For now I have moved back over to my original blog at Typepad. Please, update your readers!
After learning that my new employer wasn’t willing to give me two unpaid weeks off from work, I signed my two-week notice. Yes, that’s right. I asked for 2 whole weeks. Why? Because childbirth really isn’t all that hard, and Native Americans used to give birth in a corn field before hoisting the baby into a buffalo skin backpack and continuing their work. I could have done that. Were they willing to give me two weeks off and hold my job? No. After contacting the HR department I am told that they could have given me the time off, but it was my supervisor’s decision. I guess I caught her on a bad day.
So, I sucked it up, and planned on making the best of my last two weeks at work. Get in one last good paycheck. Only, due to the East Coast Blizzard there really aren’t that many international visitors coming to the US, and most of the Washington offices are closed. What this means for me? Work shortage. I’ve received a call for the past two days saying, “This is Bobby Jo from (insert company name here). I wanted to call to let you know we are having a work shortage today, and you won’t need to report to work.” Normally, I would jump for joy at this type of phone call, but now? Now I’m weeks away from a newborn who has very few 0-3 month outfits. Also, I need some other baby necessities. You know, a Diaper Genie!
What can I say? The suckage of late is suffocating me.
In good news, I go to the doc tomorrow, and hopefully since I was 1cm dilated last week I will be progressing by tomorrow. This is my second child, you know, and they say after the first one you can kind of just spit ’em out like popcorn kernels. I can only hope.
The other point of this post: What the fuck has happened to blogging? Off and on for 7 years I have had various online journals and blogs, and back in the ‘good ol’ days’ people blogged for the hell of it. They blogged to speak their mind. To keep in touch with friends. To make new friends. Just to fucking do it. Now in order to be a real blogger you have to involve yourself in some type of corporate nonsense? You should be in the process of writing a book? You are crap if you don’t make the Top 50 Bloggers list? You need to speak at conferences and meet-ups? I mean really, just because you blog you are entitled to have a book published? Or, if not a novel you have to at least do freelance. Check. Dooce did it, and now we think we all can and should. If this be the case then I may never grow up and be a real blogger.
There are other ways of making money, people.
My MIL went and picked me up some baby shower invitations at Wal-Mart. Mind you, I’m not a picky person. This would have been just fine with me had she done the same for her other son’s girlfriend who just had a baby. BUT NO.. the invitations that were MADE or her were beautiful. White paper, with a pink mache type paper overlapping it, and the baby shower info printed onto the pink mache paper. The pink paper almost looked like lace. Not to mention the ultrasound picture of her baby that was also printed on the front with a silver and pink jewel dangling from the top.
Me? I get a pack of $2.99 generic shower cards from Wally World. It really hurt my feelings. I mean, if they could take all of the time and effort to make something pretty for her, then why couldn’t they do the same? I was totally expecting it. I was expecting to have something that I could put in my baby book and keep for a long time. THESE invitations, I don’t even wanna hand out. Then when I mentioned it to my SO he got pissed and said I was ungrateful. I AM very grateful that they are having me a shower – hell, my own family wouldn’t even do that for me. But, is it so wrong to ask that my invitations be even remotely as nice as hers? No, I can’t afford to have mine at a place called The Pink Room. Nor can I afford a handmade beautiful cake, but that doesn’t bother me. I will be fine with the one they pick out from the Wal-Mart Deli. I just wanted something to cherish. Some sort of keepsake. Forgive me for expecting the same kind of treatment that her other DIL got.
Also – WORK. I talked to my supervisor about taking just a couple of weeks off to give birth and them holding my job for me. For one or two short weeks. This obviosly is impossible, and I was told I should resign my position, and reapply after the baby gets here. Am I promised my job back? No, but I was told I would be put at the top of the list. ha. FML Just because I hadn’t been there a full 90 days yet.
Oh a good note I went to the OB yesterday and I’m dilated to 1.5. When he examined me he said the baby was very low and he could feel him. So, it shouldn’t be too much longer.
After Nathaniel Jaxten gets here I’m having some birth anouncements made by http://www.tinyprints.com . If nobody can do anything like this FOR ME. I will do it myself.
