mama kumquat

2008-02-18T21:59:00.000-08:00

Valtrex isn't Just for Your STD

On Saturday, i was in the shower scrubbing down and wow, something on my leg is super itchy! I look further and i have a rash on my thigh, lower, near my knee but on the back of my leg. It's all red and has little blisters. What the FUCK!

I go to the Dr.'s today, just to make sure i am not infecting my son with some fleshing eating virus and sweet, he thinks i have Shingles. Like, David Letterman made this famous. I have David Letterman's Disease. It's a grown up form of the chicken pox, both of which are a herpes virus but NOT related to herpes as we know it. Shit, i've never even had a cold sore.

He tells me i need an anti-viral medication and he writes this down: Valtrex. And the name triggers a memory. A memory of two people on my TV screen talking about how one person who has herpes, doesn't necessarily have to give it to their loved one, who is depicted with their afflicted partner riding bikes on the beach.

I can't wait to see the pharmacist's face flood with sympathy when i go to fill this. And now my husband has even more teasing rights. Me, Letterman, Shingles and Herpes medicine. The fun never stops here.

2008-02-14T20:05:00.000-08:00

My Bitter Little Valentine

So as many of you know, i am now managing a transitional housing program. So, there is a young woman who lives at the complex i manage who has quite the reputation. When i arrived, i was told, "Do not speak to Amy because she is crazy, is suing us and will bite your head off." My boss forwarded me these amazing, lengthy emails detailing the "oppression" and "victimization" that she experienced at the hands of our agency. These emails were articulate and would be convincing to an undiscerning person. But upon reading these emails more, she uses the same language, the same phrases in each, as if she learned a few big SAT words and then recyled them, or even potentially cut and pasted sections from somewhere else.

I've only ever heard stories about her for the three months i've been there. She is apparently pretty. Thin, dark haired, slight, ballerina-ish. She has periodically removed her child from school to be able to "teach" her how to advocate for herself and how the real world really works. She was recently investigated by our local Department of Human Services for welfare fraud. She has burned through several lawyers. I recently got a call from a service provider who recently obtained her file, where it was written "Handle With Care." This woman is on a one way track to CrazyTown and i am completely mesmerized by her. Especially because she is this enigma--something of an urban myth. There have been infrequent sightings, many stories. Sometimes, i come in to work and i hear that just minutes before, she had chewed out a colleague for walking by her without smiling. Damn. I want to meet her. When can it be MY turn?

I thought my time was upon me this past week when we put 24 hour notices of entry onto people's doors so we could do apartment inspections. Because of this woman's litigious nature, we cannot put one on her door, so my boss, who is the only person allowed to contact her, was supposed to email it to her. So i am at her doorstep, knocking on the door. I hear the radio on and my co-worker had the thought that we had better check with my boss that she indeed sent the email, otherwise i would be unable to enter with my wonderful master key. Nope, boss did not send the email. I nearly went in without notice. Talk about being sued...and another chance to meet this venomous yet absolutely intriguing creature gone. Because she is being evicted for various reasons (most recently, non-payment of rent), i have been wondering if i would ever see her.

And then last night happened. I had a been at a meeting and was pretty ticked off that on Valentine's Day, i still had to go back to the office at 6pm and sign off on timesheets, make a few phone calls. So i pull up in front of the apartment complex and i see her light on and yes, even a silhouette. Awesome! This is more than i have ever ever seen before. I get out of my car and since it's dark out, i start fumbling for my keys but out of the corner of my eye, i see her carrying her laundry down the hallway above and i glance at her but she is not looking at me so i don't say anything and continue to finger through my keys to find the right one. She disappears out of eyesight as she heads down the stairwell. Just as i am opening the door, i hear, "Excuse me. EXCUSE ME." I look up and there she is, on the other side of the fence, holding her laundry basket. "Do you work here?" Yes, i do. And then it happens, she starts in on me.

For some reason i am surprised and taken slightly off guard. And there is not even a moment for me to interject. She is pissed that i did not greet her. She starts saying that i and the other staff feel as though we are better than the tenants and "There are many of us who are sick of it." Ummm, are you talking about the "we" inside your head? A few weeks ago i was talking with some clients who saw that i was outside Amy's door. They started laughing that i had better not say anything even close to the door or i would get chewed out. The other tenants think she's crazy and stay away from her. She has alientated everyone.
At one point in this two minute long tirade, she mentions something about the way i dress and flaunting my wealth. I was wearing a pair of brown pants and a sweater that i got at Old Navy about 4 years ago. My shoes were at least 6 years old. Sensible shoes. No jewelry. Then i was told that i was oppressing her and the other tenants because i think i am too good to greet them. Words like "victimized" and "repressed" were tossed about. Finally, the best part of all came. She called me "bourgeois." That was just sweet icing on the verbal lashing i was receiving. I remembered i smiled at her and the only thing i said to her was, "I believe you are making assumptions about me." This commenced further words about how i used my elevated status to repress the women in the buidling. She slowed down and i started moving inside and then i did say something else, not sure if she was hearing me, "Honestly, i didn't even see you."

I was exhilarated. I got chewed out by her. I met Amy. Of course, i thought of all the things i could have said to her had i not been so mesmerized and even taken aback. But of all the things i ran through my head, i really just wish i had ended the conversation with, "Happy Valentine's Day, Amy!"

So, Happy Valentine's Day to you, Amy, who in some masochistic/voyeuristic/perverted way made me love your craziness, your aloofness, your irrational behavior, your misused vocabulary, your vitriol. Your fascade is normal but your insides--the messiness of a volatile and literally nutty person. I could spend a lifetime analyzing you. You are a mystery, a hungry tiger rarely seen but when it emerges will tear your fucking head off. You can chew me out any old time, Amy. Happy Fucking Valentine's Day!

2008-01-16T19:54:00.000-08:00

Barfest and other thoughts

So, we are ringing in the new year here with a household pandemic of the stomach flu. It started with Charlie about ten days ago; i got gunned down on Friday night. I am going to be disgustingly honest with you about one detail. I had it coming out both ends and i can say it is quite the humbling experience to be sitting on the toilet one minute and the next be facing it. Seriously, AWESOME! Husband was hit by the barf bus on Sunday night, in the middle of the night. So no sleep then.
But here's the weirdness of this. Hubby and i got over it pretty quickly---one four or five hour chunk, a sensitive stomach the next day but generally it's done. Charlie is a whole different ball of wax. He only has been throwing up once every other, or every three days. In between those days, he's only eating a bit and today, has kinda been resisting fluids. We're watching for dehydration. But just as we think he's over the hump, like he hasn't thrown up for a couple of days, boom, a total upchuck. The kid is definitely fighting something.

