Dear Friends and Blogspot:
It has come to my attention that Blogspot has been a bit irresponsible. My post about Mother's day AND several pictures that I have posted over the past few weeks are gone. Kaput. Finito. Lost in space. You get the picture.
Therefore, I'm moving. I will not stand for this type of injustice any longer. My new home is: http://sunnydaystone.wordpress.com
Come say hi. And please wipe your feet before you come in - I have new carpet.
Thursday
Project 24
Ever grab your cheap, five setting digital camera and run around taking pictures like you were the world's long lost top celebrity photographer?
No?
Ok, well I have. And now, I get to post the poorly-shot-but-nicely-edited photos on a group Facebook page specifically created to house Project 24.
What is this Facebook phenomenon, you ask? Good question, my friends.
If any of you have children or at least remember what it was like to be a child, you know the joy of opening a brand new box of crayons. The smell of wax and paper wrappers, the sight of un-scribbled crayon tips, and most of all.... the array of colors, just waiting to burst out of the cardboard crypt and be the subject of something creative and magical. One undeniable truth of the world: crayons are awesome.
So we have decided to create art with crayons..... without coloring with them.
This week's color was white. Not my favorite picture, either, but it is acceptable. Next.
Blue-Green was week 3 in Project 24, and these feathers are at least eight years old. They have been part of a centerpiece that has been on my mantle, on the counter, and now they are on our media tower in a vase. Only a few have been chewed on by the cats.
The project will last for 24 weeks - one color each week. Crayon in or out of picture is artist's choice, but each pic must be the color of the week.
See, the idea behind the pictures is to photograph an object that is the same color as the crayon of the week. A different member of the group picks a new color out of a 24-count box of Crayola on Sunday, and we have all week to create our best paparazzi poses with the crayons.
While this photo did involve a bit of enhancement, it's proof that my cheap, little, red point-and-shoot won't let me down too often. It was for week 1, but I came onto the project a little late, so yellow and purple were both in the same week. It's my favorite.
I will continue to post my photographs as they are taken and posted to the project here, considering not all of my fans have access to Facebook yet. Amazing, I know.
No?
Ok, well I have. And now, I get to post the poorly-shot-but-nicely-edited photos on a group Facebook page specifically created to house Project 24.
What is this Facebook phenomenon, you ask? Good question, my friends.
If any of you have children or at least remember what it was like to be a child, you know the joy of opening a brand new box of crayons. The smell of wax and paper wrappers, the sight of un-scribbled crayon tips, and most of all.... the array of colors, just waiting to burst out of the cardboard crypt and be the subject of something creative and magical. One undeniable truth of the world: crayons are awesome.
So we have decided to create art with crayons..... without coloring with them.
 |
| White. I just painted the trim outside - what can I say... I'm proud of myself. I wanted something really simple for white and I love taking close up pics of the crayons! They are the stars of the show! |
 |
| Blue Green. I've been looking all week for something and these feathers have been sitting in front me the whole time!! No editing - this came straight off my memory card. |
The project will last for 24 weeks - one color each week. Crayon in or out of picture is artist's choice, but each pic must be the color of the week.
 |
| Violet. Out of the (seems like) hundreds of Columbines I planted last year, this is the only one that bloomed this year. At least it matches the crayon. |
 |
| Yellow. I bought this garden hose because it was yellow - I wanted something bright in the garden even in the winter time. |
I will continue to post my photographs as they are taken and posted to the project here, considering not all of my fans have access to Facebook yet. Amazing, I know.
Monday
Farmer's Fable and Bin Laden
When I heard the news of the death of Islamic bastard, Osama Bin Laden, the only thing I could think of is this:
The Farmer's Fable
A poor farmer had only one horse and one son. One day, his horse ran away.
All the neighbors came by saying, “I'm so sorry. This is such bad news. You must be so upset.” The man just nodded and said, “We'll see.”
A few days later, his horse came back with twenty wild horses. The man and his son corraled all 21 horses.
All the neighbors came by saying, “Congratulations! This is such good news. You must be so happy!” The man just nodded and said, “We'll see.”
One day, one of the wild horses kicked the man's only son, breaking both his legs.
All the neighbors came by saying, “I'm so sorry. This is such bad news. You must be so upset.” The man just nodded and said, “We'll see.”
A few months later, the country went to war, and every able-bodied young man was drafted to fight. The war was terrible and killed every young man, but the farmer's son was spared, since his broken legs prevented him from being drafted.
All the neighbors came by saying, “Congratulations! This is such good news. You must be so happy!” The man just nodded and said, “We'll see.”
Is justice really served? I think so - but we'll see.
The Farmer's Fable
A poor farmer had only one horse and one son. One day, his horse ran away.
All the neighbors came by saying, “I'm so sorry. This is such bad news. You must be so upset.” The man just nodded and said, “We'll see.”
A few days later, his horse came back with twenty wild horses. The man and his son corraled all 21 horses.
All the neighbors came by saying, “Congratulations! This is such good news. You must be so happy!” The man just nodded and said, “We'll see.”
One day, one of the wild horses kicked the man's only son, breaking both his legs.
All the neighbors came by saying, “I'm so sorry. This is such bad news. You must be so upset.” The man just nodded and said, “We'll see.”
A few months later, the country went to war, and every able-bodied young man was drafted to fight. The war was terrible and killed every young man, but the farmer's son was spared, since his broken legs prevented him from being drafted.
All the neighbors came by saying, “Congratulations! This is such good news. You must be so happy!” The man just nodded and said, “We'll see.”
Is justice really served? I think so - but we'll see.
Thursday
Puling on the boot straps
Is this really coming back around?
The problem with an unstable mood, which I'm likely convinced that I have since giving birth to my little monster, is when the mood heads south, the nerves kick into high gear. The fear of falling back down into the darkness that consumed me only a year ago is more terrifying than screaming newborn triplets.
That fear sometimes keeps me up at night. The times that I spent depressed, dejected, and frightened during JJ's early months are truly terrifying and just the mere thought of them coming back is.... well.... you get the picture. Sometimes I lay awake thinking about all of the things that I have to do, all of the things that I don't have time for, all of the things that I can be doing better and all of the... other things. Sometimes I fall asleep fine at night, but awaken several times at night. My theory is that I'm waking when JJ turns over in the middle of the night. I've since been turning the monitor down a little and that seems to help. Doesn't stop the mind, though...
Lack of sleep makes mea little crabby a total monster. I mean that quite literally; just ask anyone that has been around me in the past five days or so. It's not just lack of sleep that makes me miserable, because if I were to not sleep in a round, white room with nothing in it except a bed, toilet, and tv... I would probably be fine. After a few days, I would probably start stressing over how I am going to wash the sheets and clean the toilet, but I doubt that the Mrs. Hyde would make an appearance. At least for the first week or two...
JJ has taken to expressing himself quite loudly and with many new body language cues. He is practicing new limits, pushing buttons, and testing boundaries. It's also testing the strength of my nerves and the threshold of my patience. Combine this new challenging phase of JJ's development and my own sleeping problems and the Mrs. Hyde is getting dressed for a night out on the town. She's getting dressed to the nines...
So now my nails have been chewed to nubs and I'm quick to snap. I hate it. Passionately. Why? Why is this happening now?
Let's itemize this whole situation, shall we?
BAD:
Work is stressful.
My allergies are horrible right now.
The yard looks AWFUL because I have an 18 month old baby and terrible allergies.
My car is half waxed.
Litter box is stinky.
Dog is stinky too.
Water in basement. Still.
I need to go to the grocery store.
Dirty dishes in the sink.
GOOD:
I'm so on top of the laundry. No pile ups. No back ups. Fab new washer.
Clutter in my kitchen gone = quicker to put away dishes.
Clutter in my upstaris gone = more likely to have guests.
Bathroom always clean = less stress when people drop by.
My car is clean on the inside. Sort of.
The roomba is earning his keep. He runs every day. Does a good job on most of those days.
My bed is made.
JJ is healthy.
I'm a righty.
I don't have to take off my clothes to make a living.
I have five unopened bottles of wine in my wine rack.
I have a wine rack - in my de-cluttered dining room.
My car rocks.
My husband rocks.
My kid rocks.
My cat's foot is not going to fall off.
My windows are able to be opened and let the spring nighttime air in.
I survived watching "Paranormal Activity 2."
*steps back from the computer screen* hmm. Interesting.
So how often to we put our lives into perspective? I think I should do it more often. I will have to agree with myself (which could be a problem itself) that I do probably have some kind of mood de-stabiliztion issues since JJ arrived, but I have no idea how far from normal this is. It could be completely understandable and normal for a new mom. I don't know - I've never done it before.
Perhaps a massage is in order. Perhaps a nice weekend with my family and some good Easter food will do the trick. Perhaps some time with the girlfriends will help. Whatever it is, I will be sure to figure it out, because I'm willing to do anything to keep from the black hole again.
Tomorrow is Friday, I'm awesome, and it's going to be great. I'm determined.
The problem with an unstable mood, which I'm likely convinced that I have since giving birth to my little monster, is when the mood heads south, the nerves kick into high gear. The fear of falling back down into the darkness that consumed me only a year ago is more terrifying than screaming newborn triplets.
