So Sam's job interview was moved from last Friday to tomorrow. He's on the road, driving north, as we speak.
*****
Okay, I started typing, got called away from the computer, and, after a couple of phone calls, Sam is turning around and driving home. The weather up north is so bad they aren't sure he can make it there and they expect up to eight more inches of snow tomorrow so he might not get home if he did make it today.
New interview scheduled for January 5.
This happened with the last major interview as well - not weather difficulties, but various reasons for rescheduling and pushing things back. Every time I think well at least we'll know something soon, things get postponed. We thought we'd know by the 1st of the year whether we were moving or not, now the interview won't even have happened yet. SIGH.
BUT I'm glad he's headed home now because getting all the rest of the cooking and baking finished before Christmas Eve is daunting enough, but even more so if I'm the only parent here while trying to accomplish those tasks. I'm happy to have backup tonight and tomorrow, even if it does mean more waiting.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Feeling Sickish Again
Here we go again.
Sam has a job interview a few hours north of here on Friday.
He likes his current job. He is good at his current job. Unfortunately, in his "industry" there just aren't many jobs like his current one. He worries (and in this economy who the fuck doesn't) that some higher-up will eventually decide to cut his position. Now he has been with the same company for many years and would unlikely be altogether without a job if his current position were eliminated, but he may be forced into a demotion to stay with the company. Obviously one proactive solution to this little dilemma is to apply when promotions become open, even in other markets. In fact, because of the geographic make up of his company it is more likely that he'd get promoted in an area outside the one where we now live.
I'm used to Sam applying for jobs in other markets. A lot of the time it doesn't really go anywhere, either because they assume he's too young to be qualified (he is young for the type job he's applying for, but he is qualified) or they really just want to hire from within their own regions. But there have been three jobs within this calendar year where they've wanted to bring him in for an in-person interview, which doesn't happen until pretty far along in the process. The first of these happened this spring, right around the time I ended up in the hospital on bed rest - he eventually declined that interview (duh). Then it happened this summer and he was one of three finalists for a job a few hours south of here. This time the company is comping his miles and providing a hotel room so that he can drive up Thursday night for a Friday interview.
They intend to hire someone before the end of the year, which is good and bad. This go round will be settled within about two weeks. So he'll either not get the job and we can relax and I can stop feeling like I might throw up at any minute. Or he'll get the job and then probably move up there, live in temporary housing, and come here on weekends, until Mary finishes out the school year and we take care of a few areas in the house before putting it on the market. (Oh holy hell, who wants to be selling a house right now?) So I wouldn't have to move in a month, but I'd also become a mostly single parent for the foreseeable future.
On some level I know that it could be very good for us to start over somewhere new. But we would be leaving a pretty incredible support system - Sam's family is here, and very good friends, and after everything we went through this spring I can't imagine how difficult this would be on Mary. I know people do stuff like this all the time, but that doesn't mean I want to be one of them.
The worst part, for me, is knowing that if this job doesn't work out the relief I'll feel will be tempered with anxiety, wondering when we are going to go through this again.
Sam has a job interview a few hours north of here on Friday.
He likes his current job. He is good at his current job. Unfortunately, in his "industry" there just aren't many jobs like his current one. He worries (and in this economy who the fuck doesn't) that some higher-up will eventually decide to cut his position. Now he has been with the same company for many years and would unlikely be altogether without a job if his current position were eliminated, but he may be forced into a demotion to stay with the company. Obviously one proactive solution to this little dilemma is to apply when promotions become open, even in other markets. In fact, because of the geographic make up of his company it is more likely that he'd get promoted in an area outside the one where we now live.
I'm used to Sam applying for jobs in other markets. A lot of the time it doesn't really go anywhere, either because they assume he's too young to be qualified (he is young for the type job he's applying for, but he is qualified) or they really just want to hire from within their own regions. But there have been three jobs within this calendar year where they've wanted to bring him in for an in-person interview, which doesn't happen until pretty far along in the process. The first of these happened this spring, right around the time I ended up in the hospital on bed rest - he eventually declined that interview (duh). Then it happened this summer and he was one of three finalists for a job a few hours south of here. This time the company is comping his miles and providing a hotel room so that he can drive up Thursday night for a Friday interview.
They intend to hire someone before the end of the year, which is good and bad. This go round will be settled within about two weeks. So he'll either not get the job and we can relax and I can stop feeling like I might throw up at any minute. Or he'll get the job and then probably move up there, live in temporary housing, and come here on weekends, until Mary finishes out the school year and we take care of a few areas in the house before putting it on the market. (Oh holy hell, who wants to be selling a house right now?) So I wouldn't have to move in a month, but I'd also become a mostly single parent for the foreseeable future.
On some level I know that it could be very good for us to start over somewhere new. But we would be leaving a pretty incredible support system - Sam's family is here, and very good friends, and after everything we went through this spring I can't imagine how difficult this would be on Mary. I know people do stuff like this all the time, but that doesn't mean I want to be one of them.
The worst part, for me, is knowing that if this job doesn't work out the relief I'll feel will be tempered with anxiety, wondering when we are going to go through this again.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
My Six
Constance tagged me so here I go:
1) I have an almost unhealthy love of /obsession for the television show Friends. I have watched all ten seasons twice through on DVD and I still watch reruns on television.
2) It matters to me what the final taste in my mouth is when I'm eating. I occasionally spend entire meals thinking about which part I'm going to save for that last bite.
3) I'm terrified of most spiders. Earwigs are a close second.
4) I mostly dislike the taste of toothpaste and probably brush my teeth less often than I should because of it.
5) I haven't had a haircut since sometime in 2007. Sad, I know.
6) I keep a notebook in which I write the titles of books I'd like to read. I'm pretty sure there are already twice as many books in it as I'm likely to read in the remainder of my life and yet I keep adding to it.
I officially tag any Constance who wants to play!
1) I have an almost unhealthy love of /obsession for the television show Friends. I have watched all ten seasons twice through on DVD and I still watch reruns on television.
2) It matters to me what the final taste in my mouth is when I'm eating. I occasionally spend entire meals thinking about which part I'm going to save for that last bite.
3) I'm terrified of most spiders. Earwigs are a close second.
4) I mostly dislike the taste of toothpaste and probably brush my teeth less often than I should because of it.
5) I haven't had a haircut since sometime in 2007. Sad, I know.
6) I keep a notebook in which I write the titles of books I'd like to read. I'm pretty sure there are already twice as many books in it as I'm likely to read in the remainder of my life and yet I keep adding to it.
I officially tag any Constance who wants to play!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
My Hands Are Tied
I'm so easily frustrated in situations where I want to help, but can't.
