Shoes

I am a shoe slut. Since I'm relatively poor, I have to save my shoe binges for Payless and clearance racks, but I'm a shoe slut nonetheless.

I only like comfortable shoes. I have a couple pairs of heels - plain black pumps with a 2", thick heel, and a pair of 4" "stripper shoes". The rest of my shoes, including the dressy ones, were chosen for cuteness and comfort level. This whole flats trend that's going on right now makes me a very happy shoe slut.

Most people can't tell, since in the summer I wear Birkenstocks or Birkie-fakes - clogs when working, sandals on my free time. I have a lot of sandals. I have cute toes, so I feel I'm entitled to show them off.

I scored on shoes this weekend, though. I went into Payless after my pedicure and found the best pair of "athleisure" shoes. They're mary-jane style,(and apparently vegan, too) with black nonslip soles and brick red uppers. The uppers are a sueded material and very soft. $9, marked down from $25. Score!

They're definately not Sex-In-The-City approved, but they're Heather-approved - and that's good enough for me.

The New and Improved?

I'm going to get a pedicure this afternoon.

I've never had one before, and I don't know what to expect. I made sure to shave my legs, I don't know if a leg massage is involved and I didn't want to gross any nail techs out. Well, that and I'm wearing capris. Hairy legs and capris, they don't mix. But this pedicure thing is new. I was sitting with my feet in the pool at the daycare provider's house one afternoon after work last week while Freyja swam (okay, she didn't so much swim as float around in a blow-up dolphin) with Kerwin. DCP and I were chatting and she said she had to go get a pedicure before her son's open house (which is tomorrow). I mentioned that I had never had a pedicure (GASP), and the next thing I know we have a date.

I am just NOT the "type" (is there a type?) that gets pedicures. I paint my toenails, sure. Myself. With strange, bright colors. I haven't worn makeup since January, and the biggest concessions I make to my girly side is a haircut every six weeks (and this is not even a year-old ritual) and a dye job every four. The haircut I get at BoRics, and the dye I do myself. Low-maintenance.

But as I think about that seven pound weight loss and the next three years (my conservative estimate) that it will take to lose the rest, I think that it might be fun to do some things that are considered "girly". It might be nice to buy some more feminine clothing (once I can fit into it). I've always been that chick in jeans, a ponytail, and birkenstocks. Girly was never my M.O. I got my man by my brains, personality and my persistence (becuase DAMN was that boy an internet ho!), not with perfect hair, pretty makeup, and ladylike manners.

I kind of want those ladylike manners. I kind of want the girly stuff - for me. Not for anybody else, but for me. Yet I don't want to lose myself, nor can I get past my desire to tell society at large to eff off. It's a fine line. Maybe I'm just "growing up".

My Classic Dame Is...

Your Score: Katharine Hepburn

You scored 7% grit, 38% wit, 47% flair, and 16% class!

You are the fabulously quirky and independent woman of character. You go your own way, follow your own drummer, take your own lead. You stand head and shoulders next to your partner, but you are perfectly willing and able to stand alone. Others might be more classically beautiful or conventionally woman-like, but you possess a more fundamental common sense and off-kilter charm, making interesting men fall at your feet. You can pick them up or leave them there as you see fit. You share the screen with the likes of Spencer Tracy and Cary Grant, thinking men who like strong women.

Find out what kind of classic leading man you'd make by taking the The Classic Dames Test written by gidgetgoes on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Fun :D I love her. I especially love "The Rainmaker".

Success!

Minor and initial success, but hey, it's something. It's something so good that I am being naughty and sneaking on from work to blog about it.

I lost 7 pounds my first week on weight watchers. I know it will slow down soon, but it was awesome to hop on that scale and see that drop :) My pants fit better. I feel good.

Is anybody else who's doing WW kind of OCD about writing things down? It drives Kerwin insane that I'm always pulling out my little blue bag to jot down this point and that point and those two glasses of water.

Super Kawaii!!!

I dyed my hair last night. It needed it, and I was having a crummy day. It's nice and bright, about the color of deep red poppies ("And now, my beauties, something with poison in it. Poppies... Poppies. Poppies will put them to sleep. Sleep. Now they'll sleep!"). Not quite purple enough for bing cherries, but it's hella bright.

Then I had an eye appointment this morning, just a yearly vision screening - she did a dialated exam as I hadn't had one before.

Kerwin is sitting across the room laughing at me. "You look like you just walked out of an Anime!" Gee, thanks honey. You're so...kind.

Bright hair. Big eyes. Super Kawaii!!! >.< Add that to the fact that I just could not find my own sunglasses and I'm walking around with the awesome paper ones, I feel so stylin.

Car Fun

No more "surfing" at work plus nice spring weather means I don't get to the computer very often for fun.

I had a crappy day today. Not only did I leave my lights on and run my battery down, I also locked my keys in the car when I went down at lunch to go get gas before it jumped and found the car dead. I didn't get gas before the thirty-cent jump, and the only person who could come to jump my car and get the keys out was my DCP's husband. Not that he was grumpy about it, he was telling me about how he'd done similar things and not to fret since he didn't have any plans. I still felt like a tool, though.

In my defense, my car doesn't "ding" when you've left the lights on nor does it "ding" when you leave the keys in the ignition. I don't know if it's a quirk with Geo Prisms or if it's a burned fuse. Not a clue. I should probably look at the fuse box to make sure.

I started Weight Watchers today. Since I get an obscene number of points I feel as though I am constantly stuffing my face. Something has to give, though. I don't want to be morbidly obese anymore.

Non-Content

Take the quiz at dicepool.com

Got a Call

Freyja's doctor called me today.

He apologized. He still doesn't quite know what happened or what went wrong, but he's going to look into it and he's going to go over protocol with his staff.

He said he finds the whole idea of insurances and payment "distasteful" because it gets in the way of why he went into medicine - to help people.

I reassured him that this was the first and only bad experience we've had with his staff or in his office at all - which it was.

I'm satisfied. He offered to see her tomorrow morning if we'd like. I don't think we'll be up that early (considering it's 3:25AM and here I sit, blogging), but it's a nice gesture.

Take a Letter, Maria - Final

Dr. SoNSo:

I’m writing to you today to let you know about an experience I had in your front office on Wednesday, May 2, 2007. I had called on Monday, April 30 to schedule an appointment for my daughter, Freyja LastName (birthdate 8/27/04). She has a corn or plantar wart on her little toe. I spoke to M, who scheduled the appointment for me with no problems.

On that morning, A from your office called and spoke to my husband, saying that Freyja had no insurance (which I was aware of, it had lapsed and is in the process of being renewed) and that I needed to bring “paperwork” with me to the office visit. I had no paperwork other than a letter from DHS requesting that I send them a copy of Freyja’s birth certificate.

When we arrived at the office for the appointment, I was told by A that you would not see Freyja unless she had proof of insurance or “paperwork” that said it was in progress. This had not been mentioned on the phone. While I understand that YourPracticePC is a private practice and has the right to refuse service to anyone they like, Medicaid/Healthy Kids covers 3 months retroactively and the visit would have fallen under that. I wasn’t even asked if I would pay up front, just dismissed because of “no insurance”. Is this a new policy for your office? I would understand if we were new patients, but Freyja is well established and has been coming to your office for her primary care since her four month well child visit.

Freyja was very upset, (and I wasn’t pleased myself) as she was looking forward to seeing you. I know that may seem kind of silly, but we’re delighted that she likes and looks forward to seeing her health care provider. We are moving to ThatTown soon and had planned to continue coming to ThisTown for Freyja’s primary care, but if we are going to be treated poorly because we happen to be in a lower economic bracket we may have to rethink that decision.

The YourPracticePC website states “From the first time you walk in our doors or call us on the phone, we want you to know that you come first. While others say they are doing it, we are. Whether it is a friendly greeting by our staff or a “real person” answering the phone or listening to your concerns, ourpracticePC is putting patients first. We want you to know that we value having you as our patient.” Is this indeed the case? We don’t feel very valued right now.

If you would like to call me to discuss this matter, you may reach me at phonenumber1 during the day and phonenumber2 in the evenings.

Sincerely,

Heather LastName

Since his office is an offshoot of a larger practice group, he gets a letter, his office manager gets a letter, and the central admin office gets a letter.

"AmeriCorps Sucks" "I hate AmeriCorps"

Let me guess.

You're "storming".

See, there's five stages in your AmeriCorps year - Forming, Storming, Norming, Performing, and Adjourning. This is from a guy called Bruce Tuckman who originally wrote it to have to do with team building - and every AmeriCorps member is part of at least one team.

It's really easy to get stuck at "storming". Trust me. I've been there. Your living stipend sucks, you spend all your time doing inane things when you really signed up to change the world, and your site supervisor/program director thinks you're a moron (or vice versa). The little things are really starting to get you down, and you're thinking about quitting.

Don't quit. You want that education stipend, and you won't get it if you quit. You also won't get the chance to challenge yourself, push your own boundaries, and really discover what you can do. Frustrated? Vent. Call your program director and tell them what's on your mind. Start your own blog. Vent to me here - I'd love to hear your frustrations. What you're feeling is completely normal and part of the process.

