Beat

I have been working almost constantly over the course of the last week. Actually taking a very brief break right now to post. I literally fell asleep working on a presentation last night. It's sad, really. I'm pretty much in the same place tonight as well. Must. get. some. sleep. soon.

And with that, NaBloPoMo is officially over.

One More Day...

After tonight, only one more day of posting before I can take a little break. It will be nice to write when I want to, not just because I have to. It will be nice not to have the pressure of this on top of all the other pressures.

Blocked

I've been having a tough time finding things to write about lately. It's actually a really good thing. I find the happier I am the tougher it is to find things to write about. It's a lot easier to write about being down than happy. So, here's to the writer's block sticking around for a bit.

Booooring

Upon finishing Ratatouille:

Dylan, did you like the movie.

Mommy, it was REALLY boring.

Seriously?

I was looking for something mindless to watch while catching up on some work tonight and happened upon "My Super Sweet 16" on MTV. This is the most ridiculous show out there. If you don't know the premise, here it is - for 30 minutes we get to look into the life of some over privileged brat planning her sweet 16 party. We're talking about parties that cost in excess of $100K. Seriously?

Why on earth, no matter how much money you make, would you think it is appropriate, not to mention necessary, to allow your child to spend that much on a 16th birthday party. Add to that a luxury vehicle of their choice and you get the most obnoxious show out there.

What do these parents think they're teaching their children? What are they doing besides instilling a sense of entitlement? A sense of entitlement that will stay with them throughout their lives and only be a disservice to them. We've all known people like this - and usually they end up learning a very hard lesson.

NaBloPoMo Day 25

It has been an incredibly long weekend and in some ways I'm very happy it's over. On the other hand, I really wish I had one more day to do nothing. Or actually, to do a lot. I have so many things to do in this house and no time to do them. Oh well, maybe it will all get done at some point. That's all I have the energy for at this point.

Still Kicking

Amazingly, we're all still alive in our house. I haven't killed anyone, yet. I always hoped I would have the type of in-laws my parents are - as confirmed by my husband. In-laws who love and accept their child's spouse as their own. In-laws who would love my children and want nothing more than to spend time with them. In-laws who would be thrilled to see their son with someone who adores him and makes him happy. Unfortunately, that's not what I got.

What I got is in-laws who think they are the center of the universe and see nothing wrong with trying to watch "Dirty, Sexy Money" in front of a 4-year-old. In-laws who would rather go shopping than hang out with their grandkids. In-laws who hate me because I'm not their version of perfect. Because I have an opinion and my husband respects me. Because my children come first and I refuse to move the kids down in the ranks to allow us to go to the mall or out to breakfast.

We have tried to make things go smoothly with them. To meet them 3/4 of the way on a spectrum we can't even define. We try and we have come to accept the fact that things will never be more than superficial with them and that's the way it is. It's unfortunate.

So while the situation with my in-laws sucks, I did get their son who I love in spite of them. I got a man who sees their flaws and their mistakes and is determined not to repeat them. A man who is aware of the impact of his upbringing. A man who loves his children and wife and would do anything for us. I got a good man who has shitty parents.

Question of the day?

What's more important - spending the day with grandchildren you see 3 times a year or shopping at the Mall of America? The answer seems obvious, doesn't it?

Thanks

I spend a lot of time bitching about the things I don't like about life while there are a great many things I am thankful for in life.

Here's a brief list:
2 amazingly wonderful children
1 great husband
my friends
family
a roof over my head
clothes on my back
food on my table.

We had a wonderful dinner this evening at which 13 people managed to consume a 20 pound turkey. Now that's a compliment to the cook (me!).

Biting my Tongue

Anytime "family" visits it's a true exercise in biting my tongue. It's not easy, but it's something I have learned to do very well. Keep the peace for the greater good. Shut up so there aren't any fights. I wonder how much longer I can keep doing it?

a loss

I'm at a loss for words tonight and I don't find myself in that position very often. For some reason I have a mental block right now and I just can't get the thoughts in my head to turn into words on a screen. If feels like a dam which is about to be broken. I'm almost afraid of what will come out when it breaks.

Gobble Gobble

We host Thanksgiving at our home every year. The number of attendee ranges from 13-18 and I make every drop of food on the table. Every year I add something to menu. A new side or salad. Change the way I prepare the turkey ever so slightly. This year, I've done none of this. This year I am making all my tried and true recipes.

Most years, I anticipate Thanksgiving and worry about getting everything on the table in time. This year, I really don't care. I'm not nervous,I'm not anxious. I'm rather ambivalent. This year, I just want to get it over with and move on.

Whilrwind

Every weekend is a whirlwind. We don't intend for it to be, but it ends up being one. I don't know why. I don't know why we seem incapable of just staying in and hanging out at home. Not leaving the house for a day. It would sure as hell help me get some stuff done around the house. But no, we have to run around all weekend every weekend.

ugh.

