We've moved past the "see Diego" and now it's "You goin' to Santa Daygo?"
I can't win.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
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).
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).
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
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!
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!
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
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.
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 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.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
I'm Not Dead Yet
I've been feeling sort of blah, and so not blogging too much.
I'm still alive, though.
I'm still alive, though.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
NYE Menu
We have friends coming over with their two young children for the evening. I'm feeding the kids mac and cheese, but here's what the grownups are having.
Red Lentil Soup
Turkey and Jalapeno Jack sandwiches with hummous, broiled (ok, the veggie one is having various veggies instead of turkey)
Bacon-Wrapped Jalapeno Poppers
Cheddar Bay Biscuits
Nachos and Salsa
Various sodas, beers, sparkling juices, iced tea, and champagne.
It's all simple stuff - the only labor intensive part is the poppers, and they're already prepped and in the fridge.
I need a dessert, though. Something simple. I think lemon bars. I love lemon bars. Besides, they'll end the meal on the same note it began - the soup has lemon for garnish.
Red Lentil Soup
Turkey and Jalapeno Jack sandwiches with hummous, broiled (ok, the veggie one is having various veggies instead of turkey)
Bacon-Wrapped Jalapeno Poppers
Cheddar Bay Biscuits
Nachos and Salsa
Various sodas, beers, sparkling juices, iced tea, and champagne.
It's all simple stuff - the only labor intensive part is the poppers, and they're already prepped and in the fridge.
I need a dessert, though. Something simple. I think lemon bars. I love lemon bars. Besides, they'll end the meal on the same note it began - the soup has lemon for garnish.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
I am in a MOOD.
Self indulgent ranting to follow. You HAVE been warned.
OMF the title just says it all. I am sooooooo bitchy, short tempered, and just unable to continue dealing with the shit that keeps piling up for me to wade through.
Work is treating me like a low-wage data entry office slave instead of allowing me to do what I'm supposed to (community outreach/patient outreach/patient goal self management) as an AmeriCorps member. I have calls in to higher ups about that, but in the meantime, it's toil, toil, toil.
We have two cars. One is sitting unused because it needs new fuel injectors (at least that is the theory) and DH refuses to get it towed to a shop to get an estimate, much less get the work done. I am going to have to do it because he claims he doens't have TIME (yet I also work 40+ hours a week, and I'm supposed to have time?!)
The other one is experiencing engine noise after we neglected to ever check the oil and it ran mostly dry (DH gets gas the majority of the time but somehow refuses to check the oil or take responsiblility for it, I have to do it because he WON'T (step up and be a man. fuck!) and I forget because I have bad short term memory, which isn't a much better excuse), two repair shops said no point in bothering, it's just going to die at some point soon, unless I want to replace the engine. Dude, I paid less that $1000 for the car and it has 214,000 miles on it. I am not putting a new engine in it.
We have shitty credit and no savings cushion, like most of America's working poor. We live 20 miles out of town and MUST have at least one vehicle.
DH refuses to look for a different/better job (I can't, I am locked into my contract for another nine months - if I quit, I lose close to $5,000 for college expenses and I could be barred from any federal service jobs for life) to help the monetary situation, because he thinks he can't get anything better than being the front desk monkey at Best Buy - we live in Michigan (unemployment capital of the USA!!) and he doens't quite have an associate's degree, so that may be true, but he doesn't even try.
I'm going to therapy but it stresses me out because it's expensive even with insurance ($32 a session, every 2 weeks). It helps, but it's expensive. I want to go back on Zoloft but can't afford it since I don't get any prescription coverage.
Oh, and I'm going on week 13 of AF being absent. Every weeks' dollar store pee test says negative, though. I am probably too fat for my body to work properly.
If you've made it this far, thanks for reading. If you see the lottery fairy, send her my way and tell her to shake a damn leg.
OMF the title just says it all. I am sooooooo bitchy, short tempered, and just unable to continue dealing with the shit that keeps piling up for me to wade through.
