Abby's post

did i happen to mention we have a dog in diapers? actually, we have two dogs; only one is in diapers. and a toddler in diapers. what fun!

doggie diapers are kind of cute. cute, in the same way i saved one of Punkin's unused newborn diapers. cute, because they are a lot like human baby diapers with velcro-like tabs, except there's a hole for the dog's tail. cute, in that the novelty wears off very quickly. and they are much more expensive than human baby diapers (i think more than a buck a pop). i need to search on-line or get a catalogue to save some money. yet Punkin loves going to Petsmart to see the kitty cats and the birdies and to get Abby's diapers.

Abby's fifteen, which if you do the math is 105 in people years. she's a doberman mix; she kind of looks like an uncropped doberman, and she has the doberman bark, but she's really just old and sweet and deaf (and afraid of ballons). in her first or second year of life she was treated for mange (not the contagious kind) but still it was one of those treatments that has the potential to kill before it cures. (wouldn't you like to hear that disclaimer in a pharmaceutical add on tv?) anyway, she survived that, and then got sick from eating wild mushrooms in the backyard. she survived that, too. she got farmed out (literally, they had six acres) to some of my good friends when i was going through my divorce and only had an apartment for a couple months. she's lived with me in three states, and traveled with me across the US. about eight years ago she was involved in a "grooming incident" at a kennel (she's a short hair so what the hell kind of grooming does that require?) and somehow they spiral-sliced her tail on two sides. fortunately the kennel sent her to the vet we use now, who is the best, and they tried to stitch, wrap, and save her tail. she wore a cone for weeks and weeks, and eventually her tail was amputated, but she still has a couple inches. it works perfectly with the preformed hole in the doggie diaper.

she's camera shy, so the photo pretty much sucks. she looks like Santa's Little Helper on the Simpson's. she's a great old girl, and i'm not complaining about cleaning her kennel this morning or the cost of diapers. you can wear diapers when you're 105, and i'll write a post about you, too.

more than a swale, less than a pit of despair

i've been down lately. not happy. depressed. fortunately, it is not the debilitating depression where you simply cannot function, feel, or care, but the way i feel is not good for my family, the Peanut, or myself.

i'm tired of busting ass at work. it starts the minute i walk through the door and doesn't end until i leave at the end of the day. i inhale lunch at my desk and continue to work non-stop, whether it's a call to another time zone, or another fire i end up putting out (usually not billable time). i can't turn off the overwhelming feeling of responsibility. i can't take a few precious minutes for myself.

i spend about an hour and a half (a pittance) with Punkin in the evening, yet i find myself looking at the clock, looking forward to his bedtime routine. i am disgusted at myself to admit that. it's not as though i start having a rip-roaring time after he goes to bed. typically, i throw in a load of laundry and make his lunch. the fact is, i am physically, mentally, and emotionally capable of nothing else. if i'm not quiet, i'm a basket case. i feel bad for el Jefe' to see me this way; i'm sure it instills worry in him how i will handle part-time single motherhood when he's up North. i share those worries, of course in my own hypersensitive superlative degree. how the hell am i going to handle it (just handle it, not even succeed) when i feel this way?

a small part of me attributes the exhaustion to my 3 am internal alarm clock. on a really good day, i can make it until 4 am without the trivial worries in my brain spinning like the Tazmanian Devil. lately it's sometimes after 2 am; i lay there and try to go back to sleep, and give up around 3 am. i get an hour or two of productivity, usually for work (duh, that's why i resent my days being so long, when i donate a couple hours everyday). i think i'm getting 5 or 6 hours of sleep. i used to get more. more importantly, i want more.

i know that i have everything in the world to be thankful for and enjoy. i just can't do it in this frame of mind.

my wish list for Punkin

considering that i am a pessimist, and suffer from depression (and degenerative disc disease), and generally have low self esteem, there is very little of me that i hope the Punkin inherits from me. he has my brown eyes, much to the dismay of many individuals who hoped he would get el Jefe’s stunning blue eyes. he has my nose.

he scares me with his organizational skills during play; it borders on anal. it started with balls. one morning, he brought all of his balls (and a balloon) into the kitchen and lined them up on the floor. and then he tried to line them up on the countertop. when he plays with Legos, he likes to build towers out of the blocks of the same shape and the same color (i.e. a tower of square yellow blocks, a tower of green rectangular blocks, etc.). i’m pretty sure he gets that from me and my OCD tendencies.

Punkin sucks his thumb to the point it has a callous. i sucked my thumb well into kindergarten. when the orthodontist installed prongs, i learned to suck my thumb on the side of my mouth. i finally stopped when the same orthodontist put me in a headgear with a plate at the roof of my mouth; basically, my choices were suffocate and suck my thumb or breathe. i chose breathing. and then i chewed my fingernails. and i eventually i became a smoker, which in some way relates to this oral fixation. not the legacy i’d like to leave my child.

the genetic damage has been done. what i’d like to give my son is the ability to:

maintain an open mind
be creative
enjoy every day on this earth even in just a small percentage of the way he touches me everyday
know in his heart he is loved unconditionally
be confident with who he is and what he does
be genuinely happy.

those certainly aren’t “parts” of me, but he certainly deserves them.

some of us take baby steps

so i spent the past 45 minutes trying to redesign my blog. can't you tell? i entered a contest to win a new webdesign for 2007. i think they went out of business. so, i was embarrassed as i read other non-professional blogs, and decided to try to figure it out for myself. mind you, i am self-proclaimed at lacking computer and internet skills. my first programming was with a stack of cards and a card reader (i think one step beyond a slide rule). needless to say, i doubt you are impressed and i am certainly not delighted.

we have one of two sinks installed in the master bedroom. i downloaded maps and floorplans of our apartment short list. i got info on a couple day cares. i found out my bank has one (1) branch up North. it is readily apparent we are moving to an area of 1/4 the population, not that that's a bad thing, it just adds to our challenges.

Punkin has been having conversations with me. yesterday we talked about how the bananas were all gone, and that we would get more bananas from the grocery store, and that he would go to the grocery store with mommy or daddy. multiple word sentences, as well as multiple sentences. both of our vehicles "ding" when it's time to refuel; mine also dings when the temperature is below 40 degrees. (no, i don't know why.) Punkin hears the "ding" and says "mommy's blue car needs gas." that blows my mind.

oh, to be able to grow and change and expand your horizons by leaps and bounds on a daily basis without fear or trepidation or hesitation.

friday rant

i’m having these periods of extreme bitchiness which lead to minor melt-down. of course, i only have them in the evening and i end up taking it out on el Jefe’. i’m relatively ok at work, whether it be distraction or denial, or the fact that i have nothing to tell. Ok, maybe a little. El Jefe’ got a promotion and we’re moving North.

who? well obviously all of us, but due to the when, it’s not at the same time.
what? our stuff, our stuff that fills over 2,100 square feet and a three car garage quite nicely (fortunately, we don’t have a basement; unfortunately, we can’t park in the garage). but do we need it all? do we go on a donation binge? what do we need now? what do we need later? what? what? what?
where? what city? i don’t know. North.
another where? house, apartment , condo, cardboard box? i don’t know.
when? el Jefe’ is supposed to move sometime in February. i don’t know about me and the Punkin and the two dogs and all our stuff. my due date of June 2 plays a factor in all of this.
how? well, the fact is we have the option of using movers TWICE, yet el Jefe’ is still talking about renting a U-Haul. i informed him Tuesday that my doctor said an eight-hour drive through the middle of nowhere is infinitely more risky than a one-hour plane ride. my “condition” is obvious. yet he assumes we can’t get a mover in time (because he has made a mere four calls regarding this move, to apartments, and we don’t have much more info than i found on the internet). can’t you just hear the sarcasm and bitchiness in my tone? i’m sure you can just imagine what a joy i am to be around.
how much? whatever it takes to run two households for an unspecified amount of time. can you say money pit?
why? because el Jefe’ got a promotion, and the infamous “they” out there say change is good.

we have plane, hotel, and car reservations to go up SuperBowl weekend to look for stage 1 housing. i did most of that myself. i’ve downloaded info on stage 1 housing over probably a three sessions. his four calls were made on Tuesday, and he has forgotten, or hasn’t had time, or hasn’t gotten around to it since. he’s working tonight and tomorrow, and the great sink project is supposed to continue on Sunday. we don’t have a back yard; we can’t get the dog stains out of the carpet; we need an electrician; oh yeah, and we need an agent and a buyer to sell this house. yadda yadda yadda.

alls i know is El Jefe' got a promotion and we're moving North.

weekend update, without the weekend

an aside: i found the ads posted here amusing. one was for sewer video, which i know something about as i have coworkers who analyze such video for a living. the stories are disgusting. and the other is about ISO training. again, i know something about it. i know enough about these things to know that folks who are doing internet searches would be cruely disappointed by linking to my blog. maybe they're not the only ones ...