Saturday Haiku

I hate six month shots
They made my baby girl crab
She seems over it

A birth story

6 months ago my baby girl came into our world. I remember everything about that day. It was Wednesday May 16. I had my regular OB appointment Tuesday. I was ready to meet my baby and ready not to be pregnant anymore. We made an appointment for me to be induced May 21. 4 days before my due date. I left work that day elated that an end to pregnancy was in sight. I told everyone I would see them the next day.

I woke at 2:15 am with very distinct labor pains. I knew what was happening but decided to wait a bit. I started timing the contractions. Like clockwork they were coming every 5 minutes and lasting about a minute. They were worse than with D. I felt them in my back as well as my abdomen. I continued to time the contractions and watch the clock until about 3:30 when I decided it was time to wake Dave. I told him I was in labor and he bolted awake. I called the doctor and as soon as I said this wasn't my first baby, the on call doc told me to go to the hospital. We called my parents to come over and take care of D. While we waited for them Dave took a shower and I got some last minute things together and pulled on some clothes.

We got to the hospital around 4:30 or 5. By this point we were about half way there. I told the nice nurses I didn't want any drugs and they started monitoring me. I got moved to a room and continued laboring away. Contractions were only about 3 minutes apart.

Around 8:30 my OB came in to see me and broke my water. I was about 6.5cm dilated. I asked how long she thought it would be. She said I'll have a baby in an hour. That was music to my ears. I had been in back labor for over 6 hours without a drop of medication. 45 minutes later it was almost time to push. My doctor came back in and we started preparing for the big event. When it came time to push, she entered the world much like her brother before her. With Dave on one side of me and my mom on the other. I pushed for 5 minutes, which was probably two contractions, and she arrived. I was told she was a girl and I think the tears started streaming immediately. She didn't cry upon entry like I remembered D crying. I asked why she wasn't crying and the doctor and nurse calmed me and said she would. And she did. That's when the tears really came.

I had a baby girl and she was ok. She had 10 fingers and 10 toes and amazing eyes and gorgeous lips. She nursed immediately, never needed any guidance. She looked like me. She loved to snuggle more than D ever did. Still does.

Anyone who knows me knows my children are my world. I would do anything in the world to protect them and defend them. I love them more fiercely than I ever thought I could love.

My boy is my heart. He is my soul. He made me a mother. He has the sweetest heart and I just want to drink in his essence. He is sensitive like I am. He is stubborn like I am. But he gives up more easily than I do and he is more easy going, like his dad. The love I feel for him is so great that I didn't know if I could ever love another child as much. I actually doubted it for a little bit even after my baby girl was born.

I was wrong. I love her just as much. My girl is more a reflection of myself than I could have ever imagined. Already I can see she will be tenacious. Stubborn. Opinionated. She will challenge me in ways D never will. She will push me to get her way the same way I pushed. She will get mad. She will fight will all her might the same her mama always has. And she will be fiercely loved all along the way.

Upswing

I was finally able to eat around noon today and started feeling human around 3. Short lived but evil little virus. Back to regularly scheduled programming tomorrow.

Blech

I'm sick today. Woke up with a migraine and THOUGHT I had slept it off. Went in to work and discovered I was wrong. So I came home and spent the day on the couch and in bed. I think I'm starting to feel better and I KNOW Dave will be on baby duty tonight.

And this makes it all worthwhile

Dave took Dylan swimming tonight. On their way Dave called and said, "I just can't compete." He went on to tell that as they were entering the gym the following conversation occured:

You know what Daddy?

What Dylan?

I REALLY love Mommy.

And it's official, the boy couldn't possibly be any sweeter.

Paradigm Shift

There's been a lot talk on this blog lately about being down or feeling guilty or being angry at the past or being unsure of myself. I'm done with it.

I'm done with being caught up in what is wrong or what is bad or sad or mad. I'm ready to focus on glad. I'm ready to start looking at the world through mildly pink tinted glasses. Let's not get too crazy; I'm definitely not ready for truly rose colored glasses. I'm ready to start taking some of the advice I've been doling out lately about creating your own happiness and taking control of your life. The advice about not letting outside sources control your happiness.

This week I will not allow work to get to me. I will not allow my self-perceived failures to cast a dark cloud over my actual successes. I will not allow stupid people to piss me off. I will not get depressed over my physique, the fact that new Digital SLR camera and a shopping spree at Banana Republic aren't in the budget or my house looking like, GASP!, children actually live there.

This week I will be happy. Or at least fake it so damn well that I fool even myself.

Weekend Update

It's been a busy weekend.

Here's a rundown.