One of the biggest challenges of having a family, for me, is that I can't run to be with a friend at the drop of a hat. I know that is sort of a no brainer, but I don't think I'll ever stop feeling that frustration.
A very good friend here (let's call her Ellen) called this evening to say her father had been hospitalized. Another friend of hers has been counting on her to help as she just went into labor with twins and has NO FAMILY here. So Ellen is worried about her father, trying to help her other friend, and is obviously suddenly having a very difficult time.
She called tonight to ask if I could sub for her for part of the day tomorrow. I can't in the morning because I'm going on a field trip with Mary's class. I would love to have helped her in the afternoon, but my MIL can't babysit in the afternoon. Sam could get away from work for a couple of hours, but says he rather wouldn't. I feel a little frustrated with him, but at the same time, I can't really blame him for not wanting to take time off work.
Ellen is such and incredible friend to me. She drove to the hospital in a blizzard when I was in labor with Keegan and Sam couldn't get there right away. She held my hands while I got an epidural for goodness sake. She has been truly remarkable in the lengths she's gone to to help me. So I'm frustrated that I can't drop everything to help her.
But this is the life I have and I have responsibilities to my family, my kids. There's nothing I can do for her tomorrow. It's not like there is something I can shuffle to make it work. It is out of my hands. So why do I feel so guilty?
One of the biggest challenges of having a family, for me, is that I can't run to be with a friend at the drop of a hat. I know that is sort of a no brainer, but I don't think I'll ever stop feeling that frustration.
A very good friend here (let's call her Ellen) called this evening to say her father had been hospitalized. Another friend of hers has been counting on her to help as she just went into labor with twins and has NO FAMILY here. So Ellen is worried about her father, trying to help her other friend, and is obviously suddenly having a very difficult time.
She called tonight to ask if I could sub for her for part of the day tomorrow. I can't in the morning because I'm going on a field trip with Mary's class. I would love to have helped her in the afternoon, but my MIL can't babysit in the afternoon. Sam could get away from work for a couple of hours, but says he rather wouldn't. I feel a little frustrated with him, but at the same time, I can't really blame him for not wanting to take time off work.
Ellen is such and incredible friend to me. She drove to the hospital in a blizzard when I was in labor with Keegan and Sam couldn't get there right away. She held my hands while I got an epidural for goodness sake. She has been truly remarkable in the lengths she's gone to to help me. So I'm frustrated that I can't drop everything to help her.
But this is the life I have and I have responsibilities to my family, my kids. There's nothing I can do for her tomorrow. It's not like there is something I can shuffle to make it work. It is out of my hands. So why do I feel so guilty?
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Just A Note
Dear Sam,
I'm upset right now, but not necessarily with you. But the upset I feel is causing me to have this reaction to the fact that you just fed Keegan, put him to bed, and then left the bottle on the kitchen counter:
Learn to wash the fucking bottle!!!
I am not actually screaming this at you because I would be acting with emotion I'm really feeling toward an entirely different situation. It's too bad you don't appreciate the considerable restraint this is taking.
I'm so grateful that you help with the children in many ways. However, not washing those bottles is a lot like your dirty dishes making it all the way to the counter and not six inches lower into the dishwasher. It isn't that difficult. Especially since we use the "drop-in" bottles. Here is what I wish you would learn to do:
1) Take the bottle apart.
2) Rinse and recycle the liner.
3) Rinse the bottle and the ring that holds the nipple.
4) Use the dish soap that is sitting right there next to the sink and some hot water to wash the nipple.
It would take approximately two minutes for you to do all of that each time you feed Keegan. When I have to find it and do it later (or the next morning) it doesn't take any more time, but it does raise my blood pressure because I don't understand why you cannot do it yourself.
I'm upset right now, but not necessarily with you. But the upset I feel is causing me to have this reaction to the fact that you just fed Keegan, put him to bed, and then left the bottle on the kitchen counter:
Learn to wash the fucking bottle!!!
I am not actually screaming this at you because I would be acting with emotion I'm really feeling toward an entirely different situation. It's too bad you don't appreciate the considerable restraint this is taking.
I'm so grateful that you help with the children in many ways. However, not washing those bottles is a lot like your dirty dishes making it all the way to the counter and not six inches lower into the dishwasher. It isn't that difficult. Especially since we use the "drop-in" bottles. Here is what I wish you would learn to do:
1) Take the bottle apart.
2) Rinse and recycle the liner.
3) Rinse the bottle and the ring that holds the nipple.
4) Use the dish soap that is sitting right there next to the sink and some hot water to wash the nipple.
It would take approximately two minutes for you to do all of that each time you feed Keegan. When I have to find it and do it later (or the next morning) it doesn't take any more time, but it does raise my blood pressure because I don't understand why you cannot do it yourself.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Seriously?
Okay, first, the disclaimer that I realize there are so many ways in which I could be much, MUCH worse off... my home is intact, my family is safe, we have food to eat and water to drink, we are in relatively good health, I have nothing to complain about, and yet...
The kids and I have been staying with the in-laws since Monday. Sunday our power went out and it may not be restored until this coming Sunday. And I am slowly going out of my mind. When I threw some things in duffle bags I was thinking the kids and I would be here for maybe two days. And we are rapidly closing in on one week.
I truly love Sam's parents. We get along wonderfully and I have no nightmarish in-law stories. But their house is not set up for children to live here. It is not set up for this many people to live here. I can't help feeling in the way. I'm lonely at night when Sam goes home to sleep and be with our poor dog. My in-laws have done nothing to make us feel unwelcome, and yet, I know it has to suck to have a baby and a preschooler and your daughter-in-law suddenly move in for some undefined amount of time, even if you love them. It's harder to keep the kids entertained without their stuff. There is NO privacy. I have only been out of this house twice since getting here Monday. The mattress here is all wrong so I wake up every morning with all kinds of body parts screaming in pain. I'm starting to feel suffocated. Is this better than being in our own house without power for a week eating dry cereal and take cold showers in the dark? Yes, of course, but it is growing less appealing by the hour. I'm SO jealous right now of the fact that my husband spends a third of every day at work. While I'm here trying to figure out how to be helpful, but not in the way, and keep the kids semi-entertained.
My mother in law, who I honestly normally love, is driving me crazy by insisting that this is no big deal for them. She says, "Oh I know it would just be easier for you to be back at home, but we really don't mind." But how could she possibly not mind? I think I would feel better if I heard her acknowledge that it's hard for them to have us here, at least a little. By insisting that things are all fine and dandy, she's making me feel like she is just lying about it, and then I worry that maybe she's really, REALLY upset that we're still here, but doesn't express it at all. It would be a different situation if we were at my parents' house. I would worry less that we were taking advantage of them. Maybe that's not right, but it's the way I feel. Even under the best circumstances, I don't think anyone wants to be unexpectedly living with their in-laws.