[ I had a witty picture for here, but even WordPress hates me today. FML.]
I sent my physician a request to add her to my Facebook friends list a couple of weeks ago. As of now she hasn’t confirmed my request to add her yet, which I’m realizing isn’t a bad thing, because I can’t promise that I wouldn’t be “tagging her wall” with some serious pleas for Xanax.
I couldn’t sleep last night. I tossed. Turned. Sighed. Got up to pee 1400x and did it all over. Finally a couple of hours ago I fell asleep, and then maybe an HOUR ago Travis’ alarm went off for him to get up for work. I, too, woke up. I laid there for a while making sure to close my eyes every time he ventured into the bedroom, just so he wouldn’t know I was awake. I felt him lie down beside me in full working man attire, and I knew the time was drawing near. I knew it was almost time to get up and take him to work, because being the young broke couple that we are we only have 1 vehicle.
“I don’t wanna goooooo…” I groaned. He comforted me by telling me that I didn’t have to. He said he would have his mother *AcK* come and bring me to get the car later today. Being the lazy arse that I am I said okay, and felt good about the fact that I could stay in the warm bed. After he kissed me goodbye and headed out into the world I was still lying there, awake, like I had been up smoking crack with the neighbors all night. Which I can assure you I wasn’t, but my brain just won’t STOP.
It’s been this way for a couple of weeks. I am running on something that I’m not accustomed to. My mind is whirling. Whizzing. 230 mph all day every day. My body, on the other hand is tired. An almost lifelong battle with Depression and being in the last loop of the pregnancy race will do that to anybody. The dishes are piling up. The laundry is right on it’s heels. Me, I’m just plain worried.
Why am I worried? Money. Am I the only one? Absolutely not. As a matter of fact I don’t even associate with anyone on a day-to-day basis that isn’t worried a bit about finances. I also don’t know anyone who lives week to week like we do, and is almost always broke by Wednesday. Pay day is Thursday, and by Wednesday morning we are scraping for change to put gas in the car. Plus, we have a baby that will be here in a month? WTF. I could choke myself. Today, breast-feeding doesn’t really look that bad, and I might need to invest in some cloth diapers, because really.. he may just starve and have to learn to use a bed pan if I don’t.
I am a couple of weeks into a new job, and pay-day for me is this week, too. I know that things will pull together, but I don’t see myself being able to take any time off after my beloved #2 gets here. As a matter of fact I’ve already planned the e-mail in my head that I will send to whoever gets e-mails like that saying that I hope they will hold my job for a week, that I should be more than ready to return within a week. My plan as of now is to squeeze a living being from my loins and be back at work by the end of the week, painkillers in hand. Basically.. birth him.. hug him.. get ready for work. Welcome baby!
I just don’t see how we will ever make it if I don’t. I have no way of making money at home, unless I Ebay our stuff, which I’m sure Travis wouldn’t be too happy with. I can imagine the look on his face when he comes home and notices the TV missing.. but I will have cash in my pocket, right? I will swear one of our neighbors must’ve came in while we were at work. He will swear that I’ve been “smokin’ that shit again”.
What absolutely broke my heart this morning? I got up to realize that he didn’t even take any money to eat/drink on at work. Nothing. He will be there working his ass off and starving/thirsting to death all because he wanted to leave me the last $3 that we had. I also was so lazy this morning that now his mom will have to come pick me up to make sure I get to work today. Also, he is going to ask her for a $20 to do us until tomorrow, which when she hands to me will make me want to melt into the Earth. It shouldn’t, because really has a week went by when we DIDN’T have to get a little loan until pay-day? I doubt it, but I’m usually not the one standing there with my hand out. I don’t like doing that. Sometimes, however, it is necessary.
There are some things I’ve got to learn to be better at. Cooking will just have to wait for now, because I have to learn basic skills first. Managing money and a home. Not so easy for the pampered little girl who was always spoiled by mama.
As I look around this cluttered house I realize that now isn’t a bad time to admit – I want my mommy.