Work is treating me like a low-wage data entry office slave instead of allowing me to do what I'm supposed to (community outreach/patient outreach/patient goal self management) as an AmeriCorps member. I have calls in to higher ups about that, but in the meantime, it's toil, toil, toil.
We have two cars. One is sitting unused because it needs new fuel injectors (at least that is the theory) and DH refuses to get it towed to a shop to get an estimate, much less get the work done. I am going to have to do it because he claims he doens't have TIME (yet I also work 40+ hours a week, and I'm supposed to have time?!)
The other one is experiencing engine noise after we neglected to ever check the oil and it ran mostly dry (DH gets gas the majority of the time but somehow refuses to check the oil or take responsiblility for it, I have to do it because he WON'T (step up and be a man. fuck!) and I forget because I have bad short term memory, which isn't a much better excuse), two repair shops said no point in bothering, it's just going to die at some point soon, unless I want to replace the engine. Dude, I paid less that $1000 for the car and it has 214,000 miles on it. I am not putting a new engine in it.
We have shitty credit and no savings cushion, like most of America's working poor. We live 20 miles out of town and MUST have at least one vehicle.
DH refuses to look for a different/better job (I can't, I am locked into my contract for another nine months - if I quit, I lose close to $5,000 for college expenses and I could be barred from any federal service jobs for life) to help the monetary situation, because he thinks he can't get anything better than being the front desk monkey at Best Buy - we live in Michigan (unemployment capital of the USA!!) and he doens't quite have an associate's degree, so that may be true, but he doesn't even try.
I'm going to therapy but it stresses me out because it's expensive even with insurance ($32 a session, every 2 weeks). It helps, but it's expensive. I want to go back on Zoloft but can't afford it since I don't get any prescription coverage.
Oh, and I'm going on week 13 of AF being absent. Every weeks' dollar store pee test says negative, though. I am probably too fat for my body to work properly.
If you've made it this far, thanks for reading. If you see the lottery fairy, send her my way and tell her to shake a damn leg.
The Holidays Continue
Our daycare is closed this week, so various and sundry folks have been watching Freyja for us. Yesterday and tomorrow, she'll be with my mom, but today she's with one of her favorite surrogate aunties.
Except when I dropped her off, she didn't want to go in until I inadvertently bribed her.
Me: Okay, here we are. Time to get out of the car.
Freyja:Nonononono I na wanna go eider. I no wanna. I wanna go a woek wif you, I go your woek mumma?
M: Sorry, honey, you can't. Auntie wants to see you! (Auntie was by this time standing on the porch, waving and smiling) And you have presents, don't you want your presents?
F: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO. No mumma, no wanna go in...pehsens? I have pehsens? Unna da kimas tee? Ok. Bye mumma, I go in, see Auntie see Abby (auntie's brother) geh my pehsens.
"Pehsens" indeed. I hope she's having a better day than I am.
Except when I dropped her off, she didn't want to go in until I inadvertently bribed her.
Me: Okay, here we are. Time to get out of the car.
Freyja:Nonononono I na wanna go eider. I no wanna. I wanna go a woek wif you, I go your woek mumma?
M: Sorry, honey, you can't. Auntie wants to see you! (Auntie was by this time standing on the porch, waving and smiling) And you have presents, don't you want your presents?
F: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO. No mumma, no wanna go in...pehsens? I have pehsens? Unna da kimas tee? Ok. Bye mumma, I go in, see Auntie see Abby (auntie's brother) geh my pehsens.
"Pehsens" indeed. I hope she's having a better day than I am.
Holiday Report
We got loot.
Freyja got the entire Little People universe (or it seems like it). I think I have to get some bins to contain each playset so we're not overrun by little plastic people and animals. True, they are soft and squooshy but still annoying to step on at 3 am.
