I recently started sharing my blog post links on Facebook. So far, its been a safe way to dip my toe in the water as far as getting my stuff out there. The people reading it are predisposed to like me. They’re already used to my voice and the characters in my stories and are bound to be kind.
An unexpected result has been that people have been going back and reading my old entries from the end of my pregnancy and my early days of motherhood. The feedback has been positive, but I couldn’t help feeling a little nervous. I was getting three hours of sleep a night when I wrote that stuff, so I had no recollection what it was about. This led me to do something that I don’t advise anyone to do. EVER. I read my own archives.
I learned two things about myself. First, its impossible to write with proper spelling and grammar and with no typos when you are also working full time and caring for a growing fetus/infant. Second, I won’t fucking shut up about what Orion is eating. Holy shit! I even got tired of reading it myself. It’s a wonder that anyone else has tolerated that kind of crap.
The very worst part is that on September 7th, 2008 I wrote this:
“Dr. Sears tells me some shit I can do to feel like I'm helping (Give him some live and active cultures!) Dr. Sears even tells me all of this for free.”
And then on June 17th, 2009, I wrote:
“Our first shot at defeating the Yellow Poop of Doom was to change his bottle-beverage to Almond milk, which Orion loves because its sweet and expensive. At three days post-switch, it's not seeming to be good enough. We're now facing down the elimination of all dairy products from Orion's diet.”
Does anybody want to guess what after 15 months, zillions of poopy diapers, eight kinds of formula, four kinds of milk, and a box of gluten fucking free waffles has turned Orion’s poops into solid little balls that roll out of his diaper when I take it off?
Yeah, that’s right. Mother fucking yogurt.
Y’all, I’m married too a guy named Dannon.
I quit.
Therefore, I am calling an official moratorium on baby diet posts. You’re tired of hearing about it, I’m tired of writing about it, and it seems I’ve finally gotten out of my own way and solved the problem.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Why I can't wait to go back to work
Orion and I came in the door from our trip to the grocery store. I sprinted to the bathroom because its impossible to use a public restroom with him in tow. When I get done, I go into Orion's room and realize that one of the dogs has pooped in his room and has (OMG) tracked it all over his room. He's bawling and exhausted, so I pick him up and plop him in the crib and go to get a bottle. While he settles in, I get all of the solid matter up and start planning my carpet cleaning strategy for after he wakes up.
As he sleeps, I realize that in my haste I've put him to bed with his shoes on. No biggie, but I've never done it before. I wonder if it will keep him from sleeping well.
He wakes up right on schedule and I go in to find that it most certainly was NOT the dog who tracked the poop all over the room. It was Orion, and I have put him to bed in shit encrusted shoes. Shoes which he has now used to track shit all over his crib and, as a result, himself.
So to sum up my afternoon, I:
1. Picked up dog shit
2. Cleaned up 20 spots of dog shit tracked around the carpet
3. Washed a shitty crib sheet
4. Bathed a shitty toddler
5. Used a toothpick to clean dog shit out of every groove in a pair of size 6 double Wide Stride Rite sandles
6. Cleaned the litter box
At this point, I will take any job where no one smears shit on themselves and expects me to clean it up.
As he sleeps, I realize that in my haste I've put him to bed with his shoes on. No biggie, but I've never done it before. I wonder if it will keep him from sleeping well.
He wakes up right on schedule and I go in to find that it most certainly was NOT the dog who tracked the poop all over the room. It was Orion, and I have put him to bed in shit encrusted shoes. Shoes which he has now used to track shit all over his crib and, as a result, himself.
So to sum up my afternoon, I:
1. Picked up dog shit
2. Cleaned up 20 spots of dog shit tracked around the carpet
3. Washed a shitty crib sheet
4. Bathed a shitty toddler
5. Used a toothpick to clean dog shit out of every groove in a pair of size 6 double Wide Stride Rite sandles
6. Cleaned the litter box
At this point, I will take any job where no one smears shit on themselves and expects me to clean it up.
