Then I was going to write about how last night, EK slept from 11:30pm until after 5am, which is basically sleeping through the night ON THE ONE NIGHT THAT I WASN’T THE POOR BASTARD GETTING UP WITH HER.

And then I was going to metaphorically stomp my feet and bitch about how THAT IS SO UNFAIR, WHY WHY WHY?  This always happens to me!  And I always get in line at the grocery store behind the asshole who NEEDS a price check or is writing a check and can’t find a pen!  Woe is me!

But then I thought, smiling a beautific smile, that this blog is about finding ATMAN -soul searching and inner peace, if you will, and maybe I could be a bigger person than that and not begrudge Brett his full 8 hours of sleep or act like a spoiled child just because I never get to sleep that many hours in a row and probably never will EVER AGAIN. 

Because really, I have to get up and pump anyway or my boobs would explode like a melted milkshake.  I am lucky to have a supportive husband who is helpful and accomodating.  Yes.

Smiles wider…cheeks hurting…

I don’t need to write that entry.

And yet, when I most need it I’m unable to write.  Maybe because writing it down puts it in perspective and then I have to realize what a freak I’m being and cut that shit out?  Or because I spend my free time watching Jon and Kate Plus 8 to remind myself when I feel overwhelmed what it could be like?

When I disappear for long stretches, it’s usually because I’m wallowing.  FYI.

It started raining on Saturday and didn’t stop until Thursday morning.  And it wasn’t even good rain, the kind that makes everybody say, “Well we really needed the rain.” 

This was drizzle, the type that makes you look like a dumbass if you carry an umbrella and gives you bad hair regardless. 

Anyway, life goes on. 

On Monday this week, I found the body in the pantry.  It was indeed a 5 lb sack of potatoes, gray and fuzzy and mushy, that I had put on a shelf and a tablecloth had fallen over them.  Both smelled like all the things I described.  I am a model of organization.  But!  Mystery solved, thankfully no exterminator required.

On Tuesday, I had a knockdown drag out screaming match with my insurance company over their “resolution” to a problem that I reported months ago.  The level of frustration that caused me to lose it was compounded by a) the customer service rep giving me an incorrect reason months ago as to why they weren’t processing my claims and telling me it was the doctor’s office’s fault b) learning on Monday that it was indeed Aetna’s fault from my awesome doctor’s office who has been working this for months.  I owe my pediatrician close to a grand because the incorrect answer given meant that I didn’t fix the real problem which was simple and would have taken 5 seconds. 

There is much more to this that will cause my blood pressure to rise if I type it out and will be boring so I’m going to stop here before my head explodes, as it will do later anyway when I type out the “appeal letter” which is apparently my only recourse.

On Wednesday, I sat in the ob doctor’s office for an hour and a half while my doctor delivered someone else’s baby, so that he could come in, listen to the heartbeat for 10 seconds and pronounce me “good to go”. 

Oh and also?  The diabetes test where I drink sugar water and then have to sit there for an hour to make sure I don’t go into sugar shock that everyone else does in the doctor’s office COULD NOT be done…guess why?  My insurance company won’t pay for it to be done in the doctor’s office, I have to go to a drug testing lab.  So do I pay for the test out of pocket and save the time and disgust of sitting in the lab?  Or do I go to the lab and waste at least an hour while trying not to touch anything so that the insurance company will pay for it?

Someone remind me that I am lucky to have health insurance, that there are millions who don’t.  Or, what would really make me feel better is if someone would tell me a way to stick it to them.  I’m already entertaining fantasies of what will cost the insurance company the maximum amount of money when I check into the hospital to deliver this baby.  Special dietary needs?  Extra pillows?  How about hospitalized bed rest for the last week or two?

On Thursday, the sun came out literally and figuratively.  Alex and I went to an amusement park and it was gorgeous-in-the-70s-weather where it is impossible to be angry.  Therefore, this entry ends here because I don’t want to mar the sunshine-y, cute-picture entry that I’m about to post with crap about my crap-tastic insurance and their incompetant customer service reps (it was Aetna by the way in case you didn’t catch that) that makes me angry every time I re-read it.

Now you know.  See you a in few for the sunshine and roses post.

I despise April Fools Day.

That’s right.  Bah humbug.  I hate stupid jokes.  I hate clowns and mimes even more.  I don’t think you’re funny.  Get a life.