I'm telling you from my perspective as a second-year member - it's worth it. Stick it out. If you've quit everything else you've ever tried, stick it out. If you're so broke you're looking for coins in the couch cushions to buy a loaf of bread, stick it out. You CAN get through - and you WILL be proud of yourself. You deserve it. See your year through.

ETA (4/8/09) Some of the comments have expressed a desire for a forum. 

http://theserviceexperience.yuku.com

Take a letter, Maria

On Eden and Thor's suggestions, here's the letter I wrote to Freyja's doctor. I haven't printed it yet.

Dr. So n So:

I’m writing to you today to let you know about an experience I had in your front office on Wednesday, May 2, 2007. I had called on Monday, April 30 to schedule an appointment for my daughter, Freyja lastname (birthdate 8/27/04). She has a corn or plantar wart on her little toe. I spoke to M, who scheduled the appointment for me with no problems.

On Wednesday morning, A from your office called and spoke to my husband, saying that Freyja had no insurance (which I was aware of, it had lapsed and is in the process of being renewed) and that I needed to bring “paperwork” with me to the office visit. I had no paperwork other than a letter from DHS requesting that I send them a copy of Freyja’s birth certificate.

When we arrived at the office for the appointment, I was told by A that you would not see Freyja unless she had proof of insurance or paperwork that said it was in progress. While I understand that YourPracticePC is a private practice and has the right to refuse service to anyone they like, Medicaid/Healthy Kids covers 3 months retroactively. Is this a new policy for your office? I would understand if we were new patients, but Freyja is well established and has been coming to your office for her primary care since her four month well child visit.

I realize that no one can make me feel inferior without my consent, but I felt low as we had to turn around and leave your office without being seen the other morning. A’s attitude was “well if you don’t have insurance, we don’t want you”. I am glad that it was only a corn on Freyja’s toe and nothing more serious that she needed to be seen for.

Freyja was very upset as she was looking forward to seeing you. I know that may seem kind of silly, but we’re delighted that she likes and looks forward to seeing her health care provider. We are moving to ThatTown soon and had planned to continue coming to ThisTown for Freyja’s primary care, but if your front office staff (who have all been wonderful every other time we have been in the office) are going to treat us poorly because we happen to be in a lower economic bracket we may have to rethink that decision.

If you would like to call me to discuss this matter, you can reach me at phonenumber1 during the day and phonenumber2 in the evenings.

Sincerely,

Heather LastName

Three-freaking-twenty-five?!

Gas prices have hit $3.25/gallon here - that's a 30-cent jump.

If we don't move closer to town, I don't know how we'll afford to go to work, much less do anything else. I know we pay less than most European nations, but most European nations have decent, safe, affordable mass transit systems. Unless one lives in a large metropolitan area, there's no real mass transit to be had in the US. There used to be a light rail that ran right through my town - but it's been gone since the 60's.

This is ridiculous. And it's only going to go higher. I hope the fat cats at the oil companies are enjoying their profits.

Feeling Bookish

What have you read lately that you would recommend?

Fiction, non-fiction, anything. Self-help, even. I keep rereading the same things over and over, and it's just not satisfying anymore. I need to broaden my horizons past Anne McCaffrey, Jodi Picoult, and Robert Heinlein.

Denied.

Freyja has a corn on her toe. On Monday, I talked to her doctor's office and made an appointment for today since a pumice stone hasn't helped. They called this morning to tell me that she doens't have insurance. I'm aware of this - I just faxed in the last of the endless paperwork (since Congress now needs to make sure every person getting medical help is a valid citizen, you know) to get her re-approved for HealthyKids (medicaid). She was up for renewal, her caseworker sent me a paper that said "send this crap in" yet didn't tell me what it was for and never returned my call, so it ended up lapsing. They only spoke to Kerwin (who has no clue about how any of it works), and wanted me to bring "paperwork" in with me. I had no idea what "paperwork" they meant, since they didn't specify so I didn't bring anything.

They refused to see her, since she didn't have "current insurance". The new MA who was manning the front desk was snide and had the air of "take your government tit-sucking ass out of my office". I explained that Medicaid covers 3 months retroactively, so what was the big deal? Well, there's no "proof" that she'll be covered and it's "too much hassle" to see uninsured people, since they "rarely get paid".

It was only a corn on her toe, but Freyja LOVES her doctor and was looking forward to seeing him today. I told her we had to go home and she screamed "I WANT DR. GREG TO LOOK AT MY CORN TOE!!!" and started crying. Boy, did I feel like a jerk - except why should I? Has our medical system become that broken that they won't see children who need health care? It's a private practice. They do have the right to refuse service to anyone - but Freyja is an established patient, not some unknown new person. What if she had been really sick, like with a high fever or something?

On one hand, I can see their reasoning. On the other, that MA was a royal bitch. The MA's there are usually very nice and never have talked down to me. I don't know what I should do - wait for her insurance confirmation to come back and make the appointment again? Find a new office - maybe an FQHC so they CAN'T refuse her service? Write a firmly-worded letter to the doctor to let him know my displeasure? Frankly, I'm disgusted.

Baked Pasta

After spending a half hour looking for recipes, I'm not finding what I want. I'm making pasta tonight and I wanted to do a baked pasta.

Do I have to put ricotta in it? Does anybody know? I'm broke this week, but we're having friends to the house for dinner tonight and I wanted to serve something cheap that can be assembled and the mess cleaned up before they arrive (the house is small, no dining room, and the least bit of clutter looks atrocious) - hence baked pasta.

If I have to go out and get ricotta I will, but I will grumble the entire way. It's stupid expensive.

100 Posts

100 posts.

I didn't think I'd get here. Honestly, I started this blog so I could be a cool kid like Karrie - she asked if any August 04 mamas had blogs, and I had had blogs before (lame ones!) so I decided to just do it up all fancy-like here at Blogger. It's taken me approximately six months to make 100 posts, which isn't too shabby. That averages out to about one every other day. I've been blogging in one form or another since December of 2000, which I think makes me some kind of blogging pioneer.

In six months, I've posted mostly under the tags of:

random foo (32)
self (18)
spawn (16)

I forget to tag posts a lot too, but I'm guessing that's pretty accurate. I've blogged from home, work, friends houses, my parents' house, and anywhere I can find a wi-fi connection. I value the connections I've made and that I know I'll continue to make.

If you've been lurking, post a comment. Let me know who you are, how you found me, and what you wish I'd write about more often. It's nice to have that input when I'm in a dry spell.

Change my Daemon!

I just want to watch daytime TV

It started on Friday - that niggling little feeling of a scratchy throat. Then as I was sitting in the theatre watching Kerwin's graduation ceremony, the runny nose kicked in.

By the time we got to Chili's for a celebratory beer, the fuzzy head feeling had made its' entrance. So I skipped the beer. Head colds leave me feeling drunk enough. I slept 4 hours in between the waking to blow my nose and cough.

Saturday morning the barrage continued. I think I had a fever, but I don't remember. I was at my folks helping them get the house ready for Kerwin's grad party and we were busy. When my mom and I went to pick up the cake, I also got cold medicine. I chugged it down with a bottle of Bolthouse C-Boost juice blend, hoping to feel better. Within 15 minutes I felt like I'd been hit by a semi truck. Non-drowsy my ass. Since they took pseudoephedrine out of everything you can get off the shelf I figured I'd be safe with the phenylephrine-based stuff they replaced it with. Ha. Decongestants and I just don't get along.

Five hours of sleep Sunday night. The fuzzy head was mostly gone, but the rest stayed. I finished getting ready for the party, welcomed people, attempted to act the hostess. I spent most of the party curled up on the futon in the guest room at my folks whinging to my best friend Angie about how crappy I felt. Way to be the supportive wife there, Heather.

It's still here today, and the fuzzy head is back. I'm here at work because I have a lot to do this week, even though I know I'll be less than productive.

If you send me virtual tea and imaginary cozy blankets, I will love you forever. Mad props, and all that. If you're at home today and you catch Oprah, think of me? I want my head cold rights of tea, blankies, and daytime TV.

Shiny!

Last week was National Volunteer Week (Inspire by Example).

My program director sent us a little swag - a keychain that says "Essential Piece" and a pen that says the same.

The pen also has my name on it! I know this isn't really anything to get excited about, but it's fun. Mostly it means its' one pen that nobody will steal off my desk.

Fudge Ripple

I had a dream this morning that I was hanging out with Karrie. I think we were at her house. There was disco music playing, and we were eating ice cream. Fudge ripple and pink grapefruit. Not together, I don't think. The ice cream was in pint containers and apparently had come from Ikea, except it was like the kind they make at Cold Stone Creamery, where they mix all the stuff in.

Yeah, I have no explanations. I didn't eat ice cream last night nor did I read blogs before bed.

The times, they are a-changin'

Kerwin is graduating from community college tomorrow. Halle-frickin-lujah!

He wasn't going to walk and participate in the commencement exercises. I wanted him to - it's a milestone and he deserves to be recognized. He came around - I MAY have bribed him with cake and a party. I admit nothing. Nothing!