Monday, August 3, 2009
You Can't Go Home Again
We'd been avoiding it since we got back to town. Thank goodness when we bought it, we'd selected a neighborhood that wasn't on the path to anywhere else. At the time we thought the remoteness would make for peace, quiet, and dark skies for taking the telescope out. It was all of that, although we tended to watch more satellite and space station passes because we could catch those with binoculars. But for the past four months we've gotten a different benefit out of how out of the way it is.
This afternoon, Orion and I were going stir crazy. I wanted a coke and he needed a snack, so I figured we'd drive through McDonalds. When we pulled away from the drive through, it just felt like the car was pointed there. Pointed home. I let the car take me there, like a dog that runs away after a cross country move and turns up later back at the old house.
I expected it to have changed a lot. I figured that there would be different plants, new window treatments, and that something would have finally been done with the precious front porch that I had always meant to decorate. But aside from the bushes being bigger and the new owners having (finally) removed the ornamental grasses that I hated so much, it looked exactly the same.
I expected to be sad and had braced for it the whole way there. I thought that seeing the house again would conjure memories of all of the life we lived there. This was the house we brought Orion home to, where I'd walked back and forth in the living room for hours in the middle of colllicky nights. Surely, I'd mourn the loss. Surely I'd feel, well, something.
But I didn't. I left there for the last time just about a year ago, and today when I drove past it (twice) I was driving past someone else's house. I realized that wanting to have "A" home again didn't really mean wanting to have "THAT" home again and that just maybe, home wasn't even a building to begin with.
This afternoon, Orion and I were going stir crazy. I wanted a coke and he needed a snack, so I figured we'd drive through McDonalds. When we pulled away from the drive through, it just felt like the car was pointed there. Pointed home. I let the car take me there, like a dog that runs away after a cross country move and turns up later back at the old house.
I expected it to have changed a lot. I figured that there would be different plants, new window treatments, and that something would have finally been done with the precious front porch that I had always meant to decorate. But aside from the bushes being bigger and the new owners having (finally) removed the ornamental grasses that I hated so much, it looked exactly the same.
I expected to be sad and had braced for it the whole way there. I thought that seeing the house again would conjure memories of all of the life we lived there. This was the house we brought Orion home to, where I'd walked back and forth in the living room for hours in the middle of colllicky nights. Surely, I'd mourn the loss. Surely I'd feel, well, something.
But I didn't. I left there for the last time just about a year ago, and today when I drove past it (twice) I was driving past someone else's house. I realized that wanting to have "A" home again didn't really mean wanting to have "THAT" home again and that just maybe, home wasn't even a building to begin with.
Nuggets of Weekendy Goodness
Yesterday, Dannon and I went to this park in St. Pete that we've been frequenting to play a little bit of disc golf while Dannon's mom* watched Orion. We got to what should have been the 18th hole, and any disappointment that we might have had over the 18th hole being removed instantly evaporated when we saw the elevated gazeebo on the water. We climbed up and sat in the shady seabreeze watching the crabs skittering across the wet sand and the anchored sailboats bob in the harbor. My God, this really is all worth it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For the past few days, I've become aggressively empathetic over other people's happiness. Yesterday afternoon we drove past the port just as the cruise ship was pulling out. all of the little bitty people were standing around the edge of the ship waving. I started crying. Just imagining how happy all those people were was overwhelming. What a grand adventure they were all leaving on. How many honeymooners were there? Seniors getting to enjoy their retirements together? Kids already eyeballing the pool slide?** It just created a giant psychic cloud of happiness that was impossible to ignore. That kind of thing has been happening to me for three days. It's neat, but WTF?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a freak toddler head butt incident, Orion broke my nose for the 3rd (OMG THIRD!) time. Well, he hasn't done it three times. The blame can be shared equally between Dannon***, Ophelia, and now Orion. However, this was first break since the surgery I had to fix the damage from the first two. Thereby rendering the "up my nose with a rubber hose" ordeal completely useless. If I'm not able to breath out of my right nostril within the next couple of days I'll be making another visit to the nice nose surgeon with the sexy accent as soon as the insurance kicks in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Orion learned how to eat with a fork. Do you know who knows how to eat with a fork? That's right. People. People eat with a fork. People who are NOT babies. Fuck.