I have a sense of humor, I just like to think it’s a little smah-tah than an email with a subject line about alien abduction (in my work email which is already overflowing with “Your Mailbox is Full” messages – thank you for continuing to add to my clutter).

Perhaps I’m just in a bad mood in general today, but it’s not helped by web links that I click on only to get a “ha ha fooled you” page.  And it seems that in spite of me trying my damnedest to ignore this crap, it is continually stumbling onto my radar and annoying me.

Last night I was so irritated about something work related that at 9:40pm, I sat down at the kitchen table with a bag of salty, greasy delicious potato chips, a glass of apple juice, and a Pottery Barn Kids catalog to try and calm myself so I could sleep.

Boy I sure showed them, whoever them is, by ingesting about a gazillion calories and then going to bed feeling like puking.  And waking up 2 hours later with a killer stomachache.

So my new calmer, finding atman-like path is this:  when I’m irritated, before I do something rash, or take someone’s head off, or throw my laptop across the room, or eat 800 potato chips in a single sitting I WILL FORCE MYSELF TO HANG IN DOWN DOG FOR 5 MINUTES.

Besides being good toning for my arms, this will force me to re-evaluate my position and will take my mind off whatever I’m annoyed about, because then my mind will be focused on how frickin’ long 5 minutes really is when you are supporting yourself and 20 30 extra pounds of baby weight.

As an added bonus, this emits just the right amount of crazy, don’t f-with me right now aura that hopefully if you come into my cube or the kitchen and see me doing it you’ll know to quietly turn around and WALK AWAY.

—————————-
basketball sucks ass
always on television
sick of march madness

———————————————–

 When is the last time YOU held YOUR remote control? 

Or had a conversation that started with, “Do you want to ____?” 

And was answered with anything but, “Well, I kind of wanted to watch basketball…”

 Right.  It’s been a while.

It’s ok.  I’m not that annoyed.  Because I had uninterrupted blog reading, writing, commenting and general internet surfery in peace for at least 2 hours last night.  Feeding my internet addiction, absolutely 1oo% guilt free, with no obligation for any type of human interaction.  Because even if I tried, it wouldn’t matter.

I hear the low rumble of cheers in the background.

 Just like they were cheering for me.  (Get caught up!  Get caught up!  Read that feed!)

Did anyone catch TLC’s new show last night – The Secret Life of a Soccer Mom?  The premise of the show is that TLC takes a SAHM and drops her back into her “dream career.”  While the mom is supposedly “away at a spa” for a week, she gets to try out being a working mother.  (I hear roaring in my head.)  At the end of the show, she decides if she wants to keep her new career, or go back to being a mom.

Disclaimer:  I did not see the show.  All I know is what I’ve read and digested from other sites.  If anything I’m about to say can be disputed from actually watching, feel free to flame me.

1. One of my favorite quotes is “Anybody can handle a crisis, it’s this day to day living that wears you out.”  That said, doing anything for a week, whether it be working or staying home, barely qualifies as doing it.  It’s not the daycare/ work/home/dinner/bedtime routine for a week that wears you out…it’s doing it day in and day out along with all the other stuff that make life LIFE – like bills, cooking, having a relationship, taking time off for doctor’s appointments, etc.  The reverse applies too - staying home with your kids for a week would seem like a vacation.  Staying home for the foreseeable future and dealing with socialization and identity and all the SAH issues that I wouldn’t proclaim to know anything about, well, I wonder if I could handle it and do it well.
2. If the family thinks Mom is at a spa – does this mean that she doesn’t come home at night or deal with any of the routine stuff?  If she isn’t truly trying to juggle all that stuff is she really getting a true idea of what it would be like to be back at work?  Nope.  If you don’t have to try and get home to soak up everything your child is in a few precious hours, you’re not getting the whole picture.
3. Who, after not being in the workforce for several years waltzes back into their dream career (if they ever had it in the first place)?  Most of us maybesortof enjoy some aspect of work, be it intellectual or the social.  Do I love it enough that I would keep working if I won the lottery?  Heck no.
4. Why do we need another flighty show that characterizes SAH vs Working Moms?  Couldn’t this have been approached with a little more intelligence, TLC?  Maybe a look at how hard it is and how many roadblocks get thrown up for intelligent moms who want to rejoin the workforce?  What happens when they don’t have Tracey Gold holding their hand and have to find an employer on their own?  Or a look at all the women who are working because they need to make ends meet, or so they’ll have health insurance for their kids?  I guess in that case, it would have had to be on PBS and couldn’t have been sponsored by Jif or a minivan*.