# of bday parties: 3
# of meals eaten at home: 1
# of times we have been to Target: 3
# of times D has asked if it is Hanukkah/Christmas yet: 546879843132467987634
# of glasses of wine: not enough

Fraudulant Behavior

Half the time I feel like I'm just playing the part of a grown up. Like I'm going through the motions of being a professional, a wife, a home owner, a mother. I feel like everyone has it more together than I do.Like at any moment I will be found out and exposed for what I really am. Scared. Terrified, in fact. Terrified of failure. Failing at work and failing at home. Failing at being an adult. Failing at life.

I have a great family. My kids are thriving so I must be doing something right. A great marriage. I'm fairly successful. I have a great home. But it never seems to be enough. It's never enough to convince me that I'm good enough, smart enough and that, gosh darn it, people like me. It's the scared little girl I used to be coming out to make sure I don't forget about her. To make sure I don't forget to work harder. Try harder. Demand more. Always more because if I don't keep demanding more of myself I might become complacent. And nothing good comes with complacency.

So I hope I never become 100% sure of myself. I hope I always little doubts in my mind, here and there. Things I think I can improve about myself. About the way I do my job, raise my kids, run my home or be a wife. I hope I can always maintain the humility it takes to realize you can do better. Because it's always possible to do something better.

Songs, Scents and Sickness

I am a person ruled by my memories. I remember way more than I would like to and those memories are often guided by songs and, occassionally, scents. I feel sick right now.

Sick because a co-worker was drinking a Strawberry/Kiwi Snapple. Sick because an ex-boyfriend used to drink them right before coming to my house. Before walking in my front door and kissing me. The sweetness of the drink flavored every kiss and every word spoken. That scent of sweetness makes me want to vomit. Literally. It reminds me of a time when there were so many promises made, none of which were kept. When I was naiive and in love enough to believe anything. A time when I made some of the biggest mistakes of my life. When I allowed a person into my life who had no business being there in the first place, much less staying there for 5 fucking years. Sick because I still can't stop hating him. Sick because I don't know if I want to. It's been 8 fucking years since we parted and he still makes me sick.

I know this can't be the first time I smelled this smell in the last 8 years but it's the first time it hit me like this. It's the first time I remember smelling it in 8 years.

I'm not used to this from a scent. I'm used this from songs. Songs evoke such strong memories for me. Here's a brief list of songs that make me remember very specific moments in time:
Breakfast at Tiffany's - Deep Blue Something
Is This Love? - Whitesnake
Angel Eyes - Jeff Healey Band
End of the Innocence - Don Henley
Whoomp There It Is - Tag Team (yes, seriously)
Wonderful Tonight - Eric Clapton
Run-Around - Blues Traveler
Little Black Backpack - Stroke 9
I Guess That's Why They Call it the Blues - Elton John
Closer to Fine - Indigo Girls
All I Want is You - U2
Send me on my Way - Rusted Root
Sunrise, Sunset

All of these songs put back to a very specific place. I can picture everything about the moment they are related to. I know where I was, I know who I was with.

Closer to Fine? Dancing in the rain with Becky while Jim and Dave looked on at the Indigo Girls concert at Ravinia in Chicago in 2000.
All I Want is You - dancing for the first time as husband and wife at our wedding.
Send me on my Way - picking songs for a video after D's first bday.
Sunrise, Sunset - dancing with my dad at my wedding and letting him I believe I was "daddy's little girl" for a moment while my mom stood off to the side sobbing.

All of the songs above take me back. Some to good time, some to bad. But they all take me back. Sometimes I feel like without music, I wouldn't have any memories at all.

Mommy Guilt

It took me a long time to get over the guilt I felt when I put Dylan into daycare at 12 weeks of age. He adjusted well and I saw him blossoming. He has great friends and is in a wonderful environment. He has fun and most mornings drop off involves a quick hug, kiss, I love yous and he runs off to play with a smile. This morning was different. This morning I took both kids to the doctor for colds, they're fine, and brought them to daycare late. Sasha is still young enough not to notice. Dylan, on the other hand, definitely noticed the extra time with mom.

On the way to daycare he started begging not to be left there. "Don't go to work, Mommy."

When we got there, I had to peel him off me after 20 hugs and kisses. He wanted to wave to me through the window. He did so with tears in his eyes mouthing the words don't go. By the time I got in the car, I had tears in my eyes too. There are days I wonder if it's worth it. If the life we lead is worth the time away from my kids. I have written before about the push and pull I feel about being a working mother. Most days I handle it well. Most days I enjoy my time at work and being me. I enjoy the drive to and from work with my husband when we get to have an actual converstation.