I feel like I'm under a microscope. I'm going out of my mind. I feel like I'm on the verge of a panic attack. And I'm also frustrated with myself because, considering everything that is going on here, we are in one of the best possible situations and I have to work soooo hard to remind myself to be grateful.
This really, really, really sucks.
The kids and I have been staying with the in-laws since Monday. Sunday our power went out and it may not be restored until this coming Sunday. And I am slowly going out of my mind. When I threw some things in duffle bags I was thinking the kids and I would be here for maybe two days. And we are rapidly closing in on one week.
I truly love Sam's parents. We get along wonderfully and I have no nightmarish in-law stories. But their house is not set up for children to live here. It is not set up for this many people to live here. I can't help feeling in the way. I'm lonely at night when Sam goes home to sleep and be with our poor dog. My in-laws have done nothing to make us feel unwelcome, and yet, I know it has to suck to have a baby and a preschooler and your daughter-in-law suddenly move in for some undefined amount of time, even if you love them. It's harder to keep the kids entertained without their stuff. There is NO privacy. I have only been out of this house twice since getting here Monday. The mattress here is all wrong so I wake up every morning with all kinds of body parts screaming in pain. I'm starting to feel suffocated. Is this better than being in our own house without power for a week eating dry cereal and take cold showers in the dark? Yes, of course, but it is growing less appealing by the hour. I'm SO jealous right now of the fact that my husband spends a third of every day at work. While I'm here trying to figure out how to be helpful, but not in the way, and keep the kids semi-entertained.
My mother in law, who I honestly normally love, is driving me crazy by insisting that this is no big deal for them. She says, "Oh I know it would just be easier for you to be back at home, but we really don't mind." But how could she possibly not mind? I think I would feel better if I heard her acknowledge that it's hard for them to have us here, at least a little. By insisting that things are all fine and dandy, she's making me feel like she is just lying about it, and then I worry that maybe she's really, REALLY upset that we're still here, but doesn't express it at all. It would be a different situation if we were at my parents' house. I would worry less that we were taking advantage of them. Maybe that's not right, but it's the way I feel. Even under the best circumstances, I don't think anyone wants to be unexpectedly living with their in-laws.
I feel like I'm under a microscope. I'm going out of my mind. I feel like I'm on the verge of a panic attack. And I'm also frustrated with myself because, considering everything that is going on here, we are in one of the best possible situations and I have to work soooo hard to remind myself to be grateful.
This really, really, really sucks.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Announcement!!!
Through a comment on another Constance blog it was brought to my attention that you can't anonymously comment here. I'm going to change that. I may have had a reason for it initially, but now I can't remember what that was. So if anyone wanted to comment on my last post about politics, but didn't want to be identified, you can go back and do so now!
Monday, August 25, 2008
Politics
I have a difficult time talking about politics with people who disagree with me, because often they disagree so vehemently I just can't figure out a way to civilly carry on a conversation.
I am politically liberal. I think I'm conservative in how I live my life. . . as in I have old fashioned ideas about how children should dress and behave and about the way people treat each other and what kinds of things I generally feel are appropriate. So I live conservatively in many ways, but my vote veers pretty far to the left. I grew up in mostly very politically conservative environments and I am just not the type of person who will stand up and own the least popular opinion. For better or worse, I'm not very good at fighting that kind of fight.
Right now my husband works in an environment where most of his colleagues are older than he is, have worked with the company much longer than he has, and, frankly, make a lot more money than he does. They are, by and large, exceptionally conservative. He mentioned tonight that one of his colleagues, and I quote, "Worships George Bush."
Blink. Blink.
"George W. Bush?" I asked.
"Yes, George W. Bush."
Honestly, I cannot understand this. I know many intelligent people who I respect who are republicans, but I have a very, very, very difficult time understanding how someone can look around our country today and worship our current president. I know this is probably an oversimplification, but I looked at Sam and said, "He worships the man who sent us into a disastrous war and drove the country into financial ruin?"
Sam shrugged and said, "He makes a lot of money and his taxes are lower than they used to be."
And then I started to cry. Seriously. I want to cry now. I don't understand how someone can look around and not care more about all the people who are struggling. My concerns about the country extend beyond just the bottom line in this household.
I'm not an idiot, even if Obama gets elected, it isn't like this is going to be a different country overnight, but I don't see how we'll survive if things don't get headed in a better direction. Doesn't it seem to anyone else that we just can't go on like this?
I am politically liberal. I think I'm conservative in how I live my life. . . as in I have old fashioned ideas about how children should dress and behave and about the way people treat each other and what kinds of things I generally feel are appropriate. So I live conservatively in many ways, but my vote veers pretty far to the left. I grew up in mostly very politically conservative environments and I am just not the type of person who will stand up and own the least popular opinion. For better or worse, I'm not very good at fighting that kind of fight.
Right now my husband works in an environment where most of his colleagues are older than he is, have worked with the company much longer than he has, and, frankly, make a lot more money than he does. They are, by and large, exceptionally conservative. He mentioned tonight that one of his colleagues, and I quote, "Worships George Bush."
Blink. Blink.
"George W. Bush?" I asked.
"Yes, George W. Bush."
Honestly, I cannot understand this. I know many intelligent people who I respect who are republicans, but I have a very, very, very difficult time understanding how someone can look around our country today and worship our current president. I know this is probably an oversimplification, but I looked at Sam and said, "He worships the man who sent us into a disastrous war and drove the country into financial ruin?"
Sam shrugged and said, "He makes a lot of money and his taxes are lower than they used to be."
And then I started to cry. Seriously. I want to cry now. I don't understand how someone can look around and not care more about all the people who are struggling. My concerns about the country extend beyond just the bottom line in this household.
I'm not an idiot, even if Obama gets elected, it isn't like this is going to be a different country overnight, but I don't see how we'll survive if things don't get headed in a better direction. Doesn't it seem to anyone else that we just can't go on like this?
Monday, July 21, 2008
Feeling Sickish
Right now Sam is driving around the city where he has his job interview later today. I'm having a difficult time thinking of anything else.
The good/bad news is that something like a job offer will likely happen in a matter of days.
I could probably throw up right now.
The good/bad news is that something like a job offer will likely happen in a matter of days.
I could probably throw up right now.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Wringing My Hands
On Monday Sam has a job interview in a city about two and a half hours from here. If he is offered the job, and the offer is good enough to accept, things will likely go very quickly. Which, understandably, has me freaking out a little bit.