That fear sometimes keeps me up at night. The times that I spent depressed, dejected, and frightened during JJ's early months are truly terrifying and just the mere thought of them coming back is.... well.... you get the picture. Sometimes I lay awake thinking about all of the things that I have to do, all of the things that I don't have time for, all of the things that I can be doing better and all of the... other things. Sometimes I fall asleep fine at night, but awaken several times at night. My theory is that I'm waking when JJ turns over in the middle of the night. I've since been turning the monitor down a little and that seems to help. Doesn't stop the mind, though...
Lack of sleep makes me
JJ has taken to expressing himself quite loudly and with many new body language cues. He is practicing new limits, pushing buttons, and testing boundaries. It's also testing the strength of my nerves and the threshold of my patience. Combine this new challenging phase of JJ's development and my own sleeping problems and the Mrs. Hyde is getting dressed for a night out on the town. She's getting dressed to the nines...
So now my nails have been chewed to nubs and I'm quick to snap. I hate it. Passionately. Why? Why is this happening now?
Let's itemize this whole situation, shall we?
BAD:
Work is stressful.
My allergies are horrible right now.
The yard looks AWFUL because I have an 18 month old baby and terrible allergies.
My car is half waxed.
Litter box is stinky.
Dog is stinky too.
Water in basement. Still.
I need to go to the grocery store.
Dirty dishes in the sink.
GOOD:
I'm so on top of the laundry. No pile ups. No back ups. Fab new washer.
Clutter in my kitchen gone = quicker to put away dishes.
Clutter in my upstaris gone = more likely to have guests.
Bathroom always clean = less stress when people drop by.
My car is clean on the inside. Sort of.
The roomba is earning his keep. He runs every day. Does a good job on most of those days.
My bed is made.
JJ is healthy.
I'm a righty.
I don't have to take off my clothes to make a living.
I have five unopened bottles of wine in my wine rack.
I have a wine rack - in my de-cluttered dining room.
My car rocks.
My husband rocks.
My kid rocks.
My cat's foot is not going to fall off.
My windows are able to be opened and let the spring nighttime air in.
I survived watching "Paranormal Activity 2."
*steps back from the computer screen* hmm. Interesting.
So how often to we put our lives into perspective? I think I should do it more often. I will have to agree with myself (which could be a problem itself) that I do probably have some kind of mood de-stabiliztion issues since JJ arrived, but I have no idea how far from normal this is. It could be completely understandable and normal for a new mom. I don't know - I've never done it before.
Perhaps a massage is in order. Perhaps a nice weekend with my family and some good Easter food will do the trick. Perhaps some time with the girlfriends will help. Whatever it is, I will be sure to figure it out, because I'm willing to do anything to keep from the black hole again.
Tomorrow is Friday, I'm awesome, and it's going to be great. I'm determined.
Monday
Digging Out
Clutter.
Do you know what clutter really means? Does it make you nervous? Does the sight of the word make you immediately think about that pile in your bedroom that you've been meaning to get to but just haven't had time?
Clutter, as a word, is really a verb, meaning to jumble or garble or become disorganized. It is NOT a noun. It does NOT mean "stuff." It is quite possible to BE cluttered, but not to have clutter. That's like having jump. It doesn't make any sense. To say "I have clutter" means nothing. To say "I clutter my house with useless junk" means everything.
Ever notice that when you read or type a word often in a short amount of time, it starts to look like it belongs to a different language? Is the word "clutter" starting to look funny to you now?
So. Now. When you think about that one (or many) places in your home that you hate to go into, does it make you angry? Or nervous? Or ashamed? Or all of the above? Me too, my friend. Me too.
I hereby put my house on an official diet. It's getting way too fat.
Over the past two weeks, when I have actually been home and not on the road, I have eliminated 12 bags of stuff - no wait - 18 bags of stuff including the ones sitting in my living room waiting to go to the thrift store. 18!! All of the stuff that I got rid of were things that I wasn't using, including old pots and pans, place mats, clothes, cloth napkins (who uses those anymore?!), jewelry, old ratty socks and underwear (an excuse to go shopping for pretty new unmentionables!!) and stuff. Lots of it. With more to go. I didn't donate it all - the socks and underwear hit the trash along with anything that was broken/badly torn or stained/otherwise unusable.
It's a trek. And it's hard. Voices that say things like "I might use that one day." or "So-and-so gave that to me, I can't get rid of it!" pop in my head often while I'm on a purging binge. I've recently employed another voice to counteract the nagging one. The new voice says things like "Yes, but you're not using it now." or "Yes, but you're not donating so-and-so, just that useless thing she/he gave you." My favorite encouraging voice says, often "Someone else will love that much more than you are." and "That will surely make someone else very happy." I'm attempting to keep in mind that if an item does not make me happy, it needs to go.
A prime example: when I was a child, I owned a talking Mother Goose that told stories. You'd put the tape in under her wing, and follow along in her book as she told the story. When she honked, you'd turn the page. She made me SO VERY HAPPY when I was a child. My mother recently gave her to me, but her beak doesn't work very well and two of the tapes were not working properly. I was very sad and even got a little teary to see my childhood book reading friend in a state of disrepair. I tucked her away in my closet for a while, but every time I opened my closet and saw her, still in her original box and teetering on top of some other random things, I became sad all over again. Mother Goose, who once made me very happy was now making me sad. I knew she needed to move onto someone who might use her for something else. She would make a lovely addition to an Easter scene in a window or something just as creative. She would surely make someone else happy and not simply clutter my closet. I wished her good luck as I handed her to the thrift store employee and left her. But, as I handed her over, I didn't hand over the memories that I had. I will hold on to those forever, and when I think about her, I won't think about the broken toy that she is now. I will think about how she and I would hide in our fort and tell stories for hours. I think about the times that she made me happy.
The Great De-Clutter 2011 is an ongoing effort in my house until it's DONE. It may take a few months. Perhaps a year. It will be fab when it's finished and I will no longer wonder "whatever happened to" something, because I will know exactly where it is. I'm super excited.
P.S. I'm all caught up on the laundry. And it will stay that way, too. Only now we need a new washer...
Do you know what clutter really means? Does it make you nervous? Does the sight of the word make you immediately think about that pile in your bedroom that you've been meaning to get to but just haven't had time?
Clutter, as a word, is really a verb, meaning to jumble or garble or become disorganized. It is NOT a noun. It does NOT mean "stuff." It is quite possible to BE cluttered, but not to have clutter. That's like having jump. It doesn't make any sense. To say "I have clutter" means nothing. To say "I clutter my house with useless junk" means everything.
Ever notice that when you read or type a word often in a short amount of time, it starts to look like it belongs to a different language? Is the word "clutter" starting to look funny to you now?
So. Now. When you think about that one (or many) places in your home that you hate to go into, does it make you angry? Or nervous? Or ashamed? Or all of the above? Me too, my friend. Me too.
I hereby put my house on an official diet. It's getting way too fat.
Over the past two weeks, when I have actually been home and not on the road, I have eliminated 12 bags of stuff - no wait - 18 bags of stuff including the ones sitting in my living room waiting to go to the thrift store. 18!! All of the stuff that I got rid of were things that I wasn't using, including old pots and pans, place mats, clothes, cloth napkins (who uses those anymore?!), jewelry, old ratty socks and underwear (an excuse to go shopping for pretty new unmentionables!!) and stuff. Lots of it. With more to go. I didn't donate it all - the socks and underwear hit the trash along with anything that was broken/badly torn or stained/otherwise unusable.
It's a trek. And it's hard. Voices that say things like "I might use that one day." or "So-and-so gave that to me, I can't get rid of it!" pop in my head often while I'm on a purging binge. I've recently employed another voice to counteract the nagging one. The new voice says things like "Yes, but you're not using it now." or "Yes, but you're not donating so-and-so, just that useless thing she/he gave you." My favorite encouraging voice says, often "Someone else will love that much more than you are." and "That will surely make someone else very happy." I'm attempting to keep in mind that if an item does not make me happy, it needs to go.
A prime example: when I was a child, I owned a talking Mother Goose that told stories. You'd put the tape in under her wing, and follow along in her book as she told the story. When she honked, you'd turn the page. She made me SO VERY HAPPY when I was a child. My mother recently gave her to me, but her beak doesn't work very well and two of the tapes were not working properly. I was very sad and even got a little teary to see my childhood book reading friend in a state of disrepair. I tucked her away in my closet for a while, but every time I opened my closet and saw her, still in her original box and teetering on top of some other random things, I became sad all over again. Mother Goose, who once made me very happy was now making me sad. I knew she needed to move onto someone who might use her for something else. She would make a lovely addition to an Easter scene in a window or something just as creative. She would surely make someone else happy and not simply clutter my closet. I wished her good luck as I handed her to the thrift store employee and left her. But, as I handed her over, I didn't hand over the memories that I had. I will hold on to those forever, and when I think about her, I won't think about the broken toy that she is now. I will think about how she and I would hide in our fort and tell stories for hours. I think about the times that she made me happy.
The Great De-Clutter 2011 is an ongoing effort in my house until it's DONE. It may take a few months. Perhaps a year. It will be fab when it's finished and I will no longer wonder "whatever happened to" something, because I will know exactly where it is. I'm super excited.