So we went through something similar last year but last year he wasn't eating because he had hand, foot mouth disease, which sounds worse than it is but essentially, he had open sores all the way down his throat. His lack of eating or drinking caused us to have to take him to the hospital, where we had the worst medical experience of my life. But what i am realizing about this kid is that generally, he stays pretty healthy, but when he gets hit with something, he gets hit pretty darn hard--harder than most of his peers. So as his mom, i am trying to be patient and understanding as he wails for me the second i leave his sight but curse me down for this, my patience is wearing thin.

Tonight, i came home from a kinda crappy day at work (just realizing that i really have my work cut out for me there) and charlie is cranky. He is so much like his daddy it's nuts because when he doesn't eat, he is a real bear to deal with. So of course, since he is not eating, he is beside himself--a real fucking pill. He says a few words of things he wants to eat. I provide them all. To each, he says, "No." Unbeknownst to me, the kid is about to throw up everything that he had eaten in the last five hours or so. And it goes EVERYWHERE....my shoes. My SHOES! And i am fine with all of this because hell, i feel bad for him, i hate seeing him so sad and sick and it's all part of motherhood. But i couldn't console him--not with holding, singing, bouncing, nothing. Then i thought of one thing that always works, something i don't use too often but i most definitely use: TV. And damn if that didn't console him.

So, you know, i'm the counselor type and i know my motivations and the feelings behind my feelings. So i know that i was impatient with him because i feel powerless to comfort him. And then of course, i feel usurped by Sesame Street and Elmo. And of course, the fear that i have that we would have to go back to the hospital is palpable at this point. So there's my own self-pychoanalysis.

I really don't have much more to say except that aside from this, things are going pretty well. I like my job, Hubby and i are cool, i am seeing a counselor (which is awesome) and charlie, up until lately, has been a sweetie. So, i'm sorry about being a kinda debbie downer but i guess i post entries when the shit hits the fan. On a good note, i am really working with counselor to be less of an anxious person and find more joy in life. So kudos to me ;)

Signing off--Survivor of Barfest 08

2007-09-22T21:13:00.000-07:00

Discontented, for sure.

In a funk. Starting to despair about not finding a job. Despairing about money. Really jammed about money.

I am finding that for one of the few times in my life, i can call myself irritable. Is it me or is my husband super annoying? Is it me or has he put me on the tighted budget ever? Is it me or am i just being a total negative nelly? I have recently been realizing that despite being an optimist, i also look at things half-empty. I know that seems contradictory but here's a summary: Generally, things suck (1/2 empty) but i believe most things work out well in the end (optimism). So. Yeah, things kinda suck right now but it will turn out ok, i guess.

I am going to stop writing because i am distracted. B is out with a friend, i told him to go out and have fun. I am watching a movie that i got from In-demand. It's one of Ang Lee's early movies called the wedding banquet. Am liking it. Am thinking about it as i write but felt i should write a little something since i haven't for awhile. Molly, you ok? Have been missing your posts.
Mr. Lady, i'm not sure i know where your posts are. New link? Site?

Wish i could write kick ass haiku.
Can't.
Won't try.
Don't like sentences right now.

Sorry for lame post. Posted for sake of posting, really.

2007-07-30T19:16:00.000-07:00

On things i like and did not like

Things i liked/Loved: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I hear you Molly. I, who so often check out the last page of a book, dedicated myself to keeping the ending a mystery. Amen to a little self-control as i finished the book last wednesday, holed up in my room reading while my childcare provider had Charlie. I obviously can't say too much until i know that those three of you who read this blog and who plan to read The Book, have completed it. But i think it is my favorite book of the seven. Tied with the 4th--Goblet of Fire. I reread what i just wrote and i sound like such a dork, but i don't care. This series was indeed a children's series. I didn't have to use my dictionary at all. But, Rowling understands the wistfulness for adventure, for fantasy that adults have as they become adults. The other thing that i appreciate about these books is that it clear she understands death and what it means for those left behind. This book made me cry a few times. That's all i'll say. Except, oh wait. If you all haven't read the Philip Pullman trilogy, then honestly, you better run out and get it now. Those books, i dare say, and i might catch some guff for this, are better than Harry.
I liked being back in Pittsburgh. We went to my hometown for a week and got back last weekend. Molla, sorry i didn't text you back. We WERE at church, the one my grandfather was a minister at, and Charlie was playing with my phone. He wanted to say hi to you!!!! Sorry i did respond but it was a busy trip! I am back and just getting a handle on job searching again. But as for pittsburgh, one of the most surreal and wonderful moments was just driving around town as if i had never left. I never even drove much out there as we moved when i was 15 but for some reason, i knew all the routes, remembered street names, never got turned around. It was as if i had dreamed about it so many times in my head that it just felt so familiar when i was there. We had a blast. It was hard in many ways, due to Charlie and jet lag but really, upon reflection it was a great trip. I got to be with other bibliophiles who were also jazzed about Harry P. (before the book came out) and we spent hours discussing our hypotheses on what would happen, who would die, etc. Charlie met his great grandma, which was so very special. Sister and i got to spend some good time together. I got to spend some time with Carrie and it turned into being one of the best days i had there....we talked about things that are deep and dear into late at night (for us mommies, which was only 1:30am!) A really meaningful visit.
I also liked berry picking yesterday with my hubby and baby. We got raspberries and blueberries and i, the domestic diva, made jam with the raspberries. That was really cool.

Ok, now to what i didn't like: Ok, i am wondering if i have really lost my edge because i swear everyone else liked this movie. The other night we checked out Pan's Labrynth. Ok, i can admit that there were some amazing scenes, that it was inventive, creative, well done, mystical. But sweet lord, that movie had to have been one of the bleakest, darkest, depressing movie i may have ever seen. There was not one element that added levity or hope or inspiration. I really did enjoy the mystical scenes with Pan but really, it was a war movie with these scenes interspersed, not vice versa. I checked out Netflix to see what people were writing about it, like, maybe i missed a profound theme or something but from what i could gather, people really dug it despite its hopelessness. Ok, you all know me. I like dark humor, i like clever and bleak wit. I even have enjoyed some depressing movies (though overall, pretty tough to handle). So i guess, i am saying that i'm not a complete Barbie in that everything must be cheery but this movie brought me down in a serious way. Anyone? Thoughts on this? I am open to different opinions/thoughts/perspectives on why this movie was the best ever.

That's it for now. I have to eat. Still no job, BTW.

2007-07-03T10:29:00.001-07:00

Dude, i've not written in about three months. I could talk about how busy life has been and how stressful things are but the reality is that for the last few months, i have been a useless homebody, a lost planet revolving around two moons--work and home. Friends, reading, emailing, cooking....sacrificed for sanity and space. April was hellish as my son barfed up blood and was not gaining weight.We got to spend a completely freaking useless afternoon and evening in the hospital where inept nurses could not start an IV line in my 11 month old as he is being pinned down on a table by his father and a nurse. This happened twice. We demanded that we be discharged since they were doing nothing to replace his fluids anyway. Several months later, we get a bill for $600 for treatment at the ER and hosp.. For what, i can't fucking tell you since all we did was sit there and had a few labs done. His vomiting continued on and off for another six weeks or so. He is finally gaining weight and seeming healthy. They think it is acid reflux for which he still takes baby zantac. There is some discomfort prescribing meds for a baby that really have not been tested on kids.....i know you feel my pain, molly.