It is unlikely that we would ever be forced to move for Sam's job, but if he wants to move up in his company, which he does, then we may very well have to go someplace else to do it. The company he works for is headquartered in our area and the internal competition is much more intense here than it is in other cities where his company has employees. In the past two years it has been very clear to me that we were just as likely to move as to live here the rest of our lives.
I'm not allowed to write about this yet on my "regular" blog because Sam is pretty connected to the community and he doesn't want people thinking we're moving if we aren't.
Moving is NEVER easy, especially for me, but moving with small children is even more difficult. We are excited about the potential in the city we might move to, I think it is a good family place, much like the city we live in now. Unfortunately our nearest family will be over an hour away if we move -- that is probably the scariest thing. I don't worry too much about my ability to make new friends, especially since we have a couple of connections who could help us meet people if we moved. But right now we live minutes from Sam's parents, who are wonderful and helpful. I totally won the in-law lottery, and they are the kind of people we can call in the middle of the night if we need a hand. I try not to take advantage of them, but I never worry about asking if we truly need their help with something. Moving to another city will be like living without a safety net, at least at first.
Of course I also have some wonderful friends here, who I will be very sad to leave. One in particular who is a nearly daily part of our lives.
I have more fretting to do, but we need to leave for an appointment. Which is just one of the really difficult things about moving -- needing to find new doctors (and schools, and stores,etc.)
It is unlikely that we would ever be forced to move for Sam's job, but if he wants to move up in his company, which he does, then we may very well have to go someplace else to do it. The company he works for is headquartered in our area and the internal competition is much more intense here than it is in other cities where his company has employees. In the past two years it has been very clear to me that we were just as likely to move as to live here the rest of our lives.
I'm not allowed to write about this yet on my "regular" blog because Sam is pretty connected to the community and he doesn't want people thinking we're moving if we aren't.
Moving is NEVER easy, especially for me, but moving with small children is even more difficult. We are excited about the potential in the city we might move to, I think it is a good family place, much like the city we live in now. Unfortunately our nearest family will be over an hour away if we move -- that is probably the scariest thing. I don't worry too much about my ability to make new friends, especially since we have a couple of connections who could help us meet people if we moved. But right now we live minutes from Sam's parents, who are wonderful and helpful. I totally won the in-law lottery, and they are the kind of people we can call in the middle of the night if we need a hand. I try not to take advantage of them, but I never worry about asking if we truly need their help with something. Moving to another city will be like living without a safety net, at least at first.
Of course I also have some wonderful friends here, who I will be very sad to leave. One in particular who is a nearly daily part of our lives.
I have more fretting to do, but we need to leave for an appointment. Which is just one of the really difficult things about moving -- needing to find new doctors (and schools, and stores,etc.)
Monday, July 14, 2008
Running Away
Once upon a time, I used to run.
I was never a competitive runner, but a friend in college helped take some of the mystery out of it and I started to love running.
It has been a very long time since I considered myself any kind of runner, probably close to ten years. And now I wish desperately that I never would have stopped.
It is easy to say that time is what is keeping me from picking up running again, but that wouldn't be the whole truth.
The whole truth is that I'm overweight and I almost can't bear the thought of running because I hate the idea of what I look like when I run.
I know that that kind of thinking isn't getting me anywhere fast. And I also realize another blog post about a woman hating her body is less than original. But it has really been weighing on my mind lately (ugh, no pun intended) and it is something I never talk about anymore. I'm very conscious of my daughter and I don't want to pass my insecurities on to her. I would never write about this on my regular blog either.
If I could safely run in the dark, in the middle of the night, so no one would see me, that would be ideal. I feel like I have a fit person inside of me still, I haven't given up forever, but I do sort of feel like I've given up for the time being.
I worry all the time that people are judging me because I'm heavy. I worry about seeing old friends I haven't seen in a long time. I worry about meeting some of the people I've gotten to know through the blogging community because apparently I think they wouldn't like me if they realized that I was fat.
I have a bunch of old journals from college (when I was fairly fit) and I routinely wrote about how disgusted I was with myself and how fat I felt among my group of friends. Reading those things now makes me both sad and angry at how pathetic I sounded. If I was overweight then, it wasn't by much. Looking back, I'm sorry I felt that way. Now I feel like I'm absolutely justified in hating my body and I would do a lot to get the one from ten years ago back. Or even five years ago.
I feel like having kids wrecked my body. Which is a lame excuse because there are plenty of mothers with many more children than I have who are not fat.
I worry that I'll be an embarrassment to my children when they are older.
I think there are some relatively simple changes I could make that might make a big difference, but I'm worried I'll change those things and they won't make a difference and it makes me scared to try.
In high school and college I had a less than healthy relationship with food. I was never clinically diagnosed or treated for an eating disorder but there were lots of times that I didn't eat nearly enough and lots of other times that I hid food and then binged and purged. I am scared to try to diet now because I feel like I don't know how without letting it get out of control.
I feel like these are ridiculous things for a 31-year-old woman to deal with. For a long time I thought I had my "issues" behind me, but apparently that's not true at all.
I'm nursing right now, so I am not trying to diet or lose weight. I did lose weight, right after Keegan was born, without trying (breastfeeding side effect, I think). But once I'm finished nursing, I feel like I have to do something, make some changes.
Part of the reason I'm writing this here is that I want to get it out, but I don't think very many people will read it, which is fine with me. I don't even want to write about this in my paper journals because I'm afraid my husband would find it and read it and I would be so embarrassed and ashamed. But if you are reading, and you want to leave a comment, please don't leave me dieting tips -- that's not what I'm looking for right now. I just need an outlet.
And also an invisibility shield, so I can take up running again.
I was never a competitive runner, but a friend in college helped take some of the mystery out of it and I started to love running.
It has been a very long time since I considered myself any kind of runner, probably close to ten years. And now I wish desperately that I never would have stopped.
It is easy to say that time is what is keeping me from picking up running again, but that wouldn't be the whole truth.
The whole truth is that I'm overweight and I almost can't bear the thought of running because I hate the idea of what I look like when I run.
I know that that kind of thinking isn't getting me anywhere fast. And I also realize another blog post about a woman hating her body is less than original. But it has really been weighing on my mind lately (ugh, no pun intended) and it is something I never talk about anymore. I'm very conscious of my daughter and I don't want to pass my insecurities on to her. I would never write about this on my regular blog either.
If I could safely run in the dark, in the middle of the night, so no one would see me, that would be ideal. I feel like I have a fit person inside of me still, I haven't given up forever, but I do sort of feel like I've given up for the time being.
I worry all the time that people are judging me because I'm heavy. I worry about seeing old friends I haven't seen in a long time. I worry about meeting some of the people I've gotten to know through the blogging community because apparently I think they wouldn't like me if they realized that I was fat.