He's taking a year off. He's "burned out" on school and wants to wait before applying to 4-year institutions. This is probably academic suicide, but now he'll have time to spend with us instead of on homework. For the past four years (seven semesters of which he was in school) he's worked full time at a thankless job and gone to college. I'm proud of him. He graduates with his Associate's in Science and Arts, plus 30-some credits of electives that may or may not transfer.

I'm also very glad that for an entire 15 months, I won't have to hear him bitching about how stupid his homework is, how many papers he has to write, how his professors think their class is the only class he's taking. I never bitched about these things because I just feel that they're part of going to college. People think I can't live without bitching about things - ha! I get it from him!

It'll be nice to have my husband with no demands on his time except for work. We haven't had a time in our married life where one or both of us weren't taking classes or working or both. In the past two years, one of us was always doing both. That's what we get for marrying "young" and having a baby right away. Can't change that now, nor do I wish to. Before much longer it'll be "remember when. . ." and "I can't believe we survived those years"

I'm looking forward to it.

Farfalle - Work In Progress

Dug this up this afternoon. I think I'll work on it some more.

Farfalle was named for her mother’s cravings during pregnancy. Her mother always said that rotini made her think of weird bugs and spaghetti just didn’t feel right going down during pregnancy. She craved pasta, though, and farfalle was what she often chose. What better way to name the child conceived at the end of a semester abroad in Italy? Her mother didn’t even know until she got home, and she knew she’d never see Paulo again, or even be able to find him.

Named for a pasta, with a mystery father, Farfalle nonetheless is the apple of her mother’s eye. A becoming combination of her mother’s very Irish features and her father’s classic Italian look, the girl’s curly brown hair, freckles, and startling blue eyes draw constant comments.

Farfalle is three years old, and she loves pasta, too. She loves to chirp her order at her and her mother’s favorite hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant, and it’s always for her pasta namesake. Her mother has done a wonderful thing in weaving a tale for Farfalle about her conception. Many women in her situation would be bitter, and with good reason. Farfalle’s mother had too much fun being pregnant, and then bringing little infant Farfalle to her last semester of classes to be bitter. Understanding professors and a baby in a sling combined just as magically as Farfalle’s conception, and life is good for the happy pair.

Tonight is something new. Farfalle’s mother hasn’t dated since she came back from Italy. She wouldn’t, couldn’t bring herself to leave Farfalle for an evening, and most men aren’t inclined to have a first date with a three year old, however charming, hanging about. Tonight is different. Farfalle waits with her mother at the Italian restaurant for the Greek suitor. They draw pictures as they wait, Farfalle’s mother showing a deft hand with the crayons.

Farfalle sees him first. She tugs on her mother’s sleeve as he approaches. Tall and dark, Farfalle sizes Nikolas up closely. She likes him, at least she likes how he looks and how he smiles, but he has to like pasta, too. She and her mother can’t settle for just anybody. She thinks they do great on their own – her mother is a librarian and Farfalle goes to Jenni’s daycare every day, and Miss Jenni is like a second mother to her. This arrangement works for everybody, and Farfalle is a little nervous about it changing.

Nikolas has flowers, big pretty gerbera daisies. Two daisies, one bright, bright pink, which he hands to Farfalle with a grin, and one orange, which he hands to her mother. He sits down, and they order. Farfalle first, for her namesake with alfredo sauce and broccoli, and her mother and Nikolas next. Nikolas is nice. He talks to Farfalle and her mother, and it’s one big conversation. Farfalle feels very grown up tonight as she eats her broccoli and answers questions politely. When they get up to leave, her mother gives her a thumbs up and a big grin. Farfalle returns it, since she likes Nikolas. They go their separate ways, Farfalle and her mother in their little car, and Nikolas in his littler car.

Farfalle and her mother stop at her Grandma’s house to say hello. Grandma is anxious to hear about the date with Nikolas. Farfalle tells Grandma that next time she will stay with her while her mother goes out by herself, because that is what grownups do. Grandma smiles convincingly at Farfalle’s mother, who reluctantly agrees.

Baby Not Mine

Friends of my brother's brought their 4 month old over last night.

He's cute.

He was also really stiff, spent most of his time mesmerized by lights and the TV, and was generally non-interactive. I felt kind of bad for the little guy - maybe he was just weird because I was new. Maybe they don't hold him enough. I'm just not sure. They both work full time, so maybe they're just doing the best they can. I looked back at Freyja's pictures at 4 months old and she was way more interactive, better developed, and smiley. She was one rockin' baby - I appreciate that more now than I did then.

I got zero baby fever. That's ok. I wanted to be done by the time I was 30 - I have four years yet.

Cover the Uninsured Week

http://mpcahealthcorps.wordpress.com/2007/04/10/denied-the-crisis-of-americas-uninsured/

My AmeriCorps program director keeps a blog for us team members so we can have quick overviews of things he'd like us to think about. I wanted to post the link to the latest entry (written by one of our team members this time), since I know I have a few erstwhile social activists who pop by here every once in a while.

If anyone is interested in the American health care system and the disparities that exist, please go over and read it. Read the book that is referenced. Go to the Cover the Uninsured Week website and do something to get involved, even if it's just a post on your blog or a letter to your congressperson.

Searchy, Searchy (again)

Today's batch is a little more sobering.

you're on notice meme (did you find it? funny stuff!)
owen meany sucks reviews (still haven't read it)
depression and crazy thoughts (I hope you found something that helped you. If not, come back and let me know - I'm crazy too, maybe we can help each other)
IUGR and blog rings (since my diagnosis was false, can't help you there)
CPS I AM GOING TO TAKE MY BABY (can't help you there, either)
glorious hair (my hair is pretty great!)
Absentee Husbands - where did he go (I wonder that every time mine doesn't call)
DO IUGR BABIES SURVIVE AT 34 WEEKS (usually - if your placenta has ceased to function, better out than in. Isolettes are marvelous technology and I hope your baby is doing fine)

Crafty Bitch

I love crafty stuff, and I also like snarky stuff.

Julie Jackson and Subversive Cross Stitch rocks my socks. Somebody on some board or another I post on (can't remember now - look kids, this is what being a mom does to you!) slapped up a link to her site and I ordered "Fuck Cancer" to make for my grandmother, who is a stomach cancer survivor (they removed her whole stomach). She liked it a lot, but she puts it away when her pastor comes over for a visit. Silly, because I know her pastor, and Pastor Julie would get a kick out of it.

That led to me buying the book, and making various things from it, like "bitchin' kitchen" (the photo isn't mine, and it's slightly different as I ran the two words together and used different colors) for my mom when she finished her kitchen remodel, and "babies suck" for a pair of dear friends embarking on that journey known as parenthood. I felt it would be cruel to not give them a fair warning.

Whenever I'm feeling especially snarky, I get out the book and my cross stitching kit and I go to town. The creative outlet is soothing, and the finished project in an evening of TV watching is bliss. Plus, it's easy. Go forth and stitch!

Nominated

Karrie, in her nominating frenzy, nominated AmeriMama for the "blogitzer" category at the Blogger's Choice Awards.

So I will just say "squee" and "thank you!"

Downhearted

Meh.

That about sums things up for me right now.

I'm at a loss for things to blog about - Freyja does lots of cute stuff, but so do everybody else's kids - and then I read about everybody else's kids, which reminds me of something funny or cute that Freyja did, and then I can't write about it, because that's almost like copying and cheating.

I quit going to therapy. I haven't been in two months. I'm not willing to get into my issues and so there's no point in wasting the money.

I'm in constant pain from sciatica that started in pregnancy and I can't do anything remotely fun with my kid, but my doctor doesn't care. Apparently I must be faking it just to get pain meds, when I haven't ever asked for pain meds. The treatment I want to use (sterile water epidural) is "risky" and "not guaranteed". Well, yes. So are epidurals in labor, but I don't hear anybody refusing them to laboring women on those criteria. The sterile water treatment has been used since the early 1900's to good effect for people with debilitating back pain.

It will all go away if I lose weight (according to my doctor). The depression, the anxiety, the back pain. I asked for antidepressants a while back and he told me to exercise. Fuck. Tell me how I'm supposed to exercise when just standing on my feet feels like I'm being stabbed in the lower back and down the backs of my legs? Just work through it? There is no working through it.

Eat less? No shit. Then I'll be hungry and in pain, which makes me just incredibly great and patient as a parent. I pass up going out with friends, taking Freyja out to play or to do anything fun with her because of this pain.

Yet I keep bitching and doing nothing. I can't work as a doula effectively with this pain either. I just can't motivate myself and I don't want anybody else to motivate me. I don't think I'm worth motivating, so all the pep talks in the world do nothing. I'm not looking for sympathy. People tell me all the time how great of a person I am, I just don't believe them (especially when I'm in a downswing).

I feel like a 15 year old trying to play at being grown up. I don't know what to base my self worth on. Next week I'll probably feel better and wonder why I wrote this. Is this what bipolar is, or am I just some kind of freak? Should I go back to therapy? Find a different regular doctor?