another update: the faucet installation success story ended this past weekend. we bought new faucets with supplies on 4-inch centers, and el Jefe's sink is sporting 4 1/4-inch centered holes. he subsequently purchased two new drill bits (appurtenances!) to try to remedy the holes. unfortunately there is talk of purchasing another tool for said drill bits. so far, only two trips to Home Depot. i think the underlying problem was lack of beer.

i went to the ob/gyn yesterday. if you're tracking my progress (i am, and this effort is to keep me honest?) my weight is at 159. blood pressure is an acceptable 114/70. i am not so proud of the 159 part. i weighed 161 just before Punkin was born, and i gained a total of 31 pounds. now i've technically got 19 more weeks to go, but technically, i've only gained 12 pounds. i know i need to show some restraint. and i need to get in the pool more than once or twice a week. that's going to be harder when i become a part-time single mother.

the move: i'm trying not to make it worse on el Jefe'. he's going to be alone several days a week, too. he has credit card debt that he's working on, that won't go away, that i won't pay off on principal (he needs to learn to control it himself), and there is no doubt that this move is costly (in more than dollars) and the interim, while temporary, is like running two households. we make do fine with one, nothing extravagant, but two is a little daunting for both of us.

i just hope he's not spending as much energy worrying about it as i do.

the camel's starting to look like a sway-back mule

i spent the weekend looking for "amenities" in our new area. area, because el Jefe's new office and my new office are 25 miles apart. chances are one of us will be commuting more. it makes some sense to relocate closer to my new office, as it is closer to the airport, and both of us will be travelling. but his new office is in a smaller town that has some charm. oh, and by "amenities", i was looking for libraries, pools, a parks and rec department, day care ... some basic quality of life issues for me.

and i looked for apartments that would take pets.

turns out our number 1 choice is assisted housing. we don't qualify by any means. everything else is about $300 a month more. we'll be paying 2/3 of our mortgage for a temporary place to live, in addition to our mortgage, until our house sells. el Jefe' is getting a raise, but not that much. the reality really stressed me out. it's only temporary. it's just money. change is good. hey gang, bring on the platitudes!

we broke the news to my parents on Sunday. we had them over for dinner, and the Punkin was the star of the show (no show required). Punkin took off his pants no less than three times before their arrival; i finally convinced him to put them back on by saying it was the only way i'd play with him. (is that a bribe or a threat?) i suggested we drop the bomb before dinner; although it could ruin everyone's appetite, it might ensure my parents weren't completely crocked and would remember the news. it was met with about thirty seconds of utter silence, followed by "then we'll move, too." of course it is more complicated than that, but that was how they expressed their choice and in reality, it has huge benefits in terms of travel and providing assistance to them. if only they can tolerate the move ... no less find a place to live (they're a bit more high maintenance than el Jefe' and me).

the rumor-mill was in full force, performing like a well-oiled machine. el Jefe's new boss made an announcement Friday afternoon, after 5 pm, and the congrats started flowing almost immediately. the kicker was my department manager and boss knew about el Jefe's promotion before i made it into work Monday morning (thank GOD i had warned them he was interviewing for the position!) the easy part is i will transfer. but there are a lot of unknowns. much like finding reasonable temporary housing.

i'm really not complaining (yet). trust me, you'll know. but the worries are adding up at an astonishing rate.

another straw, but the camel's holding up just fine

i got one of those phone calls yesterday that makes your heart stop. the receptionist in the office i was auditing said i had a page, i probably couldn't hear it, and my husband was on the phone. before total panic set in, i realized if el Jefe' was calling he was ok, so maybe it was the Punkin, or maybe his promotion, job, relocation thing.

fortunately, it was the promotion, job, relocation thing.

the good news: he got the job!

the bad news: he has to move in a month!

he was ready to turn it down because of the quick timeframe. shit, some people changes jobs with two weeks' notice (or less), but we've been in our careers and jobs so long we've forgotten what it was like. anyway, we arranged for us to talk over lunchtime, and we really tried to solve the world's problems in less than 45 minutes. i talked about flexibility and reasonableness, and temporary inconveniences, and temporary sacrifices. he had to make a decision the same day. i told him to either say yes, or maybe, but don't turn it down. and then i nearly had a panic attack.

el Jefe' accepted the position. i am so proud of him.

i've looked up parks, pools, and libraries so far this morning. i'd like to try to maintain a similar quality of life as we have here, if not improve it. we'll get an apartment and run two households for awhile, and i will become a part-time ( a couple days a week) single parent. do we get an apartment big enough for all of us, including the Peanut and two dogs? and then a house is the goal, but we've got to sell this one first (or at least get it on the market). and the Peanut, and the Peanut, and the Peanut ...

really, it's all good. i'm pretty sure i'll have plenty to keep me busy during my predawn hours of insomnia.

on the road again

the week has been nothing short of hectic. i was scheduled to leave wednesday afternoon for an audit in Walnut Creek, CA. my day started with several controversial emails from coworkers in other offices about my stupid government parking lot job, which continues to be a waste of time and money (and certainly my energies). i ended up being 10 minutes late for my biweekly ultrasounds. i was most frustrated by the fact that el Jefe' actually came to the appointment, which is rare. he is not one of those husbands that attends every appointment. frankly, i have too many, and i kind of look at is as my penance, my responsibility.

the appointment went fine. the Peanut is fine.

my flight was late. i returned to my car twice to make sure i locked it (pregnancy fog). i went through airport security twice (because it is so fun). i read probably a dozen process improvement nominations for my company's awards program, which will be celebrated in March following a trip to San Diego in February for final voting and awards program business. tentatively el Jefe' and the Punkin will accompany me to San Diego. that'll be a first in terms of my business travel in terms of the family tagging along. we'll see.

so i've been busy with the audit. we basically work 7 am to7 pm, and are very focused in order to get things done. i enjoy working with and very much respect the lead auditor. he has been a great sounding board, and a great mentor. my involvement in the audit program has guided my career in a slightly different direction, has provided the much-needed satisfaction that my unrewarding projects can't seem to provide, has opened a few doors, and frankly i've gotten some decent raises for the first time in my freaking 20-year career. i've been told those raises are due to my performance as a quality coordinator, which is a diffferent role than auditor but the two are complementary.

i'm on the schedule to audit our Portland office in October. i've all ready expressed my worries regarding the Peanut ... the audit schedule does not lend itself well to pumping every three to four hours. With Punkin, i just held off travel for 11 months until that part was over. i don't know where we'll be living (and absolutely dread the thought of cramming two adults, two kids, and two dogs into an apartment). but as the time passes, relocation looks like less of a possibility. i'm ok with that, a little disappointed, but it would be easier. i just hope we can focus some energy (and cash) into our current home (finish the back yard, replace flooring, maybe paint?) to make it more of a home. it's not really nesting. i'm just ready for a change.

i forgot to check-in on-line 24 hours in advance. now i'm in the B group tonight. i'm obviously off to a rousing start to commence some changes in my life. or maybe i'm just settling for mediocrity and the status quo.

hell hath frozen over

no, i’m not referring to the unseasonably cold weather that we are suffering through here in the desert southwest and beyond (across the country!). having spent over 30 years in the Midwest, in areas where cold temperatures are completely useless, snow is nothing more than a nuisance you have to shovel, and you can go months on end without ever seeing the sun, i know i have no right to complain about today’s high of 42 and low of 26 degrees (Fahrenheit). but i’m not complaining about the weather. i am commenting on the fact that a constant of the universe went awry this weekend.

el Jefe’, the Punkin, and i went to Home Dept this weekend. i had found a gift card when cleaning out the junk drawer (after el Jefe’ could not find one of the three rolls of tape while wrapping presents, so he had to do a late night run to the store Christmas Eve), unused, and if the gods were smiling and it hadn’t expired it would have a $150 balance! i’m pretty sure the gift card was a minimum of two years old, maybe more, because we get gift cards from el Jefe’s dad and i’m thinking this one was way-pre-Punkin (when we had time to work on the house, making it a home, instead of our current knee-jerk emergency repair strategy). we needed furnace filters. i wanted to replace two toilet seats that were cracking and disintegrating before our very eyes. and we needed to replace two sink drain pop-up stopper assemblies. el Jefe’ had removed the inoperable stoppers, leaving a gaping hole, which is far too tempting for a toddler. of course el Jefe’ and i disagreed on the size of pop-up stopper assembly, although the shelves were clearly labeled 1 ¼” bath and 1 ½” kitchen (or vice versa), but we did agree that we hate the builder-installed faucets. unfortunately the two gaping holes were not in the same bathroom, and one of said bathrooms has two sinks, so we ended up purchasing three faucets (and associated sink drain pop-up stopper assemblies). we are practical, but we have some taste, so we upgraded a little. thank god the gift card had not expired.