P.S. I'm all caught up on the laundry. And it will stay that way, too. Only now we need a new washer...
Thursday
Give a Little Thanks
I wrote this email to the director of our preschool today. I wanted to share with all of you how awesome our preschool is too!
Good morning,
I’m writing this morning to let you know of something very serious that is happening in your daycare center. As you know, when my son, JJ, first started attending school,I was crushed by the way he cried when I left him. Although I realized that it was completely normal (and through your reassurance, too!), my mornings were still filled with dread leading up to his drop off every day. Sometimes, I would cry before I even dropped him off and almost always after. I was miserable at his apparent “misery.” I knew that the crying was only superficial, but that little red face with big tears welling up was not what I wanted to ever see when I left my child. It left me heartbroken until I came back to pick him up each afternoon.
I began praying for JJ’s morning comfort a few weeks ago, thinking it couldn’t hurt anything. It seemed kind of silly to me at the time, because I knew JJ would grow out of the crying eventually.
Let me tell you what happened today! Today, JJ was THRILLED to be at school– because of Ms. "E". For the past two weeks, I have noticed a significant change in JJ and the way he responds in the morning. When we enter the front door, he sees Ms. E and plasters on a wrinkle-nosed grin, full of shiny white teeth. Today, he laughed out loud (we both did!) and jumped up and down in my arms when he saw her playing peek-a-boo around the corner– and then he reached out for her. My heart sang when he did that. It’s still singing as I write this email.
I’m fairly certain that it is normal for a child to find an attachment to a staff member. However, the very serious thing I see happening here is that Ms. E sees how important this situation is to me. She doesn’t coddle JJ, nor does she offer him special “baby” treatment. She has shown me with her actions and JJ’s reactions, without even meaning to, that JJ is having a fulfilling, enriched experience at the center. She smiles at him and me, she calmly talks to him and me, and she makes brilliant eye contact with him and me. Most importantly, she makes sure to do these things so I can see them. She doesn’t scoop him up and run away to stop the crying. She gives him time to blow kisses (his favorite thing!) and say bye-bye. She greets and supports both of us in the morning. That makes me feel great; more than that, it makes me feel peaceful. I don’t know if the change is coincidental with time or if something did happen with JJ’s perception and he found his “safe spot” with Ms. E.
God listened to what I wanted and gave what I needed. My prayer has been answered two-fold; not only is JJ comforted, but so am I! It happened through your staff,
right inside your front door! Don’t you love it when that happens?
When I see something good, I just have to tell about it! A huge, heartfelt THANK YOU to you, Ms. E, and your staff for being truly wonderful. The impact that you
and your center has had on our lives the past three months has far outreached JJ’s morning comfort. You may never know the significance that you and your center have
had on our lives and how different we are since JJ started attending. You and your staff have been a true blessing to our lives and I can’t thank you enough.
Have a wonderful day,
Kristen Stone
Good morning,
I’m writing this morning to let you know of something very serious that is happening in your daycare center. As you know, when my son, JJ, first started attending school,I was crushed by the way he cried when I left him. Although I realized that it was completely normal (and through your reassurance, too!), my mornings were still filled with dread leading up to his drop off every day. Sometimes, I would cry before I even dropped him off and almost always after. I was miserable at his apparent “misery.” I knew that the crying was only superficial, but that little red face with big tears welling up was not what I wanted to ever see when I left my child. It left me heartbroken until I came back to pick him up each afternoon.
I began praying for JJ’s morning comfort a few weeks ago, thinking it couldn’t hurt anything. It seemed kind of silly to me at the time, because I knew JJ would grow out of the crying eventually.
Let me tell you what happened today! Today, JJ was THRILLED to be at school– because of Ms. "E". For the past two weeks, I have noticed a significant change in JJ and the way he responds in the morning. When we enter the front door, he sees Ms. E and plasters on a wrinkle-nosed grin, full of shiny white teeth. Today, he laughed out loud (we both did!) and jumped up and down in my arms when he saw her playing peek-a-boo around the corner– and then he reached out for her. My heart sang when he did that. It’s still singing as I write this email.
I’m fairly certain that it is normal for a child to find an attachment to a staff member. However, the very serious thing I see happening here is that Ms. E sees how important this situation is to me. She doesn’t coddle JJ, nor does she offer him special “baby” treatment. She has shown me with her actions and JJ’s reactions, without even meaning to, that JJ is having a fulfilling, enriched experience at the center. She smiles at him and me, she calmly talks to him and me, and she makes brilliant eye contact with him and me. Most importantly, she makes sure to do these things so I can see them. She doesn’t scoop him up and run away to stop the crying. She gives him time to blow kisses (his favorite thing!) and say bye-bye. She greets and supports both of us in the morning. That makes me feel great; more than that, it makes me feel peaceful. I don’t know if the change is coincidental with time or if something did happen with JJ’s perception and he found his “safe spot” with Ms. E.
God listened to what I wanted and gave what I needed. My prayer has been answered two-fold; not only is JJ comforted, but so am I! It happened through your staff,
right inside your front door! Don’t you love it when that happens?
When I see something good, I just have to tell about it! A huge, heartfelt THANK YOU to you, Ms. E, and your staff for being truly wonderful. The impact that you
and your center has had on our lives the past three months has far outreached JJ’s morning comfort. You may never know the significance that you and your center have
had on our lives and how different we are since JJ started attending. You and your staff have been a true blessing to our lives and I can’t thank you enough.
Have a wonderful day,
Kristen Stone
Tuesday
Need a Life Raft?
Hey folks. I’m looking for volunteers to come do my laundry for me.
Really!!
Cause this is what I am right now:
I have not had a weekend to do laundry in at least three weeks. Luckily, I’ve been able to do JJ’s laundry, and I have seen Jerry do a load of socks and underwear. But that’s it. The dishes have been done, too. BUT THAT’S IT.
Why is laundry such a…. chore?! It’s so easy just to throw the dirty laundry into the basket and let it overflow, cascading into a dangerous pile of clothing and towels that prompt you to look under it for the missing cat (he was outside the whole time!!) Then when it gets washed, it’s so easy just to leave it in the basket and bellyache about it being wrinkled the next day when you want to wear something out of it. I mean really folks, where is the joy in all of this? I can’t find it, but I can’t stop it either.
I need a maid who will do nothing but my laundry. I have way too many other things to do instead of laundry. My garden is in close need of being planted, so the laundry can wait. JJ needs to go outside and play, so the laundry can wait. Of course, I need to work, so the laundry can wait. I need to fix dinner, wash dishes, clean up the kitchen, snuggle with my honey, clean the bathroom, vacuum the Cheerios off the floor, sanitize toys, clean out the car, sleep, plant bushes, entertain my parents when they visit, be sick, watch House, sit in traffic for an hour, clean out the fridge, take a shower, dance across the kitchen with my kid in my arms, go to the grocery store, and type award winning blogs. The laundry can wait. It drives me crazy. It taunts me from across the room like a cute little penguin that knows that you’re lazy and a procrastinator and that you’d rather avoid the problem than do something about it. I hate laundry.
The only solace I have is that, surely, I can’t be the only one who has drowned under a sea of laundry before. There must be others who have lived out of a laundry basket for several weeks because they just have too much to do. Right? RIGHT?!
Really!!
Cause this is what I am right now:
I have not had a weekend to do laundry in at least three weeks. Luckily, I’ve been able to do JJ’s laundry, and I have seen Jerry do a load of socks and underwear. But that’s it. The dishes have been done, too. BUT THAT’S IT.
Why is laundry such a…. chore?! It’s so easy just to throw the dirty laundry into the basket and let it overflow, cascading into a dangerous pile of clothing and towels that prompt you to look under it for the missing cat (he was outside the whole time!!) Then when it gets washed, it’s so easy just to leave it in the basket and bellyache about it being wrinkled the next day when you want to wear something out of it. I mean really folks, where is the joy in all of this? I can’t find it, but I can’t stop it either.
I need a maid who will do nothing but my laundry. I have way too many other things to do instead of laundry. My garden is in close need of being planted, so the laundry can wait. JJ needs to go outside and play, so the laundry can wait. Of course, I need to work, so the laundry can wait. I need to fix dinner, wash dishes, clean up the kitchen, snuggle with my honey, clean the bathroom, vacuum the Cheerios off the floor, sanitize toys, clean out the car, sleep, plant bushes, entertain my parents when they visit, be sick, watch House, sit in traffic for an hour, clean out the fridge, take a shower, dance across the kitchen with my kid in my arms, go to the grocery store, and type award winning blogs. The laundry can wait. It drives me crazy. It taunts me from across the room like a cute little penguin that knows that you’re lazy and a procrastinator and that you’d rather avoid the problem than do something about it. I hate laundry.
The only solace I have is that, surely, I can’t be the only one who has drowned under a sea of laundry before. There must be others who have lived out of a laundry basket for several weeks because they just have too much to do. Right? RIGHT?!
Monday
The Right Direction
It’s been a rough few weeks.
However, I announced to Facebook this morning that bad things happen in threes – which meant that I would certainly not be struck by lightning on my way to work this morning. I found little comfort in that as I dragged my sick self out of bed and into the shower.
