), and that is just not enough time to have anything get on your butt. Plus, if there's something ON the toilet (like a drop of pee or something), why would you just cover it up with flimsy tissue paper and then SIT ON IT anyway? Is paper impermeable to bacteria? No, it's not. The bugs in the whatever it is that you're covering can get through the paper. Why not just grab a small wad of toilet paper, wipe off the seat a bit, and THEN sit down? Women are so stupid. I was talking about this with Rachel the other day, and she said that it's an overwhelming number of people actually using those things, and we're actually the outcasts. I saw some stickers at school on one of those dispensers that said "THESE ARE MADE FROM TREES", and apparently that's supposed to detract people from using the things. I'm thinking of making some stickers of my own and secretly pasting them on the dispensers here. My stickers will say something like "Don't be a dumb bimbo - skip the paper seat cover". Or something like that, maybe a little more clever.

It's silly to be irritated over something so irrelevant, but really - that has to be one of the worst inventions I can think of. And some paper company is making TONS of money off idiotic people that think a little piece of tissue paper is going to protect your butt from the evil bugs that lurk on the cold toilet seat (not much can actually live in a dry, cold environment, so there really aren't a lot of bugs on the seat - I've checked). You know what we need? Squat toilets. Then you wouldn't want to sit down on anything, and there'd be no need for some seat cover. Probably some evil old man would then invent "disposable floor covers" or something, and stupid careless office workers would get them to protect their shoes from evil nasty pee.

Having a girl...

2008-07-02T05:25:00.000-04:00

WOW!

I know it's only a day after we found out, but I think it's going to take a long long time to sink in. A GIRL. I'm a girl, so what's the big deal? I just don't know. I know how I feel about things, I know how my upbringing affected me, but I don't know exactly how to allow or prevent things from happening to Elly that happened to me. I want to raise a strong, independent daughter, capable of anything and more than most boys could ever achieve. I think with Connor it's easier because I know what a good man should be (or I think I do), and I think I know how to help him discover what he's capable of. With a girl, I feel so conflicted - I'm not even sure what I'm capable of, I'm not even sure if I'm a good person, so I'm obviously not a very confident person (all the time, at least), and trying to instill confidence and strength into another woman is going to be so...

I'm rambling! But I'm scared, too. I know both of my sisters have daughters, and my mom managed to have four... but I don't know if I'll be good at it.

I had a long conversation with Craig last night about the way he acts toward Connor. Craig was talking to Elly (my belly), telling her all about her big brother. Almost every single thing he said was some negative comment about our son - he doesn't eat enough, he's a "punk", he doesn't listen well, he's short... it's as if there's nothing good about Connor that Craig could come up with on the spot without slamming our 3 year old child at the same time. Being pregnant, and emotional, I just couldn't stand it! I mean, it is HARD to deal with Connor sometimes. He's incredibly stubborn, and from what I can gather from my mom and her sisters (Mari and Christine never warned me about this), it's apparently a stage that kids go through - the "Horrible Threes" or something? I also admit that my methods aren't the best; they're probably close to the worst, and that me being forceful with Connor is definitely something I need to CHANGE (I don't know how, so any suggestions are definitely welcome). But I'm MADLY in love with that kid! I think he's absolutely perfect - besides his tendency to act like a three year old child. I want him to respect me, and even sometimes fear me (not that I'll beat him or something, just that I really mean what I say and he isn't the one in control), but I also want him to feel like nothing he can or cannot do will ever change the love his parents have for him. Y'know? That's what all kids want, I think. To know that even in their failures, while often not wished for by the parents, the love between parent and child holds firm. No matter whether he's good at soccer, excels at the piano, is a math genius, speaks clearly, makes a lot of friends... anything - nothing can change what I feel for that kid. But with Craig, it seems like he's almost sure Connor's a failure when he can't or won't do something that Craig thinks he should do. Connor doesn't pay attention sometimes, especially when he's busy playing with something or drawing or whatever. When that happens, Craig immediately turns to "well, maybe he has ADD". What!?! Are you NUTS? He's THREE! And he's NOT short, he's in the 75th percentile for his height, so the fact that he's not as tall as us yet shouldn't mean you classify him as being a short guy! And he doesn't need to eat more, he needs to eat whatever he does eat, because if he wasn't eating enough, he'd be telling us he's hungry! He's a pretty great person! He has a funny little sense of humor! He's sweet, he calls me pretty all the time, he's nice to old ladies, he's charming! So WHAT if he gives us a ton of trouble when he's going to bed? So WHAT if sometimes he says "I'm going to do whatever I want to do" as if he's a 15 year old boy? He's a kid. I'll forgive him for that.

Oh well. It just hurts a little, I feel like I'm betraying him anyway by having another (even though I really really WANT another!), and it's even harder when I see Craig look at him with disdain all the time; he's just so friggin perfect that it's difficult to allow anyone to treat him otherwise. Discipline is one thing, disgust is another. Maybe I'm exaggerating.

Shouldn't I be working?

It's A.......

2008-07-01T10:55:00.000-04:00

GIRL!!!

WOWZA! I mean, we LOVE our boy - nothing's better than Connor. But WOW what a different feeling it is to know there's a girl in there! FREAKY! Connor's excited, he gets along with girls pretty well!

And her name is going to be...

ELLY MACRAE BECKMAN

Pretty, eh? We love it. Or, at least, I love it - and Craig's pretty fond of it, but whenever I say the middle name, Connor corrects me and reminds me that her name is JUST ELLY. But I think Macrae goes along with the name Elly perfectly.

The doctor says she's approximately 12 ounces, which I'm not so sure if that measurement is accurate, but apparently at 20 weeks they're supposed to be around 9-11 ounces, so we're right on target. Maybe she'll be born a few weeks before Thanksgiving, so I can be a little rejuvenated enough to EAT LIKE A PIG!

Oh, here's a picture of me today in my cute little "going to the ultrasound" outfit. It was fun, a little hectic with Connor there because he was pretty bored! He thought it was pretty neat that they squirted goo all over my belly, especially when it made a fart noise. Are girls that cool? I hope so.

Love you guys!

19 Weeks!

2008-06-23T18:01:00.000-04:00

This is a silly picture of me in the bathroom last night, amazed at the belly expanding in front of me. I haven't really gained any weight in about 3 weeks, which I find strange, but maybe I gained enough in the first trimester that I could taper off for a little while. I'm not complaining - the less weight gained, the better as far as I'm concerned. As long as the baby's healthy. Ooh - we find out the sex of the baby in exactly one week! Next Tuesday! This is all flying by REALLY fast. Hey, so if you are a reader of this silly blog here, and you talk to me in person or on the phone ever (i.e. family/friends/coworkers), I think we're going to have a party next Saturday to celebrate both my birthday and the independence of our nation (ha!), so let me know if you're interested in coming (email me, call me, text me, comment on this page - doesn't matter). Dude! Back to work.

Oh little blog, how do I love thee?

2008-06-20T09:27:00.000-04:00

I love this thing. It really is an outlet I haven't had before, and I can't imagine going through a lot of the things I go through without it.

For instance, talk of my pregnancy. Stuff from sympathetic women, or men who are generally polite or have had pregnant wives, is normally well tolerated. They ask questions like "Have you thought of names yet?" or "Do you have a theme for the room started?" They are sometimes mindless questions, I'll admit, but they are targeted toward what they know to be an emotional mess of a human being, constantly in some kind of discomfort, and ready to lash out at the first thing that tips them over the edge (my brain is stuck on the nervous system lately, so if you know anything about action potentials, they closely resemble what goes on when I erupt on someone from being bothered too much).