I have a bunch of old journals from college (when I was fairly fit) and I routinely wrote about how disgusted I was with myself and how fat I felt among my group of friends. Reading those things now makes me both sad and angry at how pathetic I sounded. If I was overweight then, it wasn't by much. Looking back, I'm sorry I felt that way. Now I feel like I'm absolutely justified in hating my body and I would do a lot to get the one from ten years ago back. Or even five years ago.
I feel like having kids wrecked my body. Which is a lame excuse because there are plenty of mothers with many more children than I have who are not fat.
I worry that I'll be an embarrassment to my children when they are older.
I think there are some relatively simple changes I could make that might make a big difference, but I'm worried I'll change those things and they won't make a difference and it makes me scared to try.
In high school and college I had a less than healthy relationship with food. I was never clinically diagnosed or treated for an eating disorder but there were lots of times that I didn't eat nearly enough and lots of other times that I hid food and then binged and purged. I am scared to try to diet now because I feel like I don't know how without letting it get out of control.
I feel like these are ridiculous things for a 31-year-old woman to deal with. For a long time I thought I had my "issues" behind me, but apparently that's not true at all.
I'm nursing right now, so I am not trying to diet or lose weight. I did lose weight, right after Keegan was born, without trying (breastfeeding side effect, I think). But once I'm finished nursing, I feel like I have to do something, make some changes.
Part of the reason I'm writing this here is that I want to get it out, but I don't think very many people will read it, which is fine with me. I don't even want to write about this in my paper journals because I'm afraid my husband would find it and read it and I would be so embarrassed and ashamed. But if you are reading, and you want to leave a comment, please don't leave me dieting tips -- that's not what I'm looking for right now. I just need an outlet.
And also an invisibility shield, so I can take up running again.
Monday, May 19, 2008
I'm Still Here
Keegan arrived on March 9. He was 31 weeks and five days.
The short story is that we are both fine.
He spent about a month in the NICU before coming home. He's been home for about six weeks now.
With a three-year-old and an infant I am finding it nearly impossible to get to the computer, but I do plan to visit here with a little more frequency.
I have a lot of unprocessed feelings about everything that happened in the last three months, many of which feel inappropriate for my "regular" home.
I want to say thank you again to every one who has thought of us. . . I appreciate it.
The short story is that we are both fine.
He spent about a month in the NICU before coming home. He's been home for about six weeks now.
With a three-year-old and an infant I am finding it nearly impossible to get to the computer, but I do plan to visit here with a little more frequency.
I have a lot of unprocessed feelings about everything that happened in the last three months, many of which feel inappropriate for my "regular" home.
I want to say thank you again to every one who has thought of us. . . I appreciate it.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
1/2 Way?
Just in case anyone is checking. . .
I've been on bed rest for three weeks exactly. A little over a week at the hospital, six days at home, and nearly another week at the hospital.
Now my water has broken so I'm at the hospital until the baby comes or until 34 weeks, which is as pregnant as they are going to let me get.
The days are marching on, with difficult moments and better ones, and we are getting through.
I'll be a whopping 31 weeks on Tuesday.
I've been on bed rest for three weeks exactly. A little over a week at the hospital, six days at home, and nearly another week at the hospital.
Now my water has broken so I'm at the hospital until the baby comes or until 34 weeks, which is as pregnant as they are going to let me get.
The days are marching on, with difficult moments and better ones, and we are getting through.
I'll be a whopping 31 weeks on Tuesday.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Thank You
I just wanted to take a moment and thank everyone who encouraged me to call the doctor a couple of weekends ago when I was freaking out. The problem I was having could have become much worse very quickly and I'm feeling so lucky I went to the hospital when I did.
Things have been relatively stable for a week now and they are actually talking about sending me home, which, truth be told, I find totally terrifying. But we'll see what happens. My family and friends (including you) have been great and we will all get through this.
Things have been relatively stable for a week now and they are actually talking about sending me home, which, truth be told, I find totally terrifying. But we'll see what happens. My family and friends (including you) have been great and we will all get through this.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Update on baby boy
Hi Constance The Fifth readers.
C5 asked me to update her blog here (I'm a friend) to let you know about the baby. Which I am happy to do.
C5 is in the hospital for monitoring tonight. There is a small placental abruption which they will keep an eye on. Hopefully she'll be home tomorrow, but she thought that was unlikely. They gave her an initial steroid shot to help develop the baby's lungs, in case he comes early. She is 28 weeks pregnant today.
Ok, Constances and anyone else out here reading this. Time to muster up support for a sister in need. Leave a comment, why don't you. Let C5 know how much we're pulling for her. She'll appreciate it, I know.
C5 asked me to update her blog here (I'm a friend) to let you know about the baby. Which I am happy to do.
C5 is in the hospital for monitoring tonight. There is a small placental abruption which they will keep an eye on. Hopefully she'll be home tomorrow, but she thought that was unlikely. They gave her an initial steroid shot to help develop the baby's lungs, in case he comes early. She is 28 weeks pregnant today.
Ok, Constances and anyone else out here reading this. Time to muster up support for a sister in need. Leave a comment, why don't you. Let C5 know how much we're pulling for her. She'll appreciate it, I know.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Terrified
Oh you guys, I am still so scared.
The baby is moving and I'm not in pain, but I am still bleeding and I can't pretend that it isn't totally freaking me out. I can't do anything. I am being a terrible mother to Mary because all I want to do is lay in bed and cry and pray that I don't end up a member of a club that I do not want to belong to.
The baby has a name and space, in our house but more importantly in our hearts, and the thought that he won't be here to fill it is just about more than I can bare.
I talk to him, I already feel like I know him, and I just can't begin to imagine how I would put one foot in front of the other if something happens.
I want my mom. Except there is absolutely nothing she can do and she's on vacation and she will only worry, probably more than me.
I am not one to worry about things before they happen, I try not to invite trouble, but when something starts to go wrong there is a dam in my brain that gives way and all logic flows out to be replaced by thoughts of every bad thing.
The baby is moving and I'm not in pain, but I am still bleeding and I can't pretend that it isn't totally freaking me out. I can't do anything. I am being a terrible mother to Mary because all I want to do is lay in bed and cry and pray that I don't end up a member of a club that I do not want to belong to.
The baby has a name and space, in our house but more importantly in our hearts, and the thought that he won't be here to fill it is just about more than I can bare.
I talk to him, I already feel like I know him, and I just can't begin to imagine how I would put one foot in front of the other if something happens.
I want my mom. Except there is absolutely nothing she can do and she's on vacation and she will only worry, probably more than me.
I am not one to worry about things before they happen, I try not to invite trouble, but when something starts to go wrong there is a dam in my brain that gives way and all logic flows out to be replaced by thoughts of every bad thing.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Update
Went to the doctor and all is tentatively fine. . .