*Who has been awesome in every way, I must report. She and I never had much of a relationship before but between the financial help, babysitting services, and general shoulder-to-cry-onedness she's proven to definitely be on our team. Eff with my mother-in-law and I will cut a bitch.
**It briefly occured to me that there were also people on that ship trying to save failing marriages and travelling with family members they couldn't stand, but that was no fun so I pushed it out of my mind.
***It was an accident, I swear! Please don't call social services.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For the past few days, I've become aggressively empathetic over other people's happiness. Yesterday afternoon we drove past the port just as the cruise ship was pulling out. all of the little bitty people were standing around the edge of the ship waving. I started crying. Just imagining how happy all those people were was overwhelming. What a grand adventure they were all leaving on. How many honeymooners were there? Seniors getting to enjoy their retirements together? Kids already eyeballing the pool slide?** It just created a giant psychic cloud of happiness that was impossible to ignore. That kind of thing has been happening to me for three days. It's neat, but WTF?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a freak toddler head butt incident, Orion broke my nose for the 3rd (OMG THIRD!) time. Well, he hasn't done it three times. The blame can be shared equally between Dannon***, Ophelia, and now Orion. However, this was first break since the surgery I had to fix the damage from the first two. Thereby rendering the "up my nose with a rubber hose" ordeal completely useless. If I'm not able to breath out of my right nostril within the next couple of days I'll be making another visit to the nice nose surgeon with the sexy accent as soon as the insurance kicks in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Orion learned how to eat with a fork. Do you know who knows how to eat with a fork? That's right. People. People eat with a fork. People who are NOT babies. Fuck.
*Who has been awesome in every way, I must report. She and I never had much of a relationship before but between the financial help, babysitting services, and general shoulder-to-cry-onedness she's proven to definitely be on our team. Eff with my mother-in-law and I will cut a bitch.
**It briefly occured to me that there were also people on that ship trying to save failing marriages and travelling with family members they couldn't stand, but that was no fun so I pushed it out of my mind.
***It was an accident, I swear! Please don't call social services.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Will Work for Food
The good news is that in my disagreement with Dannon over whether or not I should have been trying to find any job possible right away versus holding out for a "good" job and trust that the unemployment was going to come in, I seem to have been proven right! Woo Hoo!! The bad news is that this means the unemployment did not, in fact, get approved and there are no "good" jobs to be found. For that matter, if the last three weeks are any indication, there are also no decent jobs around either.
I've tweaked my resumes. I say "resumes" becuase I have four of them, playing up and down my various qualifications for the different types of jobs I'm looking for. I have had only one interview in three weeks and I'm starting to get a little depressed about the whole thing. When I started to really pour on the steam after the unemployment decision came in, I was pleasantly surprised to find how many jobs were listed. There were certainly more than when Dannon had started looking. But after three weeks of no real leads I'm starting to wonder what the problem is.
My guess is that I'm looking for entry level positions with Mid-Career Manager qualifications. Even on the resume versions where I've tried to downplay my experience I'm afraid that I come across like someone who knows a little too well what she's talking about. Maybe there's too much jargon for me to pass myself as a generic customer service rep. I tried to scrub for things that make me sound overqualified, but I end up having to make myself sound dumb so I put it all back.
I've probably applied for about 125 jobs in the past few weeks. All it takes is for just one of them to break my way.
In the mean time, I'm getting an ungodly amount of spam wanting me to sell Life Insurnace. There are no words for how terrible I would be at that job. But all the things I'd be good at? No bites at all.
I've tweaked my resumes. I say "resumes" becuase I have four of them, playing up and down my various qualifications for the different types of jobs I'm looking for. I have had only one interview in three weeks and I'm starting to get a little depressed about the whole thing. When I started to really pour on the steam after the unemployment decision came in, I was pleasantly surprised to find how many jobs were listed. There were certainly more than when Dannon had started looking. But after three weeks of no real leads I'm starting to wonder what the problem is.