one bathroom is sporting a new toilet seat and new faucet as of Sunday afternoon.

i failed to mention el Jefe’ sent me on a beer run during the faucet installation. that’s to be expected. we’ve had plenty of 12-pack projects.

but i did not omit anything else from the story.

we accomplished a home improvement (or home repair) with only ONE trip to Home Depot. one initial trip. no extra tools or supplies needed. based on our past experiences, this is nothing short of a miracle.

i'll need to remember this after a tantrum

this is my amazing Punkin.

saturday we went for portraits to commemorate his second birthday. eventually i'm sure we won't go to this expense year after year. it's funny because he gets school pictures taken twice a year, yet i feel this desperate need to document him (professionally) close to his birthday. (yes, this photo was illegally scanned, but i did pay for it).

i thought for sure his eyes would be all red and puffy as he had a near melt-down before we left for the mall. Punkin got some overalls from his godfather for his birthday (a machine gun would not be age-appropriate ha ha ha) and he has yet to wear them. i've tried to put them on him three times, yet he is very insistent that he wants to wear "pants". Punkin got up from his nap Saturday wearing a t-shirt, sweatshirt, and green sweatpants, and it took nothing short of a miracle that he is not wearing that very outfit in this photo. fortunately el Jefe' heard my cries for help and came to the rescue. Punkin actually made it through three clothing changes during his photo shoot! (at one point, el Jefe' was encouraging him to "work it" like a supermodel ... you'd have to be there.)

Punkin is doing a lot of new things as a two-year-old, and these are the times i want to remember. even if he's very upset and his timing isn't the best, he is starting to show preference in terms of clothing. he asks for my help when playing or opening a container. he won't sit in his high chair or a booster, or wear a bib anymore. he makes big towers out of blocks, and with Lego's he prefers that the blocks are color-coordinated. today he announced that his tower was "beautiful". he loves to make tunnels out of blocks. he is constantly taking out the tupperware-like cake container lid and using it as a step stool (and he exclaims that he is tall). he sings songs independently (sometimes twinkle twinkle, sometimes happy birthday, and lately the little pufferbellies song). he wants to help, whether it is putting laundry in the backet, or taking something out to the recycle bin, or carrying something (anything but eggs) in from the grocery store. he knows his last name.

i could go on, but suffice to say there are many special moments. i so appreciate them.

epiphany

well, it has been two months and i am thinking about getting another haircut. ok, a trim. amazing since i went something like 13 months before my last one. plus i’ve got a coupon burning a hole in my pocket! too bad i don’t have another 10-inch ponytail to donate to Locks of Love. while i’ll admit the prenatal vitamins are good, they’re not THAT good.

i started the day dropping off Punkin a half hour early so i could get to a stupid project meeting, with a stupid client, with a stupid utility company that has received electronic files something like a dozen times on the project and has ignored our requests for relocation design for the past three years. the utility folks were late, and the meeting lasted 45 minutes and i easily spent the next four hours getting yet another set of electronic files together for the utility company. it’s all part of being a consultant. forgive me if i’m a little bitter that the stupid utility company won’t acknowledge me and i have been managing the project for the last three years. Punkin was none the worse for wear, but i resent messing with his schedule for such a frustrating and unrewarding job experience.

that is my struggle. i don’t think i could stand being a stay-at-home mom. Punkin is a wonderful kid, and yet i need some time away from him. i don’t think i can provide the social, educational, and artistic environment he gets at school. yet my career as an engineer is frustrating and unrewarding. i am transitioning into new roles as an engineer and am finding some things i like about my job, my career (which is amazing to admit to myself!), but i still dislike most of my clients, and marketing (schmoozing), and my projects are nothing to write home about. the projects are why i got into this business.

ah ha! maybe i’ve identified the root of my career dissatisfaction.

now what do i do about the haircut coupon that expires tomorrow?

five things you might not know about me

i needed a little inspiration, so thanks, Belle. my blog is still in its infancy and doesn’t get much traffic, so any five things i write you probably don’t know about me. i could say my favorite color is purple, and it would be a revelation to any reader. with much thought, contemplation, and honesty, here are five things you might not know about me:

1) my favorite color really is purple.

2) i am outwardly very conservative and practical (although my politics lean toward the liberal side). secretly i wish i was more artistic and creative.

3) the smell of freshly cut grass gives me butterflies in my stomach. (anxiety from my days competing as a cross country runner in junior high and high school.)

4) i was a victim of a violent crime two days before my 20th birthday.

5) i don’t think i’ll be around to see my kid(s) grow up.

if you’d like to know more, i’m willing to talk about it, too.

Punkin turns two!

Happy Birthday, Punkin! you’ve changed my life. even though el Jefe’ reminds me quite often you’ve reached the terrible twos, i enjoy you so much more every day. it’s not that i loved you less back then; it’s just that i love you more (mower) now. i have to admit it’s a little easier; you don’t depend on me for a “mommy meal” (sorry, those first eleven months were tough making sure you had breast milk past your first birthday), you can express what you want, and you can play by yourself (sometimes, and usually i would rather just watch you than take care of some household chore).

i used to sing you my own little “Super Baby” song nearly every day on the way to day care; each verse represents a milestone such as crawling or walking or talking. probably belatedly, i changed the song to “Super Boy” sometime this summer. and occasionally, recently, you have requested it.

the year has sped past quickly. you continue to grow (almost 30 lbs, and now you’re three feet tall!) and learn new things, and melt my heart nearly every day.

thank you for the best two years of my life.

what goes through my mind at 3:30 am (and doesn't stop)

as we approach Punkin’s second birthday, i am spending a lot of time worrying. i’d say “in contemplation”, but the plain and simple fact is that it is worry.

we had an early celebration of his birthday yesterday. Elmo plates, napkins, party hats and tablecloth, approximately 20 balloons blown up by el Jefe’ (without hyperventilating, and 20 because the 12-pack did not include purple), cheese and crackers and crab dip, chicken and noodles, carrot cake (sans raisins, because i remembered after pulled the cake out of the oven), cards and presents, all of which we shared with Nonna, Paw Paw, Gabby (their dog), La La (Punkin’s Godmother, and Corkie (La La’s 23-year-old daughter). Punkin got a lot of good loot and frankly any loot is more than we need.

we shared news of the Peanut with La La and Corkie. La La had noticed my ever-expanding size but was polite; of course they expressed happiness for us. Corkie announced she may be moving to Texas before the end of the year; my heart aches for La La as her life has been Corkie for the past 23 years.

Punkin loves to have company, and he sure acts up/shows off when people come to visit. he loves his grandparents; he loves the people in his life. should Corkie move to Texas, we can probably explain that. but what if el Jefe’ gets promoted and we move to the other part of the state? new friends, new teachers, new doctors, and very little Nonna, Paw Paw, Gabby, or La La. what happens when Nonna and Paw Paw succumb to age? or one of our dogs, his favorite, the incontinent one, who turns 15 in calendar years either this month or next, just doesn’t get up anymore? is Punkin going to resent being a big brother?

change is a fact of life, yet why do i worry so much about shielding the Punkin from the inevitable?

taking a little weight off my shoulders

i've been up since 2:00 am this morning.
i told my boss and my department manager today about my "delicate condition". (like i feel the least bit delicate! ha!)
we also discussed el Jefe's potential move (and i guess mine, too).
it's ok.

if this post had a soundtrack, it would be "flight of the bumblebee"

i feel like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off, and not a free range chicken at that. up at the crack of dawn (predawn) and go go go until i’m ready to drop, lately before dinner. my “break” is the occasional (but frequent) doctor’s appointment or trying to make an exchange at lunchtime. and it’s either or; if i have a doctor’s appointment, i end up working through lunch.

i have had various procedures on my cervix, all precautionary biopsies, that put me in a completely other category in terms of risk factor. being 41 puts me in the high risk category, and my surgeries just compound that. i go to a maternal/fetal specialist in addition to my gyn/ob. i’m convinced they just see dollar signs. i will have internal ultrasounds every two weeks for the next eight weeks. i see the gyn/ob either every four weeks or monthly (close enough). after i scale the bi-weekly cervical hurdle, i suspect i’ll have a break of a couple weeks and then i’ll be seeing the gyn/ob more frequently, and then fetal monitoring … with Punkin, i had three doctor’s appointments a week in my last month.

and i still haven’t told anyone at work. like i’m going to accomplish everything before i deliver the Peanut. yeah, right.