Day 4 has been better than day 3. And 2. And 1. And all of the others from the previous month. A step in the right direction on the path to surviving the rest of cold and flu season.
Pneumonia is kicking my ass and the AAP decides to finally step up their game and throw out new guidelines for car seat regulations. My first fear is that we will have to buy, yet another, car seat. We’ve already gone through three of them, almost four, and buying another one would not be in my sanity’s best interest. I don’t know why I thought this initially, but as I read the article, I found nothing in it that surprised me.
The basic premise: your child MUST be rear facing until they are at least 2 or as long as they reach the weight/height limit on the seat. This is now a law, folks, not just a recommendation.
Before JJ turned a year old, he out grew his infant seat by height. While he remained under the weight limit, we knew it was time for the car seat upgrade. Since he wasn’t a year old yet, we opted for a three-in-one seat that could grow with him. We purchased a Safety 1st Alpha Omega Elite seat, with a 35 pound rear facing limit, 50 pound front facing limit, and 100 pound booster limit. It was huge, but we accommodated. JJ seemed more comfortable in it, as well as safer, so we were pretty happy.
Then the dreaded realization came in – we couldn’t move that car seat from car to car as easily as the infant seat. Only a few weeks passed until we realized that we needed, yet another, car seat. Fun for us.
Luckily for me, the seat that I had my eye on since JJ was in utero had been reduced in price and was more readily available: Safety 1st Complete Air - rear facing to 40 pounds, front facing to 65, but no booster option. Booster seats are inexpensive anyway, so it didn’t stop the purchase. Not terribly worried, either – my 11 year old nephew just tipped the scale at 70 pounds, so if we can keep JJ in this harnessed seat until he’s 10, I’m quite happy with that. It has the cool air bags that help reduce side impact injury. And it’s red. We like red.
This new seat fit much better in my 2008 Chevy Cobalt, so the Alpha Omega went in the truck and the Air went in my car, both rear facing. We were only pseudo-comfortable in the car with the HUGE car seat in the back, but we had at least a few more months before JJ turned 1. We made do. We knew JJ was safer that way, anyway.
When JJ did turn 1, I never turned the seat around because of this video. Try not to cry: http://www.joelsjourney.org/ViewJoelsvideo.html. Check out the rest of the website, too. There are lots of other stories about kids just like Joel. The website isn’t that “pretty,” but I think it gets the point across. I didn’t turn JJ around because of Joel. Joel’s Grandpa had the courage to step out and let his voice be heard about kids and car accidents and the AAP finally is doing something about it.
We did eventually purchase a bigger car and since then, my life has been bliss with all the space. I realize that option is not available for many people, and we did just get lucky with my new car. If we had been stuck with the Cobalt for another few years, JJ still would be rear facing until he reached the weight limit of the seat. Four properly restrained, forward facing kids die every day because of injuries in a car. I don’t want my child to be one of them. He’s too busy breaking coffee tables with his face, anyway.
Yes, I know I preach. Yes, I know this is not my first (nor will it be my last) tirade on car seat safety. But parents, the right direction for your small child is backwards and the real restriction should read as this: if your child is under the weight and height limit for the car seat, face them backwards no matter how old they are. Do it until they are literally too big. After that, put them in a front facing 5-POINT-HARNESS until they are literally too big. No front seat until age 13. Have your car seat inspected every three months (I just had mine inspected two weeks ago.) And for the love of all things baby safety, wear your seat belt as a good example. You can read up on some more basic guidelines here: http://www.car-safety.org/rearface.html.
True, it’s been a rough few weeks for me, but these AAP guidelines made my day a lot better. It’s taken them thousands of deaths to realize that kids are safer rear facing. Thank you, AAP, for opening your eyes taking a step in the right direction and making this sick, pathetic lady very happy.
Tuesday
Untitled and Unreal
It took only minute for it to happen for me.
"Rusty's dead."
I know that we talked about a few other things after she said it, but I don't remember any of it. I don't remember picking up JJ from school after I hung up the phone, and I don't remember calling Jerry to tell him. Right now, I'm finding it very difficult to even type about it right now. It almost doesn't seem real to me.
The next day following that call, I was in the car with my sleeping baby on the way to my mom's. Throughout the entire two hour ride, I became angrier and angrier. How could he do this to her? Why did he have to do it where she could find him? I hate this. I hate him for killing himself. I hate that my sister hurts so badly. I'm full of hate. And I hate that.
The first day I got there, I went straight to my sister's house. She didn't hug me or anything mushy like that. We just looked at each other. I wouldn't call it an awkward moment, just an "I don't want us to be together over something like this" moment. All she wanted was for me to be near her so she knew I was okay. All she wanted was to know what her family were safe. For a few hours I wrangled my toddler in her non-baby-proof house and didn't get to spend any time with her. I spend the entire weekend doing this - standing around, chasing a one-year-old, and not spending time with my sister.
Actually, that's not entirely true. On Saturday, I took my mom and the three boys (my nephews William and James, and JJ) to the video game store to pick out new video games and out to lunch. It was fun, especially for James, to get away from the house and do something cool. Other than our three hour outing, the standing around/chasing JJ thing is totally what happened.
The only thing significant I did was drive my sister to her husband's funeral. Just like the day I drove her to the church to marry him. As least, I think I did. My memory isn't as good as it used to be.
To add even more rainbows and butterflies to the weekend, I'm still fighting off a nasty cold and JJ crash landed on my mom's coffee table with his face, subsequently landing both of us (and Jerry and my mom, too!) in the ER on Sunday night. I ran out of the reception after the funeral because JJ had gotten hurt and didn't even say goodbye to my sister. I felt terrible about it, so I decided to stay the night to go see her in the morning. BUT THEN, the hospital called after we got back to let me know that I had left my wallet there. Icing on the cake, my friends.
I ended up going back to the hospital, which is 30 minutes in the opposite direction of my sister's house, the next morning and didn't go back to her house. I had a baby who was very tired and at the end of his rope and I needed to get him home. I couldn't stretch him any further than he was already stretched. I needed to take care of my family, but I knew her family was already taking care of her. I felt slightly justified leaving when I did, but I feel guilty about it now.
I don't know what I can do for her except pray. I'm open to suggestions. I feel so insignificant.
When something horrible happens to us, this close, it takes at least few days or so for it to become real. It took only a minute for it to happen to me. It will take a lifetime for it to happen to her. That is what makes me the most sad.
"Rusty's dead."
I know that we talked about a few other things after she said it, but I don't remember any of it. I don't remember picking up JJ from school after I hung up the phone, and I don't remember calling Jerry to tell him. Right now, I'm finding it very difficult to even type about it right now. It almost doesn't seem real to me.
The next day following that call, I was in the car with my sleeping baby on the way to my mom's. Throughout the entire two hour ride, I became angrier and angrier. How could he do this to her? Why did he have to do it where she could find him? I hate this. I hate him for killing himself. I hate that my sister hurts so badly. I'm full of hate. And I hate that.
The first day I got there, I went straight to my sister's house. She didn't hug me or anything mushy like that. We just looked at each other. I wouldn't call it an awkward moment, just an "I don't want us to be together over something like this" moment. All she wanted was for me to be near her so she knew I was okay. All she wanted was to know what her family were safe. For a few hours I wrangled my toddler in her non-baby-proof house and didn't get to spend any time with her. I spend the entire weekend doing this - standing around, chasing a one-year-old, and not spending time with my sister.
Actually, that's not entirely true. On Saturday, I took my mom and the three boys (my nephews William and James, and JJ) to the video game store to pick out new video games and out to lunch. It was fun, especially for James, to get away from the house and do something cool. Other than our three hour outing, the standing around/chasing JJ thing is totally what happened.
The only thing significant I did was drive my sister to her husband's funeral. Just like the day I drove her to the church to marry him. As least, I think I did. My memory isn't as good as it used to be.
To add even more rainbows and butterflies to the weekend, I'm still fighting off a nasty cold and JJ crash landed on my mom's coffee table with his face, subsequently landing both of us (and Jerry and my mom, too!) in the ER on Sunday night. I ran out of the reception after the funeral because JJ had gotten hurt and didn't even say goodbye to my sister. I felt terrible about it, so I decided to stay the night to go see her in the morning. BUT THEN, the hospital called after we got back to let me know that I had left my wallet there. Icing on the cake, my friends.
I ended up going back to the hospital, which is 30 minutes in the opposite direction of my sister's house, the next morning and didn't go back to her house. I had a baby who was very tired and at the end of his rope and I needed to get him home. I couldn't stretch him any further than he was already stretched. I needed to take care of my family, but I knew her family was already taking care of her. I felt slightly justified leaving when I did, but I feel guilty about it now.
I don't know what I can do for her except pray. I'm open to suggestions. I feel so insignificant.
When something horrible happens to us, this close, it takes at least few days or so for it to become real. It took only a minute for it to happen to me. It will take a lifetime for it to happen to her. That is what makes me the most sad.
Sunday
Not one
My brain has been a scramble lately. I've been entangled in a web of work, home, husband, baby, and life. I'm constantly amazed at how fast it's going and I'm a little apprehensive about the ride sometimes.
I often look at what's ahead, but occasionally, I look back. I only look back for the purpose of seeing how far I've come, or how different it used to be. This time is no exception.