I think I need a hug.

Weekend Details!

As we prepare for Easter, I would like to take some time to reflect on what's really important about this weekend.

I'm going to IKEA! Oh yeah! We're heading to A2 to see Kerwin's grandmother and on Saturday we're going to the Ikea in Canton township. I want to get Freyja a table and chairs (the Svala set, I think - I have visions of blackboard paint on the tabletop) and I think we're having lunch there. I've had IKEA lust ever since I knew it existed.

Oh, another monumental event is this weekend, too. I'll be wearing a dress. A new one. The last time I bought a dress was for my wedding. I just couldn't resist the cute wrap dresses on sale at Target last night, and although I looked fat in it, I look fat in pants, too. I might as well look cute and to hell what people think. I wanted to link a picture, but it isn't online. It's a black and white pattern of circles made of tiny little dots. I'll try to post a picture after this weekend. I do now fully believe that EVERYONE can look great in a wrap dress.

So We Were Almost Killed Today...

So I was taking DH to work, driving down the highway, and all of a sudden this asshat comes flying off an entrance ramp and careens into the left lane where we were ever so courteously driving so he could get on the damn highway. He didn't even look where he was going.

Thankfully we were not up against a barrier, just a grassy median, and I was able to pull off and over enough so he didn't hit me. He did the whole hand up in the rearview mirror thing like "Oh, I see you now, sorry I almost killed y'all"

Then when we drove by him he gave us a dirty look! WTF! It was some thug ass gansta in a doo rag, yapping on his damn cell phone. What, because you have a shiny car and a cell phone you have the right to kill people on the highway?! I DON"T THINK SO, ASSHOLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If there had been a barrier in the median I would probably be dead or in very bad condition right now. What an adrenaline rush!!!!!!!! OMG! I couldn't breathe and then I started giggling like a madwoman, happy to be alive.

I did manage to crack DH up by singing

"All night, all day, angels watching over me, my lord"

as we exited the highway by his work. Hoooooly shit.

Searchy, Searchy

What People are Searching For:

nccc americorps sucks
kinky "muskegon"
youe tube porn
sampoo formula]
crunchy mammas
spaghetti makes me full
burger bell
ob says cervix is fingertip and hard
KERWIN - MICHIGAN - MYSPACE (this is kind of freaky - I wonder who's searching for my husband? Own up, Internet Ho!)

If they told you, you would cry.

For the April Pulsate Olympics, sponsored by GNM parents. Wow, that feels dirty. :D

Both of my parents are still living. This really should come as no surprise - I'm young (26) and they had me when they were in their early twenties. My dad just turned 50 this past year, my mom is 48.

My dad has some serious health issues. He's a type-2 diabetic and he has congestive heart failure. He's had one heart attack at 43, followed by a triple bypass. He has high cholesterol and high blood pressure. He works 40+ hours a week at a physical job (he's an electrician - does installs of radios on police cars, buses, ambulances, etc, and maintains equipment at various 911 call centers and law enforcement and dispatch facilities). He has a 15% chance of living until he's 60. I get my love of reading, my tendency to question everything, and my temper from him.

He used to be a real asshole and probably could have been considered physically abusive - he and I are a lot alike and butted heads constantly, and instead of walking away like an adult should when faced with a mouthy child and teenager over something trivial, he let his temper get the best of him and he hit me, usually a slap across the face if he could reach, and whatever he could reach if not. And if he ever reads this (I have no idea if he does), I am going to get the biggest guilt trip in the universe. I'm not saying that I was completely innocent, because I was a mouthy little shit once I hit puberty (which is when he morphed into asshole dad). They should have disciplined me differently as a young child - I was indulged and allowed to get away with a lot. As far as I know he's never laid a hand on my mother, nor on my brother. I guess I was just special.

He's mellowed considerably. Now when he acts like a jackass (much less often) I just ignore him. If he hasn't learned any better, I have. He's so incredibly patient and gentle with Freyja that it's like a complete turnaround. She is grandpa's girl for sure. It's still really hard to trust that he won't lose his temper with her, though. He probably doesn't realize it, but I always brush off his offers to babysit if my mom won't be there. I just can't take that step and I don't know if I'll ever be able to. Again, Dad, if you're reading this - I really hope you understand. It's not you, it's me.

My mom has some health issues too. She has degenerative disk disease and arthritic knees, high cholesterol and triglycerides, and high blood pressure. She also works full time, on her feet. She's a pharmacy technician and as much as she bitches about it I know she loves her job. She's looking at her 20 year anniversary soon. The woman gets 6 weeks of paid time off every year, between vacation and personal time. She spends the majority of the time on home improvement projects or with Freyja (the only grandchild thus far). I get my artistic ability, my singing voice, my penchant for sarcasm and my compassion (I do have some, I swear!) from her.

That said, she's also passive-aggressive, overly sensitive, and easy to bait. She goes to church but I'm not really sure she believes, because anytime Kerwin or I mention Paganism, Heathenry, the Pagan roots of any given Christian celebration, you name it, she goes off like a roman candle. She doesn't get that me not attending church is not an insult to her or her parenting. Honestly, I think it's proof that she raised a child who can think for herself, which is a noble and excellent thing.

Growing up, we were lower-middle class until my parents divorced. Then we stayed with my mom, and we were poor. She refused to take any help (oh yeah, I get my overly prideful streak from her, too), and I'm sure there were nights when she didn't eat after working two part time jobs to make ends meet. I have to give my parents credit in that they never used my brother and I as pawns. They had a standard custody arrangement but any time my dad wanted to take us for an extra day or they needed to switch a weekend, they did. There was never any problem with my dad paying child support. He paid what was mandated and took care of other things we needed as well. There was very little, if any, playing one parent against the other.

My dad remarried, divorced, and then my parents got remarried. Yeah, I wonder the point of all of it too. Maybe they both had some growing up to do.

As much as any of that might make me hate my parents, I don't. Sure, I went through that phase when I was a teenager - I think most normal people do - but the real clincher in getting along with my parents and actually liking them was tied to my moving out. My mom and I can talk on the phone for hours and still have a hard time hanging up. My dad and I have bonded through our love of weird trivia and family nostalgia.

I'm terrified of losing my dad to his health conditions before Freyja is old enough to remember him. I'm terrified of my mom getting Alzheimer's like her mom, and not knowing us anymore. I don't want to think of the day when I can't call my dad on my lunch break just to say hi, or call my mom at night to tell her what Freyja did because I know she'll understand. Until then, I just make the memories as I can; for Freyja, and for me.

It's my peeps, yo!

Did you know that Peeps don't burn? Even when soaked with tequila? I really, really wanted them to. I figured with all that sugar they'd just go up in flames!

I was forced to rethink my Peeps photo op, and instead ended up with "Peeps on the Bounding Main". I honestly didn't intend to photograph Bunny-on-Peep interspecies marshmallow love - it just happened that way.

Candy

Cadbury Royal Dark Mini Eggs are evil.

Eeeeeeviiiiiiiilllll...

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Sticky Sweet

At the dinner table last night over Maui Wowie chicken sandwiches*, Kerwin and I got on the topic of healthy eating. He's concerned about his pot belly. I told him to stop drinking soda, and he agreed with me. This led to a discussion about high fructose corn syrup and how it's pervaded just about everything we eat, including almost the entire menu at the Evil Arches. Don't ask why the fat chick knows so much about nutrition. I have the theory, it's the practice that kicks my ass.

EVERYTHING has HFCS in it. He didn't believe me until I got up from the table and started pulling everything off the shelves. Breakfast cereal? Check. Mac n Cheese? Check. Instant Oatmeal? Check. Pasta Sauce? Check. Goldfish crackers? check! I don't know how many things I pulled off the shelf and he just stood there flabbergasted.

He wants to make a conscious effort to avoid HFCS. I'm not saying this is a bad idea. I think it's a great idea. I'm just wondering how he plans to bankroll it. This is the man who bitches endlessly if I go over the $190 that we get in food stamps every month (that's right, I feed 3 people on $190 and frankly I feed us pretty well). I told him that means no more cheap food. It means making our own bread or paying $3.50 a loaf. It means no more sweetened applesauce or pudding in his lunches, or salsa on his eggs. He still seems to want to go ahead with this. I'm fine with it. I eat Kashi crackers and cereal already, and I like them better than the mainstream brands.

Just wait until pop tarts go on sale and I tell him, "No, remember? They have HFCS!"

Then again, maybe I'm not giving him enough credit. Maybe he'll embrace the healthy lifestyle.

*Maui Wowie chicken sandwiches

2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, marinated overnight in a teriyaki marinade.
6 strips of bacon or turkey bacon
2 slices swiss cheese
sliced red onion
pineapple rings
wheat kaiser rolls
honey mustard

Grill chicken. Fry bacon. Slice chicken thinly. Spread the bottoms of kaiser rolls with honey mustard. Pile chicken on top, then bacon, cheese, pineapple, onion. Broil 5 min. Serve with a nice big salad. Serves two. Enjoy!

I've got a secret.