Then i got laid off. Restructuring at my agency. If anyone has ever worked at a nonprofit, you might have an idea that a bunch of social service providers deciding to restructure and making a reasonable and well thought out plan for it is like the equivalent of us getting out of Iraq. I could spend literal days deconstructing what happened and how but it was just a complete disaster from start to finish--well, my finish happened yesterday. Last day of work. It ended up being a humbling, humiliating, pride-choking experience for which i am enormously grateful is over. Fortunately for my future (though unfortunately for my rage which wanted to go postal), i remained professional through it all. I was not the only one completely bent over on this either but i was the only one who chose to leave over it because other people decided to stay on and take other positions which would require pay cuts. My whole position was slashed. I opted for unemployment benefits.

So here i am with the summer off, living off the dole. Everyone at work kind of envies me but i never wanted to be a stay at home mom. I love my baby desperately but hell, being with a 1 year old all the time can be a little dull. But i can be a glass half empty person anyway.

here are the answers to molly's movie post---don't know if i can answer it all very well, but here goes:
Name your (current) top 5 movies of all time.
The Wonderboys, Monsoon Wedding, The Usual Suspects, Singing in the Rain (i love it too molly), Secretary
What is your favorite movie line ever?
"Did we give up when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?"
Who is your favorite movie character?
Maybe Han Solo? So cocky, with the twisted smile. I heart him.
What movie do you love that most people hate?
I am so easy to please that there are many, many movies that i find pleasing enough (ie, don't loathe it) that alot of people hate. I think a lot of romantic comedies are like that.
What movie do you hate that most people love?
I wouldn't say i hated this movie (see above--pretty easy to please, i like most things) but i really didn't guffaw or howl at Meet the Parents or Meet the Fockers. I just found the comedy to be really painful to watch, which isn't really my type of comedy. I mean, it's the same reason why i get frustrated with Shakespeare's tragedies. I am far too practical and i want to scream at the characters, "Just TALK to them! Tell them the truth and all this confusion and misunderstanding would be gone!). I thought of another! I had to walk out of Cape Fear because i was so freaked out. M, you remember that in high school?
What is the last movie you saw in the theatre?
Knocked up. It was surprisingly good.
What was the last movie you watched on DVD or via Video OnDemand?
The Queen. We finally rented it. It was really good and Helen Mirren was truly fantastic.
Can you remember what the first DVD that you purchased was? What was it?
I can hardly remember, but it may have been Star Wars.
(For us old fogies ... ) Can you remember the first VHS movie you purchased? What was it?
I remember recording movies from TV. Like, i had When Harry Met Sally and the Adventures of Natty Gan and Anne of Green Gables. But as to what i bought? I know i was just sifting through VHS tapes to get rid of them and i saw Mystic Pizza. That may have been the first one purchased.
What movie have you seen that you never want to see again?
The Accused. Also, the Deer Hunter. Do you really want to see a rape scene again? Cause it's not a short scene. It's long, and detailed. Not something you'd just pop in on a saturday night. Same goes for the Russian Roulette scene in the Deer Hunter. Can't do it.
What is your least favorite movie ever?
Seriously, molly, Crash? I can think of so many more! Hmmm, Shoot, i can't remember what it was but brendan and i rented a movie and stopped it short because it sucked so bad. I wish i could remember!
What song or soundtrack would you choose as your life's theme?
That's a really great question. I know it's in a car commercial but i really am enjoying the song "Orange Sky" by Alexi Murdoch right now and i think it's got good lyrics.
Which actor or actress would you like to look like?
Hand down, i can answer this question in less than a New York second. Salma Hayek. A close second would be Kate Winslet.
What classic movie are you embarassed to admit you've never seen?
Bonnie and Clyde. Faye Dunaway looks really hot in that movie!
What is your favorite movie genre?
Hmmmm, i really like comedies these days or intelligent comedies, like Rushmore or something. I like dramas but am finding that as i get older and have baby, i just don't want to be stressed out or depressed after work. I sound like such an average american. i hate sounding like that but it's an honest response.
What is your least-favorite movie genre?
I can't stand horror movies. I just don't think that it's at all funny or cool to see how many ways a human body can be tortured, dismembered, killed. Also, again, as i get older, i hate this genre even more. I just can't find humor or entertainment in serial killers stalking women and mutilating their bodies.
Is there an actor/actress/director whose movies you refuse to see?
I can't stand Pauly Shore
What is your favorite movie concession stand snack?
No question: Dots
Front row, back row, center seats, aisle seats - where do you prefer to sit in a theater?
I like being in the middle section but on the aisle for easy exit.

2007-04-06T11:46:00.000-07:00

This might just be the raddest thing to happen to us since Charlie's birth.

This morning at about 6:20am, both my husband and i awoke to loud booming noises, sounding like gunshots, that were coming from very close to our house. It would not be completely out of the ordinary that we might hear gunshots, as we live in a previously ghetto-ized neighborhood and there are still shootings in our area, but not normally so close in proximity. We heard shouting. My husband leaned towards the open window and said, "it sounds like a cop yelling, 'get down, get down.''' Ahha. The house that we had been speculating was a drug house was under siege.
This said house is on the street perpendicular to ours but we share a fence in the back. Their house faces the main road and we are one house in on the cross street. Our house's property line actually is shared with the backs of three homes, with this druggie house being the one that sits most towards the back. Does that make sense? Anyway, for a few months, we had had some suspicions that there were some bad things going on there, what with a tweaky girl leaving their house and walking past ours, all the while checking over her shoulder as if someone was followng her. My husband saw another woman crawling out of the house onto the roof a few weeks back and then, just some loitering, public pissing on a fence near our house, cars left running on our street while someone went into the house and came out ten minutes later. You know. Drugs. I watch Law and Order. I know what the hell i'm talking about. Moreover, i have to admit that i have a remarkable ability to spot a tweaker from blocks away. There was some bad shit going down at this house. Fo' sho'.