A former good friend of mine just gave birth to her first son. We were best friends in high school, but rarely speak now. Several years have passed since we last spoke, in fact. You shouldn't be surprised that I know intimate details of her life from the life-sucking entity known as Facebook.
Ahh, Facebook. You have such a way about you when you remind me of my past. You have a natural talent for forcing me reminisce about things that I intentionally left so many years ago. You have an oh-so-curteous way of making me miss it, but only for a few seconds.
This year has been so full of milestones. I celebrated my child's first birthday. I delighted in my 5 year wedding anniversary. I partied like it was 1999, well... like it was 2000.... at my 10 year high school reunion. And now, it's been ten years since I packed two bags and left my life far behind me for a new, improved version.
I honestly don't remember saying goodbye. I can't imagine how my friends must have felt when I disappeared suddenly one morning. They all knew I was going away to college, but I never made a point to formally bid my farewell. I wanted out so badly, I knew if I wasted all that breath on "We'll see each other again soon!" to all of those people, I'd regret it one day.
Actually, I take all of that back. I remember one. This one, lonely goodbye was memorable because I knew I had to make it permanent. How many of those do we ever commit to in a lifetime? One? Two? How many times do we walk away and never come back?
I sat on the sofa and he sat in the computer chair. We stared at each other with the seriousness and coldness of a new machete in a deep freeze. The air exploded with the sounds of his voice. "I guess you'll be back in four years, right?" The silence that ensued lasted at least a millennium, perhaps a little longer. When I brushed the dust of the tip of my nose, I could only shake my head. I didn't like what I was about to say. "I'm not coming back." It boomed. It shook the foundation of the house. It made the hair on our arms stand up. It peeled the paint off the walls. It scared me. Was he... confused? Hurt? Angry? I couldn't tell. I don't think he could either.
I hung on to that one for another year or so... but I eventually got to a point where I knew I had to let it go for good, before I ended up going back.
I couldn't go back. I wanted a different life.
I tried to hang on to a few people, but the more I tried to hang on, the more I realized that my new adventure was in jeopardy of never existing. I eventually deserted every single friend that I had from back home for the sake of my new life. I can't blame any of them if they all hate me now. I would hate me if I were them. Some of them were very hard to turn around and walk away from. Some were very easy.
I didn't go back. I have my new life and I love it. It's perfect. I ran away from my problems and all of those monkeys chasing after me and it worked. My God, it worked. There are no "what-ifs" and "I shoulda/woulda/couldas." There are no regrets. Not one.
Nope. Not one.
Back to Facebook. Since FB has such a great way of bring all of this back, I've been considering (you might want to sit down here...) breaking up with Facebook. Right now, we are engaged in a trial seperation, which will last one week, and then we will reunite to discuss our options. Let's face it, we all now know that I have no problem packing up and leaving to pursue something better. I feel that Facebook is dragging me down and I don't like that. We're not seeing eye-to-eye on quite a few things.
I will be sure to keep all of you updated on the situation.
I often look at what's ahead, but occasionally, I look back. I only look back for the purpose of seeing how far I've come, or how different it used to be. This time is no exception.
A former good friend of mine just gave birth to her first son. We were best friends in high school, but rarely speak now. Several years have passed since we last spoke, in fact. You shouldn't be surprised that I know intimate details of her life from the life-sucking entity known as Facebook.
Ahh, Facebook. You have such a way about you when you remind me of my past. You have a natural talent for forcing me reminisce about things that I intentionally left so many years ago. You have an oh-so-curteous way of making me miss it, but only for a few seconds.
This year has been so full of milestones. I celebrated my child's first birthday. I delighted in my 5 year wedding anniversary. I partied like it was 1999, well... like it was 2000.... at my 10 year high school reunion. And now, it's been ten years since I packed two bags and left my life far behind me for a new, improved version.
I honestly don't remember saying goodbye. I can't imagine how my friends must have felt when I disappeared suddenly one morning. They all knew I was going away to college, but I never made a point to formally bid my farewell. I wanted out so badly, I knew if I wasted all that breath on "We'll see each other again soon!" to all of those people, I'd regret it one day.
Actually, I take all of that back. I remember one. This one, lonely goodbye was memorable because I knew I had to make it permanent. How many of those do we ever commit to in a lifetime? One? Two? How many times do we walk away and never come back?
I sat on the sofa and he sat in the computer chair. We stared at each other with the seriousness and coldness of a new machete in a deep freeze. The air exploded with the sounds of his voice. "I guess you'll be back in four years, right?" The silence that ensued lasted at least a millennium, perhaps a little longer. When I brushed the dust of the tip of my nose, I could only shake my head. I didn't like what I was about to say. "I'm not coming back." It boomed. It shook the foundation of the house. It made the hair on our arms stand up. It peeled the paint off the walls. It scared me. Was he... confused? Hurt? Angry? I couldn't tell. I don't think he could either.
I hung on to that one for another year or so... but I eventually got to a point where I knew I had to let it go for good, before I ended up going back.
I couldn't go back. I wanted a different life.
I tried to hang on to a few people, but the more I tried to hang on, the more I realized that my new adventure was in jeopardy of never existing. I eventually deserted every single friend that I had from back home for the sake of my new life. I can't blame any of them if they all hate me now. I would hate me if I were them. Some of them were very hard to turn around and walk away from. Some were very easy.
I didn't go back. I have my new life and I love it. It's perfect. I ran away from my problems and all of those monkeys chasing after me and it worked. My God, it worked. There are no "what-ifs" and "I shoulda/woulda/couldas." There are no regrets. Not one.
Nope. Not one.
Back to Facebook. Since FB has such a great way of bring all of this back, I've been considering (you might want to sit down here...) breaking up with Facebook. Right now, we are engaged in a trial seperation, which will last one week, and then we will reunite to discuss our options. Let's face it, we all now know that I have no problem packing up and leaving to pursue something better. I feel that Facebook is dragging me down and I don't like that. We're not seeing eye-to-eye on quite a few things.
I will be sure to keep all of you updated on the situation.
Wednesday
The Journey
Isn't it funny how sometimes you're shocked to come across something that describes your life perfectly? For example, from a blog that appears on my newsfeed:
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| JJ and Dad understand each other. |
Or... on a news headline that I came across yesterday:
"Local Writer Moves to Mommyhood, says "The trip is worth the journey." Amazing, I tell you.
I've been thinking this week (ok, ok... this month... yes I KNOW it's been that long. Sheesh, I'm a busy girl!) about how glad I am that I work and have the ability to do so. I promise each of you, I would have LAUGHED IN MY OWN FACE if I heard me say that six months ago. A little part of me still can't believe that I'm saying that.
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| The main purpose... |
The purpose of my life stretches in many directions. The career that found me is a great one - I'm constantly learning, I'm busy and I'm important - all of those things that I never found with another job (except maybe the busy part). More importantly than all of that - my company feels that my family is more important than my work. Sometimes I'm still in shock over this, because I NEVER found that with any other job. Seems to me that you never have to fit great things into your life - they fit themselves.
Going back to the whole "glad I work" thing... I recall that not long ago, a friend told me that after having her first child, she felt that her "life would suck forever." I'll admit: I felt that way too. The reason I felt that way is because I wasn't fulfilled on all of the levels of my life. I am a businesswoman - I have been for many years and long before JJ came around. That part of my professional life wasn't being fulfilled by the job I was in and it hurt me. I left something wonderful (my son) to go to something horrible. It made me unhappy. Miserable, actually. I didn't realize it until now.
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| Moonlight kisses are always fun. |
Now... I leave something wonderful (my son) for something almost as wonderful(my job). Although nothing will ever be as good as my boy, at least it's professionally fulfilling. My life is no longer obsessively concentrated on my child. I have a great opportunity to turn my attention to something else that I love and turn it back to him again. Our reunions at the end of the day are sweet and our time together is rich. I'm thankful for that.
I'm also thankful for JJ's bedtime, because then I get to focus on something else in my life that is wonderful - my husband. It feels like I'm changing the channels and every one has my favorite show on. It's a good feeling.
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| Relaxing is rarely something we do! |
Tuesday
Time In A Bottle
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| JJ rocks the 'hawk. |
When I sit and rock JJ to sleep at night, I think about all of the things yet to come – all the firsts that are just waiting to happen. I wonder how my life would be even more different when JJ has a little brother or sister. I’m really looking forward to teaching him things – how to ride a bike, how to cook, how to play games….
But then he falls asleep. After that kid drifts off into dream land, I always hold him tighter and say to myself “Savor this moment… Savor this moment…. Savor this moment….” He nuzzles and gets really comfy; I almost don’t want to put him in the crib and go do all of the things that were put off from yesterday. In fact, I don’t EVER want to put him down. I wish I could save all of these moments and bottle them up and take them out whenever I want. Like when he throws a temper tantrum when I try to change his diaper. Or when I really miss him while I’m at work. Or the day he leaves for college.
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| If the shoe fits, chew on it. |
A gentleman that I work with recently told me that your life is like a roll of toilet paper. As it gets older and older, it unrolls faster and faster. It's the cold hard truth: We all dread getting older but as it starts to happen, we feel like we're on a roller coaster and can't get off. That ride is so much faster and scarier when you have a kid. I imagine that it will probably be even faster as he continues to grow.