same story, different year

back to the grind, and i was reminded several times today of why it is a grind. i was out of bed at roughly 2:00 am, worrying that i needed to modify a contract initiation form (CIF) to include administrative tasks in Activity 001, instead of scattering them between Activities 001 through 003. seriously, i stewed about this. as my brain went into minutia over-drive, i headed downstairs to paint my toe nails and watch some idiot box in hopes that i would not disturb el Jefe’. i think i eventually got another hour and a half of interrupted sleep. no wonder i started the day cranky.

and no, i really wasn’t very cheery at work today. it started with a stupid question from a gen y coworker in the midst of my “go to the bathroom first while the decaf brews” routine. and then there was the CIF. and then i found an error in the CIF template; after three attempts, i think i got it right. (is the appropriate saying “third times a charm” or “three strikes you're out”?) i scratched my head for a couple hours on a project and informed the Project Manager we could never improve a deficiency using the client’s methodology (which means i was the messenger of bad news). i was nagged about two deadlines; a presentation due next week and an action item list due TODAY. (gee, thanks for all your consideration of an advanced warning, especially immediately after a holiday!) my department manager is supposed to put together the list, so technically it’s her responsibility, but she’ll ask me to handle it anyway. same with the presentation. oh! and my client who ignores our project wanted something today. i had a question for him last week, but he used weather in Denver as an excuse not to get back to me. then he wants a cost estimate TODAY. that’s a hot button!

i spent an hour in Toys R’ Us shopping for Punkin’s birthday. i really wanted to get him a concrete truck (i’m an engineer, and i taught my son to appropriately identify concrete trucks, not cement trucks). there was only one concrete truck in the whole store, age appropriate or not, and it was remote controlled, so i opted against it. i envisioned a sturdy Tonka truck, rated for 3+ but no. excavators, dump trucks, and even garbage trucks (where is that fascination coming from?), but no concrete trucks. i settled for an age appropriate fire engine, because Punkin can recognize fire trucks as well. he has so many toys, mainly due to hand-me-downs from the Middle and her twins, that i try to be very selective about what i get him. i want those few gifts to be perfect.

it’s not perfectionism that i am striving for in my life. but i don’t want to settle for mediocrity.

welcome to 2007, the psoup way

i'm struggling with the NEW Blogger, mainly because my Google account does not seem to like the fact i post from two different e-mail addresses. i liked the old Blogger because my username was my username, and not an e-mail address. great way to start the new year, with a complaint.

our home computer has an annoying pop-up virus. fortunately, it is only annoying. i've searched for it, deleted it, emptied the recycle bin, deleted cookies, and purged all temporary internet files and it still comes back. although i am disappointed that my tactics are unsuccessful, i am more disappointed by the cookies i found. pure vanilla (the only reason why i know what this is because i listen to Howard Stern, can you believe that?) and penthouse (well, duh). i didn't confront el Jefe' ... what good would it do?

i've worried a lot this weekend ... those needless, OCD-like worries that cause my pre-dawn insomnia. worried about finishing Christmas thank-you notes, worried about Punkin's upcoming birthday (party, presents, portraits), worried about the cleaning lady coming (pathetic), worried about el Jefe's upcoming interview and the prospect of moving, and worried about the Peanut (not recognizing movement, and having the shits doesn't help). i know, i know. el Jefe' says, and i agree, i need to get a life.

are my expectations too high in that i'd like to start the new year on a positive note?

why i'm a crazy hip blog mama

crazy. no problem. certifiable. a long torrid history of therapy, medication, and even a couple weeks in the hut (nut hut, that is. i can say that. i’ve been there.). i’ve been off medication going on ten years, and i think my last counselor is dead. (she’d be 82. i hope at least she finally retired!) pregnancy and motherhood are terrific excuses for off behavior, don’t you think?

hip. this one’s a stretch. i was born without the shopping gene. my favorite store is Target. i rarely buy anything for myself that is not on sale or without a coupon. the last time i bought something full price was in 2001 (a suit for a project interview). my husband, el Jefe’, buys the majority of my clothes (he has good taste if that means anything). i admit to being thrifty and frugal (ok, cheap), but if anything i strive for my style to be classic. and my maternity clothes are the trendiest items in my wardrobe!

blog. here it is. although it was born only Labor Day this year, it has become a part of my life. and i pride myself in posting more frequently than the so-called professionals who blog for income. a new custom blog design from the wonderful and talented ladies at Ciao My Bella would be my equivalent to a day at the spa. (ok, i’ve never been. ever. but i think the appropriate analogy is that maybe no one else will notice, but it sure would make me feel good!)

mama. Punkin turns two next month, and Peanut is at 18 weeks gestation. i’m 41, and i never thought i’d be a mom until two positive pee tests, a fetal heartbeat, an ultrasound, and hearing positive amnio results over two years ago. Punkin wasn’t planned, but honestly we didn’t think he was possible. i don’t need to tell you he changed my life.

and they were kind enough to include me on their blogroll.

gee thanks, gen y

the last two hours of my paying job work day were busy. why is that? i ended up working through my lunch hour, convincing myself that i would leave early so i would have time to go to Target before i go swim, before i go home. a good portion of my day was filled with stupid questions, and i made it my responsibility to provide answers to those stupid questions. i used to say “there’s no such thing as a stupid question” until i’ve come across a generation of individuals who ask stupid questions because they are too lazy to research the question before they ask. it’s a sure-fire way to push my hot button and apparently it’s easier to be spoon-fed the information.

Punkin isn’t even two years old, and he would rather do it himself.

just like his mom.

my post. where's yours?

i’m really disappointed in the blogging community. most of the sites i regularly (and it’s not many) have been very lax in posting during the holidays. i’m disappointed because some of these folks are professionals, and they maintain a blog as a full-time job (or for income). here i am feeling guilty for missing posts, and my site has not generated one thin dime. sure, i’m jealous. especially when my mother-in-law, a voracious reader, says i should consider a career in writing. this is in addition to my father-in-law’s constant accolades regarding my letters. not only does he run a local newspaper, but his views are unbiased by my mother-in-law as they have been divorced for well over 25 years.

here’s the story of Punkin and Santa Claus i promised. and apparently, it’s free:

nearly every day last week, Punkin asked about Nonna, Paw Paw, and Gabbie (my parents and their dog). i told him he would get to see them this weekend, and Santa Claus, too. to which he replied, “No Santa Claus, No.” since he kept wanting to see his grandparents and their dog, i kept throwing in Santa, too, in hopes the association would be positive. we also read “The Night Before Christmas” every night. by the end of the week, Santa didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

we pushed to get out of the house Saturday morning at a reasonable hour. i suggested we check out the line for pictures with Santa Claus at the mall first; el Jefe’ still had shopping to do, and at least one of us could wait in line and tag team. we arrived before 9:30 am and entered a relatively long queue. i excused myself to go find a bathroom, walked the entire length of the mall, and even snuck in to check out a selection of Christmas CD’s. when i returned, Punkin and el Jefe’ had moved very little, and el Jefe’ informed me the approximate wait would be an hour and a half. we had Holiday Hell stuff to do, so we bailed.

we planned Christmas Eve morning around this whole picture with Santa Claus thing. We put Punkin to bed promptly at 8:00 pm the night before so he would get enough sleep in time to rise at 6:30 am. we decided to forego pancakes over cereal so we could get out of the house sooner. the mall opened at 7:00 am, and Santa was to arrive at 8:00 am. we arrived within minutes of 8:00 am and got in line. for nearly an hour. as we approached the front of the line, Punkin wanted el Jefe’ to pick him up. he wanted his woobie. and he held on with a death grip. odd, because he normally is too friendly with strangers. once he was placed on Santa’s lap, he bawled. loudly. the photographer gave it a couple seconds and opted for the “Peek-a-Boo” photo. this is where Santa hides behind his chair, while the photographer distracts the hysterical child. then the former hysterical child sits on Mommy’s or Daddy’s lap and Santa peeks out from behind the chair. El Jefe’ sat with the Punkin, in his clashing plaid shirt and holey jeans (neither of us were prepared to be photographed by any means, but at least he wasn’t wearing brown stripes!) and the result is the most wonderful picture of Santa behind the two guys i love the most.

he’s still talking (positively) about Santa Claus. Punkin, that is.

my version of winning the lottery

Punkin survived his picture with Santa Claus Christmas Eve. (worthy of a post and photo, when i have more time).

my dad spilled the beans to my mom about the Peanut. the third degree was relatively harmless. yes, they would like a granddaughter, but they also are happy the Punkin won’t be an only child.

i had an awesome Christmas. Punkin tolerated roughly two hours of opening gifts and seemed to enjoy each and every one (even the clothes)! El Jefe’ was surprised and impressed with my electronics selection.

i cooked all day yesterday, except during gift opening and an hour off my feet. Whereas we had Christmas Eve dinner at my parents’ home, they came over to ours for Christmas Day (rather, Night) dinner. i will never be able to have a turkey ready before 5:00 pm … i started cooking at 5:00 am, and we didn’t sit down to eat before 6:00 pm, and my feet are definitely telling there was no rest for the weary! while i won't get an A for presentation, everything was tasty.

i got a very good phone call this afternoon. all the results of the amnio are good.

i’m not used to things going my way, or at least seeming to.