Most others, however, just bug me. Just BUG me. They love to comment on how fat I was the first time, and I mean, I just DEAL with it, but should I? Or should I act like I'm a different person without a sense of humor and really BITE at them? Probably I should do what I am doing, because the latter would take too much energy and I don't feel like giving them the satisfaction of knowing they're bugging me. But geez, if you knew that someone had... let's say... been in a car accident. And they had, at one time in your acquaintance with this person, been getting skin grafts or something equally painful, and maybe even it was on a visible part of their body, like their face, or ears, or arms. Ok, so now you have the vision of someone you deal with on a regular basis, going through something extremely uncomfortable, painful, and something you generally wouldn't want to have happen to you at any point in time, so you try not to dwell on it too much when you see them.

Or you're a jerk and you do dwell on it every time you see them, saying jackass things like "Hey, how's it going Quasimodo?" and shit like that.

But say you're not a HUGE jerk. That doesn't exists here, but pretend it did. Then, that person SO unfortunately (this part of the analogy doesn't quite correlate to my situation, because this second child definitely a blessing not a curse, but you get my point, right?) gets into another car accident, and they once again have to go through painful procedures to fix whatever it is that was hurt this time.

Where I'm going with this is that during my first pregnancy, through no fault of my own (and I tried EVERYTHING to stop it from happening), my ankles swelled from so much retained fluid that it literally felt like they were going to rip up the sides. Especially after a long day, I would wish that something catastrophic could happen and my legs could just be amputated, to prevent me from having to feel that pain anymore. It was not fun, it was not funny, it was not something I wanted to ever go outside and be seen with, but I did it every single fucking day until 3 days before I delivered. Once again, I coped.

So now, another miracle is about to happen, and Craig and I are having another baby. Well wouldn't you know it, the total assholes that I worked with before are still my fucking coworkers. GOD. It's funny, because they're all like "uh oh, watch out, you're gonna make her mad", but it's so obvious that it's exactly what they want to see, and it's just completely and utterly disrespectful and rude. But I'll deal. I will deal, and I'll do it as gracefully as possible, because like I mentioned in my conversation with Ravneet the other day - there is a light at the end of this tunnel. A bright light, a blinding light, and it is that we will soon have a beautiful addition to our family, and at the same time I'll be out of this place.

I actually have work to do. The potluck was fun, but I don't know that I liked the brief moments where focus was on my pregnancy, and instead of being nice and excited for me, they were jerks. That wasn't fun.

random pregnancy rant

2008-06-13T06:33:00.000-04:00

But it's not really so random.

I hate people treating me like I'm dumber for any reason whatsoever, even if I am truly dumber than they are. And I hate office etiquette and email, they are the scourge of the devil.

I'm getting annoyed at belly comments already, and they're just beginning. I know I have to deal with them, but I don't want to - I want to just tell people to lay off, it's normal, it's a freakin' pregnant belly. And mine, so don't touch. Why as a pregnant woman are we expected to allow comments on our appearance and allow people to touch us randomly, all with a pleasant smile on our faces? It's as if we can be less protective of the things we may have valued before: common courtesy, personal space. I don't get it, and I don't agree. Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I lost my face. And just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean my body is "HANDS ON" for whoever feels like gracing my body with their freakin' presence.

Thank God it's Friday. I was going to stick around and do stuff that probably I should do (study, take the quiz that's due today, etc.) but instead I'm heading out of here, to enjoy freedom for an hour.

I woke up with a Tom Petty song in my head today.

Laziness and complaining

2008-06-11T05:07:00.000-04:00

I've posted quite a bit this week, and I don't really know how I'm finding time to do it. Perhaps it's in waiting for huge databases to restore that I find a quiet moment or two to reflect on how much I hate it here. Yes, yes, that's it.

I talked to Craig a while ago about discussing moving Connor into the bigger kids room at preschool instead of being stuck in the little kids room. I also briefly mentioned a few days ago that maybe I would consider talking to Scott about working a day or two a week after I deliver this baby, part time, just from home. I don't see a whole lot of action on Craig's part as far as getting financially stable before this baby is born, so of course, my options are to sit by and wait until the roof caves in, or go and fix things myself, metaphorically speaking of course. So I suggested this new option, which probably I should have kept to myself so as not to give him any glimmer of hope of getting off easy on this one. Anyway. My mistake. So I'm talking to him about Connor being at preschool in the bigger kids room, and he said something like "Well, especially if you're going back to work after this baby's born, we're going to need some childcare." GOD DAMN IT. I'm NOT GOING BACK TO WORK AFTER THIS BABY'S BORN! Maybe, possibly, I'll work PART TIME, after about 4 months off, and that's only a MAYBE right now. I mean, I don't want to! I don't want to AT ALL! And I don't want Craig to think I'm going to, because whenever he is given ANY slack, he takes it all and doesn't work hard enough to do things good for our family (like MAKING MORE FREAKIN MONEY TO PAY THE HUGE STUPID BILLS.) I flew off the handle at that comment, probably a bit more than necessary but I'll attribute it to the pregnancy hormones and the fact that I have a really yucky stomach ache that won't go away. I hate men.

SO THEN. I'm looking at the stupid status messages on this Pandion thing at work, and people generally have really stupid ones, like "Oorayhay orfay ednesdayway" and other random shit. But one person has "Thinks using the EEADDR studr was an error. Address user record would have worked." And although that doesn't mean anything to anyone but people in this god forsaken office, that's enough to really make me mad. And I'll explain.

Everything I do here involves generalized crap that everyone can just steal and use at will. They think it will work because I wrote it, and for the most part, it does. HOWEVER, I am human. And I do make mistakes, silly mistakes, stupid mistakes that I can't blame anyone for except my own stupid self. AND I DO, I take the blame for errors, I fix them, I republish the scripts people are stealing and everyone, for the most part, is happy. THEY SHOULD BE HAPPY, because if they had any fucking clue what goes into the scripts I'm writing for them, they'd know that I saved them hours and hours and hours of work. Work that, if given the chance, I would gladly throw right back in their smug faces and smash all around so they can't BREATHE because of the work that I'm doing for them. But no, I do my job, and I do it as well as I can (though lately I've been spending more time blogging and studying than working, I'll admit).

So this little stupid comment about something foreign to everyone but us is extremely frustrating, because what it means is this: some turd in this office has had his plans for some asinine testing paused temporarily because something doesn't work in the code I wrote. This thing that doesn't work in the code I wrote is complicated, and it doesn't work not because I didn't write it correctly, but because in the basic software itself, the developers decided not to allow a certain function. This function is necessary for what I'm trying to do. So now, I have to figure out 1) how to do what they want me to do, and 2) how to ask the developers how to do it, without pissing them off for asking for something that would "never happen". So, this thing that will "never happen" is apparently happening en masse for the client that this dummy with the status message is working on. And he wants someone else to fix his problem. Poor baby.

I know that's probably all Chinese. The gist of this all is this: people here suck. They don't even realize their laziness, or that their complaints are so minuscule and obnoxious it's almost more effort to make my ears listen to their complaints than it is to fix them and get on with my life. And THIS is another reason why Craig's comment about me coming back to work made me furious today. I DON'T FUCKING WANT TO, NOT TODAY, NOT TOMORROW, NOT EVER. I do, because it's necessary. Someone else in this marriage HAS to take the responsibility for doing unwanted things once in a while.

Funny, Funny DTE. So silly, those power dudes.