We get out of bed and we look down our street. An EMT truck was blocking the road. We spy out the window that faces the busy street that the house is on. That road has been blocked by a serious amount of law enforcement vehicles. My husband says something like, "holy shit, let's stay away from the windows, get the baby, let's go back to our bedroom. They have assault weapons with them." We were in disbelieve that this was so close to us. I felt a cross of like, "wow, what a cool scene for us to check out and retell later" but also, "what if there's a shootout or the perp. runs or something?"
I went back to bed and started nursing the baby and brendan went downstairs to hit the bathroom. He comes back about 30 seconds later with another expletive like, "Holy shit, there are three guys in our back yard with assault rifles and a K-9 dog. I think there's another along the house that we can't see. " I look out the window and sure enough there are three guys in camoflage type uniforms with helmets and shields and big ole guns and a dog in our back yard along the fence. Holy Hell.
My husband had apparently waved at them to let them know we were awake and alive and not to shoot at us if they saw movement in our house. We didn't want any twitchy trigger fingers. We waited upstairs for a few more minutes. Is it a stand-off, we wondered. I felt safer with the armored guys in the back yard so now this started being kind of cool. Our neighbor's house was under siege. My husband went back downstairs and asked if there was a standoff. No, just a search warrant. That must have been quite the search warrant. They weren't messing around. Shut off three or more streets with i don't know how many units and essentially an armed militia in my backyard. This could not be the result of just a few neighbor complaints.

We heard some more yelling, some more booms. Apparently, they were throwing smoke grenades into the house. A few minutes longer and it was over. They started clearing out. I don't know what they found but when my husband left for work about an hour later, he said that he walked around the block to scope things out. Every window in the house had been broken with those smoke grenades. We can see their broken back windows from our back yard. I guess the front is more jacked up. Brendan said that there was a police lab parked in front of the house and there were still police officers bringing things out of the house. I checked the news and so far, nothing has been reported. I guess this stuff happens everyday. I suppose just because it was on a busier street doesn't mean it will warrant more attention. But damn, was that just wild this morning! Ah, what something like that can do for a boring old mama these days!

2007-03-16T14:57:00.000-07:00

So what if i am being bitchy? I mean, i have been cooped up all week with a sick baby. Is it completely out of the question to have a touch of bitch mixed with a dash of resentment? I didn't feel this way at all until today, Friday. Charlie has been sick since Monday night, so it's not as though he gets sick and presto, i immediately turn into Ann Coulter or something. I mixed two and a half days of work, have barely gotten more than a two and half hour chunk of sleep and when i just talked to my husband on the phone, he was at a bar with his coworkers watching March Madness on a gorgeous sunny day here in Oregon.
What was i doing as he was sipping a beer sponsored by his boss? I was at the Dr.'s office having the Dr. look at my son's enlarged nut. Yes, that's right. Yesterday, even with all the fever, runny nose and cough, my son's right nut looked oddly disproportionate, both to his other little nut and what it normally looks like. I called the after hours place and they recommended coming in because it could be a hernia (lots of preemies have this). But Amen to the One Up Above because my son's ball is OK and his intestines are not creeping into his sac. That's been what i have been doing on this glorious day.
Speaking of nuts---i can't complain too much because while Charlie was taking his morning nap, i took the opportunity to watch Brokeback Mountain. I don't know where everyone comes down on the whole "Is Brokeback better than Crash? Brokeback was robbed" controversy but here's where i stand. Brokeback was amazing. Loved it. It should have won for its artistry. I am guessing cinephiles agree, because you can't beat some of the delicacy of the movie. Acting was superb. The silences in the movie were divine. But i remember Crash really jazzed me and it initiated awesome discussions with friends. Was it a big Hollywood production? Yeah. And it certainly had little of the beauty that Brokeback had. But it was still good.
So, what do my pedestrian opinions matter, really? But allow me to dwell in some self importance: i think the prize goes to Brokeback. It all comes down to nuts.

2007-02-12T14:15:00.000-08:00

Dear Sleep,

I'm not sure why you left our house recently but i urge you to return immediately. We have been missing you terribly and wonder what we have done to make you abandon us (my son, and consequently, myself and my husband). We are bleary, subdued and foggy without you here. Please, come back to us at your earliest convenience. The sooner the better.
It would be in your best interest for you to return lest you be replaced by your rival (though by no means your equal)---coffee. Whatever we have done to make you leave so abruptly we would surely fix, if only you would visit my son again. He needs you in his life and is really missing your presence. Your influence is great and without your peaceful and calming manner, we are all shells of our former selves. I hate to sound desperate but Sleep, i love you. I need you. I want you deeply, fully, completely. So come back, come back, come back.

Your loving disciples,

The Bs

2007-01-10T17:53:00.000-08:00

Part IV--Hopefully the end of the saga but probably not.