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| Trying out our new car seat in the store! |
Wednesday
Seeing Clearly
Every day, JJ is more amazing than yesterday. He recently took his first step and blew me away. He's babbling, feeding himself, discovering running water, pestering the kitty, and marathon crawling. He has more energy than I can ever muster up on my very best day. Jerry and I are both constantly in awe of his little life, which is going by way too fast. I feel quite saddened to look back to see that I missed some of that. Don't worry - I'm making up for it now!
The other day, I backed myself up and read the blogs that I started posting in January. Memories of desperation, frustration, and anger resurfaced to shed some light on how I'm feeling now. I have to admit - it's been quite a journey.
My fears of him getting hurt or sick are still positioned on center stage in my life. I believe that this is quite normal, considering that he's my first child and the majority of parents that I talk to about this feel the same way. However, the paralyzing fear has eased into a state of constant caution, which is managable. At the very least, more managable than before.
I never thought I would return to a sense of being a person again from the monotone life that haunted me. Moms are caregivers - the mission to existence is to take care of the child. That existence often extends to taking care of everyone else in the world, too.... except Mom often neglects herself. I don't want to live in a world where I don't matter to myself. I don't want to feel obligated to take care of everyone. I'm getting to a point now where I don't do those things anymore. The only one who needs my care is my child and that's where my obligations stop. Everything else is bonus points. I couldn't see that a few months ago and the stress of the burden was overwhelming.
The other day, I backed myself up and read the blogs that I started posting in January. Memories of desperation, frustration, and anger resurfaced to shed some light on how I'm feeling now. I have to admit - it's been quite a journey.
My fears of him getting hurt or sick are still positioned on center stage in my life. I believe that this is quite normal, considering that he's my first child and the majority of parents that I talk to about this feel the same way. However, the paralyzing fear has eased into a state of constant caution, which is managable. At the very least, more managable than before.
The tears have nearly all dried up. When I think about what I was a few months ago, I get a little teary because I actually feel sorry for myself. I feel sorry for that woman that used to be in my mirror, staring back at me, wondering what to do next. I want to hug that woman so sat in front of her television, crying hysterically at "A Baby Story." I want to reach out to her and tell her what I know now. I'd tell her to believe all of those people who are saying that it will get better. The hopelessness and defeat will fade as fast as they settled in. Everything is going to be okay.
I don't know if I would believe me if that actually happened.
The grass is getting greener every day. I still feel as if the journey is not over, but the road is a bit smoother now. I've turned my auto-pilot off and it's been disconnected for a few weeks. The denial over the Post-Partum Depression is fading as I'm able to find comfort in looking back with a light heart and realizing that, thankfully, all of it is temporary. Even as bad days come around now, I have a sense of hope that tomorrow will probably be a little better, or at the very least - has the potential.
Monday
A Month's Work
I realize that it's been over a month since I've blogged, but so much has happened in that short amount of time, that I really need to write about it now. Things such as this:
America's birthday! We had a great Fourth, spending it with a few friends and some good food. Other than being HOT outside, it was a great time.
Even more importantly than that, I'm no longer a retail slave. I had accepted a position with Forever 21, a clothing retail store at a local mall. I mostly accepted the job because it was different and partly because the State of Virginia Unemployment board said I had to. I only had half a choice in the matter.
Anyway, working there was a little more demanding than what I expected. After the first week, I was not having fun, I was not fulfilled, and most of all... I was going home exhausted and wasn't able to spend any quality time with JJ. I just wanted to sit and put my feet up and that's just not like me. I decided after only two short weeks that I would start looking for another job.
It was a Wednesday that I got a phone call from a woman who found my resume on Monster.com. My resume had been there for... well.... forever. I was pretty skeptical when I called her back, and even more disbelieving when she asked if I could interview for a Proposal Coordinator position the next day. Of course I said yes; coincidentally I had the next day off. I arrived at their downtown office at 2 p.m.on Thursday afternoon, still not expecting much out of the interview. I had looked over the job description that the Human Resources Manager sent to me and the qualifications were higher than those I had under my belt. I knew there was no was I was going to nail this job.
As the interview progressed, I started cracking jokes and making conversation. I figured there was not much reason to be formal- I was under qualified anyway. The two men that interviewed me were hysterical - we laughed our way through the entire process.
I went home strangely satisfied. I felt like the interview went really well, despite my doubts of my qualifications. After all, they wouldn't have called me if they weren't interested. Around 7 p.m. that night, I was finishing up our bedtime routine when the HR Manager called. She told me that I should sit down, which I immediately did.
Not only did she offer me the job, but she wanted me to start that following Monday. I was in such disbelief that I nearly dropped the phone. This was my big break!! I had waited so long for this company to come find me and behold, here they were, with not a minute to spare. I accepted and wondered all night how I was going to break the news to my other job. It wasn't easy, but I divorced my tedious, tiring retail job to begin working with a wonderful Federal Government contractor in downtown Richmond. It's the first day of my third week and I couldn't be more thrilled. I'm not worried about JJ, I'm not worried about taking emergency time off if he's sick, I'm not worried about our finances anymore, I'm not worried about my job security.... it's a tremendous feeling. I have a purpose... my work has a purpose. This is it - this is the big one. The Fat Mama. The grande affaire.
Thanks, Monster. My calling really WAS calling... I owe you guys a big one.
Friday
A New Look
Theme! Rhyme! Reason! Purpose!
I've FOUND all of these things in my blog. Just now. Go me.
I've been waiting and watching for something to come of my blog other than random blabber and words. Here it is. This is what I'm passionate about.
I have been thinking hard about writing a book but have yet to figure out what I would write it on. This may be a good start.
There are so many things that I wish people had told me about prior to having JJ. SO MANY THINGS. I want to make those things available to other women out there who wonder how in the heck they can make it back to daycare before they close if they get stuck in traffic and a host of other random things. These things I've learned on my own - it hasn't been easy. I'll share personal experiences, ways to save money, DIY projects, how to get more sleep, and many other fun things. I'll share things that I struggle with like Post-Partum depression and stress management.
This blog is now available on Google, Yahoo, and other search engines. It is also emailable. I would love to receive questions from other new moms about every day events that seem very complicated, and offer help and advice when I can.
My whole point of this: Being a new mom does not have to be a constant guessing game!
See you in the next blog!
I've FOUND all of these things in my blog. Just now. Go me.
I've been waiting and watching for something to come of my blog other than random blabber and words. Here it is. This is what I'm passionate about.
I have been thinking hard about writing a book but have yet to figure out what I would write it on. This may be a good start.
There are so many things that I wish people had told me about prior to having JJ. SO MANY THINGS. I want to make those things available to other women out there who wonder how in the heck they can make it back to daycare before they close if they get stuck in traffic and a host of other random things. These things I've learned on my own - it hasn't been easy. I'll share personal experiences, ways to save money, DIY projects, how to get more sleep, and many other fun things. I'll share things that I struggle with like Post-Partum depression and stress management.
This blog is now available on Google, Yahoo, and other search engines. It is also emailable. I would love to receive questions from other new moms about every day events that seem very complicated, and offer help and advice when I can.
My whole point of this: Being a new mom does not have to be a constant guessing game!
See you in the next blog!
Thursday
New Challenge
I can hear the frogs practically screaming at each other through the open window. A cold front just hurried through and now the temperature is WONDERFUL outside - a nice break from the thick humidity that's been hanging over Chester for the past few days.
Monday is the day. I start a new job and I have to admit - I have some reservations. Sure, I'm excited about starting something new... but there is so much that sits on that excitement and smothers it.
I want to be with my son. I'm not talking spending some time with him - I'm talking about spending ALL the time with him. I worked really hard to find a stay at home job, but it just didn't work out. Perhaps one day. I'm going to keep looking.
Being a working mother is incredibly hard. I can't even describe how difficult it is to leave your child, come home exhausted just to put your baby directly to bed, and start all over the next day. When I'm at work, all I think about is my baby. When I'm away from him, he's on my mind.
I realized the other day that perhaps the root of the post partum depression wasn't because JJ is here... it's because he's not here. I haven't had a SINGLE symptom since I've been out of work. Not one. Now I already feel it coming back, just with the thought of going back and leaving him once again. Coincidence? I think not.
The real challenge here is not the new job, or the magnitude of the work, or the commute - it's surviving and coping with being away from my child. It's inevitable anyway... kindergarten is just around the corner, right?
Monday is the day. I start a new job and I have to admit - I have some reservations. Sure, I'm excited about starting something new... but there is so much that sits on that excitement and smothers it.
I want to be with my son. I'm not talking spending some time with him - I'm talking about spending ALL the time with him. I worked really hard to find a stay at home job, but it just didn't work out. Perhaps one day. I'm going to keep looking.
Being a working mother is incredibly hard. I can't even describe how difficult it is to leave your child, come home exhausted just to put your baby directly to bed, and start all over the next day. When I'm at work, all I think about is my baby. When I'm away from him, he's on my mind.
