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Archive for the ‘What about me?’ Category

Here it is another month and I’ve went and forgotten to start blogging again. I had all the earnest of heart anyone could imagine to get back in the swing of things, but it seems life will not let me. If it isn’t one thing, it sure is another. This past week, both Baby G and I have been sick and on top of that ALL OF LAST MONTH I have been trying desperately to find another job.

Before anyone shouts at me for even mentioning looking for another job in this economy, please let me explain. I am beyond myself in worry. Number one, we are getting by on practically one salary right now…which isn’t horrible as I know we have it much better than MOST folks, but after a year or so- enough’s enough!! I would like to have my old lifestyle back to an extend or at least the choice to have it back.

Second, I am slowly rotting away without a purpose. For awhile, I got by thinking that loving my husband and baby were enough. Now, my mindset has changed into a desire to have a career and not just a career, but something I can be proud of again. I mean, didn’t I go to college for a reason and wasn’t that supposed to give me a job? So what happened? I still hear that stupid radio ad (you know the one) about how people with 4 year degrees are suppose to make more than those without one.

Bullshit.

I say that as kindly as possible because it isn’t like I graduated with a poor GPA, far from it actually. So, when did I miss the boat? That great big sea of opportunity? I’ve resigned myself to becoming one of the masses selling the next great product and can only shake my head in disgust. This isn’t what I had planned.

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This is simply a friendly reminder, that although sleep deprived, I am here. I am drifting through this abyss of teething madness, trying to stay awake ten more minutes before- sleeping two hours, waking up to a fretting baby, change positions, nurse, go back to sleep, wake up at 4:30 a.m. to a frantic baby in search of a teether, oh there’s mommy’s nipple. go back to sleep, wake again at 6:30 a.m. decide to force self out of bed, shower, eat oatmeal, fix coffee, get dressed, pump, check email, work for 4 hours, come home to pump, eat lunch, return to work, home at 2 p.m., iron shirt for hubby, wash a load of clothes, try to start a business of my own, be a wife, be a daughter, keep our house clean, keep up with in-laws and friends, check email, blog, nurse Baby G…maybe.too.much…for my liking, feed the dogs, play with baby G, wish for a hottub bath inbetween, read something daily even if only a babybook, walk around the block. Change another dirty diaper, boy this child poops a lot! Pick up Baby G before he falls over again. Sit Baby G down on bottom, remove Baby G from climbing on bookcase four times in a row. Put Baby Einstein on and wish it lasted for two hours, become frantic that it only lasts 24.35 minutes. Rush around and then sink into chair, drained. Back up! I completely forgot to mention it’s time for baby G’s 3rd feeding of the day, make babyfood, make meal for self, remember vitamins for both of us, drink lots of water. 8:30 p.m. Down in the floor, preoccupied. 9:30 p.m. Bathtime. Is Daddy home yet? Brush my teeth, nurse. 10:30 p.m. Off to bed and tomorrow we go at it again.

I’m still getting the hang of this mommy stuff. I am exhausted.

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This morning I woke up more alert than I have been in ages. Perhaps, it was the uninterrupted 6 hours of sleep I got (count that, six WHOLE hours…I feel like a NEW WOMAN!) or the fact that I knew if I was stealth enough, I could get up and manage to have a nice hour or so to myself before Baby G awakes. This morning is different than most mornings because:

a) the hubby doesn’t have to go to work

b) I don’t either

c) it’s Saturday!!

What a treat! So you can imagine my delight and urgency in enjoying the morning.

See that’s where my hubby and I differ. Even though I could definitely use the extra hours of sleep, my mind is going warp speed conceiving all the things I can jam-pack into my new window of opportunity. These moments are truly rare. They must be pounced upon the moment they arrive!

small_cup_of_coffee

In the midst of knowing I am racing against the clock, I started making coffee. In the last two months, I have slowly regained my obsession and sweet addiction with that first cup of Joe. In the process, I was frantically trying to plan out my morning. 

Literally, I was swimming in ideas. I was a college student writing a term paper.

