Monthly Archives: June 2010
This morning the weather was nice. And by that, I mean that the temperature wasn’t supposed to get up into the eighties until the afternoon. Since the daughter decided that she wasn’t particularly interested in taking her usual morning nap, I figured it was as good a time as any to head to the zoo.
Unfortunately, everyone else seemed to have the same idea. We had to park ass-far away because I refuse to pay for using the parking lot. And then, naturally, everywhere I went was ridiculously crowded. We only made it as far as the hippos before I turned us around and headed out of “River’s Edge.” Most of the animals were hiding, too.
But Lorelei seemed to have a decent time (even though she lost her binky somewhere along the way) and we were lucky enough to catch a bit of sea lion revelry.
And now, I have determined that it’s too hot to do anything outside until Fall. Unless it involves submersion in water.
It’s just after 8 pm on a Friday night and what am I doing? Other than writing, I mean. I am cleaning up the apartment and doing laundry. Exciting stuff. Unfortunately, it’s completely necessary since I have been a bit lazy this last week. I blame the heat. Honestly, I don’t really mind that I’m at home when so many other people I know are out having a good time since I have never been much of a social butterfly. But some days…
Today, one of the husband’s co-workers asked if we have had a chance to go out just the two of us since the baby was born. The sad truth is that we haven’t. She’s almost eight months, and we haven’t done anything without her. Every once in awhile, I will go out and do something without her, but it’s not the same. Why? you ask. I can’t really figure it out. It’s not that I don’t have a thousand offers from friends (and husband’s co-workers) to babysit for us – I do! – but I’m just really hesitant. Lorelei can be difficult sometimes and I never feel like foisting her crankypants on someone else. People always comment on how well-behaved and happy she is, but they never see her late in the evenings when we’re at home. I get the feeling that I would spend the entire evening out worrying about her and whoever was responsible for her. So, I keep putting it off…
So, I envy the people who are out sans children.
When I got pregnant last year, I wasn’t entirely ready for it. I spent the better part of those nine months in a panic about surviving my impending motherhood. But, after the first month or two of being completely overwhelmed (not that I don’t still have those days), I was already looking forward to having a second baby. Not because I didn’t think Lorelei was perfect, but because she was so perfect. Every time I would look at her, I would imagine having another one. Another tiny little newborn to cuddle. And maybe the next time, I would get to enjoy it more and not be so stressed about everything. I know, however, that now is not the time for another baby. We just moved, we’re trying to get our finances straightened out and we’re cramped enough in this place as it is.
Now, last year when I just found out I was pregnant, I only knew a couple other people my age who had kids. This year, however, it seems as if everyone is pregnant – for the first time, some for the second and one even for the third! – and all I can do is think about how much I envy them. Soon they’re going to be holding a tiny baby and I want that. I want it so much that my ovaries hurt. But I need to remind myself that now is not the time.
I’ve never been very good at not being envious.
Sometimes I have to remind myself that it all evens out in the end. A lot of shitty things can happen to a person and somehow at some point in time, the universe will make up for it.
After all the shit that went down with [Satellite Provider Who’s Name Rhymes with Shmirect MeeMee], let’s just say I ended up at the grocery store waiting to get money through Western Union. For at least forty-five minutes (I lost track because I didn’t have a watch or a cell phone). Apparently, the people at Western Union who were not only rude when I called to get my confirmation number were also a bunch of idiots. There was some problem with the machine and the customer service guy spent a lot of time on the phone asking to be transferred to someone who knew what they were doing. And yelling in the phone because apparently they kept telling him he was talking too quietly (same thing happened to me but from a different phone so perhaps it was a problem on their end?) Anyway, long story short. I got my money and the Store Manager felt so bad that I had to wait a long time that he gave me a gift card for groceries.
Moral of the story: don’t be a douche to customer service people. I bet anything that if I had thrown a fit about the wait, I wouldn’t have gotten shit. Bonus: Brian was at home with the baby so I got time alone. Yay!