I got a new wafflemaker, which surprisingly works as advertised and makes golden brown, tasty waffles in about five minutes. The last one I had didn't work worth a damn and I am told was at least $40 more expensive than the new one.
I also got a dustbuster like I've been asking for since Freyja became mobile. Whoo hoo!
Freyja got the entire Little People universe (or it seems like it). I think I have to get some bins to contain each playset so we're not overrun by little plastic people and animals. True, they are soft and squooshy but still annoying to step on at 3 am.
I got a new wafflemaker, which surprisingly works as advertised and makes golden brown, tasty waffles in about five minutes. The last one I had didn't work worth a damn and I am told was at least $40 more expensive than the new one.
I also got a dustbuster like I've been asking for since Freyja became mobile. Whoo hoo!
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Damn, I'm kinky!
 | You scored as Fred and George Weasley. If you went to Hogwarts you would be doing the Weasley Twins. Oooo damn! You are freaky! You are a hell of a women to take on the Weasley twins. Double time! Go head girl, go head get down!
WHO ARE YOU SCREWING AT HOGWARTS?? created with QuizFarm.com |
Hair, Glorious Hair!
I got my hair reshaped yesterday. This stylist fixed up the face frame that the last stylist screwed up. I dyed it this afternoon, and I think it looks pretty good.
Did I mention I just did that whole rigamarole about 5 weeks ago?
I'm all girly. I haven't worn a ponytail in over a month, when a ponytail used to be all I would ever wear.
This hairstyle takes 5 minutes, including the blow dry. I didn't think it was possible, and stylists kept telling me it wasn't, but then I got one who listened and gave me what I wanted, instead of a boring blunt cut that did nothing for me.
Hooray for my cute hair!
Friday, December 22, 2006
The Lord Will Bless You
He will, huh?
I had to answer the phones today at the clinic for 2 hours. I probably spent a good 45 minutes of that trying to explain to this woman that she's lying to me through her teeth and I don't beleive a damn word of it without out and out saying "Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire" to her.
Did you know that mortgage underwriters call on the Friday before a holiday and demand a letter, on your doctor's letterhead, from disabled people to prove that they're disabled? And demand that that letter be faxed to the mortgage underwriter before the close of buisness the same day?
I didn't either. And I don't beleive a damn word of it. You'd get more time than one buisness day.
And truth be told, I was all right with continuing to explain until she told me, "I know it's against the rules, and you're not supposed to, but THE LORD WILL BLESS YOU if you do this and help this poor girl keep her house".
Hold up, lady. I had to hit the hold button in the middle of her platitudes. Lady, you did NOT just say that to me. I put the phone down and looked over at one of our phone nurses, and said, "Hey J, the Lord will bless me if I break the rules for this woman."
Apparently she thinks blessings from her Lord will placate me and get me to do what she wants.
Oh yeah. He'll bless me with a $25,000 fine for violating HIPPA, a potential lawsuit, and the loss of my job. Blessings indeed.
Pardon me while I go laugh hard enough to pee my pants.
I had to answer the phones today at the clinic for 2 hours. I probably spent a good 45 minutes of that trying to explain to this woman that she's lying to me through her teeth and I don't beleive a damn word of it without out and out saying "Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire" to her.
Did you know that mortgage underwriters call on the Friday before a holiday and demand a letter, on your doctor's letterhead, from disabled people to prove that they're disabled? And demand that that letter be faxed to the mortgage underwriter before the close of buisness the same day?
I didn't either. And I don't beleive a damn word of it. You'd get more time than one buisness day.
And truth be told, I was all right with continuing to explain until she told me, "I know it's against the rules, and you're not supposed to, but THE LORD WILL BLESS YOU if you do this and help this poor girl keep her house".
Hold up, lady. I had to hit the hold button in the middle of her platitudes. Lady, you did NOT just say that to me. I put the phone down and looked over at one of our phone nurses, and said, "Hey J, the Lord will bless me if I break the rules for this woman."