Happy Holidays

i complain a lot about Holiday Hell. i've all ready admitted my issues are self-induced and self-inflicted (who in their right mind would go to Wal-Mart the Friday afternoon before Christmas for the sole purpose of getting diapers [necessity] and stocking stuffers [junk]?!?)

i continue to go out and shop, not for the diapers, but for the trinkets ... i keep coming up with that must-have, illusive, one-more-thing that subjects me to crowds, and lines, and melting kids, and stressed-out adults. today it is a pair of footie pajamas for the Punkin and thank-you note cards. maybe i'm addicted. maybe i've got my priorities straight. but this photo, to me, is what the Holidays are all about. i'm thankful i have el Jefe' and Punkin after all these years to show me that Holiday Hell is worth it.

it could be worse

el Jefe’ has one of those sweet government jobs when the end of the year means “use it or lose it”. actually, his job is not sweet nor cushy, and he works most of the extra holidays that government employees get (like Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, and Veteran’s Day). and he works overtime (members of his crew work both shifts). and he routinely works on the weekend. if you understand the system, he has holiday time, overtime, comp time, and vacation time … and with his Midwestern work ethic, he cannot take off that much time away from work.

last night, el Jefe’ told me he had one more day to burn this year. whereas he’s been taking some Mondays in the past two months, he chose today so he could do some Holiday Hell shopping. did you read between the lines? MY HUSBAND STARTED CHRISTMAS SHOPPING TODAY. December 22nd. oh, and he needed to do a couple things at work, so he went into work until noon today. he didn’t start until the AFTERNOON of December 22nd.

i’m done. mentally, physically, financially … i’ve had it. it’s just good enough. i keep coming up with last minute trinket ideas, but i’ve all ready approached the wrapping phase. it took me twenty minutes to wrap two shirt boxes this morning and that depressed me. and i have to go to Wal-Mart to get the Punkin overnight diapers … and maybe something for the stockings, and something for the incontinent dog … and I have to exchange something for el Jefe’ because i bought the wrong size … and it all is mildly frustrating and depressing and overwhelming.

at least i didn’t start my Holiday Hell shopping today.

winter whinings

i’m a little depressed, but i shouldn’t be.
i’m accomplishing things at work (a completely relative term this time of year).
i’m crossing things off my Holiday Hell to do list (slowly, and perhaps belatedly, but they are getting done).
i picked out a receiver for el Jefe’ (just need visual verification before purchase).
the Peanut is the right size per schedule and very active.
my blood pressure is good at 107 over 70.

but i gained six pounds in the last month (154, woo hoo). and i’m showing. and i’m wearing a new pair of maternity pants that are too big and too long, even though i also bought a pair of boots (with heels!). i’m just feeling unattractive (and sorry for myself).

continuing holiday hell

i’ve mentioned i was born without the shopping gene. and i’ve admitted to being technologically challenged. so why would i even attempt to buy el Jefe’ electronics for Christmas? because i am insane and obviously a glutton for punishment.

most things in our household are hand-me-downs or divorce-wear. we’d like our home to look like a pottery barn catalogue, and lately el Jefe’ has been pining for a flat screen tv just because he sees them wherever he goes. we have a very nice tv that i purchased for his 40th birthday. i made him accompany me so i would buy what he wanted. we ended up with a 36” Sony, and that was five years ago. i have replaced a VCR and purchased a DVD player (with a little coaching). i even replaced a pair of speakers all by my lonesome. i replaced the speakers in an attempt to improve the sound quality and it turns out the speakers weren’t the problem.

so now i need to replace the amp and pre-amp that el Jefe’ purchased in Okinawa in the 80’s. i’m talking to my coach, but i know i’m so in over my head.

the hell continues … and yes, i know it is self-induced.

blissfully writing checks

my dad asked if i was pregnant on Sunday. i could not lie. i told him i did not want anyone to know. apparently, he is astute and happy about the situation. i also told the Middle when we were in the garage depositing hand-me-downs. again, a positive response.

i had an amnio yesterday. Peanut kept grabbing at the needle (or so it appeared on the ultrasound). El Jefe’ and i like my prenatal doctor (a woman! a first for me!)

the worst of it all … the Center collected my deductible for 2006. i have another appointment in two weeks, which means they will collect my deductible for 2007. it’s just money, and it’s worth it, but why do they all want the money up front?

self-induced

it has been a rough week.

the majority of the time expended, and stress endure, has been work related.

Holiday Hell continues. the Middle may visit this weekend with my twin nephews. of course we are not ready.

and we may have the discussion of a celebration for my parents' upcoming 50th wedding anniversary in September 2007. yes, it is many months off, but so is my due date of June 2007 (and i haven't told a soul about the conception of the Peanut, not family, not friends, nor even coworkers). i'm waiting for results of the amnio; the test happens to be this Monday. (just add a pinch more of stress and stir ...)

a real beer (and then some) would be the perfect cap of this week. maybe i'll settle for a smoothie instead.

the most wonderful time of the year?

i have too much to do at work (my paying job outside the home).
i am behind on my weekly, regularly scheduled chores at home (vacation, and a weekend out of town have left me perpetually behind schedule).
i still have Holiday Hell shopping to accomplish, even the “time-sensitive” got to mail those gifts out of town variety.
i have yet to draft the second annual Holiday letter.
i am cranky.

where's Elmo?

a couple weeks ago, el Jefe’ and i discussed what we were getting the Punkin for Christmas. we agree that all ready, in the less than two years Punkin has graced this planet, he has too many toys. it’s not that we run out and buy the latest and greatest advertised toy, or Punkin begs and pleads and says he has to have it. by far, the majority of his toys were gifts from others, or hand-me-downs from my twin nephews.

we don’t allow Punkin to watch tv, and may not for another year.

i was born without the shopping gene.

my internet skills are limited.

so, using your deductive powers of reasoning, you can see this is a challenge for me.

early this fall, i had Punkin in the stroller with me at JC Penney. i had a coupon(!), there was a sale(!), and he needed some clothes in the next size. OK. that’s a lie. i bought him both 24-month and 2T clothes because i honestly couldn’t figure out the difference (except the 2T’s were a smidge bigger and a dollar more expensive). as we passed the pajamas, i heard Punkin exclaim, “Eh-mo!”. (Elmo). i couldn’t figure out what he was talking about until i looked from his perspective (basically on my knees in the store). there were the licensed character pajamas, and there was Elmo. i thought it was a fluke, until we went past the licensed character sweatshirts, and there he was again, and Punkin exclaimed “Eh-mo!” my kid knows who Elmo is without ever watching Sesame Street, or tv whatsoever, and certainly no commercials.

a couple months later, we went to a family-friendly restaurant for dinner, and they featured a woman who created balloon animals. Punkin ended up with an Elmo balloon animal, which he caressed literally for weeks. (i think the eyes and nose still exist.)

so he’s getting an Elmo for Christmas. el Jefe’ and i agreed upon a plush, boring, non-electronic Elmo. no TMX Elmo. no Sing n’ Hum Elmo. no Elmo Loves You plush doll. just an Elmo without batteries. come to find out, this Elmo is special. this Elmo does not exist at Target. this Elmo does not exist at Toys R’ Us. this Elmo was available at Macy’s on-line, so i went to Macy’s over lunch even though i didn’t think they had a toy department. and they really don’t. so i called another local Macy’s and verified that no, they don’t have a toy department, either. so i tried Macy’s on-line. good news: plush Elmo was on sale! Bad news: plush Elmo was guaranteed to ship by January 18th, 2007. ha! not only after Christmas, but also after Punkin’s 2nd birthday!

Amazon.com came through. i found an unused plush Elmo, on sale, with $2.95 shipping, that basically was guaranteed to arrive before Christmas. worse came to worse, before Punkin’s January birthday. i ordered it last week, it shipped the next day, and it arrived this weekend.

and 12” plush Elmo arrived in a 6” box. i was frustrated. and i was pissed. until i opened the box and discovered Elmo was bound and folded at the waist (bondage Elmo?). el Jefe’ is certain he’ll love it. i just hope i get better at this.

one small step

Punkin pooped in his potty last night!

we're gonna go through this together

El Jefe’ and i had a rare, civilized, adult conversation last night. it’s not that we argue and are constantly down eachother’s throats. it seems as though we are very busy trying to maintain our careers, our Midwestern work ethics, a functioning household (nothing even remotely related to a well-oiled machine), prepare for the season of Holiday Hell with our extended families, and raise an ever-growing, ever-changing, ever-developing toddler. our needs as husband and wife, and our marriage, most often take a back seat. way back seat. back of the trailer, just millimeters in front of the license plate back seat.