So the afternoon progressed. I think my inlaws came up to visit. I was happy for a break up of the monontony. For some reason, i don't remember the television being on but i can't understand why it wouldn't be because we were just waiting. That afternoon was pretty boring. Just nurses coming in and checking on me. What was my pain on a scale of 1 to 10? While i have no real recollection of time, i do remember looking at the clock around 4pm and realizing that my contractions are starting to feel more than just some tension. But what if i report that they are a 4 or 5 and they aren't even "productive" contractions. I would feel like a) a serious wussy b) that my entire labor was still out in front of me or c) all of the above. So i did what any girl who aspired to be seen as tough would do: i minimized my discomfort. I told the nurses that i was at a 2, maybe a three. Soon it became a three, maybe a four. Night came. My husband and the nurse told me i really should try and sleep. Afterall, if my discomfort was a three, maybe a four, you could sleep through that. I couldn't. And i hadn't slept since wednesday night. It was friday night. The nurse and my husband kinda dismissed my claims that i couldn't sleep because i was just a three. I started becoming pretty delirious with sleep deprivation. The nurse convinced to take some sleep aid that would be safe for the baby. I was skeptical but desperate.
I wish i hadn't taken those drugs. First of all, people who know me know that i almost never have taken any kind of prescription narcotic. Note: "prescription" narcotic. I don't like how fucking out of it i become. Secondly, i ended up not even sleeping. Thirdly, my man fell asleep (only for a short time) so i was in my own weird tripped out pregnant state by myself. Lastly, going to the bathroom in a weird tripped out pregnant state really was messed up. I sorta stumbled around this hospital bathroom like a bad drunk. I made it though, to and fro the latrine. And maintained my accuracy. Amen to that.
I suffer through the rest of the night in a similar fashion. Around 4am-ish, i finally report i'm at a seven, maybe an eight. They check my cervix. Whoah! Dilated to eight centimeters! The room started buzzing. An anesthesiologist came in and wondered if i wanted an epidural. Trying to breath, let alone make a decision during contarctions is ridiculous. I weighed things quickly. On one hand, i already endured to make it to 8 cm. Only two more to go. On the other hand, numbness sounded wonderful. I was so tired and now had been awake for over 48 hours. Dr. Anesthesia encouraged me to do it. Husband, what do you think? Do it huney, you are so damn exhausted. Later he told me he felt guilty for encouraging to just go to sleep that night when actually, i was beginning "real" labor. Maybe the epidural would assuage his guilt! :) I said, OK, epidural it is.
They left the room and came in shortly after. By then i was puking in a bedpan. The poor nurse was holding it for me. I apologized for having her see me puke. They told me to sit up straight. Really really straight. This is almost impossible when you are contracting. I closed my eyes. I realize i had had my eyes closed for awhile now. I try to open them and say that i can't sit up straight. I am having a contraction. I remember someone in the room being impatient with me. I remember wanting to tell them to shut the fuck up. Give me a second for heaven's sake. Shit. I am having a contraction fer crying out loud. An eight, maybe a nine.
Epidural in. Legs numb. I relax, the room full of people relaxes. All of sudden, it's just hubby and me, waiting. It shouldn't be very long they told me. I guess they were prepping the delivery or were watching my contractions at the nurses station. I am not sure how they knew i was ready but around 6am they came and got me and wheeled me into the delivery room. I was not nervous. I was not scared.
I get into the delivery room and they tell me how things are going to go. It goes in waves. With each contraction, when you feel it welling, it's time to push. Did they go through this with you in your delivery classes? Well, um, never got that far. Our first class was supposed to be this next weekend. But hey, the instructions seemed easy enough. Welling contraction, then PUSH. Push like you are pooping is what they tell you. Everyone is familiar with that, so i guess the description is effective. I started having a good time. Afterall, i was numb. I could really sit back and enjoy the birth process. I know i apologized for not being well-groomed in my nether region and blamed my son's early arrival catching me off guard. The same applied to my long and raggedy toenails. Pedicure was truly on my agenda. Myhusband was on the left of me. He had our camera. There were some staff people (drs or nurses, not sure) but there was one guy who was literally sitting in a chair picking at his nails a short distance away. He looked bored. It was kind of a Grey's Anatomy moment, you know? Thank god he was not the one down between my legs ready to deliver our baby. I made some joke about how i was having contractions and he was sitting there just chilling. I don't think he was amused, though i thought i was a regular comedian. My doctor sister thinks he was a resident. So, each time i felt a welling, i pushed. I thought of my best friend who surfs. This is like catching a wave, i thought. I have to remember to tell her this. (OOPS! I forgot a huge key to this entire story. This is a big addendum! My BFF was scheduled to fly in that weekend. We had scheduled massages and everything. She was due to come in Friday. I called her from the hospital on Friday and for awhile we were deliberating if she should still come. In retrospect, it would have been really cool to have her come and see Charlie's birth but at the time the decision was made, bedrest for two weeks was still a possibility. She postponed her trip. Unbeknownst to me at the time, she would be telling me that she was pregnant but opted to wait to tell me for a few weeks until Charlie was out of the woods so to speak.***Until writing this tonight, i had forgotten to tell her. So, I just called to to tell her about thinking of her as i was pushing and how it was like catching a wave. She sounded grateful for the analogy as she is literally days (who knows, hours even) from giving birth to her own little one, a girl.
My husband told me that i had asked if i should be stimulating my nipples (i have to defend myself--nipple stimulation can bring about contractions). Apparently, the guys was like, "Uh, if you want." I guess he must have not been brushing up on his books and knew this fact because he clearly thought i was pervy or something. But still, funny story.
Push, push. less than 1/2 an hour. My baby boy came out. I heard him cry which i assumed would make me feel relieved but i think somehow i knew he would cry. I didn't feel relief. I was in awe. For one second, they put him on my stomach while my man cut the umbilical cord. In that split second, he opened one eye and looked at me. Somehow my most awesome man caught that split second moment on camera. For this i will always love him. That picture makes me cry every time. My one-eyed charlie gazing up at me and me, completely dumbfounded, gazing back. In a split second they take him from me.
My huney asks me if he should go with them. "Go, GO" i urge him. He follows the doctors out as they take him behind the swinging door. I push the placenta out. I look at the clock. It says 6:25am. I ask what the official birth time was. 6:23am. That's when the love of my life was born. My man comes back in. He's exhilarated, short of breath and amped up, as if he just had the opportunity to meet the person he had always admired from afar. Really jazzed. "He's breathing on his own. They're just cleaning him." The nurse says, "That's a good sign that they are giving him a bath." What's his APGAR, i ask. For some reason, no one seems to hear me. What's his APGAR? What's his APGAR? Why does this matter so much to me? I guess i think it means he's healthy. His APGAR was 7-8----- I am so relieved. When can i see him? The Dr. needs to see him and he will be in the NICU (in the most serious level, for some reason). They run down how we can get there. But for now, they take me back to my room and i rest. I can't believe i have to wait to see my baby. My husband saw him, touched him, took pictures of him. I had to get sewn up (i still tore, despite his small size) with my legs in stirrups and the hospital staff has seen and touched my baby more than i have. Even my mother and father in law saw him at this point (they had driven up and were up there soon after his birth). Just at this moment as i write this, i had to go ask my husband why it was hours before i could see my son. His memory of that day is in some ways better than mine. "You couldn't move huney---you were numb--they had to wait for you to be able to sit in the wheelchair." Even as i recount those hours, i feel so sad that i could not be with my little boy.

Must post this. Have saved this as draft forever and also, baby is crying.

2006-12-11T21:32:00.000-08:00

Part III- It might take me a bit to get the momentum back from whence i came and there are so many other things that i want to write about, namely Pinochet's death but i owe myself, charlie and this process to finish, though i am not sure i can complete it all tonight. So, here's more:

What i remember most about that night are two things: being scared out of my mind and wondering when i should call my parents, husband's parents, siblings, work, but mostly, my parents. I really wanted to talk to my mom because she would understand what i was going through, though she never had a preemie but still, attachment to a baby is nearly universal among mothers. I wanted to talk to my dad because he always knows the right thing to say during medical emergencies, not necessarily in other circumstances, but for this, i knew he'd be in his form. I remember watching the clock starting at about 4:30 or 5am. Husband was trying to sleep, i was awake trying to ignore the contractions and my anxiety about this siutation we found ourselves in. I reasoned that i should not call my parents earlier than 6 am my time, because they are one hour ahead. If i called any earlier, they might be asleep. Tick, tick tick tick. Those minutes until 6am went so slowly. I needed someone other than husband to know what we were going through, someone else to share the stress, the anxiety, the apprehension. 6am, on the button! I don't even remember much of the conversation but that as soon as i heard my dad's voice on the phone, i started crying. He knew immediately something was wrong. "What's happened, C?" he asked as soon as he heard me say, "Dad?" I love you. I'll call with more details. Call my sisters.
The doctors wanted to keep me on bedrest. If they could keep baby in there for two more weeks, then it would be OK of i delivered at 35 weeks. I was told i'd have to stay in the hospital for two weeks. TWO WEEKS! I felt selfish for not wanting to do that, even though i knew it was best for my baby boy. I was embarrassed to even act like that was a big deal. I felt as though i should have thought, "Great, whatever it takes" but really, i was dreading the idea of bedrest. I would go crazy.
The doctors and nurses said that sometimes water breaks and then it can mend itself or at least not leak so much and it could replentish itself enough to keep baby in there for two weeks. This could only work though if my contractions would stop.