Apparently she thinks blessings from her Lord will placate me and get me to do what she wants.
Oh yeah. He'll bless me with a $25,000 fine for violating HIPPA, a potential lawsuit, and the loss of my job. Blessings indeed.
Pardon me while I go laugh hard enough to pee my pants.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Sing, Sing A Song...
We like to sing, the family and I. Kerwin had excellent vocal training in school (small parochial school) and I had four years of private classical training, so we not only like to sing, we're pretty good at it. Freyja's sweet little voice as she pipes in is enough to bring tears to my eyes most days. We sing in the car, we sing at home, we sing in grocery stores. We're enjoying singing carols and other holiday songs right now, and since today's the Solstice, we had a special song to sing last night before bed:
I've been searching through the darkness
return to me, beloved
For the night's gone on too long
return to me, my love
I won't rest until I've found you
return to me, beloved
And you bring me back the dawn
return to me, my love
and one to sing this morning as we drove into town for work and daycare.
The Sun is born again today
We greet the sun's first morning ray
We sing and celebrate the light
The sun's born in the longest night!
Both songs are from the Circle Round and Sing! CD. I love having Pagan songs to sing in addition to the carols and hymns of my childhood - and we're probably as annoying as scary fundies who sing praise anthems wherever they go - but we're not trying to convert anybody.
No, we're out to have a good time, and a good time to us is harmonizing, teaching Freyja to sing, and singing just for the joy of it - for the feeling in your gut when you sing something powerful, and the giggles when you sing something fun. I don't think people sing enough - or participate in music in general. Just listening doens't count, you have to involve yourself. So sing along.
I was really happy to see January's Real Simple had a peice on finding your theme song. I still don't know what my theme song is. Do you? Tell me about it.
I've been searching through the darkness
return to me, beloved
For the night's gone on too long
return to me, my love
I won't rest until I've found you
return to me, beloved
And you bring me back the dawn
return to me, my love
and one to sing this morning as we drove into town for work and daycare.
The Sun is born again today
We greet the sun's first morning ray
We sing and celebrate the light
The sun's born in the longest night!
Both songs are from the Circle Round and Sing! CD. I love having Pagan songs to sing in addition to the carols and hymns of my childhood - and we're probably as annoying as scary fundies who sing praise anthems wherever they go - but we're not trying to convert anybody.
No, we're out to have a good time, and a good time to us is harmonizing, teaching Freyja to sing, and singing just for the joy of it - for the feeling in your gut when you sing something powerful, and the giggles when you sing something fun. I don't think people sing enough - or participate in music in general. Just listening doens't count, you have to involve yourself. So sing along.
I was really happy to see January's Real Simple had a peice on finding your theme song. I still don't know what my theme song is. Do you? Tell me about it.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Holiday Hell
I have never been happier to have an iPod. I’m not a Grinch by any means, but there’s only so much I can stand of current pop stars with over inflated egos making a self-serving mockery of the gorgeous hymns of my childhood and the classics done better by stars of an earlier generation. This hour of answering phones over lunch is going to take an entire afternoon of Avenue Q and Brigid's Cross to erase.
Lucky!
I stopped at the gas station to get some goodies for my Secret Santa buddy (3 Muskateers anda Diet A&W root beer) here at the office and to cash in an instant ticket (Super 7's Bingo!) that I won $2 on last week. I got another Bingo and a Cashword. I love these two instant games because they're a good play value for $2 - even if I don't win, I had fun scratching the ticket. I reveal the call letters/numbers one by one - DH says it's excruciating to watch me scratch one of these, but I like the suspense. Cheap thrills, and all that.
I won $2 on the Cashword and $10 on the Bingo! Small potatoes, but hey! Lucky me! That's $12 to have lunch with my friend Stephie today.
I won $2 on the Cashword and $10 on the Bingo! Small potatoes, but hey! Lucky me! That's $12 to have lunch with my friend Stephie today.
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