She saw blood when she examined me, but was not alarmed by the amount. I am not dilated at all, so she is not, at this point, worried about pre-term labor.
She said if the bleeding really increases or I start having cramping or regular contractions that I should call them and might need to go to the hospital to get things checked more thoroughly.
I was offered the option of going to the hospital this afternoon and having an ultra sound and letting them monitor the baby for a while, but she didn't think it was necessary, especially if I could just go home and rest, which I did.
So I am cautiously optimistic that this is just one of the many little hiccups that have happened along with this pregnancy and that all will still be well in the end.
Oh, and she also said go ahead and use the seven day over the counter stuff for my suspected yeast infection and not to fret about it. Thank you for all your advice -- I did not go as far as to put yogurt in my lady parts, but just the thought made me smile a little bit, so thanks for that.
She saw blood when she examined me, but was not alarmed by the amount. I am not dilated at all, so she is not, at this point, worried about pre-term labor.
She said if the bleeding really increases or I start having cramping or regular contractions that I should call them and might need to go to the hospital to get things checked more thoroughly.
I was offered the option of going to the hospital this afternoon and having an ultra sound and letting them monitor the baby for a while, but she didn't think it was necessary, especially if I could just go home and rest, which I did.
So I am cautiously optimistic that this is just one of the many little hiccups that have happened along with this pregnancy and that all will still be well in the end.
Oh, and she also said go ahead and use the seven day over the counter stuff for my suspected yeast infection and not to fret about it. Thank you for all your advice -- I did not go as far as to put yogurt in my lady parts, but just the thought made me smile a little bit, so thanks for that.
Help Me Not to Panic
So there was the itching and now I am bleeding. . . which is not a comforting sight, 27 weeks into pregnancy.
I am freaking out a little over here.
I have an appointment at 12:30 and I feel like I'm going to go out of my mind between now and then.
It is not a LOT of bleeding. This morning I thought I'd maybe scratched myself in my sleep (I know, ew) but now it has been a few hours and there is still some bleeding. Not emergency room bleeding. So that's good, I guess.
And Mary is being three, meaning she is being totally unreasonable and I'm having a difficult time dealing with her three-year-old ornery self this morning.
Good thing I have this place to let some of this out. It's not necessarily the kind of thing I want to splash all over my other blog because plenty of people who know me will then also freak out -- like my parents who are in California right now. And I don't want everyone to freak out unless maybe we know for sure there is a reason to do so.
I can almost guarantee that my blood pressure will be a little elevated by the time my appointment rolls around. Anyone want to place bets?
I am freaking out a little over here.
I have an appointment at 12:30 and I feel like I'm going to go out of my mind between now and then.
It is not a LOT of bleeding. This morning I thought I'd maybe scratched myself in my sleep (I know, ew) but now it has been a few hours and there is still some bleeding. Not emergency room bleeding. So that's good, I guess.
And Mary is being three, meaning she is being totally unreasonable and I'm having a difficult time dealing with her three-year-old ornery self this morning.
Good thing I have this place to let some of this out. It's not necessarily the kind of thing I want to splash all over my other blog because plenty of people who know me will then also freak out -- like my parents who are in California right now. And I don't want everyone to freak out unless maybe we know for sure there is a reason to do so.
I can almost guarantee that my blood pressure will be a little elevated by the time my appointment rolls around. Anyone want to place bets?
Thursday, February 7, 2008
My Face is Red Right Now
Okay, we can file this under the category of just too embarrassing to ask on my "regular" blog.
1. Do yeast infections ever clear up on their own?
2. If I think I have a yeast infection (likely between pregnancy and antibiotic I'm taking for plague of death I got from Sam), will anything bad happen if I don't see the doctor about it until Tuesday when I have an OB appointment anyway?
3. Since I'm pregnant I won't be, um, inserting anything anywhere without a doctor's orders, but do you have any suggestions for, um, itch relief that I could use between now and Tuesday?
And now I need to go hide somewhere, because I am really that embarrassed to have just put those questions on the Internet.
1. Do yeast infections ever clear up on their own?
2. If I think I have a yeast infection (likely between pregnancy and antibiotic I'm taking for plague of death I got from Sam), will anything bad happen if I don't see the doctor about it until Tuesday when I have an OB appointment anyway?
3. Since I'm pregnant I won't be, um, inserting anything anywhere without a doctor's orders, but do you have any suggestions for, um, itch relief that I could use between now and Tuesday?
And now I need to go hide somewhere, because I am really that embarrassed to have just put those questions on the Internet.
Preschool Update
I don't know if anyone who left comments on the first preschool post is even going to see this, but I wanted to follow up on the thing about Mary telling me a man took her to the bathroom. Her teacher is still treating me a little like I'm an idiot, so I felt foolish asking about it. I used that little notebook that's been in her bag to ask and Miss J responded that all the adults who work in the room are female, though some do have short hair. Mary must have been confused. Which is not shocking because she's three. I appreciate the encouragement to follow up on that one, because it does feel better not to worry about it.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Infected
Arg! Sam is sick. Blech. A friend asked me earlier if he was "sick sick" or "man sick" which made me laugh. Since he's been running a fever I'll give him a pass on this one because he is actually sick and not just complaining about a runny nose like its the plague.
Having a sick husband is almost as difficult as having a sick child. I know he can't help being sick, but it can still be maddening. When little kids are sick, you can forgive them for acting miserable because it is hard for them to understand that they will ever feel normal again. I have a little less sympathy for grown men, who know full well they will be back to normal in short order.
I wasn't trying to be insensitive today, but when Sam started feeling really sick I sent him to bed and basically told him not to come out. That way I wasn't frustrated by the fact that he was sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing and he didn't have to deal with Mary wanting things from him. He slept most of the day, coming out occasionally for a drink of water or some crackers, which actually worked out fine. It was like any weekday when he' s gone at work.
I hate when Sam is sick, and not because he's a baby about it; it reminds me of when I was little and one of my parents was sick. It is an unsteady feeling. Surely he could do a lot more to help when he's at home, but he works really hard to support our family and when he is sick it makes the smallest part of me ask, "What if?" and I just can't imagine what we'd do if anything serious ever happens to him. Who is being dramatic now?
At the moment I'm also worried that he's sick with something I'll catch that will end up being dangerous for the baby.
Most of the time I am not a big worrier, but it only takes one little incident to set my mind reeling and I can have a hard time recovering.
Of course, when I'm sick, I mean really sick, he'll still leave me at home with a two-year-old for the day to go coach a tournament in Columbus. . . but that's for another post.