But on days like today, I wish I had the freedom to just scoop him up in my arms and go play. Go have fun and make memories. Cater to his every whim rather than catering to the demands of work. I wish my children didn't get what little is left of me at the of the day. I wish I got to spend more than 2 waking hours a day with them. Neither of those hours being quality time. The hour in the morning is spent running around trying to get out the door. The hour in the evening is spent trying to get dinner, get play time, baths, books, bed. I spend half the time sequestered in a room with Sasha, feeding her and putting her to bed. It's wonderful time I spend with her. It's time I don't spend with D. I miss him, he misses me I feel guilty. I don't spend enough time with Sasha, I feel guilty. I don't spend enough time with Dave, I feel guilty. I think about the kids and home at work, I feel guilty. I think about work at home, I feel guilty.

Will there ever be a time when I don't feel guilty?

Things I say

There are so many things I say over the course of a day that I never, in a million years, thought I would be saying. Or at least not saying them as often as I do.

Here's a list:
Move allegro not adaggio!
Please be a boy, not a puppy. Don't lick me.
Stop touching your penis.
My pony tail is not a handle.
My pony tail is not a train whistle.

There are definitely a lot more but they are escaping me at the moment. Come out of lurkdom and tell me the things you say which you never thought you would.

Gen X in action

This morning, in the car, we had one of those moments that can only really happen to Gen Xers. We were driving the kids to daycare and flipped to a radio station which happened to be playing Bohemian Rhapsody. Of course, Dave and I started singing immediately, taking turns belting out the different parts of the song. Dylan was not amused and asked us to stop singing. I told him that simply was not an option for this song. We finished out the song just as we were pulling into the driveway of our daycare providers home. I had just headbanged before 8am and I was in a good mood.

Thank you, Wayne's World, for bringing this song to Gen X to enjoy in our own little way.

And seriously, Wayne's World came out in 1992!!! Damn I'm old. And, for an added note of amusement, Dave and I met in Aurora, IL.

Blushing Sailors

Dylan is 4.5. In his 4.5 years he has picked up a few choice words. At about 15 months he walked around saying "faaaa, faaaaa" after hearing me scream "FUCK!" into the phone about 25 times in a row after getting off a work call. On. a. Saturday.

At around 18 months he said "shit" every time I would drop something into the cart at Target. Lately he saws "aw crap" whenever he doesn't like what he is told to do. We're trying to replace it with "aw man."

The entertaining part of all this is that the swearing children are usually the fault of the men in their lives. Not in my house. It's all my fault. I have a mouth that could make a sailor blush. I have a very solid grasp of the English language and can easily describe any situation and express myself without the use of swear words quite well. But there are times when it really seems no other words will do. Most of these times are at work. Thankfully, I work in an environment where cursing is embraced. Because otherwise I would be reduced to "aw man" being the strongest language I could use. And that, internet, would just be fucking wrong.

Giggles

I have never known a person who can make me laugh as much as my son. He says the silliest, most hillarious things on a regular basis. There are days when I don't know what I would do without his giggles or the giggles he makes come out of my mouth. My daughter is starting to this as well. She has been really, REALLY laughing lately. And I can make her laugh.

Really, is there anything sweeter than the sound of a baby who has just learned how to belly laugh? No.

NaBloPoMo Day 3

This is getting tough already. You might notice I removed the "Facebook sucks" button from my page. It's not because I think Facebook sucks any less, but because I still have my account and I feel it's hypocritical of me to have both the button and an account. I still have the account because it allows me to reconnect with people and that's important to me.

All in all, today was a great day. We ran errands together and hung out all day. The kids were both fantastically behaved and Sasha went to bed well. We have some friends and their kids over for dinner and none of the kids argued. What could be better?

I'm exhausted, it's late and I want to watch a TiVoed show then go to sleep.

Good night.

Do they make coffee IVs?

Apparently, Sasha has yet to recieve the memo that sleeping through the night is perfectly appropriate behavior for a 5.5 month-old. I can't take it. Even on the nights I don't end up feeding her she still wakes up at least once for a pacifier. in the 5.5 months she has been alive I have had approximately 5 nights where I have slept through the night. And, even those night, I usually wake up at 6 to go pump before my boobs explode. I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. She eats. and eats. and eats.

She gets three 7 ounce bottles of breast milk a day at daycare along with a morning and before bed nursing session. She now eats a fair amount of cereal before the last nursing of the day as well. And she still thinks she needs to eat at night. I'm sorry baby girl, but you weigh 19 pounds and are only 5.5 months old. I don't think you need to eat at night. Not that I think my baby needs a diet or anything completely inane like that, but really, she should be able to last the night.

In the meantime, I have been walking around in such a fog that it's a wonder I make it through my days. I never feel like I am giving the proper amount of attention to anyone or anything. I just want to be able to give 100% to SOMETHING OR SOMEONE for even 1 day. Is that really too much to ask?

What the hell did I just sign up for?

I just made the decision to participate in NaBloPoMo which will involve me writing something every. damn. day. Oh boy.

I will also be participating in NoBloShoeMo which is Susan's brainchild.

Should be an interesting November.

So, for today's post, here are the monkey and pumpkin in my life.