I would blog first. I could schedule a couple of bills. Nah, not much fun. Oh, I can look up hams for Thanksgiving at the Honey Ham Company. No, wait…scratch that I will respond to those folks I keep intending to get back to via email and facebook. Then, I can also email overdue pictures of Baby G to the family. Although, isn’t that the POINT of this blog. Hell-o? Or, I could work on a few other projects and favors in the making. Then I thought, slow down Nelly! (Brakes applied.) I thought to myself, “You’re most likely chewing off more than you can chew.”

Lost in thought, I caught myself holding the refrigerator door open with the coffee pot in my left hand trying diligently to place it into the side door of the refrigerator. Yep, you heard that right. I’m confessing here, that it took me a second to realize what I was doing.

There was this weird moment, where my brain clicked and said to me, “Ahhh, psst…hey you…I don’t think that’s where that goes.” It WAS an extremely strange feeling, sorta out of a Salvador Dali type dream.

Salvador Dali, The Persistence of Memory, 1931

I am pretty sure that old adage applies this morning. Let’s hope for my sake, it’s simply a glimpse of the mind slightly slipping in older age, rather than the full Monty. Of course, I still think it’s too early to tell.

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Somebody shoot me now! We had a pretty good 2 weeks without Garrett’s teeth giving him much of an issue. Now, they are back and with a vengeance. The last two nights have consisted of a cranky baby waking every hour or so. Primarily consisting of tossing, turning and rolling between Bryan and I. Bryan had the good fortune to sleep through most of these moments, I on the other hand, have not. He hasn’t been sleeping as well during naps either. Yesterday, I think he slept maybe an hour and half throughout the day in patches. Today (with an artillery of teething tablets) he managed almost 2 hours, but none of his naps have been the consistency they used to be. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by his lack of sleep though, instead he is back to vocalizing and checking the pitch of his voice. And, boy oh boy is it high! Im one lucky mommy. Who am kidding, I love the squealing, but I could definitely do without the teething!

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That’s what the lady on the other end of the phone had to tell me, when I called about Garrett’s birth certificate. Let me rewind a bit. One month after Garrett was born, I like any good and eager parent filled out the form to receive a copy of Garrett’s birth certificate. I mailed it off with the required document completed to a tee and a check in the amount needed to obtain his birth certificate (which I believe was about $10 or $15) and waited.

Two weeks later, when I receive a letter with my voided check stating they now need a copy of my driver’s license along with my signature to verify who I am. In case, I wasn’t his mother and all. Sure, okay I can do that. So, I copy my driver’s license and stuff everything into a new envelope and plop another 40 however much cent stamp onto it. I wait.

Amother two weeks pass and I receive Garrett’s birth certificate! I am so excited, I nearly rip the manila folder apart. I carefully take it out to examine it. Seems gone are the days of the pretty ‘certificate’ style birth record and in are the days of a gray ugly looking paper with raised seal stated on 3 straight lines, this is the child and these are the parents. No information of time of birth or who the doctor was, just our names. And absolutely, no foot prints either. I used to love looking at my birth certificate as a child. I’m not for sure why, I guess it has to do with this sense of here I am and the world recorded it. Plus I simply love genealogy and ‘records’, especially pretty ones are so fun to look at- it allows one to peer further into the time period and gage what it was like then. But, not now…of course maybe this is just South Carolina? I would be interested in what a birth certificate looks like elsewhere….

Anyway, let me return to my saga. As I am peering down at this yucky looking not what I was intending to receive document, in disbelief I realize that they have Bryan’s name incorrect- not as in spelled wrong, but as in not his real name. Close, but incorrect. My husband’s first name isn’t Bryan and Garrett’s middle name is an adaption of Bryan’s first to allow for some lineage from his father, who first name is also Bryan’s. Did you get all that, without me for privacy sake giving it all away?