Punkin has had a baby sitter something like three times in his life (last year’s company Holiday party, our anniversary, and a wedding in May. i think that’s it.). each time, his Godmother came over for the evening. we don’t know any teenagers in the neighborhood, and frankly i don’t trust my parents, and besides, he spends five days a week around nine hours a day in daycare. so there’s some guilt, some laziness, and some lack of trust. don’t get me wrong … we both enjoyed a meal where we didn’t have to cut everything up, make sure the temperature bordered on cold, didn’t inhale our food to have a free hand to catch tossed utensils and launched green beans, and have an adult conversation. we’d like to go to the movies one evening so we can actually watch a movie from end to end. but somehow it is not a priority, and it is ok with both of us.

we talked about his potential for promotion. we talked about moving. we talked about my job. we talked about what we would miss about where we have spent the past ten years. i told him i wanted to deliver the Peanut here, and he was adamant that i should not have to change doctors again.

it is no wonder i love this man. we’re on the same page.

torn like an old sweater

i’ve spent the day spinning my wheels, or so it seems. i’ve accomplished several tasks, but it’s one of those days where i have very little to show for it. scheduling, meetings, conference calls, and reviews filled my work day, yet there is no tangible product. kind of like parenting, i guess … you change diapers, feed your kid, dress your kid, entertain your kid, educate your kid, lather, rinse, repeat … and often there is very little to show for it. there is no clean (or dirty) quotient, most of us don’t weigh our kids on a daily basis, i’m not aware of points for style, and you can’t measure the leap in IQ daily. (maybe you can, but jeez, talk about obsessive!) but one smile makes it all worthwhile (parenting, that is).

sorry, but one job beats the other hands down in terms of reward.

i just can't imagine my life as a stay-at-home mom.

welcome back

i haven’t posted in eleven days, yet i feel as though i have so little to say. our vacation was very good, and worthy of several posts, but i just don’t have it in me right now, or can’t get it out of me right now. we returned early Friday morning and were shocked by a 40 degree dip in temperatures. we spent the weekend doing laundry, running errands, commencing the Holiday Shopping Hell, and preparing and sharing a belated Thanksgiving dinner with my parents.

really, all is well, yet the enthusiasm just isn’t there. historically, i always have trouble with the Holidays in the emotional department. i used to attribute it to Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) until i moved to an area that experiences something like 360 days of sunshine and i still fall into a funk. i’m losing sleep over the second annual Holiday letter. Punkin fell in love with Christmas lights on vacation (“coo-coo-lights”!) yet it looks like it’ll be another week or two before we get ours put up due to family commitments. Punkin turns two in January, and el Jefe’ constantly attributes his minor tantrums and tears to his age. Punkin lost it after an hour and a half in Target (who wouldn’t?!?) and after an inordinate amount of time in front of non-entertaining bookshelves at Borders. i agree that one can always find a meaningful gift at either establishment IF one has a remote clue as to what category the gift falls into. something just a bit more specific than “something from Target” or “a book” … animal, vegetable, or mineral? housewares? educational toy?

so am i complaining about el Jefe’? or family obligations? or is it just that time of year?

mellowed by good news

sometimes those windows of opportunity are so small. i was faced with one today that was so narrow i couldn’t squeeze my ever-expanding 148 lb frame through it.

i saw my ob-gyn today for my 12-week appointment. i was happy that i only gained one pound in nearly three weeks, so my rate of expansion is not too outrageous. and my blood pressure was good at 115/71. and the fact that i’ve made it to 12 weeks was a relief in itself.

we discussed genetic testing. having been through it before, and experiencing amniocentesis during my pregnancy with the Punkin, i thought i knew what to expect. (and i’ve read most of the series …) my doctor suggested a first trimester test with nearly identical accuracy, without the invasiveness and risks of an amniocentesis. any sign me up! unfortunately, we leave for vacation tonight and don’t return for eight days. they tried to schedule me for aforementioned first trimester test, but i was told i’ll be “too far along” by the time we return. oh well.

the amnio is scheduled. my 16-week appointment is scheduled. i paid my initial installment of my ob care and delivery payment plan. and el Jefe’ and i got to see the Peanut kick and wave. and i'm almost on vacation.

Happy Thanksgiving. see you in December!

could this be spam?

i received this in an e-mail today:

Your flight #17 on November 23, departing Las Vegas at 2:45 am and arriving in Honolulu at 6:45 am has been changed.You are now confirmed on flight #17 on November 23, now departing Las Vegas at 1:00 am and arriving in Honolulu at 5:00 am.

the departure time (and coincidentally the arrival time) of the flight we are taking Thanksgiving morning has changed by 1:45. nearly two hours. earlier. damn good thing i was around to get my e-mail. el Jefe’ and i arrived at the airport once prior to the arrival (not departure) time of a flight … ooops, we both misread the itinerary. we didn’t care. we were on vacation, whether we were on an airplane, or sitting in the airport bar, or relaxing in a condo didn’t matter. we ended up getting a later flight, and then the rental car counter was closed, so we took a shuttle to the nearest hotel, rented a hot tub suite, and started our vacation as planned, just a day late. somehow, traveling with the Punkin, i just can’t fathom the same reaction.

i’ll be anal and call and confirm the time change with a real live person. wish me luck.

erin go bleccchh

What food(s) do you love that other people think you are crazy for eating?



this is such a difficult topic. first off, i’m twelve-weeks pregnant. in between periodic gagging and perpetual nausea, my cravings change every couple of days. nothing exotic; nothing like the proverbial pickles and ice cream. the latest craving was cottage cheese, which el Jefe’ thinks i’m crazy for eating, but i don’t think that counts. it’s so mainstream …

then, although i’m new to the whole blogging thing, several pros (who actually make money off their blogs?!?) have plugged Maggie’s book “No One Cares What You Had for Lunch: 100 Ideas for Your Blog”. i broke the rule in this post, but maybe it didn’t count because i described dinner from the hotel gift shop, not lunch. anyway, i am struggling to ignore the voices in my head: “it’s an assignment – stretch your wings!” and “you're doing it wrong!”

my early gastronomic experiences were of course shaped by my parents. my mom grew up on a farm in southern Indiana. her cooking tends toward the bland side, a side effect from an Irish background. i can say that thanks to my mom, i can stuff a mean turkey and can stomach the giblets. i like the gizzard and the heart, but it is tolerance and preference (gizzard beats liver) and nothing close to LOVE. my dad is a “meat and potatoes” kind of guy and my mom catered to his wishes. i think he ate a Quarter-pounder with cheese, fries, and an orange drink five days a week, nearly fifty weeks a year, for over a decade. could this be a clue where my OCD tendencies come from?

when you combine the aforementioned genetic traits with a third fact, it equates to my least favorite meal. i was born on St. Patrick’s Day. while most kids dream of picking their birthday meal, (pizza! hamburgers! spaghetti!) allowing that cookies and ice cream are not acceptable main courses, my wishes were ignored for sake of heritage and tradition. until my first year of college, i was subjected to corned beef and cabbage at nearly every birthday dinner. stringy, fatty beef; stinky, slimy cabbage; and fortunately, salty boiled potatoes. year after year after year. in the decades since, i have to admit i’ve probably eaten the dreaded corned beef and cabbage on an occasion or two, but it is forbidden in my own kitchen and i have never, ever selected it off a menu. it was probably at my in-laws, or my parents’ home, i was possessed by guilt, and it was most definitely not on my birthday.

on March 17th, my favorites could be oysters or spinach or snails, as long as it’s not corned beef and cabbage. and my folks still shake their heads, wondering if i’m crazy, wondering where they went wrong.

have you a Zans for cans?

“at our house we open cans. we have to open many cans. and that is why we have a Zans.”

my office held a non-perishable food drive as our traditional Thanksgiving charitable event. i often remind folks to go beyond cans. they weigh so much, and i wonder how folks at the food bank deal with a lack of can openers. sure, now several manufacturers have gone to the pull-tab style, but that is mainly for name brands that can be over-priced. i always donate canned fruits and vegetables, but i augment the selection with crackers, pasta, rice, and powdered milk. this year i included several jars of baby food. although i made Punkin’s baby food, we always had a couple jars on hand for traveling.

we’re getting ready to travel next week, i’m wondering what to bring on the plane. Punkin is way beyond baby food, but he still eats primarily unprocessed food at home. he eats what we eat at dinnertime, but i’m still stuck in the rut of a fruit and vegetable from the frozen stash or freshly prepared. i know Gerber makes jarred finger foods (like green beans), and i know we can probably throw a few of our Gladware containers in the diaper bag. i know it’s an overnight flight and he’ll most likely be sleeping, but we’re going to Hawaii. i have this fear that when we get there everything will be closed for the Thanksgiving Holiday. maybe i should pack a can opener in the diaper bag, too.

i’m sure this is my OCD kicking in. i’m sure el Jefe’ has not given this a thought, or more importantly, a worry. but these are the things that rattle around in my head. my mom had surgery, and she’s doing okay, so i obviously have to find something else to worry about.

thanks, Dr. Seuss.