Why I am in such an uproar about a show that has nothing really to do with me, that I wouldn’t have even known about, and why I want to use curse words that start with bullsh!% to describe the whole premise, I don’t know. 

Maybe I’m still feeling vulnerable about this entry with links to two very disturbing articles in the Washington Post. 

Maybe it’s because I’m tired of the whole debate.  Maybe it’s because I have SAHM friends and working friends and childless friends who I admire because they are smart and put up with a lot of crap every day from people who know nothing about them no matter what choice they’ve made.  I don’t know.

I know I’m going to DVR-it the next time it’s on, and since it’s TLC that will probably be eight times over the next 3 days.  I’ll watch it if for no other reason than to see if I’m wrong about the cast of characters that I suspect exist – bumbling daddy, the conflicted mommy, the tough boss, the sad-where’s-mommy-faces on the kids.  If I’m wrong, I’ll retract the applicable statements I made here and give TLC some linky love – from me and all 5 of my readers.

I don’t doubt that it’s hard to get back into the workforce after leaving so if there is any good to be had here, it would be to call attention to that. 

But guess what?  Lots of things are hard.  Life isn’t fair.  You make choices about your career and family and hopefully things work out somehow.  It just burns me that an entire show is built around the premise that it’s one or the other.  Shows like this are a decline for anyone – women and men – who take their careers and family life seriously.

*It may not have been sponsored by Jif, but I guarantee a minivan made an appearance somewhere.

That’s been happening to me lately and this morning I started thinking that maybe God is giving me what I can handle, but I’m screwing it up by just letting everything pile on top of everything else. How’s that for existentialist philosophy?

Maybe I’m being told, “This is what you are supposed to be doing right now, so let some other things go already.” The problem is, I don’t know how to just let things be. I believe in intervention. In this case, I don’t know the difference between what or how to let go and what to fix.

My first instinct has always been to get the hell out, and while working on extraction make a half-hearted attempt to see if I can fix it. Or to obsess over the fix until I make myself and everyone around me crazy.

Example: when I start to not like my job(s) the first thing I do is post my resume. My resume gets updated once a month if not more, and it’s always ready to go. My first instinct isn’t to talk to my boss(es) and see if there is something else I can do or another job within the same company. My first instinct is to get the hell out. Which is why since graduating from college a mere 10 years ago, I have worked for 6 different companies.

Our house is another good example. We are in WAAAY over our heads with this place. There is a lot that needs done and a lot that I don’t like about it (including the damned gravel driveway which swallows the spike heels of my shoes every single morning and turns into a weed jungle every summer), but we don’t have the know-how or time to fix it.

So my first instinct is to sell it and get the hell out. Buy a place in a planned suburbia where everything looks the same but the yards are small and the bathroom is new and has a jacuzzi tub.

Even where we live (the city) is another example. I’ve never really loved it here, it’s too far away from my family and somedays it feels like we have all the drawbacks of a big city (like traffic and crime) but none of the benefits (like being able to walk places and Sephora). We’ve been talking about moving for almost all of the 9 years that we’ve lived here but yet we keep buying houses.

Those are easy things to change. But what if the things you are having to handle don’t have an easy out? And what if I’m making it harder by looking for one? What exactly is my problem anyway? Why would things seem easier if only…fill in the blank?

Before you ask, no one is sick and no one is dying. It’s not a marriage problem. This will all work itself out eventually.

I used to have a card tacked up in my cube that read “Anybody can handle a crisis, its this day to day living that wears you out.” (And BTW that is a quote from someone famous, but I’m not inclined to track it down and I can’t find the card. So there.)

That’s exactly how I feel. The tenuous grasp I had finally gotten on the business of day to day living is slipping and looms overwhelming in light of what’s going on. I don’t know how to fix it. Maybe I just need a vacation. (And here comes get the hell out rearing its unlikely head.) Maybe this entry makes no sense and I should fix it by stopping here already and pretending it doesn’t exist.