It's a nice secret, a good secret, a happy secret. It's all mine, and I don't want to tell anybody about it. It needs to be my special private secret for a little while longer. I don't need anyone's approval or anyone's disapproval. I just need to be one with my secret. I don't want anybody else to know. If you see me smiling, I'm thinking about my secret. I'll tell you about it at Midsummer.

No, I'm not pregnant. Really. If I were pregnant, this post would instead be titled, simply, "Fuck". And instead of telling you about it at Midsummer, I'd be telling you about it at Yule.

Pee in a Cup? I Think Not.

Inspired by Babycenter's Drama...er...I mean Bargain Board



As a person who gets food stamps through a loophole in the system (AmeriCorps stipend doesn't count as income) and who uses that money I have in my pocket b/c Uncle Sam buys me groceries and daycare to pay down my debt (we would be screwed without the help), I do have a problem with drug testing. I've never done drugs in my life. Most people on welfare or food stamps are - gee - surprise - like me. Not users, not losers, not government tit suckers. Why in hell should I be treated like a criminal when I'm not one? Also, what makes anybody think I have the time or gas money to cart myself down to the FIA office monthly or weekly or however damn often these drug tests should be done to pee in a cup?

So just sit there in your 3500 sq. foot McMansion on your cul-de-sac in your designer gauchos, drinking your afternoon margarita while the nanny entertains your gymbo-clad kids and keep talking about those drug tests for welfare recipients. You so know what it's like, don't you? Oh, you don't have a nanny? Sorry! That's what happens when people start to assume things about other groups of people.

A Day

Freyja was a holy terror this afternoon. No nap. Cranky. Whiney. Why am I at home? Mostly because she's been acting punk and running random fevers. Also, I have hit a low point again at work and I don't really feel like going in. Wrong of me? Probably. I did manage to work from home about 4 hours yesterday and 3 today. Hopefully the malaise will have lifted by tomorrow, I can't get away with staying out of the office for three days in a week.

Anyway, back to the holy terror. I still let her fingerpaint this afternoon. She wanted to dye eggs (we picked up a kit at Target today), but I drew the line there - the way she's been listening I would have had a rainbow kitchen, and not in a good way. I just didn't have the patience for the boiling and the fizzing and the stains.

I suggested she fingerpaint, and I'd cut egg shapes out of her paper. This seemed to appease her, and she happily painted six or seven sheets of paper. Some even stayed recognizable colors. I stuck them to the fridge as she finished each one. We had a good time. I bet most moms have good times every day with their children - I find myself yelling, screaming and unable to enjoy the essence of two-and-a-half lately, most days I don't enjoy Freyja or have good times with her as a rule. I'm sure this is something I'm doing wrong.

Then we went to play outside. It was too nice to stay in. Besides, the fingerpaintings had to dry. I had plans for them. It was bubbles, bubbles everywhere. She rode her "scootah". She slid down her baby slide. I sat on the trunk of our car thats' been dead for over a year (yes, we DO live in a trailer park, thanks for asking) as she ran around, pretending she was riding her scootah to Mickey D's. Yes, we eat at the trans-fat, HCFS palace way too often. My overlarge ass is proof. When I was ready to go inside, she kept going back to the slide, the scootah, the sidewalk chalk for "a minute". I finally had to pick her up, cart her inside, and stick her in her room while she was screaming bloody murder.

I used the two minute timeout to cut the eggs out from the dried fingerpaintings. Never let it be said that I cannot multitask. I taped them up in one of our windows, but wanted something with more panache. I was going to cut letters out, but then I remembered I had some tempera laying around from Freyja's birthday cupcakes (I made a cupcake stand). With a few tricks from MS Word, I had a little backwards cheat sheet and I painted "Happy Spring" on the window below the fingerpainted eggs while Freyja screamed her head off next to my chair that she wanted to paint too.

And now I should go persuade her to eat some preservative-laden macaroni and cheese (that I will add frozen peas to) so she can go to bed, since she's running around the house screaming with princess sunglasses on upside down and lamb ears from the Target dollar section on her head...

Pictures of the window:

Real Moms...

Kat tagged me for this MeMe.

Real moms...

...happily admit their children are driving them insane.
...strike up a conversation with the other mom at the playground who looks like she's about to lose it, too.
...find that talking to other real moms makes them feel better.
...aren't afraid to lay down the law when necessary.
...sometimes agree to extra chocolate sprinkles, even on breakfast cereal.
...don't play the mommy guilt game.
...love dancing in the rain as much as their toddlers do.
...don't let other real moms play the mommy guilt game.
...have useful advice or funny anecdotes on everything, from vitamin Z to potty training.
...bring their kids onto campus if they must, and use iPhoto to entertain them.

Grump

I "had it out" with the husband last night.

I made a list while I was sitting here at work, fretting over what I think is wrong in our relationship. I didn't want to forget anything. It was a long list. I also had to make him understand that I'm guilty of perpetuating the bad things too.

So we talked, me strung out on half a glass of red wine (either the sulfites or the tannins do me in - it's never been this bad before, but that Chateau Ste. Michele 2002 Columbia Valley Merlot was hell) and crying in the recliner.

I didn't yell. This is new. He didn't yell. That's new, too. I think we got somewhere.

He's been acting strange lately. He's been less of a charming asshole. I like charming asshole, that's why I married him. I can't take the weird, passive-agressive thing he's been doing for the past few weeks. He mentioned he was trying to be a better husband by being less of an asshole.

He's less of an asshole when he's being an asshole. Does that make any sense? Charming asshole is his natural personality. When he's charming asshole, I can be bitchy queen bee and we get along famously. When he's trying to NOT be an asshole, he acts sullen and withdrawn, and I turn into caustic screamer. And nobody gets laid. It's not happy.

He was back to being a charming asshole this morning. Amen. Now we can make some progress on everything else.

A Bookish Meme

Since my life is going through some upheaval that I'm just not quite comfortable posting about yet, here is some non-content.

Hardback or trade paperback or mass market paperback? I like mass market paperbacks because I'm hell on books. I can take them everywhere, break the spines, and if they wear out, just buy a new one.

Amazon or brick and mortar? We only have Barnes & Noble in the area, so I'm a big Amazon fan unless I drive 30 miles to the nearest used bookshop.

Barnes & Noble or Borders? B&N - no Borders in the area. I only go in when I have time to kill or need stationery rightthissecond.

Bookmark or dog ear? Dog ear, and I get yelled at for it constantly. My husband comes from a long line of librarians.

Alphabetize by author or alphabetize by title or random? Random. I try to stick things by one author all together but that doesn't always work.

Keep, throw away, or sell? Keep keep keep keep keep. We just had to buy a fifth bookshelf...

Keep dust jacket or toss it? Keep, but it gets taken off when I read.

Read with dust jacket or remove it? See above.

Short story or novel? I like novels.

Collection (short stories by same author) or anthology: Collections by my favorite authors, and anthologies by others..

Harry Potter or Lemony Snicket? Harry Potter.

Stop reading when tired or at chapter breaks? Chapter breaks, or I get hella lost. Or I stay up all night.

“It was a dark and stormy night” or “Once upon a time”? “The night was sultry.” Once Upon a Time

Buy or Borrow? Buy.

New or used? I really do love both.

Buying choice: book reviews, recommendation or browse? I just grab things that look interesting, unless I'm looking for something specific.

Tidy ending or cliffhanger? Cliffhanger.

Morning reading, afternoon reading or nighttime reading? Nighttime :D

Stand-alone or series? Hmmm. Tough. I'm not too picky.

Favorite series? Pern. Flame me all you want, I know it's trash with bad science and worse characters, but I love it.

Favorite children’s book? Blueberries for Sal

Favorite book of which nobody else has heard? Gosh, that's a tough one. I don't venture off the beaten path as much as I should.

Favorite books read last year? The Truth About the Mommy Wars, The Red Tent

Favorite books of all time? Anything that's an escape.

Least favorite book you finished last year? If it sucks, I stop reading. (yeah, that)

What are you reading right now? The Thinking Woman's Guide to a Better Birth, and the Elric of Melnibone saga.

What are you reading next? Dunno, might try some Mercedes Lackey.

An Error in my Favor

I sent in a check for a magazine subscription a couple of weeks ago, and I got a notice in the mail over the weekend. I overpaid by six cents. I don't know how, since I looked at the amount about fourteen times before writing the check, just to make sure I got it right.

They are giving me an extra issue to make up for this "inconvenience" to me. Or, they will be happy to issue me a check for the overpaid amount. Uh, I'll take the extra issue, thanks!

Book Meme

Take the list below, paste it into your own blog, put READ next to those you’ve read, WANT TO next to those you are interested in, AGAIN & AGAIN next to those you’ve read and can’t stop, and leave blank those you don’t care to read.

Stolen from Thordora.