2008-06-10T12:06:00.000-04:00

Here's an email I wrote to DTE the other day when our power was out, and it was impossible to get ahold of anyone, and I was a little perturbed at our food all going bad:

EVERYWHERE I LOOK, the only phone number I can find for DTE is the silly 4747 number, and EVERY TIME I CALL IT, nobody answers! We're given a "this call cannot be completed as dialed" message! Now, I'm not an expert, but you'd think that the power company that supplies power for MILLIONS of people throughout the state of Michigan would have a FRIGGIN BACKUP PLAN!!! We're out of power. We can manage, of course, but all of our food is going bad, and I'm absolutely certain none of the big wig turds that work for DTE are going to do anything about buying us a refrigerator full of groceries to restock what we're losing. I'm also sure they don't care that we're hot, that our 3 year old son can't sleep all night long, and it's going to be another brutal day as far as humidity goes. We're leaving our house, we're going to find other things to do, and it's all we can do to hope that our cats can manage in the heat of a closed up house. If I could, I'd take all of my rotten food and throw it at someone's house that I KNOW is not working fast enough to AT LEAST provide a phone number, or a working website, so that we can be assured that our complaints are being heard.

The website won't work either. I keep getting fatal errors SIMPLY when trying to see if there's ANY progress getting our house back online.

PLEASE RESPOND, if there's ANYONE at DTE with any kind of dedication at ALL to customer service. At least let me know that you're not sitting in your air conditioned houses watching the rest of us fan ourselves with what paper we can find in the dark.

So, they wrote back today. And I think their answer is funny. I should go through the claims report to get some money back for lost food, I think it would be fun to go buy $20 of groceries on DTE's bill.

Dear Elizabeth Beckman:

We apologize for the inconvenience with our website and the phone lines.

It was extremely unfortunate we did not have a back up to the phone system. We worked expeditiously with the phone company to get the phone lines back up.

We also are working hard, around the clock, to get all our customers restored.

We will send you a claims form to report any loss of food.

We value your input and your e-mail has been forwarded to management for review, to help make improvements with future catastrophic outages.

Our records indicate your service was restored on 6-9, approximately 2:43 PM.

Thank you for using my.dteenergy.com.

Sincerely,

DTE Energy Internet Team

New belly shot!

2008-06-09T17:43:00.000-04:00

[gallery]

Here's me today, standing out on the deck after a really cool storm. I love being able to go outside and see the awesome views on the deck - it's really pretty sweet. Anyway, there's the belly. There's me, with the belly. I just hope it goes back to being small and cuteish again, someday.

In-laws suck

2008-06-06T06:20:00.000-04:00

So, I haven't posted in a while (a week?), because it's been a really busy week. Or two. Or more. I've been crazy at school and at home, with the deck and having dad at our house for a week and the warm weather and the pool opening - it's been nuts! Our deck is finally finished though, and it's pretty awesome. Now we need to buy some furniture to stick out there - I was thinking that maybe Connor and I would go to some garage sales on Saturday after soccer practice and look for cool strange pieces of furniture to stick out there. We need to find a cooler weekend, very soon, to actually water treat the deck, and after that, all we have to do is enjoy it. Thanks Dad, Craig, and (ahem) Neil!

Speaking of Neil, I once again have good reason to completely despise Craig's parents. When Craig's dad was here briefly to help out with the deck, I think I may have gone a little overboard with my hatred of him. I try as hard as I can to keep that kind of stuff from leaking onto the outside of me; I have been pretty good in the past at keeping up appearances while silently wishing plague on certain people.

On the first night Craig's dad was in our house, I came home feeling feisty, so after hearing and seeing the way he was treating his own son, I addressed both him and my father on the couch about the situation. My dad wasn't really doing anything wrong at all; he designed, planned, and built our deck - much of it single-handedly. So anything he was doing that could have normally bugged me was not bothering me at all, and I was happy to clean up after him, cook for him, get him water or tea or whatever. Craig's dad, on the other hand, was asked to come to our house to help with CONNOR, not with the deck, and instead of doing what was requested of him, he went outside and chatted with my dad, acting like he was helping out. Craig ended up taking care of Connor, cooking food for all of the men, and once in a while being asked outside to do some heavy lifting or something that his own father couldn't handle because he's old and has had a stroke. In general, Craig was given little chance to do anything with the building of his own deck (initially, at least, but he made up for it later). I think his dad has little regard for his own son's pride, only his own, so the old man let a young man feel like crap without thought of the consequences. AND Neil was leaving his shit around, not taking his shoes off, leaving his plate on the table and walking away, and making sexist and/or racist remarks about whatever he was seeing on the TV. I got fed up, and I told them that they better not treat Craig like he's a little woman of the house (I tried as hard as I could to mostly direct this at Craig's dad), and I expect that each "man" take care of his own crap; nobody was in our house for a vacation from doing what is required of them normally. Neil defended himself, acted like he's such a good helper boy, and really ignored me. I hated him from that minute on, but I kept my mouth shut (to him, at least). I then started talking to my sisters - Carole especially, and started realizing that Neil's not only shitty to his own son, but he's really icky around me and my sisters! Long lingering kisses, and icky squeezy hugs that are inappropriate for a man to give a woman that is not intimately involved with him, so ESPECIALLY inappropriate for a man to give to his daughter-in-law or her sisters. ICK! So toward the end of his stay, his sexist comments, disgusting looks, comments about pregnancy or childrearing, and idiot remarks about building as if he knows anything about construction at all, really got to me. So, I told him! He said Ann wanted him to stay at our house to help build the deck, and I told him that I wanted him to go home! GEEZ! My dad didn't even notice that my comment may have been rude, so I don't think it was. I tried to say it in a joking manner, like Neil likes to say everything, and I felt a lot better after saying it. Then, two hours later, he actually did leave. I invited him and Ann over for Ashley's birthday dinner, and he said they'd discuss it. Then he was gone. Whew!

Now I come to find out that he was really offended by my treatment of him, and he felt "unwelcome" in my house. Well he was unwelcome, but I had no choice but to let him come over because like I've said before, I couldn't take an entire week off so that I could watch Connor while Craig and Dad built the deck. I was stuck with him being at my house, and he's always been a jerk I didn't really enjoy being around, but I have a knack for dealing with things that I don't like. I do! I mean, look what I've been through in my life (ok, it's generally been really pretty good, but not *easy*), and then tell me that you think I'm not a resilient person.

Then I find out that Ann is mad too, that we would be so callous and rude to her wonderful husband. WhatEVER. It's so ridiculous how quickly she changes her mind about something just to bother me and Craig. She hates Neil. She says it all the time - in fact, I hate having the two of them over at the same time, because it's all you can do to STOP from hearing her tell of her hatred for her husband. Now I have to feel badly for being a bitch to her asshole fucker of a husband? NO THANKS. I'm not apologizing, nor am I backing down. I'm fucking pregnant, and anything to set me off WILL set me off, and in this particular circumstance, it's set me off for good. When Connor was born, and before he was born too in fact (I was reading an old journal entry the other day full of fury and hatred for them, and it was from about a month before Connor arrived), I bit my tongue and coped with having crappy in-laws. I prevented them from coming in the delivery room and for the most part got my way, and I enforced the "we're not going to have you around 24/7" rule when we finally got home. I actually upset them pretty good at that time too, because Ann was (of course) being pushy and bitchy and just GOT THE BEST OF ME, so I blew up at her. And I'll do it again, I swear I will, they better just TEST me so that I get the chance to. UGH. Ranting ranting ranting.

I know they're Craig's parents, but I really would not be very upset if they didn't exist in the human form anymore. I'd show my condolences for a loss of a human life, but I wouldn't miss them much. It's so EVIL, but it's so true. I don't even know HOW to stop myself from feeling this way toward them.