During this pregnancy I have mainly focused on myself. My feeling toward it, my favorite names, my plans for the future, my being SOSOSOSO.exiTED about starting my Xanax again once I pop this critter out. * I have completely forgotten to consider the feelings of a certain male figure who could just possibly be the father of this child. Travis. My dear sweet puts-up-with-my-shit (and smiles the whole time) Travis. Reading some stories online about 2nd and 3rd time dads it hit me on the head like a ton of bricks. HE IS PROBABLY SCARED SHITLESS. This is, after all, his FIRST child. I mean yes, we do have the boy, but he is only biologically mine, and even though Travis tries to give me a hand in his own awkward way, it isn’t the same.
Don’t get me wrong, he loves my son, even in all of his 5-year-old bratty sticking out my mom’s butt glory. He adores him. However, he did not have the excitement of waiting 9 months for his arrival. He didn’t get to experience that gut wrenching (literally) experience of watching him come into this world and looking into his eyes at THAT moment. He was never able to look at him and thing “I made this.. this is MINE.” But yet he does the day-to-day with him. He does everything that he thinks a dad should do, but I know he doesn’t feel like a dad. Honestly, I doubt I let him feel like a dad. I tend to hoard my youngin’ all to myself.
But this time.. this wonderful moment in our life.. this time it belongs to him. He made this. This is his. WOW. He will soon be in charge of a little PERSON.. a real live person.. and for the next 18 years will make decisions on behalf of this person. The most exciting part is that I know he has never felt true love like he will on the day when our son arrives. At that point everything will change for him. I will fade into the background with the rest of ‘life before’ and the focus will be on the little man, as it should. He will spend the next many years living and breathing for him and only him, and I know this because that is just the kind of guy he is.
I couldn’t be so lucky with #1’s dad. Oh there were the promises that he would be a wonderful dad. There were the long talks about our future together.. the one that never was. Then our son was born, and he had the audacity to have another woman in his life at the time to bring him to the hospital. Man. Still yet, I tried. I forgave and forgave and covered up bruise after bruise until I just had no more fight left in me and I gave up, and he went away for quite some time. During that time I moved on, and if it weren’t for Travis I’m afraid I never would have. I would probably be sitting here now with that man. I would be walking on egg shells to prevent the next big fight all the while trying to convince our son of a love that was never there for us. I am so thankful that things never go as planned.
When I first met Travis I couldn’t stand him. He was annoying, mostly always drunk, and just plain annoying. After awhile I gave in to him literally chasing me around my place of work, which may sound awkward, but if you’ve ever been in a bar in my neck of the woods I assure you, it is not. We became friends. He badgered me about becoming a couple. I didn’t want to. Then one day a lady at work told me she noticed how much he cared about me. I was all like YEAH, but I don’t love HIM. She smiled sweetly and said “Honey, just let him love you.” It wasn’t until then that I realized how good it felt to actually be loved by someone. To have someone who would do anything in the world for you at the spur of a moment. To just know. And feel. I surrendered. I gave up the fight.
After a year or so of what felt to me like friendship I realized that I was happy for the first time. I no longer had to watch what I said. I didn’t have to worry about my son seeing “daddy being mean to mommy.” I didn’t have to worry, period, because all of my worries were taken care of. Or if they couldn’t be completely taken care of he sure did try like hell, and just that made me smile.
Three years later and I’m still here. We struggle, like any couple. Sometimes I think to myself that I could surely be with someone younger/hotter/smarter/whatever, but then I realize that nobody will ever love me like he does. So I sit back, relax, and let him love me. I must add that it only took a little while before I loved him, too!
* I keep telling myself that if labor gets really bad and I need a coping mechanism that I will think happy thoughts about getting my Xanax refill the day I get home from the hospital. Like in a IF I CAN JUSSSSSTTTT MAKE IT THROUGGGGH THISSS I GETZ PILLLLLLLLZ kinda way.
So, this morning I woke up thinking I would send the 5 year old away on the church bus for a couple of hours. I had him go next door and get his buddies, whom are 9 and 6, and whose mother sleeps all day anway, and bring them home with him. Then I proceeded to watch them wrestle, scream, and fight over the PS3 controller for 45 minutes waiting on the church bus. I can handle 45 minutes of anything.