1. The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown) read
2. Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen) read
3. To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee) Again & Again

4. Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell) read
5. The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (Tolkien) read
6. The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (Tolkien) read
7. The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers (Tolkien) read
8. Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery) read
9. Outlander (Diana Gabaldon) may have read, don't remember!
10. A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry)
11. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Rowling) again and again

12. Angels and Demons (Dan Brown) want to
13. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Rowling) again and again

14. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving) want to
15. Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden) want to

16. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (Rowling) again and again
17. Fall on Your Knees(Ann-Marie MacDonald)
18. The Stand (Stephen King)
19. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Rowling) again and again
20. Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte) again and again
21. The Hobbit (Tolkien) read
22. The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
23. Little Women (Louisa May Alcott) read
24. The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold) want to
25. Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
26. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams) read
27. Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
28. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis) read
29. East of Eden (John Steinbeck)
30. Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom)
31. Dune (Frank Herbert) read
32. The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks) tried
33. Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand) want to
34. 1984 (Orwell) want to
35. The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley) again and again and again:D
36. The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett)
37. The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay)
38. I Know This Much is True (Wally Lamb)
39. The Red Tent (Anita Diamant) read
40. The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
41. The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)
42. The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini) want to
43. Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella)
44. The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom)
45. The Bible read, but meh.
46. Anna Karenina (Tolstoy) read
47. The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)

48. Angela’s Ashes (Frank McCourt)
49. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
50. She’s Come Undone (Wally Lamb)
51. The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)
52. A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens) read
53. Ender’s Game (Orson Scott Card) want to
54. Great Expectations (Dickens)
55. The Great Gatsby (Fitzgerald)
56. The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence)
57. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Rowling) again and again
58. The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
59. The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood) want to
60. The Time Traveller’s Wife (Audrew Niffenegger) want to
61. Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)
62. The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand) want to
63. War and Peace (Tolsoy)
64. Interview With The Vampire (Anne Rice) again and again
65. Fifth Business (Robertson Davis)
66. One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
67. The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants (Ann Brashares) want to, but don't tell anyone.
68. Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
69. Les Miserables (Hugo) read.
70. The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery) read
71. Bridget Jones’ Diary (Fielding) want to
72. Love in the Time of Cholera (Marquez)
73. Shogun (James Clavell) want to
74. The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
75. The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett) again and again
76. Tigana (Guy Gavriel Kay)
77. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith) again and again
78. The World According To Garp (John Irving) want to
79. The Diviners (Margaret Laurence)
80. Charlotte’s Web (E.B. White) again and again!

81. Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)
82. Of Mice And Men (Steinbeck)
83. Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier)
84. Wizard’s First Rule (Terry Goodkind) read
85. Emma (Jane Austen) read
86. Watership Down (Richard Adams) read
87. Brave New World (Aldous Huxley) again and again
88. The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields)
89. Blindness (Jose Saramago)
90. Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)
91. In The Skin Of A Lion (Ondaatje)
92. Lord of the Flies (Golding) read, but hated it.
93. The Good Earth (Pearl S. Buck)

94. The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd) want to
95. The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum) want to
96. The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)
97. White Oleander (Janet Fitch)

98. A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford)
99. The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield) want to - sort of.
100. Ulysses (James Joyce)

And I guess I'm still 14 somewhere inside, because I love Harry Potter. It's just enjoyable to read. Is that allowed anymore?

Bear With Me

I know I keep switching templates, I can't find anything I like.

Crunchy, yet mainstream.

I signed up with MotheringDotCommune's forums a while ago so I could access their childbirth professionals section.

I get an email from them about once a week, with highlights, chat updates, etc. In this last issue was a book reccomendation that they said "wasn't a usual Mothering book since it was oriented toward doctors and hospital birth" but had good information anyway.

I consider myself mainstream - we did the full schedule of vaccinations, every well-baby visit, and you bet your sweet ass I take Freyja in to the doctor if she's under the weather. In general, I trust allopathic medicine and doctors. I don't think the hospital is the safest place to have a baby, but I think taking my child to see a doctor is a good idea. If we had naturopaths around that the insurance would cover, I'd happily consider going to one.

That said, why is it so damn hard to get people to understand that just because I happen to be mainstream in the majority of my thinking, it doesn't mean I don't understand their choices in childrearing, childbearing, infant feeding, bla bla bla bla you name it, or that I can't hold a few "crunchy" ideals too?

For example, I work full time out of the home. My husband also works full time out of the home. I don't LIKE to stay home. My child goes to daycare with a wonderful home provider who treats her like family. Does that in some way impugn the choices and rights of families who DO have a parent at home? No! My choices for my family are going to be different than your choices for your family.

I didn't "succeed" at breastfeeding, yet I think that breastfeeding is something that you should do if you can. However, I'm not going to accost you in a mall for feeding your child with a bottle. If you prop the bottle, I reserve the right to give you a dirty look. Other than that, do what you like. Did you know it's almost illegal to mention that you can still practice "on-demand" infant feeding using formula? (you can - I did - it works but SHHH don't tell anybody) WHAT?! NO! ALL formula babies are scheduled and left in baby buckets with propped bottles and you know their mammas don't love them because they are TOO SELFISH to breastfeed - at least that's what the crunchy folks want you to believe.

And what is up with the random guilt trips for women who had c-sections after failed inductions? Maybe if our culture was better oriented toward woman-friendly birth those failed inductions wouldn' t happen. Woman-friendly and baby-friendly birth is my main crunchy soapbox, yet the majority of doula clients I have are in hospitals to give birth. If they get a shot of Nubain, does it make them less of a woman? That's the idea I get from a lot of my professional colleagues and random natural birthers in general.

What I'd like to do is change the landscape of crunchiness. There's got to be a decent term for us middle-of-the roaders who like the idea of homebirth or birth center birth but didn't quite get there themselves, who wanted to breastfeed but either got bad advice or no support, who work or attend school and actually enjoy their time out of the home, and who do other various sort of crunchy hippie things in regards to childbearing and childrearing yet don't quite subscribe to the elitism that I tend to see. Can we rise up against the elitism? I sure hope so.

Grocery Shopping

11 PM, Friday night.

Rain.
Bleak, cold rain.
Where is the baby?
Asleep.
Where is the daddy?
Asleep.
Where is the mama?
Putting on her shoes.
Mama is grumpy.
Oh, so grumpy.
Mama has a grocery list
and it must get done tonight.

Mama laments.

Mama sings a song of woe.
Mama wants to know
why in hell
Daddy is sleeping
and she is always the one
making the midnight run
to Meijer.

Ya dig?

Happy Birthday, Baby

My first doula client went into labor on my birthday, and her baby was born at 9:56PM. Not a bad way to spend a birthday, all things considered. Mama's labor went smoothly until transition, when baby's heartrate started to drop. It was soon back where it needed to be after having mama breathe through an oxygen mask, and the baby was delivered in just under an hour of pushing.

Then mama had some complications. These complications resulted in her being transferred from the birth center to a bigger hospital's ICU. She is stable, and on the mend. Due to HIPPA and DONA regulations, I can't say anything more than that. I was glad I was there so that Dad didn't have to go through this on his own.

The baby is "normal and boring". Dad is not doing so well - but that's to be expected. They have two other older children. If you have a minute to light a candle, say a prayer, or send some good wishes to the family, they (and I) would appreciate it.

I hope to head up to the ICU today and see Dad, at least. I was told by mama's doctor that that would be OK. Complications of this calibre happen so rarely that I'd be lucky to see another set of circumstances like this one ever again as a practicing doula. It was kind of trial by fire for me.

Spoiled

So I got tix for DD and DH to go to see Monsters, INC on ICE today. They went, she apparently sat still through the entire thing and loved it - cool - DH then calls me back and says, "Ok, well now we're at the Zoo."

"Huh?" (Our zoo is small, and free in the winter months.)

"Yeah, we were driving by the zoo and I said, 'hey, the zoo! and she said 'oooh, I wanta see da tiger! I not too tired!' so we stopped. We're going to take a quick run through the zoo and see the tiger and then we'll be home."

I'm laughing by this point. Is there any wonder she likes him more than me right now? He's the fun parent. I would have said "No, it's nap time, we don't' get to do everything we want to." Maybe I need to be more fun.

Nightmares hurt.

Freyja came running down the hall, screaming her head off, "Mumma-mumma-mumma-mumma-mumma!!!" at about 5am this morning. Kerwin and I both jolted bolt upright and he grabbed her as she ran into our room. She was calling for me for once in the middle of the night and he grabbed her, soothed her, and took her out to rock in the chair.

My soul hurts today. My mommy-ness hurts today. For once, Freyja wanted ME over Kerwin - and he either ignored that or didn't think it was important. Have I done this? Did I make this monster by encouraging him to bond with her and care for her? Is this why she rejects me at every turn in favor of daddy? And is it wrong of me to be hurt and feel a little betrayed that instead of letting me comfort her, he took over without a thought?

I did say something this morning, and he claims he didn't hear her calling for me, or didn't realize that she was calling for anybody in particular. Why do I have to fail at everything I'm supposed to be good at as a female of the species?

March Is...

National Reading Month
Parenting Awareness Month
Nutrition Month

And a whole bunch of other months, too.

Mutants

So Thordora asked about mutant freakiness for this month's Pulsate Olympics.