So, what does a mother who is now on pitch three do when the bases are loaded? I call and ask what I am supposed to do? The lady on the other line states that everything is fine, simply make a photo copy of my husband’s driver’s license, enclose it with the birth certificate along with a note stating what is wrong. She says it’s that simple and they will correct the situation. I’m estatic, but I admit a bit surprised that it is going to be that easy. So rather than be defeated again, I sit the document aside and merely glance at it in disgust for the next, oh 3 months. When will I really have time to complete this? Oh, I picked it up numerous times, only to stare at it and gently return it to its resting place hoping that the longer I waited the more likely the certificate would magically state the correct name of my baby’s father. 

It didn’t- so finally, with as much bravery as I can find and feeling confident that the lady on the phone was telling the truth, I take every step she gives me and even make copies for myself as proof. Proof of what I am not so sure about. I again place all the documents into an envelope, seal it and put yet another 40 some cent stamp onto it and mail it off. And I wait.

It came Friday. I was so proud I thought I was going to jump up and down. I hadn’t even opened it yet. Yes, you read that correctly, “yet”.  This time I was slow to open the letter and as I did I realized his birth certificate wasn’t included, but rather a letter outlining the steps I needed to take to have his certificate corrected. What the….?!?!

In this outline it states that I am to have my husband go to a notary, have his DL copied, have him sign his name and then have the notary ‘notarize’ the document. I am then supposed to take this attached to another form that needs to be filled out – then and only then can I return these WITH a $10 check to complete the changes so that my son actually has a BIRTH CERTIFICATE!!! Nevermind, that he has had a social security card since he was about 3 weeks old.

Upon reading this, I am irrate. I haven’t been this mad since our doctor issues- so I call and state the obvious that fine I will complete the BS but I am not going to pay more money for their error. At which the lady on the other end states matter a fact like “Well, I guess your son won’t have a birth certificate then.” And then self-righteously with almost a giggle (as if to say I told them the wrong name for my baby’s daddy in the hospital, she uttered those four words without any feeling, cutting me off- “That’s not OUR problem.”

I am left speechless.

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Disclaimer: Certain family members may not want to proceed reading this, as you might get mad at me. Of course you never visit this site, so that really shouldn’t be a problem, now should it.

(The players)

Nana: the overzealous hip grandmother/mother that is NEVER wrong or to be called out on.

Jessica: the dramatic, heartbroken, soul searching twenty-something roller coaster.

Me: The sane and calm refereeing ‘what about me!?!’ mother.

(The Scene)

Sitting up in bed enjoying my *new* Corel Draw program with Garrett snugly sleeping next to me. As I was lost in my musings, the cellphone jingled that rather annoying tune that I have yet to change at what seemed the highest decimal it possibly could muster. I tried quickly to reach it’s blaring high pitch before Garrett began to arouse. (He has been teething and dealing with a bit of an upset stomach the last few nights, seems oatmeal is rough to digest just yet.) I reach the phone and answer without hesitation as I see the name Nana. Something could be wrong.

Last night went something like this:

Nana- “Hi, I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Me- (In a whisper, thinking all the while, “Doesn’t she, of all people know better?”) “No. But he’s asleep.”

Nana- “Oh, well I just have a question. Did you tell Jessica….that I left her alone with your friends without you, when she was a child?”

Me- (No, where is this going?) “No. Why?”

Nana- “Well, she says she remembers me leaving her and her friend alone at the house as I went to the store when she was about 8. I didn’t though. Here, I’ll let you talk to her.”

Me- (Doesn’t anyone care that I have a baby under 6 months old that I am taking care of and that he is sleeping right now? Or that I have to get up and work tomorrow?)

Jessica- (a bit over dramatic if you will) “She is such a liar. I know she left us. Why can’t she just admit it? I don’t care that she did. I just want her to say whoa you remember that. Because, she is making me feel like I am crazy. But, I know what I remember Brooky.”

Me- (Trying to console as quietly as possible) “That’s how mom is. She isn’t going to say she did it, so you should just drop it. But, if you remember it, it most likely did happen.”

Jessica- “Then why can’t she say it’s true?”

Me- (Trying to sooth my waking baby while juggling the phone at my shoulder.)”Because that’s just how she is. You need to just drop this, you guys have a flight to catch tomorrow. You really shouldn’t be arguing now.”