So the reason I'm writing this huge long ranting post is that now, apparently, Craig's parents are insisting that we bring Connor out to some sure-to-be-backwards campground in mid-June, because they're doing their first camp thing of the summer and they just NEED to have us there. No apologies, no recognition of the fact that I'm angry and frustrated and it's THEM that's causing this feeling. Or maybe it's caused by them and pregnancy, but either way, fucking RECOGNIZE IT and try to do something about it! Not them. Not those fucking pride-filled assholes. And Craig wants me to GO! What they really want is for me to drop off my 3.5 year old beautiful son to be in the presence of their dangerous shit - every fucking time he's left alone with them something happens that clearly would not have happened if he were with me. I'm not a protective parent, either - I let him climb stuff, jump off tall stairs, try hanging upside down, jump in the pool and go underwater - but I make sure he doesn't touch the stove or play with knives or near fire. They don't - they're retarded, Ann's often drunk, and Neil's oblivious to EVERYTHING if it doesn't directly affect him or what he's doing.

So no, I'm not dropping off my kid. And no, I don't want to go. And no, I don't want to say "maybe", because it's not like between now and then they're going to suddenly come to their senses and realize they're selfish pricks that I don't want to have anything to do with, ever. Ann's the type of woman that I hate anyway, always concerned with the gossip in someone else's life, too little concern with intelligence, politics, or world events. Too into jewelry and makeup and "products", too little care with anything real, anything emotional, anything based in reality without the extras. Neil's a pervert, and a sexist racist pig pervert at that. The world could do well with a lot less men like him in it.

I read today that a little stress in pregnancy is actually good for the growing fetus, but I'm not so sure a LOT of stress is any good for anyone.

A day to remember (or try to forget)

2008-05-22T19:21:00.000-04:00

Instead of making this a simple picture blog (14 weeks pictures out today!), I decided to write a little about something that I saw today that actually made me whip my head around and yell "Holy Shit!"

Gas at the station near my house costs $4.09 a gallon. Never thought I'd see that. It'll be funny when I'm old and wrinkly to think back to this day in awe of how cheap and simple things were "way back when", and then stop reminiscing to yell at the grandkids to stop horsing around on their rocket boots.

Here's the new pics! I feel fat and bloated today, but luckily I was able to suck in the belly enough to feel like I can still get a decent photo.

[gallery]

A little too sensitive

2008-05-20T06:42:00.000-04:00

I'm sure it's because I'm being sensitive lately, but some comments by some people just make me want to pop them in the nose. For instance, I was talking to a woman that is in my A&P lab, and she asked me how many months pregnant am I. I'm not quite clear on months vs. weeks equivalents, so I said I think being that I'm 14 weeks now, I'm somewhere around my 4th months of pregnancy. And do you know what she said to me in reply? I have to keep in mind that she's from Peru and maybe the culture there allows this kind of thing, but she told me that I'm TOO BIG for being only 4 months! She said that I should watch what I eat. UUGGGH! I can't believe someone has the balls to say that to a pregnant woman! I mean, I've gained a total of like 5 pounds in the past 14 weeks. Maybe I should be smaller, but GODDAMN IT, I can't shrink now, so please! Lay off the fat comments. Then last night I had the most awful dreams about having 6 chins and being teased for my weight and being too big to get through doors - it was NOT fun. I hate people.

Then today, my best friend JC decided he had a "problem", and instead of coming over here like EVERYONE ELSE DOES, he actually wrote to me in an IM that he wanted me to stop by his desk when I got a chance, because typing out his question would be "too difficult". Fuck him. I told him I have a headache so I'm not moving, he can just write me a note. Or fucking visit. GOD. Like he has the RIGHT to demand that I COME TO HIM! Grr.

So, I told Scott

2008-05-19T09:19:00.000-04:00

So, I told Scott that I'm pregnant today, and due in November. He wasn't as much as an ass as I thought he would be, although still not as fun to tell as I'm sure it would be to tell a woman - they always are more excited and bubbly about that kind of thing. He did say congrats, we talked about leave, blah blah blah, and as I was walking out the door he did mention something about starting up the "fat jokes" again... AAH! Oh well. Truthfully, I've proved to myself that after the birth of a child a woman's body doesn't have to become just a vessel to get us around - we can shape it back into a performance machine that we're proud to be a part of. So what do I care if Scott starts up the fat jokes? The problem last time was that people latched on to Scott and did whatever he did, instead of thinking for themselves. This time I've been a bit more established for a while, and I don't think the majority of staff around here would dare say a single "funny" thing to me about my expanding waistline, lest they want to be punched square in the nose.

I think I'll have a piece of baklava to celebrate that remark.

What's even funnier about it all is that Scott said there has been "talk" in the office about the possibility that I'm pregnant. I know I look a bit thicker, but my stomach stuck WAY out last time, and it's not even really doing anything yet this time, although I guess in the beginning of the summer season it's more normal to thin down than bulk up... and I've definitely been bulking up. So I could have gone a little longer without telling Scott, but apparently he would have already known.

There's so much secretive talking around here it's disgusting. And that bugs me.

Maybe those biyatches are reading my blog? Do you wenches have the balls to make a comment to me about you secretly reading everything I hate about you?

Strange

2008-05-15T07:14:00.000-04:00

Ok, so this'll be a quick post. Maybe. JC just came over here to ask a question about something he had a "problem" with yesterday when he was doing the something with the something something. He thought that my logic sucked, and I couldn't remember why I did what I did, but I knew that I had spent hours and hours on finishing that crap and I didn't make a dumb mistake that JC would fucking catch. Anyway. I proceeded to explain the error of his ways to him, and he was standing at the door of my cube the whole time... looking the other way! I was actually pretty confused! Do I continue talking? Is this a signal from you that you don't want to hear what I'm saying? Or are you just being a big fat douchebag? I think that's probably the most likely explanation. Rachel says that he angrily bangs on his desk all day long, and it seems as though there's a fury brewing in the cube next to her. He treats people very strangely - interrupting all the time, looking the other way during conversations, acting like he's too busy to look you in the eye... it's like he can sense that we KNOW he's alien or something! So strange. Every day here makes me wonder why I stay for another.

Ok, so on a complete tangent, I was looking at this little flowerpot thing that Connor made for me for Mother's Day, and I am realizing more and more how amazing that little kid it. It's a little flower, simple to make, and it's surrounded by pictures of him in all stages of his little life thus far. From tiny baby, to babbling toddler, to where he is now... it's crazy!

Yesterday he and I went on a really long walk after dinner, he on his bike and me trailing behind him on foot, and he was being SOOOO crazy creative I was really baffled by my own kid. We were walking behind the houses in a walking trail that leads to the pond, and he said "Mommy, there are monsters in the woods. But really they're good monsters, they just make crazy monkey sounds, and you pretend that you're really scared. But don't be scared Mommy! Because I'm here, and I'll protect you." Then he went on and on and on about this wacko story he was developing in his mind, saying things like "And then he said 'BOO', and then you said 'AAH!' Say 'AAH' Mommy!" Then we were in a car wash, then we were passing by a door that said "Employees Only" on it so we can't go that way... It was NUTTY! And awesome. I have a cool little kid.

Oh! And Craig and Connor went fishing yesterday, so Connor called me up while they were driving home to tell me about it. Here's what he said: "Mommy, guess what? We went fishing. And first we went to a store to buy worms, and we opened all of the worms, and we saw GREEN ones that were HUGE and looked like BIG GREEN POOPS! And then we went to the nature walk park, and the fish kept on eating my worms! Daddy kept putting new worms on but the fish ate them. I fed the fish, Mommy. It was fun. Can I hang up on you now?"

Wacko.

"We're such bad parents"

2008-05-13T03:44:00.000-04:00

Overreaction. That's what it was. But I think I have plenty of good reasons to overreact today.

I woke up at 6am to Connor crying about wanting to watch Blue's Clues and drink some milk. It was sunny outside already, so I guess I have to give him the benefit of the doubt and say he was confused and doesn't realize how friggin early 6am is. I need to make better curtains for his room so that this doesn't keep happening. He made me shower with the door open, demanded his milk immediately when I got out, freaked out a billion times when I helped him put his pants on because they were "uncomfortableing him", and somehow we managed to make it out the door. I forgot the following: my lunch, my backpack, my waterbottle, and Connor's trike. Apparently it's the "Trike-A-Thon" at school today.