They weren't stopping and still were not getting closer together, nor were they painful at this point. They just felt like a tightening, then a release. No one knew if they were "productive" because at this point, they didn't want to check my cervix. Apparently, checking the cervix can introduce infection which would have been bad, so i was told that unless my contractions were getting very painful, they would not check me. So who the hell know if the baby was coming, if i was dilating?!
Sometime in the early afternoon, they did an ultrasound. Even though i knew through the monitor that Charlie's heartbeat sounded good, i was so eager to look at him, to see with my own eyes he was alive. I hadn't seen an image of him since my 19 or 20th week. They put the gel on my stomach, and i remember my heart racing with anticipation. Husband was taking a long time getting coffee. I willed him to get back in time to see his baby. Once they got to the image of charlie, his head, his face, i started bawling. I saw my baby's face. I saw his eyes open and close. I saw him move his mouth. He was mine and i was his. Nothing else existed but us. I'm not sure if anything comes close to the relief and intensity i felt at that moment. You know, i hadn't really cried too much at our earlier ultrasounds. I would get choked up....at the one where we found out his sex, i had a couple of tears because i knew then he would be my Charlie, named after my grandfather. But this ultrasound was awesomely intense in every way. I sobbed, i was finding it difficult to pull it together. He looked OK. Our baby looked OK.
An hour or two later, a pediatrician, Dr. Sklar (i hope it's OK i use his name--but i love him and want to give him the honor of using his real name) came in. He went through the scenario if i DID go into labor. Husband was out getting us things from home, so i had this conversation with him by myself. In retrospect, i think they knew that i would be delivering Charlie sooner than later and would not be making it through my bedrest but i think until it was abundantly evident, they still were treating it as a "if you were to go into labor..." He ran down all the scenarios of what things could look like. Charlie might need oxygen. He would have to stay in the hospital for awhile. There was no reason i could not deliver vaginally. I needed to ask The Question. If you know me, you know that i like to know all the facts. I hate beating around the bush. So i had to ask The Question. What are the chances my baby will die?
You know, he said, babies born at 33 weeks have almost the same mortality rate as full term babies.
That statement changed everything. My body somehow lightened. "Oh." "He has the same mortality rate as other babies?" I had to ask again. Yes. Oh sweet joy. What a burden that was lifted! The fog cleared. The sun shined. The grass was green. (in actuality, it rained that whole weekend).
Our baby boy would be OK.

Still, more questions: Should i assume that you will need to take him right after i deliver him? I should prepare to not to be able to hold him?
Yes, that is a real possibility. But we'll know more when the time comes.
Sadness. might not be able to hold my own baby after he is born. But still, he will live!

That's all about Charlie tonight. Now about Chile.
I studied there for a semester and then went back for a few weeks for a research grant to study women's political participation during the coup, the Pinochet years and now (which was 1997). I am in love with the county. There is such complexity in the culture. There was and still is so much unresolved conflict about Pinochet and his regime.
A month or so ago i told my hisband that i was anxious for Pinochet to die. He didn't deserve to live, let alone in the country that he had personally bombed, killed and divided. I had been waiting for this for 10 years. Healing healing healing--my mantra yesterday. I pray for healing for the country, despite no justice ever being meted out.
Faith. Yes, i have faith that Pinochet will meet his maker and justice will prevail, even in the afterlife. Bloody hands don't go to heaven.
I cried yesterday. I felt as though i could have really cried hard but i didn't. But the relief i felt was sublime. May the dictator find justice. May the families of the dead heal. May Chile feel peace. Viva Chile!

2006-11-26T20:48:00.000-08:00

Part II

Thankfully for you all, my evening playing Taipai on the computer ended disasterously and thus, i decided to continue on with this story. I realized when i reread Part I that there are times when it might appear i write short sentences for effect. But really, as i was telling some aspects of Part II to Sarah this weekend, i could feel my heart rate accelerated and i was aggitated all over again. Also, i apologize for not being able to convey emotions very well through my writing. I can write a kick-ass essay on Kierkegaard (sp?) but when it comes to "journaling", i notice i always sound a bit cliche. So apologies in advance.

Back to the story: I can tell my husband is trying really hard to look and act calm. His eyes betray him. He is scared every bit as shitless as i am. The machines tell me that i am having contractions about 7-8 minutes apart. I can barely feel them. My husband and i debate calling our families but it is so late, though i don't have any idea what time it might be but i might guess it was about 1 or 2am. We decide to wait until we know what is happening to us and our baby boy. The nurses come in periodically to check on me. I pepper them with questions but being nurses, they don't feel they can answer them. No hospital staff will ever speculate on the what ifs--fucking litigious society we live in. They couldn't reassure me that Charlie would be OK. They couldn't tell me what my odds were that i would have him soon or whether he could stay inside of me. Me, being a bit ignorant about this whole thing, didn't know what it really meant for the baby that my water broke. What happens then?
After waiting for so long, the doctor comes in and says that they need to transfer me over to a hospital that is more equipped to handle preemie deliveries. "Should i just drive over with my husband?" No, you will be transported my ambulance. My first ambulance ride.
The trip to the first hospital was pointless. The advice nurse told me on the phone to go to the hospital i would be delivering at. This was poor advice. While nothing dire came of it, it was another layer of stress that we didn't need. Another complication. It was obvious that this little hospital in Vancouver, WA was overhelmed with the complexity of my situation. The nurses seemed unsure. Even the Dr. seemed as though he just wanted to get me off his hands. However, he called over to the hospital we would be going to and he discovered that my OB was on call there. She would see me when i arrived. I had just had a check-up with her on that Tuesday. Everything looked great. No problem. Even scheduled the appointment for if you are overdue. Here it was Thursday night (i guess technically, early Friday morning) and the baby seems to be on his way.
We decide that my husband would drive the car over--follow the ambulance. I hated parting with him but i was still feeling practical: he might need the car. He might need to get me clothes, books, pillows, slippers.
The ambulance staff came. They were young. Younger than me. The guy who was to be in the back with me was cute. That made it even worse. I was in a gown. I flashed them my ass. I was tearful. I had to pee. Do you want a bed pan? the cute one asked. No, i can wait. I can hold it. I was too embarassed. I tried to be charming as i lay in the back and was transported. My water was still leaking out of me. This was one of the most excruciating feelings. I couldn't stop it. Even if i didn't move, the ambulance moved, braked or something, and out came more. I tried to be, like, the coolest scared pregnant lady they ever transported. I still was wondering if my baby was alive. They don't monitor the baby's heartbeat in the ambulance. I was terrified he would die on the way to the hospital and no one would know until we got there. Please can you monitor him? We can't but he'll be fine. We'll be there soon.