Jessica- “I’m not going anywhere with a liar.”

Me- (My voice is now much higher and my child is awake and staring at me, listening to my irritation.) “Oh, pu…leaseeeee. Just stop it, Rod bought those tickets for you guys, you have to go. So get over this, you need to accept mom for who she is. She isn’t going to change.”

This continued for another 20 minutes. Garrett is wide awake and restless now. I am seriously irritated, but maintain composure pretty darn well. Although at one point, I thought I was going to pull my hair out. I kept thinking, why exactly was I called? (I guess deep down we are all selfish and narcissistic.) But, really did I need to be brought into this one? Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy being called, etc., etc., etc….However, I get a little annoyed that no one acknowledges my life here with Garrett. Or that I would love to hear from them some other time, preferably when they are not bickering over nonsense.

After we got off the phone, I realized how wonderfully content I am with my new family, my own family. We are so happy together. In a pretty sickening way I guess, but I love it that way. I find so much balance with Bryan and Garrett- I feel peaceful with them. And I’m relieved that I don’t have to deal with all that family drama on a weekly basis. (no offense to mom or Jessica if you’re reading this…which I doubt.)

Moral of the story:
I guess sometimes a person needs a little shock to the old system to let them know how good life really is.

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I’m my own worse nightmare. I have reverted to eating peanut butter out of the jar. It seems I have come to a point in this motherhood life that eating is now a past-time. It seems to be all I want to do anymore. Or rather, the only thing I have time for. This probably explains why I have begun baking all the time. It’s something that I can actually accomplish while wearing Garrett. If you were wondering, it appears I don’t have an easy baby at all, unless this consists of constant entertaining or holding. Happy and alert, yes. Easy, no. Problem is, when he is ‘preoccupied’ with something, I feel guilty as if I should be conversing or playing with him. Sometimes mommy-hood is torture. I can’t even imagine what my world will be like as this child begins to crawl. At which time, I will officially lose my rights altogether. Whatever rights those were.

Now don’t take this the wrong way, but I feel like, since Bryan is with Garrett in the mornings from about 7 a.m. until 2 p.m. that he uses up all his ‘preoccupied time’. (a.k.a. mommy free time) I only come to this conclusion because Bryan is less apt to pick him up the minute he cries or is fussy. The other reason I think this is true is because by this point he realizes that I am gone, so when I am at home he wants all of my attention. Is there some great secret to juggling all this? Let’s not even get into the cleaning department. (- as it has taken a deep rooted backseat to anything and everything at this point.) What’s a mommy to do?

In an effort to give myself a moment of sanity and clarity, I have been popping in a Baby Einstein video here and there. We have about 6 that I rotate as much as possible. Garrett really loves them all, except for the one titled Bach- he never truly focuses on that particular one, but they all last about 20 or so minutes (just the right amount of time for his attention span)… unfortunately not at all enough time for me. Usually, it simply gets me started into something, only to have to quit in the middle of what I am doing. Sometimes, I am really bad and restart the dang thing just to finish what it is I am doing. Like now. (Cough, Cough.)

Let’s however, get the record straight, I am not a mother that plops or intends to plop her child in front of the television. I frankly think that this is what’s wrong with the world today. That and the wonderful computer. (And yes, I am indeed calling the kettle black on that one.) I do feel pushed up against the wall as a mother though on this matter. I mean when is it too much and is this too young to use the television? I know many balk at the idea of allowing a baby to see videos and such, but really what is a mother to do and what in the world did mothers years and years ago do to get a small moment to themselves? Maybe the ‘me’ of mommy didn’t exist back then. I don’t know, I know there certainly isn’t an easy solution and I can only do my best with what I believe is right or appropriate.

Well, it looks like it’s time to go get some more peanut butter. Garrett is staring at me wide eyed as he completes his fifth circle in less than five minutes.

And for the record, honey peanut butter is really much better than the plain stuff.

(Suggestions, as always are welcome.)

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