Well, if I were in a place where I felt as though cursing at church workers was appropriate – I would today.
HAHA God, very funny. Then I start to think that if I would have gotten my lazy arse ready, drove to church myself, and hoarded the pack of pups with me – this wouldn’t have happened. Next Sunday, I’ll be there with bells on. For now I’ve surrendered the living room (being as how a 5×5 box can only hold so many individuals), and have set up shop in the kitchen at the table – surrounded by this weeks dirty dishes, race cars on the floor, an empty cat dish, and emtpy cereal boxes. Which reminds me.. oh, wait, what was I gonna do today? My new work schedule leaves a lot to be done in the HOME department. But, heck, I don’t get paid for doing dishes.. so I’d rather work.
The man is at work. This new weekend shift has it’s ups and downs for us. My new weeknight shifts has its downs for ME, but of course he loves it. I may too if I ever get a paycheck.
My back has been feeling funny today, and with every twinge my heart starts racing. I am 6 weeks prior to my due date, and I don’t have time to have a baby today. Plus, I’m on some funky medication that interacts with pain meds, soooo… If I were to go into labor today I would do it med free. I don’t even live life free of medication, and I damn sure don’t plan on enduring the most painful experience of my life sans meds. So, when I’m ready to give birth I will stop taking my medication 24 hours in advance.
This all sounds good and great to a first time mother, but see.. this ain’t my first rodeo. There is no warning at the 24 hour mark that will tell me I only have 24 hours left. Labor is a mysterios and unscheduled event, but in a perfect world my plan would work out just fine. In MY world, however, this isn’t the case. I expect my labor to start abruptly on a day I have taken my medication. I expect to beg for and receive pain medication at the hospital that will do absolutely nothing for me considering the medication I am on, and I expect to give birth with the joy of feeling every single bit of it. Every agonizing minute. I’m excited, can you tell? I would be, as I said, if this were my first child.
I can only sit here at the kitchen table and pretend to busy for so long. Chores are calling me, and it’s not a very nice name that they yell. For now the children are occupied with gaming systems of every kind imaginable, and I’m okay with that. It’s SUNDAY and tomorrow is a holiday, which means I’m off work, which means I’m doing nothing. So, I should probably get to scraping the hard dried cheese off of these plates.
My 5 year old randomly bursts out into fits of song, which is cute when I can understand what he is saying. Mostly it’s just a verse of jumbled vowel sounds that match the rythm of the song he’s trying to sing. Either way, he’s his momma’s boy.
You know, I’m only 25, but I’ve attempted to remove most of the drama from my life. Keyword : attempted. I received an e-mail yesterday from an old aquaintance who I haven’t talked to in quite some time. It just so happened to be a woman whose husband convinced me that they were seperated over the summer and proceeded to use me for all I was worth (to him anyway). I’m not sure why this woman contacted me after so long. We have already talked. Actually, I gave her the luxury of yelling at me while I listened half-heartedly. I guess I was in the wrong, but I didn’t know it at the time. I just received a 42 page novel about what a horrible person that I am and on and so forth.
I can only think of a couple of reasons for this. 1.) The wound is still bleeding. I’m sure what happened hurt her, but I am not the one who is married to her or should have to answer to her. 2.) She’s a little bit psychotic and possibly has made some type of voodoo doll of me that pokes with pins every day. #2 could explain why I’ve had this horrible pain in my back for so long, so I’m going to go with that one.
I’ve tried to drop this whole thing and forget about it, but she just keeps coming back for more.
She obviously hates me as much as my sister, if that is possible.
As some of you may know I’m stuck for now in a crappy little two bedroom apartment. The complex that I live in houses about 30 different apartments, and most of the people here are rather nice. However, there are some that are not. A couple of days ago the police raided an apartment in an adjacent building and found a meth lab… and an 18 month old. The boy was taken to the hospital and released, and we are making plans to move. I really don’t want to live in a place where I worry about my children being outside. I really really don’t.
METH : IT’S WHAT’S FOR DINNER