I have no idea when we got there. I asked the driver if he could see my husband when he pulled up. He thought he had lost them. As they open the doors and pull me out of the ambulance, i see my gallant husband bounding up. I have no idea how he parked the car so fast and made it to me, but i will never forget the relief and pride i felt when i saw him. I am so in love.

They wheel me through all these bright corridors. They are not sure what floor to take me to. They say it had been awhile since they had to go to the maternity ward. We get to a room and i really don't remember much about this part. I don't know how long it was until my OB comes in and tells me they are going to try to keep me on bed rest for two weeks (35 weeks is the goal when you are preterm--it most likely means the baby won't have to be in the hospital much). They monitor me and they monitor the baby. His heart sounds strong. Relief. I have to go to the bathroom. They want me to go with the nurse in there to help me. I pee in the bedpan. Oh the shame.
They ask me to rank the pain. No pain. Just tightness across my belly. My husband and i obsessively watch the monitor. Is the baby OK? Was that a contraction? Is the baby OK? Is the baby OK? Every 6-8 minutes tightness across my stomach.

Can't do much more writing tonight. This will indeed be a multi-part story. There is so much and it feels so good to recall this story (like a pleasure pain--hurts to think about, good to process: catharsis) Until later. Hope everyone had a decent holiday!

2006-11-19T09:24:00.000-08:00

My Son's Birth Story--Part 1

I have decided to write out my baby's birth story because it was a somewhat traumatic event that i have not yet fully processed. I think it's having residual effects on my psychological state and when talking with my supervisor at work, i realized that i need to get it all out, grieve about it, and just sit with the pain that i experienced instead of just pushing it aside. So forgive me if some parts sound like a pity party. The story ends well--i have a beautiful baby boy who is my sun and my moon but in order to put his arrival behind me, i think i must purge it.

May 25th started like any other. However, it had been a tremendously stressful week at work (no, that's not what caused me to go into labor). I was at the grocery store getting myself a sandwich for dinner because my husband was going to have a meeting that evening. I was getting into my car when my man called me and asked me to drive out to his work because he locked his keys in his car. After a brief moment of irritation, i said Ok and headed out to his work, which was about 25 minutes outside of portland. It was a beautiful night. A tiny bit cool but the sun was out. I did my wifely duty of helping my husband and decided to stop at Old Navy and buy a maternity swimsuit, because the summer was starting and i wanted to swim. On my way home, the sun was starting to go down, the sunset was beautiful, and a few blocks from my house, U2 came on the radio--One Tree Hill. The sun roof was down, i was singing badly at the top of my lungs and i remember having one of those moments where you think, "Everything is so perfect right now." You know those snapshots in time that you get when for that moment, life is just GOOD. That was one of my moments.

After my hubby came home, i remembered my sister had sent me a maternity swimsuit but it looked so huge i had put it away. I thought i had better try it on, just in case it fit, as i was getting pretty huge myself. As i was putting it on i felt a leak. Hmmmm, curious. I had leaked a little urine before but this felt a little different, like it came from a different place. I moved again and there was a little more. I started getting a little nervous. I went to the bathroom and recalled that if you can stop the flow with a Kegel, then it's urine and not your water breaking. I thought it stopped with the Kegel. A sigh of relief. Getting ready for bed and there's a little more coming out. Hmmmm, starting to get nervous. I call the advice nurse who tells me to lie on my side for an hour and if, after that, i am still leaking, head to the hospital i had planned to deliver at. I lay down and it had been about 12 minutes when i moved around a little. More came out. Ok, let's go to the hospital. I was agitated. Wearing my favorite yoga pants. I threw on some flip flops, grabbed a book (you never know how long you have to wait in the emergency room) and a towel (i didn't want to mess up my husband's car if things did get worse. I can't believe i was thinking this.) That's all i had with me.

We get in the car and on the drive there, i am trying really hard to relax but my legs are shaking. No more leaking. I start wondering if i am making my husband drive me to the hospital for them to just tell me i lost bladder control. It's about 11pm at night.

My husband pulls up to the hospital and wants to know if he should drop me off. No, i say, i want to stay with you and also, i'm not leaking anymore. I get out of the car and immediately, my water breaks. Gushes down my legs. My foot gets wet in my flip flop. I am walking with the towel between my legs. I can't cry but i'm practically hyperventilating. I am not even 33 weeks along.

The nurses see me and realizing that i am not exaggerating that my water broke. They usher me into a room where they monitor me. Every time i move, i feel more leak out. My baby's protection seeps out of me. It was one of the most discouraging and helpless feelings i have ever had. More fluid just leaving my body and i can't do anything about it. I feel as though i wait for an eternity. The machine tells me that i am having contractions but i can barely feel them. I receive my first IV. My husband and i just look at each other.

Must complete this later because baby is waking from his nap. Part 2 coming later.

2006-11-07T19:34:00.000-08:00

Election Night and Britney

I am so on to you, Britney Spears! I know she filed for divorce today because it would coincide with election news and she thinks it will not get as much press coverage. But i am on to her, dammit. And i think about K-Fed and his breaking heart this election night and how he must ache despite the fact that he doesn't care about anything else, not even his own four children. He probably never even made it out to vote. The whole country loses out when k-fed doesn't show up to vote. I am really going to miss interviews of them talking about how much they love each other and how this marriage is going to last forever and ever. Damn those kids....why couldn't they work it out?

Yeah, work it out just like those Democrats who had enough fucking common sense to shut their damn mouths the last few months (save Kerry's idiotic comment) and just let the venomousness of the Republicans come back to bite them in the ass. As my wise grandfather had been known to say, "People fall of their own weight." I have been waiting six years to watch this implosion and while i thought it would happen a bit sooner, i can honestly say that this election time will make me happy for a long long time. Take that Rick Santorum! Shove your loss and your arrogant-ass comment about how you'll win the election and then run to be House Majority Whip right up your self-righteous tookus. I feel so much better writing that.

Noah's Flood has arrived in Oregon. I am hoping it is symbolic of the cleansing this whole damn country needs. Thank God (and i mean that literally), i hope i have a ride on the ark.