My guess is that I'm looking for entry level positions with Mid-Career Manager qualifications. Even on the resume versions where I've tried to downplay my experience I'm afraid that I come across like someone who knows a little too well what she's talking about. Maybe there's too much jargon for me to pass myself as a generic customer service rep. I tried to scrub for things that make me sound overqualified, but I end up having to make myself sound dumb so I put it all back.
I've probably applied for about 125 jobs in the past few weeks. All it takes is for just one of them to break my way.
In the mean time, I'm getting an ungodly amount of spam wanting me to sell Life Insurnace. There are no words for how terrible I would be at that job. But all the things I'd be good at? No bites at all.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Milking It
A couple of weeks after Orion was born, I gave myself a firm pat on the back for having safely sidestepped postpartum depression. Of course, I was dealing with my stress by living on nothing but peanut butter cups and spending 20 hours a day on the Internet with my BabyCenter birth club. So, although I didn't FEEL like a depressed person I sure was playing one on TV. At least I had a chance to channel the Crazy by putting using my medical degree from the University of Google to diagnose Orion's GI issues.
The first thing I figured out was absolutely correct. He had a raging case of reflux. It took a couple of weeks and a trip across town to a specialist (who was kind enough to walk a screaming Orion down the hall for a few minutes to give me a break) but we got the right medication rolling and that has been under control ever since. The second thing I Googled up was a home-diagnosis of Milk Protein Allergy.
Orion had this horrible orange-yellow runny poop all the time. My research told me that it was the milk proteins in my diet that he was reacting to. I guess there are a lot of milk proteins in peanut butter cups. Faced with the possibility of having to cut out all of the dairy in my diet (read: I was addicted to the peanut butter cups) I made the decision to switch him to formula. Luckily, I was able to dodge all of the expensive and smelly specialty formulas by using Good Start, which doesn't have the milk protein Casein in it. All was right with the world. OK, life was still crazy but at least Orion's poop issues were resolved.
I kind of forgot that someday it would become highly unfashionable for Orion to still be drinking formula and that he'd be getting his milk proteins the old fashioned way, as the beverage included in a Chicken McNugget Happy Meal. I guess that's why, when his recent switch from formula to whole milk was followed by a return of the nasty yellow poop, I didn't instantly recognize the problem. But lo and behold, here we are over a year after my initial diagnosis dealing again with the potential of Milk Protein Allergy. Either that, or he isn't tolerating the peanut butter cups I'm feeding him. (I kid! He much prefers Snickers bars.)
Our first shot at defeating the Yellow Poop of Doom was to change his bottle-beverage to Almond milk, which Orion loves because its sweet and expensive. At three days post-switch, it's not seeming to be good enough. We're now facing down the elimination of all dairy products from Orion's diet.
What a pain in the ass. Anybody got a peanut butter cup?
The first thing I figured out was absolutely correct. He had a raging case of reflux. It took a couple of weeks and a trip across town to a specialist (who was kind enough to walk a screaming Orion down the hall for a few minutes to give me a break) but we got the right medication rolling and that has been under control ever since. The second thing I Googled up was a home-diagnosis of Milk Protein Allergy.
Orion had this horrible orange-yellow runny poop all the time. My research told me that it was the milk proteins in my diet that he was reacting to. I guess there are a lot of milk proteins in peanut butter cups. Faced with the possibility of having to cut out all of the dairy in my diet (read: I was addicted to the peanut butter cups) I made the decision to switch him to formula. Luckily, I was able to dodge all of the expensive and smelly specialty formulas by using Good Start, which doesn't have the milk protein Casein in it. All was right with the world. OK, life was still crazy but at least Orion's poop issues were resolved.