We got through it all. Connor smiled when I left preschool, so I don't think he totally sensed my increasing frustration toward this poopy Tuesday. He ate breakfast well and was dressed comfortably, and I was taking him to a safe place to play and have fun with friends (and learn a little too!), so I felt OK as I walked back to the car.

Then I called Craig. He told me some story about how he's getting out so late today because his patient had a bout of bradycardia at shift change, and they were going to have to pace her, and blah blah blah. I actually think that's how his conversation ended. He's tired though, since he did just work a 12 hour shift, so I also gave him the benefit of the doubt. I mentioned that it's the Trike-A-Thon at school today, and we forgot Connor's bike. Then he said "We're such bad parents." And I overreacted. I mean, c'mon! I am the one to drop him off at school 95% of the time, and then I also have to go to work right after (if Craig's dropping Connor off, he then gets to go to Lowes or somewhere fun and do house stuff... not I!) So even if he's joking by making a comment about parenting skills, it's a shitty thing to do to a pregnant woman with about a zillion other things to worry about. I do not need to second guess whether or not I'm a good parent, right in the middle of going to school (and taking very difficult classes), working full time, and entering my second trimester of pregnancy. Shitty shitty shitty.

How about this? You're a bad husband! Other women on our block all have stay at home lives, where they can teach their children and pay attention to their children without having the extra worry of paying the gas bill or buying groceries. I've got way too much responsibility to be also worrying about whether I'm going to scar my child for life by forgetting his Trike. At least I remembered his lunch. Here I am, pregnant, and without food. Without water. I guess there's a cafe downstairs, and cups in the kitchen, but I'm trying to make a point. I guess I'm not succeeding.

And then Linda asked me to write a WHOLE GOD DAMN FUCKING JOB for her to find anyone in the Pactiv database with a $123.74 adjustment to claims, because one of her retards forgot to enter that shit on the stupid spreadsheet that they're working on. I fucking refuse.

Sorry. Tuesday.

Ha!

2008-05-09T04:11:00.000-04:00

I can't even stand it! It's SOOOOO funny when someone leaves around here. It's really reflecting poorly on Kris, and he goes crazy every time someone goes. For instance, today John got the great news that he found a new, well-paying, satisfying job out in Auburn Hills doing exactly what he went to school to do. WOW! And congrats! And all of the other things that go along with good news. I understand that this is a hardship on Aliquant to be losing people left and right, but there's a problem with a place that doesn't use any kind of language familiar to computer programmers actually requiring a computer programming degree from these people to work here! Those people will end up losing the education they paid a lot of money to acquire, and it's completely not worth it for the kind of money we make around here. Ok, so back to the funny part - John has become pretty good friends with Morris, probably because they both smoke. Two or three times a day, they'll go downstairs together and have a cig, relax outside for a while, and talk. Though the smoking part isn't really advisable, it's definitely better to have that relaxation period during the day rather than going all day being stressed and miserable. So John's leaving today, and he asked Morris if he wanted to go downstairs for "one last puff", if you will, but Kris was not going to have any of that, at least not before he got to get one last jab of "I'M THE BOSS" in to muck up the festivities. That's HILARIOUS! I totally wish John would have said "I'll do it when I get back", but I know he couldn't really, since Morris still works here and that would be kinda messing with his image too. Plus, John's 10 years younger than Kris, and though Kris is a complete pudwhack, I guess I can see how he could be intimidating.

Ha ha ha! Great news! Another Aliquant employee is GONE! FLY FREE! WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOO!

A rule I didn't know about

2008-05-08T09:15:00.000-04:00

Did you know that there's a secret unwritten rule that if you're going to a sports function, you must dress the part of being a die-hard sports fan? Regardless of whether or not you know a single stupid fact about sports, at all? Yes, it's a rule. You'll be shunned and laughed at if you don't follow it. Actually, it looks like Kris isn't following the rule. But Kris is too cool for school, so that excuses him from these silly unwritten rules.

I don't know why I let these things get to me. I think really it has to do with the fact that I feel left out of something, something that I don't want to be a part of, but the mere fact that I'm not included drives me to make fun of it like crazy. And constantly mutter curses and hexes upon people in cubes and offices behind me. It's definitely a personal problem, this issue of mine. I see people grasping at the little threads of commonality they have with each other, and with these threads they weave an imaginary fabric of togetherness, and the whole thing really makes me ill! Because I know that people are all so different - I mean, I'm married and have been for almost 8 years, and there are things about Craig that I can handle, but I definitely don't want to incorporate into my daily life (like his complete lack of knowledge of the world beyond our borders). There were things about Ravneet that I accepted as being her own thing, but I never took on her wacky eating habits just because she's my friend. I guess it's just a matter of extremes - I've never been the type to take an extreme approach to anything - it's always middle of the road for me (except when it comes to loathing people - I'm a pretty avid loather). I can't jump into a clique and suddenly feel like I must spend my every waking moment with those people. I can't find out someone likes something cool, and then suddenly change my every thought from the beginning of thought about a subject, and decide "yes! i do love sports!" Because I just don't! I like running, but I don't really like racing! I enjoy hiking, but when people want to talk about hiking, I really want them to back off and go blab to someone who give a crap! The same goes for running, I suppose.

Ah. I need to work. Casey and Andrea were just giggling and chatting behind me for a good 15 minutes, in their low "this is secret shit" kind of way, and then I remembered seeing Andrea wearing a stupid Tigers shirt today... and then I wanted to punch something. Andrea has told me in the past that she really doesn't like sports, can't really get into them, doesn't pay attention to teams, stats, etc. And really, I'm with her on that! I don't care about sports! I like to watch hockey and go to an occasional baseball game, and going to college football games are fun just because of the atmosphere, but as for the sport itself I could give a flying poo. I think it's amusing in a sickly sad kind of way that Andrea now loves baseball. How pathetic. To change who you are because of who your friends are. So friggin' sad. Rambling. Bye.

Letting the cat out of the bag

2008-05-07T04:30:00.000-04:00

Though the boss doesn't know yet, I'm sick of hiding it anymore. Once the boss does know, I'll post again, and then I'll feel all relaxed and comfortable with the news I'm about to share on this silly blog.

Tomorrow I think it's "official" enough that I can start talking about it today - and most of you know this news already - but I'm pregnant! Twelve weeks pregnant, actually. I've been hiding it for a while because I just don't really want to be pregnant and working at this crappy job; it was so horrible last time and I just can't imagine things being much better this time around. I guess we're in a new building, and I've had a lot more time to establish myself, so it could all work out fine. Anyway, there it is. We don't know what it is yet, and probably won't find out until sometime in July. We did hear the heartbeat for the first time a week ago though, and that was crazy! And really cool. So far my only symptoms have been that I'm bloated and gassy (ooh fun!), I go from being starving to feeling nauseous, and I tend to be crabby a lot. Those symptoms are dying off now and I'm starting to feel more human again, but the fact that I've already lost my flat tummy but I don't look pregnant is still a little stressful. Even though I'll have it for so long, the real "pregnant belly" look is so much easier to get used to than just being chunkier than normal. I've gained 4 pounds total, and now that I'm approaching the second trimester (starts tomorrow), supposedly I'll start gaining more quickly. However, I'm hoping with every ounce of hope I can find in my body that I don't swell up like a blowfish again... maybe I'll get lucky.