Yesterday, I left work early and rushed to daycare so that we could go see you, Mall Santa, hereafter known as Stupid Fat Guy Who Is Only Liked At Christmas and Get A Real Job Already. When I got to daycare, I grabbed my son, drove to the mall, changed his clothes in the car seat while he helped by throwing shoes and socks all over the backseat, dumped him into his stroller and literally jogged to the Wonderland that is the center court.

Only to be told by a Stupid Elf in your employ and a most helpful Mommy who was already in line with her entire damn family that Santa was not accepting any more kids until after his dinner break. Even though your scheduled dinner break was for 4:30 and it was 4:20 and I just have ONE KID, God! how long will it take? The most-helpful-effing-elf-ever informed me that you would be back at 5:15 and I could wait if I wanted. WHICH I DID NOT. Asshole.

Last year when we went came to see you I was on maternity leave. It’s not so easy now, Santa, and I would appreciate it if you would stick to your scheduled times.

Last year’s bored baby…

A few weekends ago, I opted to stay on your good side and not take Alex to see you when he had a gooey cold. And this is how you repay me? I should have let him slime you, just like last year when you bounced him after I told you that was a bad idea and he barfed on you.

Please tell your elf that:

1. I’m not one of those morons who is going to stand in line for an hour to pay for a poor quality picture so that my child who doesn’t even understand the concept of Santa can sit on your lap.
2. 4:30 means 4:30. Period.
3. part of his job is to keep the “helpful” customers in line quiet, especially when delivering bad news so that other mothers don’t have to feel bad for wanting to kill them at Christmas.
4. my 13-month old is taller than him.

And I’m no Joshua Trundle, so don’t expect an apologetic clock from me.

Sincerely,

Heather

Mommy is feeling a little crazy at the moment, so don’t pay any attention to her.

Rod Roddy: Well Bob, we have two brand new pair of baby boy Stride Rite shoes that Alex’s mommy purchased over the internet because she was too lazy to take him to the Stride Rite store and get measured. And also, she jumped the gun a little on buying shoes because he is still not walking and doesn’t really need them, even if these did fit, which they don’t.

Bob: (insert name here), what is the price of that item?

Contestant: Twelve dollars!

Bob: You’re an idiot, Stride Rite shoes cost like $40 bucks.

Contestant: No! Twelve dollars!

Buy my e-bay crap for only $12 a pair.

Why am I the only person I know who never sells things on e-bay? My stuff never gets bought. Am I so uninteresting that no one even wants my cast offs? Cheap? I have zero bids on two pair of shoes that seriously cost like $40 that I am selling for $12 and they are BRAND NEW. I even photographed them IN THE BOX. Maybe its just that there is so much stuff on e-bay now, that no one can find anything. Yeah that must be it. You’ve got until 1pm EST! Go! Go! GO!

Because on the day we screw with the clock, Baby wakes up at what he thinks is 6:45am but is really 5:45am, then is off the entire day for everything from naps to eating.

Attempting to keep him awake an hour later resulted in incessant whining and misery from 5:30pm on (or what Baby thinks is 6:30 and where is my damn milk woman?), until I finally cracked and put him to bed at 6:30, or what he thought was 7:30, i.e. LATE.

And now, because bedtime is off we had wakey-wakey at 8:30pm (9:30pm) and again at 12:30am (1:30am) = not a good nights sleep. I obviously don’t adapt well and I think this entry effectively prohibits me from ever crossing a time zone with my child.

Yeah – screw you DST!

I do remember slamming my finger in my desk drawer yesterday, mainly because my nail is all bruised and bloody but I’ve barely even been doing this blog thing for a month and I’m out of ideas already? I think that means I suck. Work is stressing me, as well as lack of baby time.

And to be honest, I’m sick of myself right now. You know how when you just keep obsessing over something eventually…(riiiiight – as I re-read this I feel certain that you get it and I should shut up already).

Anyway part of the problem is that I’ve tried to take on some freelance web design which means I don’t have any time to unwind so I just get strung tighter and tighter until I snap. I think it’s obvious that freelancing while working full time is not going to work.

So tonight, I painted my toes green and watched SYTYCD. Not THAT green, a pretty see through sparkly green, then as an afterthought added french tips. Why you ask? Because it’s still summer and I’m dying to dye my hair darker but this will have to do until it’s legitimately fall and I don’t go to the pool anymore. And also because watching the dancers makes me feel kind of lumpy as I sit there and stuff cookies in my face, so I may not have the body but at least I have pretty toes.