I realized the other day that perhaps the root of the post partum depression wasn't because JJ is here... it's because he's not here. I haven't had a SINGLE symptom since I've been out of work. Not one. Now I already feel it coming back, just with the thought of going back and leaving him once again. Coincidence? I think not.
The real challenge here is not the new job, or the magnitude of the work, or the commute - it's surviving and coping with being away from my child. It's inevitable anyway... kindergarten is just around the corner, right?
Tuesday
DIY Nursery: JJ's Room, Volume I
I've been telling people that I will do this. I've been promising that I would divulge my secret on how I outfitted my kid's ENTIRE room for under $200. Now, I'm coming through on all of those (partially empty) promises.
It's true. I outfitted my kid's room for a serious fraction of what I could have spent (I'll explain how in another blog!). I'm not including gifts, here, but really the only thing that we received as a gift as far as the nursery goes were the crib bumpers. JJ's furniture is all handed down, with the small exception of his new crib, which I will talk about later. I will post a separate blog with instructions and tips for each piece in subsequent blogs, with close up pictures. Let's take a tour of the room!
Let's start with the door hanging, which was one of the last things that I made from his room. I purchased the guitar wooden cutouts for this door hanging and painted them, then put glitter and glow in the dark paint on them. They are mounted with guitar picks and letters on a yellow satin ribbon. The letters I cut out of cardboard and covered with decorative paper.
As you walk into his room, on your left is something interesting. Jerry had this OLD guitar (his first one actually) that he was going to get rid of. It was beat up and ugly, but I took it under my wing, worked hard on it, and this is what happened:
It is bolted to the beam right behind that wall. I always get tons of compliments on it when people come into the nursery.
Directly in front of the door is JJ's crib. His original crib was given to us by my parents, who still had it from when my 5 year old nephew was a baby. It was recalled and we exchanged it for this crib. Even if this crib wasn't exchanged, it was very inexpensive and we probably would have bought it if we didn't have a hand-me-down. It is a 4 way convertible and it cost about $89 on walmart.com. I'm not kidding. It's very sturdy and perfect for a kid that will just chew it up anyway.
It's true. I outfitted my kid's room for a serious fraction of what I could have spent (I'll explain how in another blog!). I'm not including gifts, here, but really the only thing that we received as a gift as far as the nursery goes were the crib bumpers. JJ's furniture is all handed down, with the small exception of his new crib, which I will talk about later. I will post a separate blog with instructions and tips for each piece in subsequent blogs, with close up pictures. Let's take a tour of the room!
Let's start with the door hanging, which was one of the last things that I made from his room. I purchased the guitar wooden cutouts for this door hanging and painted them, then put glitter and glow in the dark paint on them. They are mounted with guitar picks and letters on a yellow satin ribbon. The letters I cut out of cardboard and covered with decorative paper.
As you walk into his room, on your left is something interesting. Jerry had this OLD guitar (his first one actually) that he was going to get rid of. It was beat up and ugly, but I took it under my wing, worked hard on it, and this is what happened:
It is bolted to the beam right behind that wall. I always get tons of compliments on it when people come into the nursery.Directly in front of the door is JJ's crib. His original crib was given to us by my parents, who still had it from when my 5 year old nephew was a baby. It was recalled and we exchanged it for this crib. Even if this crib wasn't exchanged, it was very inexpensive and we probably would have bought it if we didn't have a hand-me-down. It is a 4 way convertible and it cost about $89 on walmart.com. I'm not kidding. It's very sturdy and perfect for a kid that will just chew it up anyway.
Those crooked bumpers are awesome, and practically started this whole DIY nursery. I didn't want to invest in bumpers that I would have to take out of the crib anyway due to safety reasons, so I registered for these breathable ones (which aren't always crooked, I just didn't feel like taking another picture!). You can check them out at: http://www.breathablebaby.com/.
The crib skirt was made from a pattern I found online. It took about 20 minutes from start to finish. I also made the rail cover (JJ is a chewer!) from a cut up towel covered with music note fabric. I also got the idea and a pattern online. Each rail will soon have a cover, too, because I'd rather JJ not eat paint and wood as a midnight snack.
On the wall above the crib is JJ's name - the real one:
I printed the letters (big ones!) and then used them as a pattern to cut these letters out of cardboard. I covered them with the guitar fabric that I used for the crib skirt. Hot glue works great to fasten the fabric to the back of the letters. They are hanging with yellow satin ribbon.
On the other side of the room is the changing table, which was also a hand me down from my parents. It was a little scratched and beat up, but I sanded it and painted it, bringing it back to a very nice finish.
The changing pad cover was a PAIN to make, but it was worth it when I was finished. I don't know if I can even make directions for it. I don't even think I want to.
I used guitar pics and painted wooden guitar cut outs to decorate the changing table. I bought those bins at Walmart for $3 each, and they are worth twice their weight in diapers.
The next edition of DIY Nursery: JJ's Room will include a diaper stacker, curtains, two mobiles, and a rocking chair cushion.
The Great Hunt
Good grief, when did blogging become such a chore?
Nine working days have passed since I won my unemployment case and we still have not seen a single dime from the Government. Thanks for the hustle there, Obama. You f-ing rock, dude.
While we're waiting for a nice fat Govie check, I've been trekking out into several interviews. One promising interview is for a Visual Merchansider Manager with Forever 21 (www.forever21.com) at Regency Square Mall. I'm extra excited about this job because it seems like everything fits - the hours, the pay, the duties, the type of work... the commute sucks, but I'm willing to trade for a great job.
The other was a big build up and a huge let down. It was with a marketing firm here in Richmond. They are looking for customer service agents to sell appointments for Sears and Home Depot and other retailers. The commission was good. The people were fun. I thought this might have been the big one, until I realized that the company required 6 day work weeks, with 10 hours per day. Sorry, but I've worked 60 and 70 hours per week before. My feet were angry with me for weeks after that. I can't do it to them again. Ever.
So the marketing firm offered me the job and I've yet to call them and decline. Sucks to be them.
Other than that, the hunt is going, uh, well....? It seems to me that every week or so, a bunch of great new jobs will turn up, but more than half of them are scammy, work at home deals that you have to pay to become involved in. What is up with that? Excuse me, but I'm looking to get paid, not to pay you to maybe give me a job. It just doesn't make much sense to me. This puts a crimp in my serious job searching efforts because I don't know if a unknown company is legitimate or scam. People will do anything to other people now, and scamming people out of money ranks right on the top of the "Dirty things that dirty people do" list.
Anyway. JJ will be 8 months old next week, so I will have some pictures up to commemorate the occasion. A big deal, indeed.
Nine working days have passed since I won my unemployment case and we still have not seen a single dime from the Government. Thanks for the hustle there, Obama. You f-ing rock, dude.
While we're waiting for a nice fat Govie check, I've been trekking out into several interviews. One promising interview is for a Visual Merchansider Manager with Forever 21 (www.forever21.com) at Regency Square Mall. I'm extra excited about this job because it seems like everything fits - the hours, the pay, the duties, the type of work... the commute sucks, but I'm willing to trade for a great job.
The other was a big build up and a huge let down. It was with a marketing firm here in Richmond. They are looking for customer service agents to sell appointments for Sears and Home Depot and other retailers. The commission was good. The people were fun. I thought this might have been the big one, until I realized that the company required 6 day work weeks, with 10 hours per day. Sorry, but I've worked 60 and 70 hours per week before. My feet were angry with me for weeks after that. I can't do it to them again. Ever.
So the marketing firm offered me the job and I've yet to call them and decline. Sucks to be them.
Other than that, the hunt is going, uh, well....? It seems to me that every week or so, a bunch of great new jobs will turn up, but more than half of them are scammy, work at home deals that you have to pay to become involved in. What is up with that? Excuse me, but I'm looking to get paid, not to pay you to maybe give me a job. It just doesn't make much sense to me. This puts a crimp in my serious job searching efforts because I don't know if a unknown company is legitimate or scam. People will do anything to other people now, and scamming people out of money ranks right on the top of the "Dirty things that dirty people do" list.
Anyway. JJ will be 8 months old next week, so I will have some pictures up to commemorate the occasion. A big deal, indeed.
Friday
On the 69th day...
Number of days since I lost my job: 69
Moments I've missed it since then: 0
Kisses I've planted on JJ's head: 398,654 (approximately)
Number of times I've felt free: 1
My unemployment hearing was today. I don't "know" the outcome, but my previous company did not appear on the call. A small statement was taken from them, but there was no case. This is undoubtedly a good thing.
My ties to them are severed. I have nothing that leaves me hanging from them. Today, I'm truly free. Referring back to the previous blog, I have no contempt in my heart. There is no room now, because two Jerrys fill the space so perfectly. I am quite thankful for them.
I realized that a few things remain since I drove past my old office building today on my way out to do some work with my mom-in-law. I want a work family again. Badly. It's what I miss the most about Mikasa - the family I had there. I thought I had a family at my old company. I thought I was cared about. I wanted to be, at least. What's left almost feels like two months after a break up - you wonder what might have been, you throw away everything that reminds you, and you find a new boyfriend.
On the 69th day, I'm seeing greener pastures. On this beautiful 69th day, I don't wish my life was the same as it was a year ago. The day is a hidden blessing, giggling under it's cover with anticipation of the wonderful things about to come.