“have you a Zans for cans? you should.”

the worry and the wait

my mom is in the hospital. she went in via the emergency room last night. i was unaware she was having problems, which is typical of my parents. instead of “no news is good news” they often abide by the philosophy “if they don’t know, they won’t worry.” when i finally spoke to my dad last night, the indications were she has an obstructed bowel and has been suffering since Tuesday.

today there were several phone calls back and forth. my mom didn’t have a room, but i was able to speak to her. my dad had their cell phone, and somehow lost his car keys at the hospital. my mom is 71; my dad just turned 82. they are in relatively good shape, but when normal tasks become difficult i am the first to blame their ages.

the latest diagnosis is an incarcerated hernia. as of 1:00 pm, she was scheduled for “emergency” surgery at 5:00 pm. hmph on the “emergency” adjective. my disappointment and sarcasm should be obvious. i’m not debilitated with worry because i’ve kept busy and occupied, but my grandfather, my mom’s father, died of a hernia when he was in his 60’s.

Hap Jack, my grandpa, developed his hernia after falling out of a tree. his doctor in rural Indiana diagnosed his pain as indigestion and recommended a laxative. Hap Jack’s hernia ruptured, and he died. i was five or six years old at the time.

i tell myself my mom has infinitely better care. but i’m creeped out by the fact i took pictures of the Punkin with my parents at dinner on Sunday. although i regularly toss the camera in his diaper bag, i made a specific effort to take pictures of them together. i just hope i can take more (and better ones) of them together at a later date.

lowering the bar

once i became a mom, i learned very quickly (during those 17 hours in labor and delivery) to lower my expectations. it should be the mantra of the “What to Expect” series, but maybe they wouldn’t sell many books with the slogan “Expect Less”. it’s sort of a survival skill that i’ve applied universally throughout my life, perhaps out of convenience, but maybe more out of necessity to maintain sanity.

lowering your expectations increases your opportunity for success. no kidding.

i felt like shit the entire day today. my pillow was damp from my tearing left eye when i got up this morning. my nose is raw from tissues. my lips are chapped from mouth breathing. yet i made it through the workday as a productive individual. that was a success.

i participated in an hour-long conference call, and stayed alert enough to hit the mute button every time i blew my nose. i contributed. that was a success.

i reviewed a report (partially), but i am making progress. that was a success.

i scheduled and participated in a project review. although this is one of my responsibilities, it requires buy-in and participation from project managers. something about the proverbial “greased pig”? or maybe, i’ve just become accustomed to being ignored. anyway, a relatively inexperienced project manager, a new project, a new business group leader, and we held a successful review in the allocated hour. that was a success.

i beta-tested a new software application. the only instructions provided were installation instructions. i navigated around it slowly (uh, fits and starts as they say?) but i did not completely crash the system, and i had some valuable input in terms of bugs. That was a success.

i can’t say it was a perfect day by any means, but looking back, it appears as though i’ve accomplished something. and something’s better than nothing. a lot better.

phlegm family

Punkin has pink eye ... again.

that was the start of our day, and i was livid mad. breakfast wasn't a success, either. and then there were the eye drops.

he had a 10:20 am appointment for a flu shot. i left work, picked him up from day care, and was informed he shouldn't come back with pink eye until tomorrow. "well, i wonder where he got it from?" loudly, and full of sarcasm. still, we made it to the doctor's office with five minutes to spare. not that it mattered; we waited 45 minutes for a two second shot (prepaid $25, i might add). i had to go back to work to retrieve work to do from home. by the time we got home, it was an hour and a half past his normal lunch time.

he survived.

we survived.

i have succumbed to the cold el Jefe' has been harboring for days.

the Clampett family salon redux

i had several motivations to cut my hair. the first of which, it had been over 13 months since my previous hair cut. i had a coupon for a $6.99 hair cut. (good God, i’m cheap.) Friday also marked the last day of outdoor (sand) volleyball season; it was a make-up game from a rain-out, after which a pony tail wouldn’t seem such a necessity. and i had just enough hair to donate a 10-inch pony tail to Locks of Love.

Locks of Love is a non-profit organization that creates hair prostheses (wigs) for financially disadvantaged kids under the age of 18 who suffer from long term medical hair loss.

the coupon expired on Friday. we are in a round robin volleyball tournament next Friday to battle it out with two other teams tied for first place. but on Saturday, i said, “when.” (refer to one of my favorite movies, “Regarding Henry”.)

el Jefe’ was in charge of the scissors and measuring the pony tail to ensure i was donating the minimum 10 inches. he measured it twice, and cut it off in several strokes. then i went to Great Clips to finish off the “styling” process. the stylist was rather confused by my instructions of “i don’t want bangs, you can layer it, i just want some sort of style and shape. i don’t own a hair dryer or curling iron, so it will need to air dry.” i explained that my husband cut off my pony tail. eventually, the light bulb lit; she understood i was donating the pony tail, and her task was to “fix” my hair. she commented more than once what a great job el Jefe’ did, he cut a “cute little shelf” in the back, and she would use the length as a guide to the rest of my hairstyle. although el Jefe’s time was minimal, i am proud to say he is truly a stylist at the Klampett Family Salon. (see profile. i'm having trouble with multiple images, and frankly one photo of me is more than enough.)

my favorite Mercury

these nice folks were kind enough to include me on their blog roll, so i’ve decided to pay back the favor and participate in Carnival No. 7. hell, someone might even read my blog. what a novel concept.

as i get into the subject, i need to reveal a little about my past. i have an ex-husband. i made reference to the fact in this post, but i don’t typically spend time, or words, or energy on that marriage that began nearly 20 years ago (argh!) and lasted for six and a half years. in those six and a half years, i personally had loans for SIX different cars.

it started with a 5.0 liter Ford Mustang. the Mustang was replaced by a Toyota Celica GT because a 5.0 liter V-8 rear-wheel drive vehicle doesn’t handle well in Midwestern snow and ice (he was concerned about my safety, huh.). the Celica was replaced by a Mercury Merkur which i have to admit was our “dream car”. by this time, the ex was getting ready to graduate from college, and was convinced he would need something four-wheel drive for commuting 35 miles from our college town to the big city, so i went out and got a loan for a new Suzuki SideKick. if you do the math, i had one job, two car loans, and a husband yet to employed. he eventually got a job, in our college town, with my employer … we even commuted together for two years. thank God we had two new vehicles! eventually we moved away from the college town; i got a job in the big city, and the SideKick came in handy for the ex to commute (before he was an ex). the Merkur was within less than a hand-full of months of being paid-off, when the ex decided we really had to become completely suburban, and trade it in for a Ford Taurus SHO. i was embarrassed. it was a very fast car with a manual transmission, but for crying out loud it was a four-door sedan and we were in our late twenties!

maybe the constant influx of new cars was representative of a marriage constantly in flux. we were always lured by the bigger, better, stronger, faster, and the title was always out-of-reach. we agreed to a divorce, and a division of assets (no, property. we didn’t have any assets.) he said i should have the Taurus because i made more money (and the SideKick was closer to being paid-off. how convenient for him). i didn’t want the damn car, so i traded it for a used Mercury Capri. easily half the car. another metaphor, while i’m at it. yes, i got half in the divorce settlement. i got half of the debt. in addition to $10,000 in credit card bills and very little to show for them, i ended up with an additional $10,000 loan for the car but i didn’t care. it was used, it was a convertible, and yes, it was a perfect little divorcee’ car. that car got me through 18 inches of snow, two blizzards, and a major flood. it took me half-way across the country several times, and was with me when i relocated from the Midwest, worked six months on a Task Force assignment in Utah, and eventually when i moved to the desert Southwest. i paid off that car, and gladly stood in line at the DMV twice so i could have the title changed to my maiden name.

so the favorite car i’ve ever had was that Mercury Capri. it represented the first of many changes in my life of which i am proud. i became independent. i became practical. i became financially secure. i eventually became a wife again, and after six and a half years of a successful marriage, i became a mother (of a child, not an ex-husband).

P.S. when the Capri died, i donated it to charity. i now drive Volkswagen Jetta (manual transmission, but a four-door sedan for the relative ease of a car seat). i paid for it out-right.