Connor already knows, and he's really cute - he said at first that he wants it to be a boy, but just recently he changed his mind and decided he wants a sister. Every time anyone asks him if he wants a sister or a brother, he first gets clarification from them on what a "sister" is, exactly. Eventually he'll learn - and I'm so excited for him to be learning about such a cool thing! I mean, many kids these days will never know what a sibling is, because it's so common to have one and be done with the family creation. It was what we were going to do, but things don't always work out the way you plan. And as far as I'm concerned, this is an exceptional deviation from the plans.

So here are some pictures - my plan is to chronicle the progression of pregnancy as best as I can with pictures and journal entries. When I was pregnant with Connor, we did take a few pictures, but they were spaced so far apart that it really seems like I blew up overnight. I didn't write enough either, and I know that with that pregnancy, I was pretty depressed... probably a little journaling here and there would have helped immensely. Anyway, I'm blabby. And I actually have a lot of work to do! So here's the pictures, and then I'm off to do some actual work.

[gallery]

crabby

2008-05-02T06:09:00.000-04:00

I'm crabby today. And I'm not exactly sure why... well I am sure why but as of yet, I can't post anything about it. Soon though. But here are the random reasons that I'm extra crabby, and though this is bound to be boring, it's going to make me feel better.

There's no water in the water jug. For more reasons than I can count, I refuse to drink the water from the taps in this building, because I'm sure they're laced with arsenic and lead. And I don't like arsenic and lead flavored water, so the water machine being out of service really bothers me. I need water. I guess I'm going to go downstairs and buy an earth-killing plastic water bottle full of water, likely from a different tap somewhere else, but at least it's not these taps.

People are huge geeks around here. Their nerdiness is gross and frustrating, because they all think they're really cool. I guess it's expected in a computer programming environment for people to talk about computer games and XBOX shit like it's real life, but to me it's just SO infuriating how removed from the real world they are, and how isolated I feel. I feel like I'm an old person for reading the New York Times instead of www.thinkgeek.com for the newest dumb toy to buy. And I must be a big fat momma for talking about my kid instead of the newest Final Fantasy or Grand Theft Auto game. Or a lazy old wife for not wanting to play softball with a bunch of fake shitty assholes.

I don't want to participate in the food thing today. I initiated it by asking Scott if he was going to do it again, and I guess he is going to because he's buying Pizza House pizza today. Pizza House is some snooty Ann Arbor restaurant - and I know it's snooty because Casey has a big thing for an item on their menu and that is a sure sign of snootyness. I guess it's good pizza, but I can't taste anything anyway. And I hate it how people get their little picks in, just for going into Scott's office and schmoozing with him. I guess I could have, and I'm just mad that I didn't do it early enough. Because maybe they have soup at Pizza House. I want soup.

I'm mad that Craig's working tonight. I'm mad that soccer starts tomorrow and I feel like shit and I have to take Connor to it and Craig's just going to sleep in all fucking morning.

I'm annoyed that Mike keeps on putting little comments in his status message about his canceled marriage - like I give a shit that it all fell apart! I wouldn't marry that creep either! And I sure as hell don't want to read about every little aspect of his life; that his wedding was called off, that his house is going to be foreclosed, that he's moving in a day, that he got drunk over the weekend... please! Spare us the news! WE DON'T CARE!!!

2008-04-23T10:32:00.000-04:00

How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

I'm bored.

Piano

2008-04-21T06:28:00.000-04:00

We've had a piano for a while, and we're taking Connor to lessons to learn how to play it, too. It's a good skill to have, as far as I'm concerned, and he's getting better and better at it - it's fun to watch him! He even makes his own songs all the time. They have quiet sections, loud sections, he doesn't just bang on the notes... I don't know how far he'll take it but we're willing to let him try for now, especially since he doesn't protest (so we're not forcing him to). The other day we went online and looked at videos of people playing piano on YouTube, and we saw some pretty amazing stuff - 4 year old children playing complex Mozart pieces, 7 year old children playing their own compositions... Then we stumbled on this piece, and I'm now addicted. I've never had formal lessons, and I don't know all of the keys in E minor, but I'm going to figure them out somehow. I'm going to learn this piece. And I'm going to play it.

Office visit

2008-04-18T11:28:00.000-04:00

I love babies. I really do. Babies and kids and family and all of the fun wrapped up in it. What I do not like, however, is people that have never had children and still act like they've got all the experience that goes along with parenthood. Kris brought his son here today, and it's fun to see that little kid... but then they walked over to where the clique of turds all hang out, and it turned REALLY annoying! They all come out of their cubes and offices and start schmoozing, trying to be the "cutest" to the baby placed in front of them. Sure, people all get a kick out of making a child smile, but some discretion in the office would be greatly appreciated, especially to those of us that are still working! Or pretending to work at least.

The worst of the offenders has to be Andrea. "Hiiiiiii!!!! Hooowwww aaarrrreeee yooooouuuuu? Cootchie cootchie coo! Zzzzzzhhhhhheeeeewp! Zzzzzzzzzzzzhhhhheeeeeewp!" I can only imagine that the last two strange sounds were accompanied with funny little motions to "get his nose" or something equally stupid. I remember that when I was pregnant, she'd talk to my stomach with that silly voice, as if the child inside were going to recognize and immediately enjoy the company of this weird looking Soul-Glo woman in front of him, flaunting her womanly features to everyone, even unborn children and pregnant women. I remember that when Connor was little like that, Craig would bring him into the office and she would act SO motherly, insisting that she's a baby whisperer or something. I'd tell a story about my son, and she'd barely listen, following my story with a similar (though completely unrelated - figure that one out) story about a friend of a friend or something... with some child involved. I brought in pictures of my child... and she followed it up by bringing in a picture of her friend's child... how silly! How pathetic!

What does she think, that by being motherly, her weird whiny boyfriend will find her more attractive or something? Women with DOGS attract men. Women on BIKES attract men. BELIEVE ME, women with children are rarely an attraction to men - men don't want the extra baggage, they don't want the extra responsibility. Not that I'm some kind of disgusting thing that all men will back away from, but that's beside the point. My point is this: WHY IF SHE IS SO FREE AND YOUNG AND ATHLETIC does she also have to pretend to be a mother? I'M A MOTHER. I'm the same fucking age, and I've "been there, done that", and I don't have all of the other shit that she has, but I'm not trying to go get it. I don't try to go out every weekend, I don't work out at the butt-crack of dawn because I want to look hot (though if I had the fucking time, I would), I don't date and act cute and have a silly voice that I use when I'm talking to men... I act my role! I play my part! Why can't she play hers!?!

You know what else bugs the shit out of me? This is unrelated, kinda. Just a thought I had that I can't hold in because it's a good way of passing the time before I can leave this place. I can't stand women that call their friends that happen to be women their "girlfriends". Do they call their friends that happen to be men their "boyfriends"? No. It's an endearing term that these women are using to show come camaraderie among their girly friends, and to exemplify that you are not among this select group. Please people, call your friends your friends. If you're dating a person, you may call him or her by her appropriate term (girl- or boy- friend). It's so petty, but usually what also goes along with women that have "girlfriends" is a bunch of snooty-gossipy discussion, spa days, and exclusivity.

So there. Another thing that continues to bother the shit out of me is Casey's laugh. Her giggle scrapes at my bones.

Ughhhhh...