2006-11-06T20:24:00.000-08:00

MamaCumquat

So i made the mistake of telling my husband that i was blogging and that he could look at it. He apparently read it while at work and when he came home, his first comment about was, "You cuss a lot in it." Ummmm, i guess i should take that as a compliment(?). Then, he also said that i write well about myself. Also, a compliment (?) or just an implication that i am really self-indulgent and love talking about myself, hence, am really good at it. I love this man but he is clueless as to the psyche of the woman. I can hardly blame him, being that he had no sisters and i'm not even sure if he has even ever had a really close friend who was a girl. Surrounded by boys his whole life, girls are complete enigmas, i suspect. But he's such an interesting specimen, being that so many of his best friends don't even have sisters in their families. So like, he ran around with all these kids who also do not know anything about girls/women. I am wondering if there truly is something to the saying about things being in the water because B's neighborhood was filled with boys and now that they are procreating, are filling the world with more boys, my son included. Thank good-diddly-golly that i don't plan on being an evenly remotely indulgent parent to what i am predicting will be my brood of boys (only one now, but i feel it is my destiny given husband's genetics and the drinkable water in his hood when growing up).
So, um, i am wondering if it is normal to feel somewhat alienated from people when you first have a kid. Mol, Shan? Any feedback on this? Even with my oldest friend in the world, who is pregnant herself (due in Jan), there is a small little chasm. I am not too worried about these little lapses of intimacy with my friends, as i have faith that true and close friendships ebb and flow but it is indeed a curiosity to observe how distant i feel from so many people.
My mom was here for a long weekend and just left today. I miss my mommy. No shit. 30 years old and i still get choked up when she leaves. I told her that it feels so natural to have her here, like she could just hop in her car and drive home after a Sunday night dinner. But no, off to the airport today to her home, where there has not been, nor ever will be, 5 days of torrential downpouring.
I had so many crazy dreams last night. One of those that i remember is that i was driving around HUGE roundabouts (i know those of you who have been to europe know what i am talking about). But these fucking roundabouts were miles around consequently, i would drive through the country, then the city, then a little suburb, and a little forest. That was my dream. I remember the scenery being beautiful but the vibe being completely surreal and confusing.
I never have heard from the woman at work who has blown me off. Tomorrow, i leave a note in her box essentially threatening to involve her supervisor unless she gets off her butt and schedules a time to meet with me. Sometimes, i fucking HATE being a manager. It's rotten being the bad guy.
This blog has no beautiful or clever theme woven throughout. It's just a compilation of tidbits of my life. However, tidbits seem to me to be symbolic of my life right now---aside from my baby (who is totally awesome), i pay attention to very little for an extended period of time. I can't even sleep for more than about 4 hours at a time...so everything that happens to me is a tidbit. The more i write the word "tidbit" the more i loathe it.
Hey, a few messages to my fellow blogging friends:
1) Sarah, i am going to bust your ass for that Steelers crack
but, i have to admit, i am a little embarassed for them....they really bite right now.
2) Also for Sarah, I am not worried about you and your falling down drunkeness on Seattle streets. But fer crissakes, wear some sensible shoes when it's raining! What the fuck are you thinking when ambling the streets in the rainy season? Also, goodluck with jobs. R u still not having plans for Turkey day? I need to remember to check with Bri and Les re: eating with us.

3) Moll, you are doing the right thing. You are taking an aggressive approach and i hope it pays dividends for you both. It must be so painful for you right now, but you are right, you have a kick-ass family and you are a wonderful mom. Love you.

2006-10-25T16:29:00.000-07:00

mama cumquat: October 2006

Is this going to work? I am trying to figure out this whole fucking blog thing! How in god's name do i post a second entry? I consider myself pretty computer literate and this is like reading russian....um, when you aren't russian or can't speak russian, or have never even seen russian characters. Fuck.

Yeah, so life is pretty good right now except that my baby is crying because he is learning how to put himself back to sleep. So i have to ignore it for awhile and there is no better way to do this than to submerse myself into writing this. Going for the gusto here. Before i actually sat down to write, i thought i might have some interesting things to say this time but now that i am here, it all eludes me. Could be the baby crying that is keeping most of my brain occupied.

So i manage a staff at this fairly intimate office setting of social workers and hell, i'm pretty young and am still a bit uncomfortable with the fact that i manage my peers, and in some cases, those older than me. I wrote a note to one staff member who i have had some social interaction with outside of work (though would not call her a friend). She is chronically late in making her deadlines. I wrote a her a sticky that said, "Fer reals, this is due DATE, TIME). OK, i recognize i am not twelve and should not have used such colloquialisms with her and assumed more of a familiarity than what is there between us; admittedly, it was a bit unprofessional on my part but she responded with a note saying how this note was offensive and hurtful. I left her a voicemail apologizing for accidentally hurting her and requested she call me back to set up a time to talk about this, and other work items. She's not called me back and it's been a week. So while i admit where i've erred, i'm feeling like i need to pull rank. I am her boss essentially and she just gave my apology the metaphorical finger. Not cool. So that's some of the big drama in my life.

I started cooking again. After months of mac and cheese, frozen pizza, salads, soups and bread etc. I am cooking for myself and my man. The only issue is that all i want to cook are things with oodles of meat, cheese, sour cream, cream cheese, you get the picture. So, the guilt that i carry for not forciing vegetables upon myself is equivalent to the cross of jesus. How stupid is that? I really should have been catholic. I'm carrying a cross for vegetables.

Also watching V. Mars along with a shitload of other TV. Too tired to read at night. Watching America's Next Top Model tonight. I am so ashamed.

I am in a book club. I feel like a fucking loser b/c the book they chose this month is actually a bit of a challenging read (due to references to Russia and its political system during Stalin). Has anyone read the Master and Margarita? It's interesting but i am so mentally lazy these days that i am finding it hard to even wrap my mind around Madonna's "did she or didn't she" adoption.

I am so irritated with the media these days....that's for another blog. Baby stopped crying. Gave up and went back to sleep. Amen--only took five minutes or so. I love my boy.

2006-10-19T20:46:00.000-07:00

Well, in attempts to keep track of my friends without actually having time to call and talk to anyone for more than 5 minutes, i started checking out their blogs. If i wanted to post a comment, it appears as though i am forced to sign up for a blog--hence this posting. I find it really strange (and really, in some ways, self-important) that anyone would want to read anything that i would have to say as i feel that my life is incredibly uninteresting. I have a new baby. I don't sleep. I don't have time to find a way to drop those last eight pounds. I don't have amazing sex anymore. My vocabulary must be that of a sixth grader these days(and that's being generous). And honestly, i am so worn out that i did not go to work today.

The most exciting (and hell, let's even use the word "dramatic" because that what sells and thus, if i want my two friends who have blogs to ever check in on mine, i better make this worth their while). Anyway, the most dramatic thing that has happened recently is that my son got diagnosed with eczema. Yeah, not real exciting. But it has been really troublesome, layers of skin on his head peeling away, revealing pink and oozing sub-layers of skin. It was enough to break any mama's heart. My poor baby. So glad we have a prescription now.

So yeah, that's my first post. My baby's oozing eczema.
And Sarah, i fucking love V. Mars. Have loved it since i first started watching it Season one. And here's a confession: when it was on wednesdays, i stopped watching Lost for it. Yeah, i fucking love Veronica. I have another TV show confession for a show i am hooked on but i'll leave you wanting more, ladies. And you two friends know who you are......