Do you ever compose mean letters in your head to those people/companies that really tick you off? Or is that just me? Anyone? Bueller?
Dear [Satellite Provider Who’s Name Rhymes with Shmirect MeeMee],
When we first met, it was instant love. ALL. THOSE. CHANNELS! And you were cheaper than cable – not that I’m calling you cheap – and had the important channels like BBC America and Soap Net (maybe not). I could record on two (two!) channels and your memory was long and I had more than half an hour to restart a program.
But then we moved.
You got mean.
All I wanted was to cancel service without paying the ridiculous fee. I couldn’t get a signal at my apartment. You told me that was okay. It was supposed to be an amicable break up. Apparently, you changed your mind. No signal? We need to send out another tech before we’ll let you cancel. Even though he was here approximately ten seconds before he said the same thing as the first guy.
Then you wanted your stuff back. I understand. But you gave us no time. You said send our stuff back or we’ll charge you several hundred dollars and before we could even get to FedEx, you went ahead and took the money out of our bank account.
It still could have been okay. That is, if you hadn’t decided that instead of just refunding the money electronically, you were going to send us a check. In six weeks. I don’t know about you, but several hundred dollars is kind of a lot. Especially when you have to make it to the end of the month without credit cards. Wouldn’t have been a problem if it weren’t for the TWO HUNDRED PLUS DOLLARS you practically stole from us.
Was it really worth it to be so mean? Especially since a call to a supervisor resulted in a refund being issued that day. Wouldn’t it have just been easier to do that in the first place?
I don’t think there is any chance of us getting back together, no matter how better you are than cable.
Yesterday was a good day. And since I can very rarely say that of a Monday, that statement deserves some celebration. Mondays mean the beginning of another work week for the husband and the beginning of another week of trying to keep another human being entertained all by myself for eight hours a day. Somehow, I managed that better than usual. Yesterday we:
- Drove Daddy to work. Then I was bad and went to Starbucks even though I’m not supposed to be having coffee.
- Lorelei scoot/crawled around the bedroom while I folded laundry and changed the sheets. And she managed to not smash her fingers in the dresser drawer like she might have done the day before.
- Around 11 she was completely pooped and went to sleep for an hour.
- In the afternoon, because it was hot as hell outside, I packed her up for a stroll around the blissfully cool mall. If it hadn’t been so hot, I would have taken a stroll around the apartment complex but when the temperature is pushing 100, you have to improvise.
- I succeeded in not purchasing a single thing – although there were at least five things I really wanted – other than a Ben & Jerry’s milkshake
- Brian cooked, I did laundry and then we put the daughter to bed by eight and I read more of The Girl Who Played With Fire
It was a day of domestic housewifely bliss. And for an hour in the early afternoon, Lorelei chased the cats behind the curtains in her bedroom and played in a sunbeam. Doesn’t she look like an angel?
Denial. I’m in it. I know that it is incredibly immature to ignore one’s problems, but there are certain things that, for my own sanity, I pretend don’t exist.
You may have noticed that I haven’t mentioned much about our house recently. We still “own” it, but to me it doesn’t exist. Why? Because if I thought about it and worried about it, I would go completely insane. The house is Brian’s responsibility. Anything that still needs to be done, it’s on him. I have relinquished my title of nag gentle reminder-er. Things still need to be taken to the storage unit? Him. Repairs need to be done? Him. Deciding whether it is even worth it to try to sell now that is worth less than what we owe? Him, again.
Every time I think about the house I want to throw up. I am so much happier in this apartment. It feels more like home now than that house ever did and I convince myself that it was a bad dream. There is no house (whoa).