Moments I've missed it since then: 0
Kisses I've planted on JJ's head: 398,654 (approximately)
Number of times I've felt free: 1
My unemployment hearing was today. I don't "know" the outcome, but my previous company did not appear on the call. A small statement was taken from them, but there was no case. This is undoubtedly a good thing.
My ties to them are severed. I have nothing that leaves me hanging from them. Today, I'm truly free. Referring back to the previous blog, I have no contempt in my heart. There is no room now, because two Jerrys fill the space so perfectly. I am quite thankful for them.
I realized that a few things remain since I drove past my old office building today on my way out to do some work with my mom-in-law. I want a work family again. Badly. It's what I miss the most about Mikasa - the family I had there. I thought I had a family at my old company. I thought I was cared about. I wanted to be, at least. What's left almost feels like two months after a break up - you wonder what might have been, you throw away everything that reminds you, and you find a new boyfriend.
On the 69th day, I'm seeing greener pastures. On this beautiful 69th day, I don't wish my life was the same as it was a year ago. The day is a hidden blessing, giggling under it's cover with anticipation of the wonderful things about to come.
Wednesday
Several Day Blog
I just realized that today was Cinco de Mayo. A very exciting day, indeed. Tonight, I will be without a Corona in hand, however, but I am thinking about making Mexican food tonight for dinner. I'd say that counts.
Upon realizing that today was, in fact, Cinco de Mayo, I also noticed that my older sister celebrated her 30th birthday this past weekend. Since I didn't even notice until today (her birthday was on the 2nd), it's pretty obvious to me that I still don't miss her. I'm still okay with that, too.
Now it's May 11. It's never taken me this long to write a blog, but I've avoiding this one. On purpose. It's a several day blog.
I don't talk about her much. In fact, I don't talk about her at all. I don't have any pictures of her and the memories that are left are fuzzy and gray. Most people don't even know that I have two sisters. Sometimes I don't know that I have two sisters...
We used to ride bikes together. We would have Barbie fashion shows and go swimming and play basketball and swing on the swing set. When times were good, that is...
She joined the Navy when she was 17, in order to "get the hell out of here." She would tell stories to people about how my mother was an alcoholic and beat her. She would say that she had to sleep on the floor while me and my younger sister got to sleep in a bed. She said all kinds of horrible things about our family that weren't true. We didn't know then that she was sick. We didn't know that she didn't know what she was doing. We thought she was evil.
At 19 years old, she was married to her second husband. In May of 1999, she called my mother at 2 a.m. to tell her that she was pregnant, and my mom hung up on her. The conversation had quickly turned from disbelief on my mom's part to my sister screaming at her through the phone "why aren't you happy for me?!" My nephew, William, was born in February the following year.
It wasn't long before my sister left her second husband, and her baby, to go be with another man. She'd been in and out of jail for numerous crimes against the Navy and later was dishonorably discharged. My parents assumed custody of William when he was 15 months old when his father couldn't afford to take care of him alone.
My sister found out about my parents' custody a few years later and launched a massive three year custody battle which, thankfully, she abandoned for completely unknown reasons.
My sister has Bipolar Disorder and is non-compliant with meds. I noticed the other day there was a special about it on TV, and I had to turn it off. I couldn't watch, because those stories were so close to home, it sent chills up my spine. Her story could go on for several more blogs, but no one wants to read about horrible people. No one wants to see what an awful person she had become, and what she did to those that loved her. I thought horrible things about her. I wanted her dead. I hated her. Passionately. She poisoned my life with rage and contempt.
I think all of this is coming out because my grandmother's birthday was Sunday. I think about her a lot. Every day, in fact. She talked about my sister often and prayed that she would come back a changed person. I once asked my grandmother if she really wanted that, after all that my sister had done. She looked me in the eye, and said "She needs forgiveness more than anyone."
Normally I don't quote scripture, but this one sticks in my mind. After my grandmother told me that my sister needed forgiveness, she went to her bible and read me this:
Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, "Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?" Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times." "Therefore, the kingdom of heaven is like a king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. As he began the settlement, a man who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him.Since he was not able to pay, the master ordered that he and his wife and his children and all that he had be sold to repay the debt. The servant fell on his knees before him. 'Be patient with me,' he begged, 'and I will pay back everything.' The servant's master took pity on him, canceled the debt and let him go. "But when that servant went out, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred denarii. He grabbed him and began to choke him. 'Pay back what you owe me!' he demanded. "His fellow servant fell to his knees and begged him, 'Be patient with me, and I will pay you back.' "But he refused. Instead, he went off and had the man thrown into prison until he could pay the debt. When the other servants saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed and went and told their master everything that had happened. "Then the master called the servant in. 'You wicked servant,' he said, 'I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. Shouldn't you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?' In anger his master turned him over to the jailers to be tortured, until he should pay back all he owed. "This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother from your heart." Matthew 18: 21-35
That last sentance really is what I remember most from my grandmother's lesson. Forgiveness is not easy. It's taken me several years to do it. I forgive her. She doesn't know what she's done and doesn't understand what the result was. But her slate is clean in my heart. This doesn't mean that I want her to appear on my doorstep tomorrow. This doesn't mean that I want her to come be a part of my life again. It just means that I have no contempt for her. Not any more. The sister that I used to play with and have fun with doesn't exist anymore. And I'm okay with that.
Upon realizing that today was, in fact, Cinco de Mayo, I also noticed that my older sister celebrated her 30th birthday this past weekend. Since I didn't even notice until today (her birthday was on the 2nd), it's pretty obvious to me that I still don't miss her. I'm still okay with that, too.
Now it's May 11. It's never taken me this long to write a blog, but I've avoiding this one. On purpose. It's a several day blog.
I don't talk about her much. In fact, I don't talk about her at all. I don't have any pictures of her and the memories that are left are fuzzy and gray. Most people don't even know that I have two sisters. Sometimes I don't know that I have two sisters...
We used to ride bikes together. We would have Barbie fashion shows and go swimming and play basketball and swing on the swing set. When times were good, that is...
She joined the Navy when she was 17, in order to "get the hell out of here." She would tell stories to people about how my mother was an alcoholic and beat her. She would say that she had to sleep on the floor while me and my younger sister got to sleep in a bed. She said all kinds of horrible things about our family that weren't true. We didn't know then that she was sick. We didn't know that she didn't know what she was doing. We thought she was evil.
At 19 years old, she was married to her second husband. In May of 1999, she called my mother at 2 a.m. to tell her that she was pregnant, and my mom hung up on her. The conversation had quickly turned from disbelief on my mom's part to my sister screaming at her through the phone "why aren't you happy for me?!" My nephew, William, was born in February the following year.
It wasn't long before my sister left her second husband, and her baby, to go be with another man. She'd been in and out of jail for numerous crimes against the Navy and later was dishonorably discharged. My parents assumed custody of William when he was 15 months old when his father couldn't afford to take care of him alone.
My sister found out about my parents' custody a few years later and launched a massive three year custody battle which, thankfully, she abandoned for completely unknown reasons.
My sister has Bipolar Disorder and is non-compliant with meds. I noticed the other day there was a special about it on TV, and I had to turn it off. I couldn't watch, because those stories were so close to home, it sent chills up my spine. Her story could go on for several more blogs, but no one wants to read about horrible people. No one wants to see what an awful person she had become, and what she did to those that loved her. I thought horrible things about her. I wanted her dead. I hated her. Passionately. She poisoned my life with rage and contempt.
I think all of this is coming out because my grandmother's birthday was Sunday. I think about her a lot. Every day, in fact. She talked about my sister often and prayed that she would come back a changed person. I once asked my grandmother if she really wanted that, after all that my sister had done. She looked me in the eye, and said "She needs forgiveness more than anyone."
Normally I don't quote scripture, but this one sticks in my mind. After my grandmother told me that my sister needed forgiveness, she went to her bible and read me this:
Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, "Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?" Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times." "Therefore, the kingdom of heaven is like a king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. As he began the settlement, a man who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him.Since he was not able to pay, the master ordered that he and his wife and his children and all that he had be sold to repay the debt. The servant fell on his knees before him. 'Be patient with me,' he begged, 'and I will pay back everything.' The servant's master took pity on him, canceled the debt and let him go. "But when that servant went out, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred denarii. He grabbed him and began to choke him. 'Pay back what you owe me!' he demanded. "His fellow servant fell to his knees and begged him, 'Be patient with me, and I will pay you back.' "But he refused. Instead, he went off and had the man thrown into prison until he could pay the debt. When the other servants saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed and went and told their master everything that had happened. "Then the master called the servant in. 'You wicked servant,' he said, 'I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. Shouldn't you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?' In anger his master turned him over to the jailers to be tortured, until he should pay back all he owed. "This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother from your heart." Matthew 18: 21-35
That last sentance really is what I remember most from my grandmother's lesson. Forgiveness is not easy. It's taken me several years to do it. I forgive her. She doesn't know what she's done and doesn't understand what the result was. But her slate is clean in my heart. This doesn't mean that I want her to appear on my doorstep tomorrow. This doesn't mean that I want her to come be a part of my life again. It just means that I have no contempt for her. Not any more. The sister that I used to play with and have fun with doesn't exist anymore. And I'm okay with that.
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