Punkin with pumpkins

i'm having a bad work outside the home day. i have been pissed off by the projects i am working on, the project managers i am working with, the clients i am working for, and the responsibilities and assignments that i have.

this is my screensaver. and it makes me smile.

at least they aren't known for efficiency

i heard el Jefe’ rustling around upstairs last night, specifically in the metal filing cabinet in the closet (drawers labeled “shit”, “more shit”, “legal shit” and “misc. shit”). my hearing is annoyingly good, which explains why i am a light sleeper, but not why i can’t get back to sleep. i digress. when asked what he was doing (when el Jefe’ was in the same room so we weren’t shouting across the house and so we wouldn’t wake the Punkin), he responded quite honestly that he was gathering old application information in order to apply for a promotion. no surprise. he works for the State. folks retire when they’re in the prime of their lives (bastards!) and then go have second careers and double-dip because they have pensions (bastards!). the retirement domino effect started in April this year and by about August it appeared the dominos could tumble in el Jefe’s path.

this promotion could require relocation. i gave el Jefe’ the go ahead months ago (but before i found a Peanut, so to speak). my company has an office within commuting distance. i could transfer. at the time, it sounded like a new and exciting change. but today, it sounds like a new and scary change.

i worry about Punkin’s daycare. i worry about leaving my very few friends, including Punkin’s godmother, the only baby sitter he has ever had (three times, i think). i worry about selling our house. i worry about my parents who currently live 10 miles from me, even though they don’t help me one iota, i guess i need to be close in case they need my help. i worry about living near a small airport, where it will cost a minimum of $400 to fly anywhere because it is a small airport. i worry that this will happen quickly and i’ll have to find new doctors and a new hospital. and i worry that i cannot voice these worries to el Jefe’ for fear that he will sacrifice a chance at advancement because i worry too much.

in the words and spirit of my good-natured, happy, laid-back husband: “We’ll see.”

foiled by a common printer

print this screen as a record of your order.

so i follow directions. and i’m a little paranoid about ordering things on-line. like the time i ordered underwear (panties) from Victoria’s Secret. i took advantage of a 5 for $25 sale with free shipping and ordered 10 pairs. i received a split shipment that totaled 9 pairs. bummer. one pair was back-ordered, and an actual human scribbled illegibly on the shipment ticket, so i feel as though i don’t have legitimate proof that i got shafted out of a pair of underwear. i’ve given up hope.

i ordered a couple items from JC Penney yesterday (on sale again, with free shipping). maternity items. a pair of petite jeans, a dirt cheap pair of capris, and a couple shirts. each and every item was clearly labeled as a maternity item. and a very nice, male, newbie engineer in my department beat me to the printer. not hard to do; it’s approximately six cubes away. he saw it. he read it.

uh-oh.

A is for aardvark

Punkin is truly a toddler. in the past month, one of his favorite requests has become “Again.” i had read about this desire for repetition, but it honestly snuck up on me. during a diaper change the day he turned 21-months-old, i sang “Happy Birthday” to him. (it really was “Happy Year and Nine Months Birthday” and “Happy One and ¾ Birthday”) i sang both versions several times because as soon as i finished, he asked, “Again?”

this weekend, el Jefe’ read/sang the “I’m a Little Teapot” book no less than three times in one day. i was blessed with “One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish” twice in one sitting. whereas i can recite the Dr. Seuss “ABC Book” in my sleep, i don’t quite have “One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish” completely committed to memory (ingrained in my skull). and twice, el Jefe’ took the Punkin through his “A is for Apple” slide book.

Punkin has quite the vocabulary, although he occasionally mispronounces words. he used to ask for his woobie as “Ah-yee” but now he calls it his woobie. he used to know the word for spoon, but lately he has reverted to something closer to a form of balloon. he has words for octopus (“Oct-ee-pah”) and bicycle (“By-clah”). he really does very well at the beginning and end of the “A is for Apple” book. according to the book, “F” is for fox. twice, very clearly, Punkin said “F” is for fuck (pronounced “Fock” in Punkin language). i laughed until tears streamed down my face.

in honor of the letter “F”, these are just a couple of my selections from the Politically Incorrect Alphabet. you’ll have to check out what Mark Jones has chosen for the letter “F”.
"A" is for Arab, "B" is for Beer , "C" is for Cigarettes

vertically challenged

i’m 5’-5”. i used to say 5’-5 and ¾” because i was oh-so-close to being 5’-6”, but my posture isn’t stellar, and i’ve had two back surgeries, and achieving 5’-6” just isn’t in the realm of possibility anymore. i own two pairs of shoes with heals; they’re dress shoes, and as such they are worn only once or twice a year.

according to my inexact survey of women’s fashions (remember, i was born without the shopping gene) i am a midget.

last Sunday, i was determined to purchase a new pair of jeans. i had wandered through Target previously on more than one occasion in the past couple weeks, and it was apparent that my favorite store could not fulfill my dream. maternity, or just a size or two bigger than normal, every pair was just too long. by several inches. so i ventured to a local department store with reasonable prices and a petites section, armed with a 15% off coupon and lured by a “lowest prices of the season” advertisement. i selected four different pairs of jeans from the petites section, and two from maternity. size choices in the petites section were minimal, and in my current overweight state, nothing was even remotely acceptable, and i couldn’t go up a size because it wasn’t available. i normally wear a 6, or in a 30x30 in men’s. 8’s didn’t work, and 14’s were my next available option. maternity mediums were roomy in the waist (fortunately) but extremely too long. 3” stilettos would still require inches of hemming, and then i still would risk falling on my face regularly. i wandered to the women’s section, where they featured two store-brand styles that come in three different lengths: tall, average, and short.

i purchased a size 10 short. with the sale and discount coupon, they ended up being less than $15 (before tax). even in my growing state, i’ll get a couple weeks of wear out of them. all that said, they are still too long. ok, i’m wearing tennis shoes, but they’re dragging. i’ll only get a couple weeks of wear out of them because the backs will be trashed. short equals a 30” inseam. i measured them this morning (i am such an engineer.)

how can a woman who is 5’-5” be shorter than short?

found a Peanut

i met my new ob-gyn today. (and saw the Peanut via transvaginal ultrasound!) i totally did not expect the ultrasound … my previous doctor farmed that out. i told el Jefe’ not to bother accompanying me to the appointment; all i was expecting was a lot of paperwork and an exam. i filled out releases and medical histories for 35 minutes, and waited another 20. stepped on the scale (ugh! 147!), stuck out my arm for the blood pressure cuff (100/70), and peed in a cup. and then i met my new doctor, in his office, with my clothes on.

granted, i haven’t had a new ob-gyn in several years, but this surprised me. it was kind of nice to be treated professionally, without my big(ger) ass hanging out in the cold from the confines of a paper gown. at the end of the consultation, he asked if i came to the appointment alone … prelude to the first photo opportunity.

i’ve got so many risks it’s mind boggling. but i’ve got a Peanut, and only one Peanut, and it has a heart beat.

yet another club that won't have me as a member

it’s National Blog Posting Month!

as much as i’d love to participate, and i so appreciate the challenge, i cannot commit. the idea is great, the participants are numerous, and the prizes are enticing. i would even try to find a way to post on weekends. El Jefe’ is still unaware on this baby blog in its infancy, but i would risk his discovery. i’d get up early or stay up late, and if that didn’t work, i’d make up an excuse or (heaven forbid!) fess up. i haven’t shared this with him partly because he just doesn’t get the blog concept. i love him, anyway.

so i cannot blame el Jefe’ for my failure to registering to NaBloPoMo. i cannot blame the plethora of social obligations clogging my calendar (alas, they are few and far between). i cannot blame my regimented schedule of weekend chores. no, my excuse is a good thing: we are going on vacation!

it has been planned for a couple months. we have reservations. we purchased tickets (including full-price airfare for the Punkin … ouch!) we are spending a week on the lovely island of Kauai starting Thanksgiving Day. we are staying in a timeshare, although we own a home there. the house is an investment; a long-term rental. it was part of the five-year-plan to chuck it all here and relocate … but that was nearly four years ago, two years pre-Punkin. the five-year-plan has been extended or postponed indefinitely, but that just means the goal still exists, we are just unsure of the timing. so the house is a tax write-off, and has not quite reached money pit status (yet).

arriving in paradise on Thanksgiving Day is a bit of an unknown. there certainly is potential for adventure! there is some guilt associated with disappointing my parents, not sharing a turkey and way too many side dishes, but it isn’t the first time we played hooky on Thanksgiving. and we’re staying in a timeshare, which means we’ll be inundated with requests for a tour of the property, and we’d rather have root canals than sit through a presentation. and i was just notified that i could’ve saved $120 per ticket on airfare if i had just waited. and i don’t care. we are going on vacation! it has been a long 16 months.

so i can’t participate because i don’t have a laptop, and i don’t want to be a regular in the business center. not when i’m on vacation!