As a chronic worry-wart, the more things I can be in denial about the better. I have enough nightmare scenarios in my head thanks to all those wonderful medical shows on television. For example, I saw one that was about medical mysteries (perhaps the title of the show) and although I don’t remember all the details, the bottom line was that the baby had eaten a sequin. A sequin. That tiny little thing caused all sorts of problems. And now I am super paranoid that Lorelei will swallow something equally tiny. Don’t get my started on I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant. Wow. Did you know that there is still a chance you could get pregnant after having your tubes tied? You’re welcome
Excuse me, I have to go back to Egypt now.
1. Netflix for the Wii. I know I’m probably arriving late to this party, but is this not the best thing ever? I hate watching the instant play on my computer. The screen is too small and if I wanted to watch tiny versions of movies, I would watch them on the bedroom TV which is practically microscopic. Now, we might actually get our money’s worth out of Netflix.
2. Buffy the Vampire Slayer And by that I actually mean “vintage” David Boreanaz. Since I can’t watch new episodes of “Bones,” I will happily makes this substitute and have inappropriate thoughts about him (usually involving licking of some kind *ahem*).
3. Drop Dead Diva Technically, this is just awesomely bad. Thank you Lifetime, you provide hours of mindless entertainment and it didn’t involve a young woman in peril or having a terminal disease.
4. Baseball Especially watching the Cards bitch slap the Mariners in interleague play. Not that it’s hard to beat up on the Mariners this season.
5. Sweet Tea Vodka Sometimes I must sound like an alcoholic, but I probably have one drink a week (if I wasn’t breastfeeding and didn’t have this annoying stomach thing, I’d probably have more). Anywho. Sweet tea is awesome. Sweet tea vodka is a gift from above.
How about everyone else? What’s rocking your world these days?
There is a picture in my head of the perfect mother. It’s old fashioned and probably completely unattainable, but it’s there. And last week I felt like a complete and total failure. Did I clean the apartment? Nope. Make the bed? Nuh uh. Pay hours and hours of undivided attention to the baby? Dear god, no.
I have my excuses. I was sick. I was having a low week where my meds weren’t working as well as they should. I wasn’t sleeping because Lorelei wasn’t sleeping. I could go on and on.
And I recognize that everyone fails sometimes. Everyone has those weeks when they feel like tearing their hair out or curling up in bed and having a nice long cry. I just feel like I have those weeks much more often than I should.
I made the choice to be a stay-at-home mom. I didn’t have to. If I had really wanted to continue working, I could have. I’m lucky that I have a husband who supports my decisions. I know that having one of us at home to take care of her and not have to worry about day care or who has to take off work to be home when she’s sick is going to be a good decision in the long run. However, I hate myself when Brian comes home and the apartment is a mess. I hate it when I say, Let’s order a pizza instead of making a real dinner. I hate it when I call him at work in tears because I feel so overwhelmed by trying to keep another human being entertained for eight hours a day when I can barely keep myself from wanting to stab myself in the eyeballs out of pure boredom. I hate the times when I can’t get her to fall asleep for a nap but I keep trying even though I know it’s useless because I’m so desperate for a few minutes of sleep myself. And then I get more frustrated.
I was really hoping that it would get better. And some days it totally is. With her increasing mobility – despite the massive pain-in-the-ass that is keeping her away from electric cords, the kitty litter box and various other things that a baby shouldn’t be playing with – there is at least more for her to do. She scoots around her room and bats at the spring door stop (She could do that for hours if I let her.) She has perfected the army-boot-camp-stomach-crawl to the point where I could be standing in my bathroom washing my hands and, by the time I’m done, she’s already crawled out of our bedroom and half way down the hall. But some days are so much worse. For example, if I try to take her away from said electrical cords, she will act like it is the end of the world.
I don’t really know where I’m going with all this. But I want to figure this out. I don’t want perfection and I’m sure I will never really be “Super Mom,” but I don’t want to feel like a complete failure. When I say “stay-at-home-mom,” I don’t want people to think I just lay around the house eating bon-bons and watching trashy television (even if that is the case every once in awhile).