Having a sick husband is almost as difficult as having a sick child. I know he can't help being sick, but it can still be maddening. When little kids are sick, you can forgive them for acting miserable because it is hard for them to understand that they will ever feel normal again. I have a little less sympathy for grown men, who know full well they will be back to normal in short order.
I wasn't trying to be insensitive today, but when Sam started feeling really sick I sent him to bed and basically told him not to come out. That way I wasn't frustrated by the fact that he was sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing and he didn't have to deal with Mary wanting things from him. He slept most of the day, coming out occasionally for a drink of water or some crackers, which actually worked out fine. It was like any weekday when he' s gone at work.
I hate when Sam is sick, and not because he's a baby about it; it reminds me of when I was little and one of my parents was sick. It is an unsteady feeling. Surely he could do a lot more to help when he's at home, but he works really hard to support our family and when he is sick it makes the smallest part of me ask, "What if?" and I just can't imagine what we'd do if anything serious ever happens to him. Who is being dramatic now?
At the moment I'm also worried that he's sick with something I'll catch that will end up being dangerous for the baby.
Most of the time I am not a big worrier, but it only takes one little incident to set my mind reeling and I can have a hard time recovering.
Of course, when I'm sick, I mean really sick, he'll still leave me at home with a two-year-old for the day to go coach a tournament in Columbus. . . but that's for another post.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Miss J
Mary started preschool this week and, despite a difficult time letting me go (literally) the first day, she's had an awesome week and really seems to like being there.
Unfortunately, I don't like her teacher.
I mean Miss J is probably perfectly good at her job, I appreciate all she has done to make the environment safe for Mary who has severe food allergies, and I'm sure she is good for the kids. On dealing with parents, however, I give her a big thumbs down.
First of all, I know we started in mid-year, but I have been given absolutely nothing in the way of orienting information about school. Yes, we went and discussed food allergies with the teacher, but as far as day-to-day information -- nothing.
Here are some things I would expect as a child started school (at any point in the year):
- Contact information for the school/teacher.
- The names of the teachers working in the classroom, in this instance there are three there all the time a few others that rotate in and out. (The other day Mary said a man took her to the bathroom which I found odd since none of the three main teachers are men. Of course I know the school isn't letting random men in off the street to escort three-year-olds to the bathroom, but who was he?)
- A school calendar, so I'll know when they don't have school. When is spring break? Are they off on President's Day? I have no idea. And yes, some of that info is available online, but that is assuming I have internet access -- a question I have not been asked.
- Information about drop-off and pick-up procedures.
- Items needed for school. I sent Mary with a book bag and a change of clothing -- all labeled with her name. I did these things because I have spent a lot of time working in schools. But I would not assume that parents of three-year-olds, especially when it is the first one going to school, would automatically do those things. The change of clothing was removed from her bag and kept at school, so I'm thinking they did actually want one.
- Some sort of rough schedule/note about things that happen in the classroom each day. I don't need an itemized curriculum but do they read to the children? Do they schedule bathroom breaks? Is there free play time and structured time? Are they swinging on vines from the ceiling for two and a half hours? Mary is a very verbal three-year-old, but she is a three-year-old and I don't count on her to be the only source of information about what goes on all day. She's three!
The first day of school a blank notebook, with Mary's name on the front, appeared in her backpack, no explanation or anything. Because I used something similar when I taught, I imagine this is some kind of communication method??? But, um, how am I to know that?
I am also not thrilled with the way her teacher speaks to me. Yesterday, her second day of school, I walked her into the building like I had the first day (remember, I was given no information about drop-off procedure) and her teacher says to me, "You can just pull up to the curb and we'll come get her."
"Oh," I said, "I thought I'd walk her in this first week and then next week-"
"No, no," she interrupts me,"tomorrow you wait outside with the other parents."
I really can't convey her tone well here, but she spoke to me as though I was the three-year-old, or at least as if I were suffering from significant mental challenges. Plus, again, it is my three-year-old's first week of school!!! I understand if they have a policy about how they like to begin and end a day, but I am not particularly comfortable with a teacher who makes me feel like it isn't even okay to walk into the building from time to time. It isn't as though I am pulling up a chair in the back of her room and staying half the day to watch.
There are other things, but I'm feeling like maybe I should stop my ranting now. Basically I feel like the teacher doesn't respect me, which is really irritating.
I'm not stupid, I know that Mary is probably likely to have many teachers who I don't want to invite over for dinner and be best friends with, but I wish I wasn't feeling so meh about her first teacher.
As long as Mary's happy and enjoying school, which she is, I am going to try to do lots of deep breathing and not get my undies in a twist.
Unfortunately, I don't like her teacher.
I mean Miss J is probably perfectly good at her job, I appreciate all she has done to make the environment safe for Mary who has severe food allergies, and I'm sure she is good for the kids. On dealing with parents, however, I give her a big thumbs down.
First of all, I know we started in mid-year, but I have been given absolutely nothing in the way of orienting information about school. Yes, we went and discussed food allergies with the teacher, but as far as day-to-day information -- nothing.
Here are some things I would expect as a child started school (at any point in the year):
- Contact information for the school/teacher.
- The names of the teachers working in the classroom, in this instance there are three there all the time a few others that rotate in and out. (The other day Mary said a man took her to the bathroom which I found odd since none of the three main teachers are men. Of course I know the school isn't letting random men in off the street to escort three-year-olds to the bathroom, but who was he?)
- A school calendar, so I'll know when they don't have school. When is spring break? Are they off on President's Day? I have no idea. And yes, some of that info is available online, but that is assuming I have internet access -- a question I have not been asked.
- Information about drop-off and pick-up procedures.
- Items needed for school. I sent Mary with a book bag and a change of clothing -- all labeled with her name. I did these things because I have spent a lot of time working in schools. But I would not assume that parents of three-year-olds, especially when it is the first one going to school, would automatically do those things. The change of clothing was removed from her bag and kept at school, so I'm thinking they did actually want one.
- Some sort of rough schedule/note about things that happen in the classroom each day. I don't need an itemized curriculum but do they read to the children? Do they schedule bathroom breaks? Is there free play time and structured time? Are they swinging on vines from the ceiling for two and a half hours? Mary is a very verbal three-year-old, but she is a three-year-old and I don't count on her to be the only source of information about what goes on all day. She's three!
The first day of school a blank notebook, with Mary's name on the front, appeared in her backpack, no explanation or anything. Because I used something similar when I taught, I imagine this is some kind of communication method??? But, um, how am I to know that?
I am also not thrilled with the way her teacher speaks to me. Yesterday, her second day of school, I walked her into the building like I had the first day (remember, I was given no information about drop-off procedure) and her teacher says to me, "You can just pull up to the curb and we'll come get her."