2008-04-09T06:46:00.000-04:00

Craig's mom is going to make me go crazy. Or maybe I am already crazy, but his mother is just going to make it worse, and it seems like she WANTS to make it worse, because she thinks it's funny or something! Because she likes having power over something? Because she's evil? Because she's just dumb? I don't know. What I do know is this: last time, I didn't realize the full extent of her wrath until Connor was born, and it was brutal. This time, she's starting in early - I'm only 8 weeks pregnant! The worst thing is that she seems so innocent to my family, to Craig; but I know that she's being manipulative and it's really not acceptable to me. For instance - she called this weekend to see if I wanted her to come "get Connor" so that I could relax a little. Now, maybe it's just because I have a bit of knowledge of how the body works and she's a total retard, but I'm very early in pregnancy, so none of my normal functions are restricted yet. I can move, I can pick up my kid and go down the slide and play and jog and jump... I don't need someone to take my kid to do those fun things because I can't handle them yet! GRR! Then today she sent me an email asking me the same thing; do I need any help, do I need her to get me anything, do I want her to come take my child from me so that I can relax. I'm sorry - I'm not going to do that to Connor! The thing he needs MOST right now is for mommy to be paying a lot of attention to him and showing him that I love him LOTS, because when this baby comes all of our lives are going to be flipped upside down and I want Connor to remember and cherish the time we had before this. Not that having a sibling is going to be bad - but it's going to take some getting used to. And I'm not going to have the icky munga come and take my kid, feed him lots of shitty food and candy and cake, and force him to be up doing ridiculous things all day because it's fun for Munga to watch him. Connor is a plaything for her, his health and well-being is taken for granted by her. It's so frustrating. She did that kind of thing to us when Connor was born too - she'd offer to come over and have us "go for a walk and get fresh air" or whatever her stupid suggestion was for the day - just so that she could have time alone with our brand new baby. Even though I HAD HOUSED HIM IN MY WOMB FOR 9 FUCKING MONTHS! He's my kid! And I deserve time with him. I'm just the kind of person that when I need help, I ask for it - all of these offers of assistance are really unwanted, and even more unwanted because I know there's an ulterior motive for them.

Oh yeah! And then she also said in that stupid fucking email today (sorry, I'm getting more agitated the longer I think about it) that I should "put my feet up and relax" because I "TEND TO DO SOME SERIOUS SWELLING". GOD FUCKING DAMN IT! Doesn't she KNOW that the mere idea of swelling up to that point again was what PREVENTED ME FROM WANTING ANOTHER CHILD AT ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I don't want that to happen! I don't want people to remember it! I wish she weren't around at ALL the first time so that she wouldn't be able to make ANY FUCKING COMMENTS ABOUT IT AGAIN! God! She's so seriously stupid. To call to attention the weight gain of a prior pregnancy for a woman that is newly pregnant again - that's just asking for trouble. I fear it's going to spark some fun for the rest of this stupid 8 months that's just going to make things really really friggin' icky.

So I Googled "Crazy Ass Mother-In-Law", and as it turns out, Ann isn't the worst of them - she's just teetering on the edge. Using my mom's philosophy, I guess that fact could make things all cheery and happy for me - the fact that my mother in law is only on the "somewhat crazy" end of the crazy spectrum means my life could be a lot worse with a lot crazier woman.

It must be hard, but seriously - if Connor ever meets a woman that he's in love with, I'm going to back off like MAD until he invites me or until I feel it's safe to ask to be introduced. I just don't CARE, as long as she's a good person, what difference does it make! I hope to God she's not like me - one of those cute and fake girls would be so much easier to deal with (for a man) and I don't care if she even has a brain. Ugh. That's of no importance though. It's just annoying.

Sorry

2008-04-04T04:26:00.000-04:00

Last night I talked to mom for an hour or so, and it didn't end pretty. So Craig called back, because he's better at talking to mom, and she had gone to bed already, just 5 minutes after she hung up on me. Here's the thing: I know in the end mom's intention was just to make me feel better, or to help me feel better, and freak out less. Because my life really is pretty good, and the unhappiness I have while sitting at this desk is treatable with more than just leaving in a huff. She has such a strange way of saying that though, and it's frustrating to me because a lot of the time, mom's reasoning for why we should be happy is that "things could be worse", which I just don't accept as a good reason. That's a reason to be grateful, and thankful, and to once in a while put your life in perspective just to gain some insight on how to approach your own problems. But I don't think it's a good reason to be happy - I want to be happy because I am happy, not because I have more than mom had when she was my age. Feeling guilty over being unhappy is just another bad feeling to throw in the mix, and I really don't understand it coming from my mom, because everything I have, I have worked for. I know I need to be grateful for the opportunities I have been given, but each and every one was worked for. REALLY WORKED FOR. And after all of that work, which is by far not done, I feel like I deserve more. Though I can understand that it is difficult to watch a child struggle in their own skin, it's just not fair to call me out, call me crazy, treat these feelings like they're unwarranted, just because I have "enough" in her eyes.

And I don't think that Ravneet is some kind of god in her advice to me - I just value a little positive thought once in a while (and a whole lot of her thoughts are negative, so she's not even that good at being positive), but she rarely focuses on the money involved in this place (at least for me) and more on inner happiness. Mom, I know that you want that inner happiness for me, probably more than anyone I know. I was not trying to compare you, the most trusted and amazing source of love and advice to last my lifetime, to Ravneet, a 23 year old new friend of mine that "got into Harvard". She's just been here, in this office, which is why talking to her about how much I hate this place seems to work better for me. She can relate to my experiences, and I to hers, not in our whole lives but at the very least in this place. And she hated it, and she got out, and I'm jealous like crazy over her freedom to do that. Then I talk to my family, and they all tell me various versions of "stay the course".

I think my family (including Craig) especially focuses on the money. What is really hard is feeling like money is something I could give up, but everyone around me is telling me it's a value I should have higher on my list. I'm not trying to shrug off security, just the money. I don't want to lose my house, but I don't think I need the kind of money I make here to be able to pay the mortgage. I think Craig could put in an extra day at work (48 hours a week is not that much, especially since he's not going to school or anything right now), and I could work less. And I should work less. Pretty soon, I'll need to work less.

Anyway, I've blabbed enough. I don't know how to apologize to mom, or if I need to, but I tried. It's definitely not going to be easier to feel happy with the guilt of making mom feel bad, and the only thing I said was something she had said very similarly to me a few moments before. I said she's wishy-washy. She said I'm crazy. What's the difference?

Morning sickness

2008-04-03T08:47:00.000-04:00

I was talking to Craig about this yesterday, and I've decided that life just isn't fair. There's no explanation for it, it's just the way it is. For example - there are no "ailments" that regularly affect men that cause as many terrible side effects as pregnancy. Though I haven't actually thrown up once, I have been constantly sick for the past 4 weeks. Either starving (which is actually the preferable feeling), or nauseous and starving, or just nauseous. If a man were to feel this way, he'd be complaining to everyone about it (and yes, I know that if a man were to feel this way, he'd probably have pancreatic cancer or worse... but that's not my point). But I, on the other hand, must suffer in silence. While people around me eat nasty smelling Chinese food, I must sit here and act like I'm not about to vomit all over my computer screen. And worse! Then when I put on really smelly hand sanitizer to overpower the smell of the Chinese food, people walk by and comment on how fruity it smells over here! Oh, they have no idea the wrath that I have wished up on them when their mouths are blabbering away about the smell coming from my cube. AT LEAST it doesn't smell like cooked cat mixed with gravy.

Another phrase to add to Ravneet's list of terrible phrases

2008-04-02T08:23:00.000-04:00

Today, in a brief and painful moment where I didn't have my headphones on, I heard Patrick talking to Andrea about something he's working on. Pat thinks there's something wrong, Andrea looked at it and thinks it's fine... and then Andrea said (in her gratingly whiny voice), "Well, I guess I could take a gander at it..." At that moment, I literally did almost puke, and then I put my headphones back on. Sometimes I feel like I'm in a different world here, especially with those headphones on, and I guess if in my special alone world nobody ever says they're going to gander at anything, it's a good place to be.