I kind of forgot that someday it would become highly unfashionable for Orion to still be drinking formula and that he'd be getting his milk proteins the old fashioned way, as the beverage included in a Chicken McNugget Happy Meal. I guess that's why, when his recent switch from formula to whole milk was followed by a return of the nasty yellow poop, I didn't instantly recognize the problem. But lo and behold, here we are over a year after my initial diagnosis dealing again with the potential of Milk Protein Allergy. Either that, or he isn't tolerating the peanut butter cups I'm feeding him. (I kid! He much prefers Snickers bars.)
Our first shot at defeating the Yellow Poop of Doom was to change his bottle-beverage to Almond milk, which Orion loves because its sweet and expensive. At three days post-switch, it's not seeming to be good enough. We're now facing down the elimination of all dairy products from Orion's diet.
What a pain in the ass. Anybody got a peanut butter cup?
Friday, June 5, 2009
Thanks GI Joe!
I have such paralyzing social anxiety, especially regarding use of the telephone, that I used to joke that if you left me at home with no car, a phone, and a $10 bill I would starve to death before I got the guts up to call and order a pizza. You can tell I've been suffering from this for a long time because we all know that, for starters, you can't get a pizza for $10 anymore and also that now I can just go online and put my debit card into the computer and for some amount greater than $10 (I try not to look) a creepy guy will show up at my door with the pie of my choice without my having to even pick up the phone. Ironic that I've spend the last 10 years working in call centers, no?
So it was a huge, HUGE, step for me today when I got a text message inviting Orion and I to a playdate today. A real one, with other kids, and other girls my age. Girls who cuss and laugh at farts just like me! These particular girls have known each other since highschool and I know how hard it is to find a new place withing those kinds of friendships. I'm not foooling myself into thinking that these are going to be my new BFF's or anything. But, how nice was it to sit and laugh while the kids played? Really nice, that's how.
----------
Dannon had an interview today for a job that he's overqualified for. We've got our fingers crossed that the company will see that they won't just be a pit stop (where else is he going to go?) so that they'll hire him and we can all eat again. We don't need much to live on now, but we do need something coming in soon. The feeling of not knowing where its going to come from is a little like having already jumped from the plane and then starting to wonder if you have a parachute or an empty backpack.
----------
When I was trying to get pregnant, or trying to get Dannon to let me try to get pregnant I Googled like a crazy person trying to figure out why I kept. Having. Miscarriages. In my searching, I came across A Little Pregnant. Julie's experiences were so similar to what I had been through, thought I would still have to go through, that I went back and read through her whole archive. I laughed with her and cried with her. Most of all, I realized I wasn't alone. When I'd devoured everything she'd written, I started chewing my way through her Blogroll.
I started at the beginning, and found All & Sundry right at the top of the list. I found that Linda's voice sounded even more like my own, and here we were at such similar points of our pregnancies. She with her second son, and me with my first. Again, I read every word I could find (note: let this be a lesson to employers not to allow emotional pregnant women unfettered access to the internet). From there I moved on, and now count Amalah and others as daily must reads, but it's Sundry that continues to speak to me like a little voice in my ear.
There's been a lot of self reflection going on on these blogs (I won't even THINK the MB word) in the last week about why bloggers do what they do as well as the morality and professionalism involved (or missing) from the decision to accept free products, trips, and other goodies in exchange for reviews. As a blog reader, I think its pretty cool that these awesome girls get thrown a little bone for their hard work. I take the trips vicariously through them and appreciate the giveaways they're able to sponsor. Frankly, I don't care if they spell out every single time that they've been compensated in some way for kind words aimed in the direction of a product. This may be SO last century, but I actually trust these writers. If they're going to tell me their kids' real names the very least I can do is believe them when they tell me that a certain kind of vacuum cleaner rocks out with it's cock out. I think that they go above and beyond when they add a disclaimer. FTC be damned, I'm smart enough not to need my hand held.
So that's that. However, the truth is that the BA Fearless Self Inventory had kind of prompted me to do something similar. Every time I read one of these posts, I just keep thinking about how very lucky these folks are to have people reading their words, laughing and crying along. Hey! I want people to read my words. Why aren't people reading my words?! There's a really simple answer. I have never given this link to another breathing human being. Well, I sort of described the link to one of my friends but I don't even know if she's come and read.