"Oh," I said, "I thought I'd walk her in this first week and then next week-"
"No, no," she interrupts me,"tomorrow you wait outside with the other parents."
I really can't convey her tone well here, but she spoke to me as though I was the three-year-old, or at least as if I were suffering from significant mental challenges. Plus, again, it is my three-year-old's first week of school!!! I understand if they have a policy about how they like to begin and end a day, but I am not particularly comfortable with a teacher who makes me feel like it isn't even okay to walk into the building from time to time. It isn't as though I am pulling up a chair in the back of her room and staying half the day to watch.
There are other things, but I'm feeling like maybe I should stop my ranting now. Basically I feel like the teacher doesn't respect me, which is really irritating.
I'm not stupid, I know that Mary is probably likely to have many teachers who I don't want to invite over for dinner and be best friends with, but I wish I wasn't feeling so meh about her first teacher.
As long as Mary's happy and enjoying school, which she is, I am going to try to do lots of deep breathing and not get my undies in a twist.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
It Made Me Want to Punch Him in the Teeth
So Sam looks at me tonight and sort of gently volunteers, "You seem like you are in a good mood today. . . "
And thanks to raging pregnant hostility hormones I wanted to march right over and smack him. I didn't smack him but rather made some comment about getting enough sleep last night, which I guess was a passive-aggressive way of letting him know he was not the reason for my "good mood."
Until that moment he really hadn't said anything about my being a complete and total witch lately, but don't you think it was sort of hidden in that comment? Don't you?
Oh I am so reasonable these days.
And thanks to raging pregnant hostility hormones I wanted to march right over and smack him. I didn't smack him but rather made some comment about getting enough sleep last night, which I guess was a passive-aggressive way of letting him know he was not the reason for my "good mood."
Until that moment he really hadn't said anything about my being a complete and total witch lately, but don't you think it was sort of hidden in that comment? Don't you?
Oh I am so reasonable these days.
And We Shall Call Him Sam
Sam is the husband.
I feel as though I have to begin this post by saying that I do love him and I think we have a good relationship in many ways. I know that he loves me - which is important. I guess what I'm saying is that I plan to come here to vent, but I am not begging for divorce lawyers' business cards just yet. K?
Sometimes I wonder if the things that are so upsetting are Sam things or man things. You know? There are some things that seem to be generally true of all grown men. Some examples -- a) they are babies when they are sick and b) they don't seem to do very many helpful things without, ahem, reminders.
For Sam the things that drive me crazy tend to fall into two categories:
1) Things he used to do that he doesn't anymore.
2) Things that seem totally obvious and yet are never addressed without my asking.
Some behaviors (or lack thereof) fall into the both categories.
For example, there are very few jobs around the house that are Sam's job, but one of them is putting the garbage out on garbage day. When we were first married, he dutifully walked through the house and emptied all the garbage cans and replaced the bags before putting the garbage outside. Now? He still puts the garbage cans outside (which involves moving them all of two feet from just inside the garage to out on the driveway), but rarely empties any of the cans in the house before doing so. What the heck? This means that, when I hear the garbage truck on the street behind ours, I often find myself noticing all the not empty cans and run around like a maniac trying to swoosh it all outside before the truck gets to our house. This baffles me. Especially when it comes to the kitchen garbage can, which is on the way to the garage, for Pete's sake! And it always has food in it and it is always stinky -- even when it isn't all the way full, it's kind of a no-brainer that it should go out on garbage day, right?
I'm sure you're out there thinking, oh poor Constance, whose husband doesn't take out the trash to her liking. . . wha wha wha. But it is just one example of where even when he "helps" with something, I end up doing at least half of it myself. Bleh.
I feel as though I have to begin this post by saying that I do love him and I think we have a good relationship in many ways. I know that he loves me - which is important. I guess what I'm saying is that I plan to come here to vent, but I am not begging for divorce lawyers' business cards just yet. K?
Sometimes I wonder if the things that are so upsetting are Sam things or man things. You know? There are some things that seem to be generally true of all grown men. Some examples -- a) they are babies when they are sick and b) they don't seem to do very many helpful things without, ahem, reminders.
For Sam the things that drive me crazy tend to fall into two categories:
1) Things he used to do that he doesn't anymore.
2) Things that seem totally obvious and yet are never addressed without my asking.
Some behaviors (or lack thereof) fall into the both categories.
For example, there are very few jobs around the house that are Sam's job, but one of them is putting the garbage out on garbage day. When we were first married, he dutifully walked through the house and emptied all the garbage cans and replaced the bags before putting the garbage outside. Now? He still puts the garbage cans outside (which involves moving them all of two feet from just inside the garage to out on the driveway), but rarely empties any of the cans in the house before doing so. What the heck? This means that, when I hear the garbage truck on the street behind ours, I often find myself noticing all the not empty cans and run around like a maniac trying to swoosh it all outside before the truck gets to our house. This baffles me. Especially when it comes to the kitchen garbage can, which is on the way to the garage, for Pete's sake! And it always has food in it and it is always stinky -- even when it isn't all the way full, it's kind of a no-brainer that it should go out on garbage day, right?
I'm sure you're out there thinking, oh poor Constance, whose husband doesn't take out the trash to her liking. . . wha wha wha. But it is just one example of where even when he "helps" with something, I end up doing at least half of it myself. Bleh.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Move-In Day
First of all, thanks to the Queen of the Constances for inviting all of us to move in to her cool building in the city. I feel a little like I'm in the seventh grade and have been asked to join the totally popular group. And there wasn't even any hazing! (Hey, thanks for not making me steal my parents' alcohol and sneak it into your party.)
My normal blog is about as non-anonymous as you can get; the point of it was to share about our family with family and friends. And there I try to be fairly candid, I sure don't come off as a perfect parent, but I do edit myself somewhat. One thing I never do at the other place? Complain about the adult members of my family. I complain about my three-year-old sometimes (um, okay, a lot), but three-year-olds are built for maximum annoyingness, so I think that just comes with the territory. I don't think I believe people who never feel frustrated with their children.
So you are welcome to visit here, and leave comments, and get to know the petty and less-than-tolerant side of me -- aren't you excited?!
My normal blog is about as non-anonymous as you can get; the point of it was to share about our family with family and friends. And there I try to be fairly candid, I sure don't come off as a perfect parent, but I do edit myself somewhat. One thing I never do at the other place? Complain about the adult members of my family. I complain about my three-year-old sometimes (um, okay, a lot), but three-year-olds are built for maximum annoyingness, so I think that just comes with the territory. I don't think I believe people who never feel frustrated with their children.
So you are welcome to visit here, and leave comments, and get to know the petty and less-than-tolerant side of me -- aren't you excited?!
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