There's only one thing mutant-freaky about me, and it's TMI - so stop reading now if you don't want to know. I'm going to white it out, since my AmeriCorps program director has the address to this blog, and as cool of a guy as John is I don't think he really wants nor needs to know this. Those of you who want to read can highlight below for the fun.

My superpower is the ability to have multiple orgasms. Like Ol' Man River, they just keep rolling along. From whence this talent came I don't think I'll ever know. I first realized I was "abnormal" when my highschool boyfriend commented on it.

"Christ, you just don't stop, do you?"

He wasn't exactly the most tactful of boys, but he was GOOD with his hands. And I didn't know that not everybody had multiple orgasms as easily as breathing. This talent tended to either irk, annoy, or amuse the rest of my lovers. I just kept wondering if I was a freak.

Now, I stand proudly with my superpower. Well, except when I'm...you know.

"Never-Shuts-Up"

At the risk of being completely offensive and definitely NOT "PC", I was thinking earlier about how in first grade around Thanksgiving, we made "indian" headbands that had our made-up "indian" names on them. I had a perm at that time (yep, I was 7 years old with a perm, thanks Grandma) and so my "indian" name was "Princess Golden-Curls".

It got me thinking that if this were at all an appropriate thing to go around giving my whitey-white anglo spawn an "indian" name, it would have to be "Never-Shuts-Up". No "Wind-Rustles-Trees" or "Quiet-Mountain-Stream" here. The child makes noise incessantly. It's all the husband and I can do to get a word in edgewise, she will just not be quiet.

I know some of you are saying, "Gee, I wish my kid would talk," and you've got a valid wish there. I like that she talks, but I don't like that she's a bossy little drama queen who doesn't quite understand the concept of "respect thine elders" and "your turn, my turn" yet.

Our spawn started talking in a coherent and understandable fashion when she was less than 18 months old. It wasn't a lot of words, but she sure as hell got her point across. Now, at 30 months, we're at the point where she speaks well enough to make herself understood to perfect strangers. Very rarely do I need to ask her to repeat anything so I or others can understand it. This is nice. What isn't nice is that she interrupts conversations. She asks me three times the same question after I've already given her an answer. She screams from the backseat of the car until I acknowledge her.

We keep reminding her that it's rude, it's not nice to (insert offense here). Does it help? Ha. Not a chance. I just don't know what to do. She's really hitting the terrible twos - her behavior in other areas is lacking, to say the very least. She's clingy and whiny - what a change from the independent, well-behaved, happy child she was just a couple months ago.

Huh?

I was going to write a post on something interesting. I swear I was.

Instead I'm going to go clean the house, listen to the Wicked soundtrack, and sing like my skin is green.

Vrrrooooom!

Oooooooooooooh I got a new car. Well, not "new" but "new to me". It's a 1997 Geo Prism, white. Windows and locks are manual, but it drives great and gets amazing gas mileage, much better than my previous grandma cars. I've put 110 miles on this gas tank already and the fuel gauge is sitting at just under 3/4 of a tank (it's a 10 gallon tank). It's little, but it's fun to drive.

It's nice to be able to not worry about needing to leave work early to cart Kerwin around to classes two days a week. He can take his car and do what he needs to do. He doesn't have to wait for us in the mornings anymore. It's good to get home and be able to set Freyja up with a DVD while I make dinner without Kerwin underfoot.

I do miss riding together because it was a guaranteed 45 minutes a day of being able to talk about politics, current affairs, and other grown-up things. Freyja would sit in her car seat and sing and ask us funny questions.

Another great thing is now Freyja and I are no longer housebound on weekends. We can get out and go to playdates, see friends and family, go to the park, or the mall playplace. We can go to the zoo, or Meijer gardens, or the children's museum.

The carpool era is over; and while it's bittersweet, it's also much less stressful.

Home again

I had an educational week in San Diego. I learned a lot, went to some amazing workshops and was able to teach a few people some things as well (like how to: 1. speak tactfully to mamas who wanted to breastfeed but couldn't for whatever reason; 2. practice on-demand infant feeding with formula)

The flight out there was hell. It was so hot and stuffy, plus we had been rerouted because of our commuter plane being late. We went from Detroit to Atlanta to San Diego instead of Detroit to Los Angeles to San Diego. The good part was that the stuffy plane was a SONG by Delta plane and we had little LCD screens for each seat, including a cool flight tracker!

I did enjoy a nice cold shower upon arrival at the hotel (at 2 AM eastern time, 11 pacific). I ended up rooming with a different person than I had planned on, which was fine - we hit it off really well and were up late talking most of the nights.

The hotel/resort was beautiful and so was the weather. The hotel bellboys that we kept hitching golf-cart rides with told us it was "bad" weather. 60 degrees and scattered clouds is not bad weather for Michiganders, especially in February!!! No complaints here. I only left the resort for a little while the entire trip, to ride around on the trolley rail system one afternoon. I hope to go back to San Diego sometime when I'm skinnier.

Doula!

I just got my first client through the health center! This is so exciting! 2nd time mom, but her other child is eight years old, and her husband travels for work. She's due in early March :D Whoo hoo!

Moody

I think I'm allergic to my sweater.

No, seriously. It's a nice heathered lavender sweater that I got on clearance at Target over the weekend for $13. Nice simple shape, lightweight, very pretty. Unfortunately it's 7% Angora. I have rabbit-lined gloves and they give me no problems, but maybe breathing the bunny fur in changes things. That, or I'm coming down with something. I cannot possibly be coming down with something because I am leaving for San Diego in four days. Drat!

I've also noticed a friend pulling away from our friendship, and I'm not exactly sure what that's about, which adds to my moodiness. It also seems like she's hanging out with other people and rubbing it in my face. How highschool of me is that?! Maybe it's because I never call - but I never call anybody - and she doens't call me, either. I'm just that type of person that I am completely and totally OK with not speaking to my friends for weeks or months on end - I'm busy and so they must be too. Am I the only person in the universe who thinks that way?

Santa Daygo

We've moved past the "see Diego" and now it's "You goin' to Santa Daygo?"

I can't win.

Six Weird Things Meme

Six Weird Things Meme
I was tagged for this meme by Dawn. THE RULES: Each player of this game starts with the 6 weird things about you. People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave a comment that says you are tagged in their comments and tell them to read your blog.

1. I just started listening to Broadway musical soundtracks again after about 5 years. I quit because they made me depressed that I was never going to make it to Broadway. They still depress me, and I cry while singing along because I still don't think I'll ever make it, but I love to sing and the "broadway" style is a good fit for my voice (but not as good as opera). I'd like to say I'd be happy with doing local community theatre once Freyja/other babies are older and I'm thinner. I'm just not sure that would be enough.

2. I hold people at arm's length until I can feel reasonably sure they're trustworthy. I don't make friends easily. I'm socially inept.

3. I cry at everything. I'm emotional! I always have been. Hallmark commericals? Check. I bawled through the last 20 minutes of Lilo and Stitch the other night. I know THAT has to do with being a mom, but the rest is just me.

4. I LOVE knock-knock jokes, bad puns, and bad jokes that only make third graders laugh.

5. I love using "SAT" words to throw people off. I'm aware it makes me look pretentious and I don't care, it makes me giggle.

6. I used to be part of the "furry" fandom.

And I won't tag anybody, since I'm a snob and I don't really like memes much (but I like Dawn, Kat, and Genie (I keep finding more people who tagged me as I catch up this afternoon, and I really do like you all) so I did this one).

Finances

Finances are looking up around here. The bills continue to be paid on time. There continues to be more than a few cents left in my checking account when my next check direct deposits. I haven't overdrafted in four months (DH is another story, but we won't go there. There's a reason we keep separate checking accounts). Bad debt is being paid down. This last pay period we did not have to dip into the $50 I have direct deposited into my savings account whatsoever. I usually get in there for $20 once a pay period just to have some cash on hand, but I was able to take cash from my checking this time without nail-biting worry.

The best part is we're not waiting on tenterhooks for our tax return to pay bills.

No, we're waiting on tenterhooks for our tax return to buy a new-to-us car. We're going back to being a two-car household, and about damn time. Whoo hoo!

Diego and the Wonder Pets

Why is it that when I mention my trip to San Diego, Freyja looks at me and asks "You goin' uppa kye to Diego? You gonna see Diego, you gonna see Baby Jaguar? I wanna go wif you, me too in airpane, uppa kye wif you see Diego too?"

Thank you, Nick JR. Thank you, daycare. I know they don't watch that much TV there (the state limits them to 2 hours/day), and I don't really care that she watches TV - she plays and then watches a couple minutes and then wanders off, but DAMN are those shows annoying when daycare is closed and Mumma is stuck at home with her all day. No more Nick. I think I like Playhouse Disney programming better.

Has anybody else been subjected to the Wonder Pets? What's up with the duckling having a lisp?

All this drivel makes me long for the Electric Company and classic Sesame Street. Maybe even Pinwheel, the Polka Dot Door, and Mr. Rodger's Neighborhood.