You may say, "But surely when you comment, you put the link in the little asky-bar custom made for these things!" Well, this is where we come full circle. I don't comment. I'm too chicken to comment. So my summer resolution is this:
I will commnet on blog posts that make me think, laugh, or cry. I will add my own blog link hoping people will find their ways here. I will see these ladies (and man...Hi! Danny) as torch-bearers and, though I am miles behind them in readership and book deals, I will get my writing out there.
It's going to mean that I open myself up for people to hate what I write, but that's ok. In order to hate it, people must first read it, and that's half the battle.
So it was a huge, HUGE, step for me today when I got a text message inviting Orion and I to a playdate today. A real one, with other kids, and other girls my age. Girls who cuss and laugh at farts just like me! These particular girls have known each other since highschool and I know how hard it is to find a new place withing those kinds of friendships. I'm not foooling myself into thinking that these are going to be my new BFF's or anything. But, how nice was it to sit and laugh while the kids played? Really nice, that's how.
----------
Dannon had an interview today for a job that he's overqualified for. We've got our fingers crossed that the company will see that they won't just be a pit stop (where else is he going to go?) so that they'll hire him and we can all eat again. We don't need much to live on now, but we do need something coming in soon. The feeling of not knowing where its going to come from is a little like having already jumped from the plane and then starting to wonder if you have a parachute or an empty backpack.
----------
When I was trying to get pregnant, or trying to get Dannon to let me try to get pregnant I Googled like a crazy person trying to figure out why I kept. Having. Miscarriages. In my searching, I came across A Little Pregnant. Julie's experiences were so similar to what I had been through, thought I would still have to go through, that I went back and read through her whole archive. I laughed with her and cried with her. Most of all, I realized I wasn't alone. When I'd devoured everything she'd written, I started chewing my way through her Blogroll.
I started at the beginning, and found All & Sundry right at the top of the list. I found that Linda's voice sounded even more like my own, and here we were at such similar points of our pregnancies. She with her second son, and me with my first. Again, I read every word I could find (note: let this be a lesson to employers not to allow emotional pregnant women unfettered access to the internet). From there I moved on, and now count Amalah and others as daily must reads, but it's Sundry that continues to speak to me like a little voice in my ear.
There's been a lot of self reflection going on on these blogs (I won't even THINK the MB word) in the last week about why bloggers do what they do as well as the morality and professionalism involved (or missing) from the decision to accept free products, trips, and other goodies in exchange for reviews. As a blog reader, I think its pretty cool that these awesome girls get thrown a little bone for their hard work. I take the trips vicariously through them and appreciate the giveaways they're able to sponsor. Frankly, I don't care if they spell out every single time that they've been compensated in some way for kind words aimed in the direction of a product. This may be SO last century, but I actually trust these writers. If they're going to tell me their kids' real names the very least I can do is believe them when they tell me that a certain kind of vacuum cleaner rocks out with it's cock out. I think that they go above and beyond when they add a disclaimer. FTC be damned, I'm smart enough not to need my hand held.
So that's that. However, the truth is that the BA Fearless Self Inventory had kind of prompted me to do something similar. Every time I read one of these posts, I just keep thinking about how very lucky these folks are to have people reading their words, laughing and crying along. Hey! I want people to read my words. Why aren't people reading my words?! There's a really simple answer. I have never given this link to another breathing human being. Well, I sort of described the link to one of my friends but I don't even know if she's come and read.
You may say, "But surely when you comment, you put the link in the little asky-bar custom made for these things!" Well, this is where we come full circle. I don't comment. I'm too chicken to comment. So my summer resolution is this:
I will commnet on blog posts that make me think, laugh, or cry. I will add my own blog link hoping people will find their ways here. I will see these ladies (and man...Hi! Danny) as torch-bearers and, though I am miles behind them in readership and book deals, I will get my writing out there.
It's going to mean that I open myself up for people to hate what I write, but that's ok. In order to hate it, people must first read it, and that's half the battle.
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