More weiners

2008-04-01T10:12:00.000-04:00

I've been searching like crazy for a new job lately, and nothing's come up yet. I haven't really submitted a lot of resumes, because as stupid as it sounds, I'm not really interested in finding the same fucking job I already have. I don't want a job where I sit at a computer typing away like a robot all day long. I don't know what I want, really, and if any freakin' person out there in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD has any suggestions, I'm all ears. Or eyes, in this case. I just want someone to 1) care about me and want to help, and 2) actually give me some good advice or some good leads or something. I don't want to get involved in dad's MLM "business opportunity" of the year. I don't want to spend thousands of dollars on more training for something I'm not sure I want to do (medical transcriptionist or similar). I don't want to work at McDonald's. I don't want to sell life insurance. I'm a smart, educated, and experienced young person - why do I feel like I'm more stuck than a factory worker? At least they have a skill.

I think I'm a good writer. Some people make money writing blogs, and I want to know how they do that. More stupid research.

I think I'm a good cook, and I think opening a breakfast/lunch restaurant is a really good idea - if there were one near us, we'd be there frequently on the weekends. Someplace with healthy foods, good coffee, nice music playing, bright windows... y'know? A relaxing but energizing place to start your day. But how can I start a restaurant? Not in the immediate time, that's for sure.

Anyway. I'm starving.

discussions with management

2008-03-20T10:13:00.000-04:00

So, I had a dreaded "discussion" with my manager today. He wanted to know why I'm always late, why I'm always leaving early, etc. He wanted to know why I'm taking classes, and does that mean that I'm leaving soon, and why don't I love my job? And I had a lot of answers, and the conversation actually lasted about 45 minutes, and in the end I don't really feel like a whole lot was accomplished. I feel like he's even more likely to be a dick to me now, and I'm increasingly feeling like I need to find another job just to wait out until November. Or whenever. I actually have a lot to write but I suppose after that stupid conversation I should get some work done. The point is this: I told Scott I'm not staying forever, and he was really offended by it and tried to make me feel like an idiot for it. And I'm not going to stand for that outlandish idiocy anymore - I have an incredibly thoughtful mind, and I'm not willing to sacrifice all the happiness that could exist within it just for a man with no plan in life but to stick by what he's done forever, regardless of what it means in the long run. Because in the end, Scott will be lonely and rich and useless to the world. And even if I die alone and rich and *feeling* useless, I am making it a point to NOT BE FUCKING USELESS. Someone will benefit from the work I do, and not in the sense that they have to program a little less at work - someone will genuinely be touched and changed by me.

pregnant!

2008-03-19T09:24:00.000-04:00

So... I'm pregnant again! Woohoo! I'm actually really excited. The first time was a wonder, the second time will be wonderful. I've decided. And if it's not, it's only 9 months, right? I'm 5 weeks now. I took the first test on Monday, and took another yesterday, and both showed positive, so no going back now! And now the symptoms are setting in... headaches, achy boobs, irritability... I'm not sick to my stomach much but I wish I were, because maybe that would be an indication of a seriously different pregnancy this time. I made my appointments, one phone call and one in person, and I'm taking my prenatal vitamins... so everything's taken care of! I'm going to run this time, too - two miles, twice a week, until my belly's so big I can't stand it anymore. I just can't get so huge this time. I guess I've gotta work.

I really fuckin' dread dealing with anyone, and I mean ANYONE, at work. I don't want to tell them forever. Until they start asking why I'm getting so fat, and then I wanna tell them that I'm so fat because I eat a lot, so why don't they butt out. Poo poo.

How about... "The Royal Turdwads"?

2008-03-12T08:44:00.000-04:00

I've got a name for your softball team, you piece of poo. The Royal Turdwads fits the personality of everyone on the team perfectly. You can all go and pretend to be good friends, playing softball and giggling at the expense of others, with the big white letters "TURDWAD" scrawled in fancy cursive on the back of your jersey. You could make the jerseys brown to fit the image a bit better! And you could glare at any outsiders walking by, just for not being in the ever obnoxious clique that you have formed.

Ooh! And then, you could compare and contrast your amazingness with each other. You could talk about your cool toys, your cool cars, your cool parties, your cool trips, your cool athletic abilities. You could flaunt them, and make peanut gallery remarks at everything anyone else says just because you didn't think of it first. When you hit the ball, you can yell out "Your Mom" because you think it's funny, even though it's asinine, childish, and incredibly annoying. Every other sentence can be from a stupid TV show or comic book you read, and you can all laugh raucously at how witty you are, when really you're all saying the same sentence over and over but you're so self-absorbed you don't realize you're repeating each other.

When you're done playing softball, you can talk about how great you all were. Then you can go drink beer at an uppity bar together, discussing your greatness, as well as putting down all of the people around you simply because they are not you.

Turdwads. I like it. I might go see you play, if you can guarantee that one of you gets hit in the head with a bat.

Stupid

2008-03-12T04:07:00.000-04:00

It's pretty dumb, the way I feel right now. I'm so annoyed by the fact that Ravneet got into all of these crazy places, and I don't really want to hear anything else about it. The worst things is that when she was applying to all of these places, she was constantly talking about how she had about a million backup plans - she took the LSAT, she applied for Teach for America, she considered joining the Peace Corps - and it was frustrating then to see her acting like she wasn't going to get in, but now that she is in, she's rubbing my nose in it and I'm not sure why!?! I mean, I'm stuck here! I'm not stuck here, but I kinda am. And I want to be happy with it - I love my husband, I love my child, and do like our house and our life (besides the work part), and having a friend with her head pointed so high in the sky makes me feel like a huge loser. A huge loser.

Welcome!

2008-03-11T10:47:00.000-04:00

So, this is my new blog. I think it's cooler. I think it's especially cooler cuz I can cut you all off from the inner workings of my brain, if necessary. I can't say much now, because I'm supposed to be working, but here it is, here it'll be, and I'll get back to it later.

New blog

2008-03-11T10:41:00.002-04:00

I decided to move my blog over to a WordPress blog, because on that I can make some posts private - and sometimes I don't want any of you turds reading my thoughts. Well it's true! Not that you're turds, but I need a new place to vent, and I can't vent everything all the time, cuz you all may think I'm totally nuts and have me committed if you read all of what I have to say.

So the new site isn't much different, it's http://blindlizzie.wordpress.com/, and because I have that blog, I really won't be posting on this one anymore. I put a little link in the sidebar too, just in case you can't get to this post (should be at the top of the list for... ever?)

See ya in my new blogworld!

Lock the door

2008-03-05T11:19:00.003-05:00

Dude! Who made you boss? The "enforcer" of office door locking policy? How annoying. And who are you to assume that the new dude did it!?! I mean, we all leave our keys in the office once in a while when we run out to go pee, and by the same token we could all forget to turn the stupid lock the full turn when we come back in. And fucking really dude, is anyone going to come in here and steal shit? While we're all sitting here, watching over our stuff? What an idiot. JC is a true fucking idiot. His stupid sweatshirts, and baggy stupid jeans, and stupid girlfriend, and stupid high-and-mighty attitude about everything - the entire idea of JC makes me want to vomit. And he just came around to John's cube and told him that he has to make sure he locks the door, because "someone" didn't lock it. Fucking bastard. It's sad, but these little things bother me all the more when they're coming from such a prick, because he just NEEDS to be put in his place, but I don't see that happening any time soon, cuz he's such a douchebag nobody even wants to talk to him (unless they're best buds), cuz we're sure we'll be talking to a wall! Though it would not have benefited Jay in the least, I would have really liked to have seen him punch JC square in the nose, so that he bleeds all over the place, and then maybe cries a little. Douchebag. Ugh. Sorry, totally useless post, but I had to get it outta my system. I need to study my lab notes for class this evening, and I can't afford to have stupid annoyances cluttering up my brain.

Lock the door

2008-03-05T11:19:00.002-05:00