I Want to Love You Madly

You crawled into our bed at 5am today. I heard "Daddy, I gotta go potty!" and then I dozed back off. I woke up a few minutes later to eskimo kisses and "I love you too, Mumma. You go back-a-seep, OK? I gonna cuddle wif you, OK?"

Little one, if you only knew what those little charming exchanges do for me. They give me fire in my belly, awaken the fierce and protecting mama who has to save and protect your innocent sweetness from the harsh, cruel world. They make me snuggle up to you, cuddle you close, tangle my fingers in your silky baby curls and pray, beg for the world to stop and hold still forever and let me keep you close to me just as you are. They don't last, those moments.

When I came back from the potty myself, you patted the quarter of my pillow you weren't occupying. "You yay down, wight heah. Wight heah, Mumma."

"Wight heah, Mumma."

My darling girl, I never want to be anywhere else.

Postpartum Abandonment

For January's Pulsate Olympics.

I suppose the feeling of abandonment started in the labor room, when Kerwin left me to go talk on the phone as the Stadol wore off. It continued as he slept soundly for eight hours, snoring away on the little cot in my postpartum room, as I attempted to cope with being sliced open from hip to hip and having a new little person to take care of besides. I couldn’t get up from the bed, and the nurses shook their fingers at me and said “Don’t you fall asleep with the baby in your bed!!!!” so I was up until 2 AM, hopped up on morphine with my beautiful new baby, who I couldn’t stop kissing and smelling and trying to get latched on properly, while I tried in vain to call to Kerwin to wake him up to put Freyja in her plastic bassinet, and the one response I got was, “Leave me alone, I’m sleeping. I was up early.”

Really? I was up at the same time, and I had major surgery plus 12 hours of labor today. But you sleep, honey. You just go for it.

I finally had to call the nurses to come and get Freyja at about 2 AM, said I needed a little sleep, but please bring her back when she woke so I could feed her. They came back at 4 AM with a little bottle of soy formula and one of those supplemental nursers, the one that you have to tape above your nipple. She told me, “Your milk hasn’t come in yet. Your baby is hungry. You have to give her this formula. You just fed her two hours ago and she’s hungry again, you’re not making enough milk.”

Everything, EVERYTHING in my brain was screaming that this was wrong, I wasn’t supposed to have milk yet, just colostrum. Breastfed babies need to eat about every 1 and a half to two hours, this is normal. However, my baby was crying louder than my brain could handle, so I let them tape the little tube to my breast and let her eat the nasty soy formula (never to this day do I understand why it was soy formula). They took her away again.

I was awoken again at 6 AM by the family practice doctor that was on call for Freyja’s doctor. He was nice and smiling, said I had a perfect baby and that her regular doctor would come to see her on Monday before we were discharged. I fell back asleep and the baby was back at 8 AM, with the young morning nurse who had GIVEN HER A BOTTLE OF FORMULA without my permission. I just nodded numbly, I didn’t even know what to say to that. Getting mad was no use, I had no backup from my snoring husband.

I had visitors intermittently the rest of the three days I spent in the hospital. Kerwin, however, went right back to work on Sunday morning. He came on Sunday night for a couple of hours, then went home to “clean”. He also worked Monday (when the hospital records woman came in and was beastly to me and caused me to cry profusely, refusing to believe that I was married because my last name was different from ‘the baby’s father’) and went his first day of college classes in the new semester on Monday night as well. Thankfully, his instructor told him to go be with his wife and new baby instead of spending 3 hours in class. I didn’t even get any flowers.

When we came home on Monday night, there were dishes and laundry everywhere.

Want to guess who ended up doing all those dishes and laundry 4 days after major abdominal surgery while trying to not become sleep deprived, shower every day, and take care of a newborn (who, thankfully, was VERY mellow)? Yeah. That’d be me, because he was right back to work (regular FT job plus being editor of the college newspaper which caused more than a few incredibly late nights) and college classes. I don’t know if it’s even fair to blame him for abandoning me. We were pretty broke and needed the money, but I also needed the support that I never got. All of my family lives within a 20 mile radius, and nobody called to offer to come and sit with Freyja so I could sleep, or help me with housework, or just come and visit to keep me from going batshit crazy. Nobody called at all, except my folks. Granted, my folks both work full time as well, and my mom took a week of vacation over my due date, which was two weeks too early.

The crazy thoughts started coming about two days after we got home. I kept telling myself that it was normal to want to put Freyja in her carseat, strap her in, and leave her out by the road for somebody else to come and take care of. After all, I was having no trouble sleeping, or sleeping too much, and that was the major harbinger of PPD according to the books, magazines, and websites. I didn’t have time to be crazy, I had too much to do being a new mom with an absentee husband. I was neurotic in checking on her to make sure she was still breathing, feeling incredibly guilty that I wished she just didn’t exist.

I tried to make up for the thoughts by cuddling her and singing to her, and loving on her all the time. I wanted so desperately to feel that “bonding” that all the books talked about. I really wanted to feel differently, and I knew what I was feeling wasn’t right, but I had no words to ask for help, nor did I feel that I would be worth my salt as a mother if I did. At least I had a husband who did what he could when he was home. Lots of single moms did all of this on their own, and no complaining. What right did I have to complain, or to ask for help, or to admit that I was really having a hard time?

Thankfully, my physical recovery from the caesarean birth was textbook. I took it easy as much as I could, I slept when Freyja slept except her morning nap, which I used to shower (to prove to myself I wasn’t crazy, I showered daily and was meticulous about my appearance and clothing) and hop online to get some form of socialization.

I still don’t know how I got through those first few months, much less the first six weeks. I lied on the PHQ at my six week postpartum appointment. I didn’t want to admit that I was weak. I didn’t want them to call CPS and have Freyja taken from me because of my horrible thoughts. I didn’t want to go to the psych ward. The fear of those interventions was crippling, and so I couldn’t admit my problems and concerns.

I am terrified to have another baby, because I hear that PPD gets worse. My words to Kerwin on the subject the other night were, “I’m scared to turn into Andrea Yates”.

I still think that I’m a terrible mother for thinking what I did when Freyja was so tiny. When people comment on how wonderful she is, or how smart, or how pretty, I feel guilty, because I couldn’t see how wonderful she was when she was a newborn because my brain doesn’t function properly. I hope that someday I can get past it.

Downcycling

I'm not even sure that's an appropriate word for me to use, since I've only been diagnosed with depression (minor episode, recurring, with aspects of Seasonal Affective Disorder), but I notice when things are worse. The depression diagnosis doesn't explain the occasional 2-3 week periods of being upbeat (I wouldn't call them manic, I don't lose control, I just feel...normal), periods I don't even notice until I start slipping back into the depressive state.

I put off rescheduling my therapy appointment for 2 weeks because I felt good. Then a friend remarked that I must be "so excited" since I'm heading to California in a few weeks for a conference, and I realized that no, I'm not really excited at all. I'm ambivialent. I'm going, I have to go, but I'm not looking forward to it nor am I dreading it.

That made me realized that I had started to feel bad again, so I called today to make an appointment. Obviously that is not the proper way to go about things. I don't even know how to approach this with my therapist. I don't want to look like that nutjob who diagnoses herself on the internet. There's got to be a better explanation than "minor depression, recurring" for the 2-3 weeks of upbeat moods and the 8-10 weeks of being so far down that I wish I would just not wake up in the morning, that life is not worth living, that i'm a terrible wife, a terrible mother, and that the husband and the spawn deserve so much better than me. I should probably find a way to admit to my therapist that yes, I do have thoughts of death and dying, but as scary as those thoughts are, they are not as scary as the prospect of being admitted to an inpatient treatment program. I am afraid that even if I refuse being admitted should it be suggested, they will petition and force me in. I spent two days in one before, and I have never felt more hopeless and frightened in my life.

I think I may need pharmacological therapy in addition to talk therapy. The SJW is just not cutting it any longer.

I'm Not Dead Yet

I've been feeling sort of blah, and so not blogging too much.

I'm still alive, though.

You're ON NOTICE!

The hubby sent this to me, and I just couldn't resist.

You can make your own here.

New Year, Old Goals, New Pants Size (hopefully)

Hey, it's 2007. Look at that!

I haven't made any resolutions. I don't really like resolutions all that much. I prefer to set goals, and since I'm still working on my goals from last year, I only made one new goal, which is:

To Just Calm The Fuck Down, In General

You heard it here first, I get worked up over the tiniest things. I fly off the handle very easily. My temper is short. My patience is thin. I freak out over little shit. If I come across as the endlessly calm mama on BabyCenter, it's only because I really want to be.

The rest of my goals, in no particular order (leftovers from last year):

1. Stand up for myself more at work

2. Keep going to therapy every 2 weeks, and actually get into my issues so I don't waste my money.

3. Join the gym and go every day (this one is on hold until we get the effing car situation figured out).

4. Eat properly and not beat myself up over little slip ups.

5. Keep up the house so it doesn't depress me and I don't work myself into a tizzy if people are coming over.

I'm wondering if I should add

6. Bug the hell out of doctor's office for samples of Vitamin Z.

And if said #6 would help with the rest of the goals. Ah well, I'll ask my therapist what her take is later this week.